After this the Princess could think of nothing but the roc’s egg, and
when Aladdin returned from hunting he found her in a very ill humor. He
begged to know what was amiss, and she told him that all her pleasure in
the hall was spoiled for the want of a roc’s egg hanging from the dome.
“If that is all,” replied Aladdin, “you shall soon be happy.” He left
her and rubbed the lamp, and when the genie appeared commanded him to
bring a roc’s egg. The genie gave such a loud and terrible shriek that
the hall shook. “Wretch!” he cried, “is it not enough that I have done
everything for you, but you must command me to bring my master and hang
him up in the midst of this dome? You and your wife and your palace
deserve to be burnt to ashes, but that this request does not come from
you, but from the brother of the African magician, whom you destroyed.
He is now in your palace disguised as the holy woman--whom he murdered.
He it was who put that wish into your wife’s head. Take care of
yourself, for he means to kill you.” So saying, the genie disappeared.
Aladdin went back to the Princess, saying his head ached, and requesting
that the holy Fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on it. But when
the magician came near, Aladdin, seizing his dagger, pierced him to the
heart. “What have you done?” cried the Princess. “You have killed the
holy woman!” “Not so,” replied Aladdin, “but a wicked magician,” and
told her of how she had been deceived.
After this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded the Sultan
when he died, and reigned for many years, leaving behind him a long line
of kings.(1)
(1) Arabian Nights.
THE TALE OF A YOUTH WHO SET OUT TO LEARN WHAT FEAR WAS
A father had two sons, of whom the eldest was clever and bright, and
always knew what he was about; but the youngest was stupid, and
couldn’t learn or understand anything. So much so that those who saw him
exclaimed: “What a burden he’ll be to his father!” Now when there was
anything to be done, the eldest had always to do it; but if something
was required later or in the night-time, and the way led through the
churchyard or some such ghostly place, he always replied: “Oh! no,
father: nothing will induce me to go there, it makes me shudder!” for
he was afraid. Or, when they sat of an evening around the fire telling
stories which made one’s flesh creep, the listeners sometimes said:
“Oh! it makes one shudder,” the youngest sat in a corner, heard the
exclamation, and could not understand what it meant. “They are always
saying it makes one shudder! it makes one shudder! Nothing makes me
shudder. It’s probably an art quite beyond me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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