Some few days after I returned from my journey, I was sitting in my shop in the public place where all sorts of fine stuffs are sold, and saw an ugly, tall, black slave come in, with an apple in his hand, which I knew to be one of those I had brought from Balsora. I had no reason to doubt it, because I was certain there was not one to be had in all Bagdad, nor in any of the gardens about it. I called to him, and said, Good slave, prithee tell me where thou hadst this apple? It is a present, said he, smiling, from my mistress. I went to see her to-day, and found her out of order. I saw three apples lying by her, and asked her where she had them. She told me, the good man, her husband, had made a fortnight’s journey on purpose for them, and brought them her. We had a collation together, and when I took my leave of her, I brought away this apple that you see. This discourse put me out of my senses. I rose, shut up my shop, ran home with all speed, and going to my wife’s chamber, looked immediately for the apples; and seeing only a couple, asked what was become of the third. Then my wife turning her head to the place where the apples lay, and perceiving there were but two, answered me coldly, Cousin, I know not what is become of it. At this answer, I did verily believe what the slave told me to be true; and at the same time, giving myself up to madness and jealousy, I drew my knife from my girdle, and thrust it into the unfortunate creature’s throat. I afterwards cut off her head, and divided her body into four quarters, which I packed up in a bundle, and hiding it in a basket, sewed it up with a thread of red yarn, put all together in a trunk, and when night came, I carried it on my shoulder down to the Tigris, where I sunk it. The two youngest of my children were already put to bed and asleep, the third was gone abroad; but at my return, I found him sitting by my gate, weeping very sore. I asked him the reason: Father, said he, I took this morning from my mother, without her knowledge, one of those three apples you brought her, and I kept it a long while; but as I was playing some time ago with my little brother, in the street, a tall slave that went by, snatched it out of my hands, and carried it with him. I ran after him, demanded it back, and besides, told him, that it belonged to my mother, who was sick, and that you had made a fortnight’s journey to fetch it; but all to no purpose --he would not restore it. And as I still followed him, crying out, he turned and beat me, and then ran away as fast as he could from one lane to another, till at length I lost sight of him. I have since been walking without the town expecting your return, to pray you, dear father, not to tell my mother of it, lest it should make her worse; and when he had said these words, he fell a weeping again more bitterly than before.