Then Codadad and his brothers desired the princess to tell them her story, assuring her they were highly concerned at her misfortunes, and fully disposed to spare for nothing that might contribute towards rendering her more happy. After thanks returned for their fresh protestations of readiness to serve her, she could not refuse satisfying their curiosity, and began the recital of her adventures in the following manner. STORY OF THE PRINCESS OF DERYABAR. There is, in a certain island, a great city called Deryabar. It has been long governed by a potent, magnificent, and virtuous king. That prince had no children, which was the only thing wanting to make him happy. He continually addressed his prayers to Heaven; but Heaven granted his requests by halves; for the queen his wife, after a long expectation, brought forth a daughter. I am the unfortunate princess. My father was rather troubled than pleased at my birth; but he submitted to the will of God, and caused me to be educated with all possible care, being resolved, since he had no son, to teach me the art of ruling, that I might supply his place after his death. One day, when he was taking the diversion of hunting, he spied a wild ass, which he chased, lost his company, and was carried away so far in that heat, as to ride on till night, without reflecting that he was quite out of the way. He then alighted, and sat down at the edge of a wood, into which he had observed the ass had taken. No sooner was the day shut in, than he discovered a light among the trees, which made him conclude that he was not far from some village: he rejoiced at it, hoping that he might pass the night there, and find some person to send to his followers to acquaint them where he was; and accordingly he got up and walked towards the light, which served to guide him. He soon found he had been deceived, that light being no other than a fire lighted in a hut: however, he drew near, and with amazement beheld a great black, or rather a dreadful giant, sitting on a sofa. Before the monster was a great pitcher of wine, and he was roasting a bullock he had newly killed. Sometimes he drank out of the pitcher, and then cut slices off the bullock and ate them. But that which most drew the king my father’s attention was a beautiful woman he saw in the hut. She seemed to be overwhelmed with grief; her hands were bound, and at her feet was a small child, about two or three years old, who, as if he was sensible of his mother’s misfortunes, continually wept, and rent the air with cries. My father being moved with that object of pity, thought at first to have gone into the hut and attack the giant; but considering it would be an unequal combat, he stopped, and resolved, since he had not strength enough to prevail by open force, to use art.