The Story of the Fisherman with the Efreet
The bewitched young man continues to tell his story: he finally explains to the king that his wife is a sorceress and she has punished him because he injured her black lover.
And she is still whipping him every day!
ON THE NINTH NIGHT
Sheherazade said:
“Thus narrated the poor prince, in the black palace, addressing the king. And he continued:
“When I heard this conversation and saw with my own eyes what ensued between them, the world turned to darkness before my face, and I no longer knew where I was. Then my uncle's daughter began to weep and lament humbly into the black man's hands, and said: "O my lover, O fruit of my heart, I have only you left! If you drive me away, then woe to me! O my darling, O light of my eye!" And she kept crying and imploring him until he forgave her. She was then very happy, got up, undressed all her clothes and her underwear, and remained completely naked. Then she said: “O my master, have you got enough to feed your slave?" And the negro answered her: “Take the lid off the pot, and you will find there a stew made with mouse bones, which you will eat until you grind the bones; then take this pot that you see and you will find some boza that you will drink!" And she arose, and ate, and drank, and washed her hands; then she came back and lay down with the negro on the reed straw; and, completely naked, she snuggled up against the negro under the filthy rags.
When I saw all these things that my uncle's daughter was doing, I could no longer possess myself and I descended from the top of the cupola, and, rushing into the room, I took the sword that my uncle's daughter carried, resolved to kill them both. I started by hitting the black man, first, on the neck, and I thought he had passed away, for he gasped a terrible and loud rattle. My uncle's daughter, who during this scene was sound asleep, awoke after my departure, took the sword, sheathed it, returned to town; entered the palace, and lay in my bed until morning. So the next day I saw that my uncle's daughter had cut her hair and put on mourning clothes. Then she said to me: "O son of my uncle, do not blame me for what I am doing, for I have just learned that my mother is dead, that my father was killed in the holy war, that one of my brothers died stung by a scorpion and the other was buried alive under the fall of a building. So I have the right to cry and grieve. At these words, I did not want to pretend anything, and I said to her: "Do what you think is necessary because I do not forbid you to do so." And she remained locked in her mourning, her tears, and her fits of mad pain for an entire year, from the beginning until the end. When the year was over, she said to me: “I want to build for myself in your palace a domed tomb, and I will isolate myself there in solitude and tears, and I will call it the House of Mourning!" I replied, "Do what you think is necessary!" And she built herself this House of Mourning surmounted by a dome, and containing a tomb like a pit. Then she carried and placed there the black guy, who was not dead, but who had become very ill and very weak, and who really could no longer be of any use to my uncle's daughter. But that didn't stop him from drinking wine and boza all the time. And from the day of his wound, he could no longer speak, and he continued to live because his term had not expired. And she, every day, entered his house in the dome, at dawn and night, and was seized near him with fits of tears and madness; and she gave him drinks and boiled things to drink. And she didn't stop doing that, morning and night, all through the second year. And I waited on her all the time; but one day, entering her house unexpectedly, I found her weeping and slapping her face and saying these verses in a sad voice:
When you were gone, oh beloved, I forsook humans and lived alone,
Because my heart can no longer love anything when you are gone, oh beloved!
If you come to pass by your beloved again, O collect, with grace,
Her mortal remains in the memory of her earthly life,
And give her the rest of the grave, wherever you will,
But near you, so that you come to pass near your beloved!
Your voice! May she remember my old name to speak to me at the grave!
Oh! but from my tomb, you will only hear the sad sound of my clashing bones!
When she had finished her complaint, I said to her, the naked sword in hand: "O traitor, these are the words of the perfidious who deny past liaisons and trample on friendship!" And, raising my arm, I was about to strike her, when she suddenly got up and, learning thus that the author of the wound of her black lover was me, she rose upright on her feet, and spoke some words, which I did not understand, and said: “May Allah turn you half into stone and half into man by virtue of my sorcery!" And at the same time, Lord, I became as you see me. And I couldn't move, so I am neither dead nor alive. After she had put me in this state, she bewitched the four islands of my kingdom and turned them into mountains with the lake in the middle; and she changed my subjects into fish. But that's not all! Every day she tortures me and whips me with a leather strap and gives me a hundred blows until I bleed. And then she puts me directly on the skin, under my clothes, a fur dress covering all my upper part!"
— At this point in her narration, Scheherazade saw the morning appear and quietly fell silent.
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