THERE was a certain merchant's son, who had a handsome wife, and it happened that a libertine, accidentally beholding her, fell in love with her. While the husband was absent on a journey of business, the youth went to an old woman of the neighbourhood, who was on intimate terms with the wife, and disclosed to her his passion, offering her ten dīnars* for her assistance.
The cunning old woman went several times to visit the merchant's wife, and always took with her a little she-dog. One day she contrived the following stratagem. She took flour and minced meat, and kneaded them into a cake, with a good deal of pepper. Then she forced the cake down the animal's throat, and when the pepper began to heat her stomach, her eyes became wet, as if with tears. The merchant's wife, observing this, said to the old woman: “My good mother, this dog daily follows you, and seems as if she wept. What can be the cause?” The old woman replied: “My dear mistress, the circumstance is wonderful; for she was formerly a beautiful girl, straight as the letter alīf, and made the sun ashamed by her superior radiance. A Jewish sorcerer fell in love with her, whom she refused; and when he despaired of obtaining her, he was enraged, and by magic transformed her into a she-dog, as thou seest. She was a friend of mine; she loved me, and I loved her; so that, in her new form, she took to following me wherever I went, for I have always fed her, and taken care of her, on account of our friendship. She weeps often when reflecting on her unfortunate condition.”
When the merchant's wife heard this, she trembled for herself, and said: “A certain man hath professed love to me, and I did not intend to gratify his criminal passion. But thou hast terrified me with the story of this unhappy damsel, so that I am alarmed lest the man should transform me in like manner.”—“My dear daughter,” said the wicked old woman, “I am your true friend, and advise you that if any man makes love to you not to refuse him.” The wife then said: “How shall I find out my lover?”—“For the sake of thy peace,” replied the old wretch, “for the love I bear thee, and for fear lest thou shouldst also be transformed, I will go and seek him.”
She then went out, rejoicing that she had gained her ends, and sought the young man, but did not find him at home. So she said to herself: “I will not let this day pass, however, without gaining a reward for my trouble. I will introduce some one else to her, and obtain from him a second present.” She then walked through the streets in search of a proper man; when behold! she met the husband just returning from his journey, whom she did not know. She went up to him, and saluted him, and said: “Hast thou any objection to a good supper and a handsome mistress?” He replied: “I am ready;” upon which she took him by the hand, and leading him to his own house, desired him to wait at the door.
When the man reached his own dwelling, jealousy overcame him, and the world became dark to his eyes. The old woman went to the wife, to inform her of the coming of her lover; whom, when she saw him from the window, she knew, and exclaimed: “Why, mother, thou hast brought my husband!” The old woman, hearing this, replied: “There remains nothing now but to deceive him.” The wife took the hint, and said: “I will meet him, and abuse him for his intrigues, and will say, ‘I sent this old woman as a spy upon thee.’”
She then began to exclaim against the infidelity of her husband, took a sheet of paper, and descended the staircase, and said to him: “Thou shameless man, there was a promise of constancy between us, and I swore unto thee that I would not love another. Luckily, however, I suspected thy falsehood, and when I knew thou wast returning from thy journey, sent this old woman to watch thee, that I might discover thy proceedings, and whether thou wast faithful to thy agreement or not. It is now clear that thou frequentest the dwellings of courtesans, and I have been deceived. But since I know thy falsehood, there can be no cordiality between us; therefore write me a divorce, for I can no longer love thee.”
The husband, on hearing this, was alarmed, and remained for a time in astonishment. He took a solemn oath that he had not been unfaithful to her, and had not been guilty of what she had accused him. He did not cease to soothe her till she was somewhat pacified, when the old woman interfered, and effected a reconciliation between them, for which kindness she was handsomely rewarded. The unfortunate husband little suspected the disgrace he had so narrowly escaped. [II]
“This, O sultan,” said the vazīr, “is only one instance of the art and deceit of women.”—The sultan then countermanded the execution of his son.
On the fifth evening the Damsel came to the sultan, holding a cup of poison in her hand, and said: “If thou wilt not do me justice upon thy son, I will drink this poison, and my crime will rest upon thy shoulders. Thy vazīrs say that women are cunning and deceitful, but there is no creature in the universe more crafty than man. For instance: