We lived together twenty years without any children, yet her barrenness did hot hinder my haying a great deal of complaisance and friendship for her. The desire of having children only made me to buy a slave, by whom I had a son, who was extremely promising. My wife being jealous, conceived a hatred both for mother and child, but concealed it so well, that I did not know it till it was too late.
Mean time my son grew up, and was ten years old, when I was obliged to undertake a journey: before I went, I recommended to my wife, of whom I had no mistrust, the slave and her son, and prayed her to take care of them during my absence, which was for a whole year. She made use of that time to satisfy her hatred: she applied herself to magic, and when she knew enough of that diabolical art to execute her horrible contrivance, the wretch carried my son to a desolate place, where, by her enchantments, she changed my son into a calf, and gave him to my farmer to fatten, pretending she had bought him. Her fury did not stop at this abominable action, but she likewise changed the slave into a cow, and gave her also to the farmer.
At my return, I asked for the mother and child: your slave, says she, is dead; and for your son, I know not what is become of him: I have not seen him these two months. I was troubled at the death of my slave; but my son having also disappeared, as she told me, I was in hopes he would return in a little time. However, eight months passed, and I heard nothing of him, When the festival of the great Bairam happened, to celebrate the same, I sent to my farmer for one of the fattest cows to sacrifice; and he sent me one accordingly. The cow which he brought me was my slave, the unfortunate mother of my son, I tied her, but as I was going to sacrifice her, she bellowed pitifully and I could perceive streams of tears run from her eyes. This seemed to me very extraordinary, and finding myself, in spite of all I could do, seized with pity, I could not find in my heart to give her the blow, but ordered my farmer to get me another.
My wife, who was present, was enraged at my compassion, and opposing herself to an order which disappointed her malice, she cries out, What do you do, husband? Sacrifice that cow, your farmer has not a finer, nor one fitter for that use. Out of complaisance to my wife, I came again to the cow, and combatting my pity, which suspended the sacrifice, was going to give her the fatal blow, when the victim redoubling her tears, and bellowing, disarmed me a second time. Then I put the mell into the farmer's hands, and bade him sacrifice her himself, for her tears and bellowing pierced my heart.
The farmer, less compassionate than I, sacrificed her; and when he flead her, found her nothing but bones, though to us she seemed very fat. Take her to yourself, says I to the farmer, I quit her to you; give her in alms, or which way you will; and if you have a very fat calf, bring me it in her stead. I did not inform myself what he did with the cow; but, soon after he took her away, he came with a very fat calf. Though I knew not that the calf was my son, yet I could not forbear being moved at the sight of him. On his part, as soon as he saw me, he made so great an effort to come to me, that he broke his cord, threw himself at my feet, with his head against the ground, as if he would excite my compassion, conjuring me not to be so cruel as to take his life, and did as much as was possible for him to do, to signify that he was my son.
I was more surprised and affected with this action than with the tears of the cow: I found a tender pity, which made me concern myself for him, or rather nature did its duty. Go, says I to the farmer, carry home that calf, take great care of him, and bring me another in his stead immediately.
As soon as my wife heard me say so, she immediately cried out, What do you do, husband? Take my advice, sacrifice no other calf but that. Wife, said I, I will not sacrifice him, I will spare him, and pray do not you oppose it. The wicked woman had no regard to my desire, she hated my son too much to consent that I should save him; I tied the poor creature, and taking up the fatal knife—Here Scheherazade stopped, because she perceived day-light.
Then Dinarzade said, Sister, I am enchanted with this story, which bespeaks my attention so agreeably. If the sultan will suffer me to live to-day, answers Scheherazade, what I have to tell you to-morrow will divert you abundantly more. Schahriar, curious to know what would become of the old man's son, who led the bitch, told the sultaness he would be very glad to hear the end of that story next night.
The Fifth Night.
When day began to draw near, Dinarzade put her sister's orders in execution very exactly, who, being awaked, prayed the sultan to allow her to give Dinarzade that satisfaction, which the prince, who took so much pleasure in the story himself, readily agreed to.