It seems, however, that this politic damsel (who had been reading
      Machiavelli, beyond doubt), had a very ingenious little plot in
      her mind. On the night of the wedding, she contrived, upon I
      forget what specious pretence, to have her sister occupy a couch
      sufficiently near that of the royal pair to admit of easy
      conversation from bed to bed; and, a little before cock-crowing,
      she took care to awaken the good monarch, her husband (who bore
      her none the worse will because he intended to wring her neck on
      the morrow),—she managed to awaken him, I say, (although on
      account of a capital conscience and an easy digestion, he slept
      well) by the profound interest of a story (about a rat and a
      black cat, I think) which she was narrating (all in an undertone,
      of course) to her sister. When the day broke, it so happened that
      this history was not altogether finished, and that Scheherazade,
      in the nature of things could not finish it just then, since it
      was high time for her to get up and be bowstrung—a thing very
      little more pleasant than hanging, only a trifle more genteel! The king’s curiosity, however, prevailing, I am sorry to say,
      even over his sound religious principles, induced him for this
      once to postpone the fulfilment of his vow until next morning,
      for the purpose and with the hope of hearing that night how it
      fared in the end with the black cat (a black cat, I think it was)
      and the rat. The night having arrived, however, the lady Scheherazade not only
      put the finishing stroke to the black cat and the rat (the rat
      was blue) but before she well knew what she was about, found
      herself deep in the intricacies of a narration, having reference
      (if I am not altogether mistaken) to a pink horse (with green
      wings) that went, in a violent manner, by clockwork, and was
      wound up with an indigo key. With this history the king was even
      more profoundly interested than with the other—and, as the day
      broke before its conclusion (notwithstanding all the queen’s
      endeavors to get through with it in time for the bowstringing),
      there was again no resource but to postpone that ceremony as
      before, for twenty-four hours. The next night there happened a
      similar accident with a similar result; and then the next—and
      then again the next; so that, in the end, the good monarch,
      having been unavoidably deprived of all opportunity to keep his
      vow during a period of no less than one thousand and one nights,
      either forgets it altogether by the expiration of this time, or
      gets himself absolved of it in the regular way, or (what is more
      probable) breaks it outright, as well as the head of his father
      confessor. At all events, Scheherazade, who, being lineally
      descended from Eve, fell heir, perhaps, to the whole seven
      baskets of talk, which the latter lady, we all know, picked up
      from under the trees in the garden of Eden; Scheherazade, I say,
      finally triumphed, and the tariff upon beauty was repealed. Now, this conclusion (which is that of the story as we have it
      upon record) is, no doubt, excessively proper and pleasant—but
      alas! like a great many pleasant things, is more pleasant than
      true, and I am indebted altogether to the “Isitsöornot” for the
      means of correcting the error. “Le mieux,” says a French proverb,
      “est l’ennemi du bien,” and, in mentioning that Scheherazade had
      inherited the seven baskets of talk, I should have added that she
      put them out at compound interest until they amounted to
      seventy-seven. “My dear sister,” said she, on the thousand-and-second night, (I
      quote the language of the “Isitsöornot” at this point, verbatim)
      “my dear sister,” said she, “now that all this little difficulty
      about the bowstring has blown over, and that this odious tax is
      so happily repealed, I feel that I have been guilty of great
      indiscretion in withholding from you and the king (who I am sorry
      to say, snores—a thing no gentleman would do) the full conclusion
      of Sinbad the sailor. This person went through numerous other and
      more interesting adventures than those which I related; but the
      truth is, I felt sleepy on the particular night of their
      narration, and so was seduced into cutting them short—a grievous
      piece of misconduct, for which I only trust that Allah will
      forgive me. But even yet it is not too late to remedy my great
      neglect—and as soon as I have given the king a pinch or two in
      order to wake him up so far that he may stop making that horrible
      noise, I will forthwith entertain you (and him if he pleases)
      with the sequel of this very remarkable story.”

      Hereupon the sister of Scheherazade, as I have it from the
      “Isitsöornot,” expressed no very particular intensity of
      gratification; but the king, having been sufficiently pinched, at
      length ceased snoring, and finally said, “Hum!” and then “Hoo!”
      when the queen, understanding these words (which are no doubt
      Arabic) to signify that he was all attention, and would do his
      best not to snore any more—the queen, I say, having arranged
      these matters to her satisfaction, re-entered thus, at once, into
      the history of Sinbad the sailor:

      “‘At length, in my old age,’ [these are the words of Sinbad
      himself, as retailed by Scheherazade]—‘at length, in my old age,
      and after enjoying many years of tranquillity at home, I became
      once more possessed of a desire of visiting foreign countries;
      and one day, without acquainting any of my family with my design,
      I packed up some bundles of such merchandise as was most precious
      and least bulky, and, engaging a porter to carry them, went with
      him down to the sea-shore, to await the arrival of any chance
      vessel that might convey me out of the kingdom into some region
      which I had not as yet explored. “‘Having deposited the packages upon the sands, we sat down
      beneath some trees, and looked out into the ocean in the hope of
      perceiving a ship, but during several hours we saw none whatever. At length I fancied that I could hear a singular buzzing or
      humming sound; and the porter, after listening awhile, declared
      that he also could distinguish it. Presently it grew louder, and
      then still louder, so that we could have no doubt that the object
      which caused it was approaching us. At length, on the edge of the
      horizon, we discovered a black speck, which rapidly increased in
      size until we made it out to be a vast monster, swimming with a
      great part of its body above the surface of the sea.