“Once more, my good friend,” replied the Genius, “I entreat you not to be guilty of so cruel an act; remember that revenge is not a part of virtue; on the contrary, it is praise-worthy to return good for evil. Do not then serve me as Imma formerly treated Ateca.”--“And how was that?” asked the fisherman. “If you wish to be informed of it, open this vase,” answered the Genius, “do you think that I am in the humour, while confined in this narrow prison, to relate stories? I will tell you as many as you please when you shall have let me out.”--“No, no,” said the fisherman, “I will not release you; it is better for me to cast you to the bottom of the sea.”--“One word more, fisherman,” cried the Genius: “I will teach you how to become as rich as possible.” The hope of being no longer in want at once disarmed the fisherman. “I would listen to you,” he cried, “if I had the least ground to believe you; swear to me, by the great name of God, that you will faithfully observe what you say, and I will open the vase. I do not believe that you will be sufficiently bold to violate such an oath.” The Genius did so; and the fisherman immediately took off the covering. The smoke instantly issued from it, and the first thing the Genius did, after he had reassumed his usual form, was to kick the vase into the sea: this action rather alarmed the fisherman. “What do you mean, O Genius, by this; do you not intend to keep the oath you have taken? Or must I address the same words to you which the physician Douban did to the Greek king? “_Suffer me to live, and God will prolong your days._” The fear expressed by him made the Genius laugh; “Be of good heart, fisherman,” answered he, “I have thrown the vase into the sea only for diversion, and to see whether you would be alarmed: but to shew you that I intend to keep my word, take your nets and follow me.” They passed by the city and went over the top of a mountain, from whence they descended into a vast plain, which led them to a pond situated between four small hills.