Ah! my lord, pardon me, cried the
merchant. No pardon, answers the genie, no mercy. Is it not just
to kill him that has killed another? I agree to it, says the
merchant; but certainly I never killed your son; and if I have,
it was unknown to me, and I did it innocently; therefore I beg
you to pardon me, and suffer me to live. No, no, says the genie,
persisting in his resolution, I must kill thee, since thou hast
killed my son; and then taking the merchant by the arm, threw him
with his face upon the ground, and lifted up his scimitar to cut
off his head.
The merchant, all in tears, protested he was innocent, bewailed
his wife and children, and spoke to the genie in the most moving
expressions that could be uttered. The genie, with his scimitar
still lifted up, had so much patience as to hear the wretch make
an end of his lamentations, but would not relent. All this
whining, says the monster, is to no purpose; though you should
shed tears of blood, that shall not hinder me to kill thee, as
thou killedst my son. Why! replied the merchant, can nothing
prevail with you? Will you absolutely take away the life of a
poor innocent? Yes, replied the genie, I am resolved upon it.
As Scheherazade had spoken these words, perceiving it was day,
and knowing that the sultan rose betimes in the morning to say
his prayers, and hold his council, Scheherazade held her peace.
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