On the fourth day of his journey, he felt himself so incommoded by the sun, and the heated surface of the earth, that he turned out of his road, in order to rest and refresh himself under some trees, which he saw at a distance. At the foot of a large walnut-tree he perceived a very transparent and cool fountain. He immediately alighted, and tying his horse to a branch of the tree, sat down on its bank; having first taken some biscuits and dates from his little store. While he was thus satisfying his hunger, he amused himself with throwing about the stones of the fruit with considerable velocity. When he had finished his frugal repast, he washed his hands, his face, and his feet, and repeated a prayer, like a good mussulman. He had hardly made an end, and was still on his knees, when he saw a genius, white with age, and of an enormous stature, advancing towards him, with a scimitar in his hand; as soon as he was close to him, he said in a most terrible tone: “Get up, that I may kill thee with this scimitar, as thou hast caused the death of my son.” He accompanied these words with a dreadful yell. The merchant, alarmed by the horrible figure of this monster, as well as the words he heard, replied, in trembling accents, “Of what crime, my good lord, alas, can I have been guilty towards you, to deserve the loss of life?”--“I have sworn to kill thee, as thou hast slain my son.”--“Good God,” answered the merchant, “how can I have slain him? I do not know him, nor have I ever seen him?” --“Didst thou not,” replied the monster, “on your arrival here sit down, and take some dates from thy wallet; and after eating them didst thou not throw the stones about on all sides?”--“This is all true,” replied the merchant: “I do not deny it.”--“Well then,” said the other, “I tell thee, thou hast killed my son; for while thou wast throwing about the stones, my son passed by; one of them struck him in the eye, and caused his death, and thus thou hast slain my son.”--“Ah, sir, forgive me,” cried the merchant. “I have neither forgiveness nor mercy,” added the monster; “and is it not just that he who has inflicted death should suffer it?”--“I grant this; yet surely I have not done so: and even if I have, I have done so innocently, and therefore I entreat you to pardon me, and suffer me to live.”--“No, no,” cried the genius, still persisting in his resolution, “I must destroy thee, as thou hast done my son.” At these words he took the merchant in his arms, and having thrown him with his face on the ground, he lifted up his sabre, in order to strike off his head.