front of my chair I shall pretend not to see her.  Then her women will say to me, “Respected lord and master, your wife and slave is before you waiting to be noticed.  She is mortified that you never deign to look her way; she is tired of standing so long.  Beg her, we pray you, to be seated.”  Of course I shall give no signs of even hearing this speech, which will vex them mightily.  They will throw themselves at my feet with lamentations, and at length I will raise my head and throw a careless glance at her, then I shall go back to my former attitude.  The women will think that I am displeased at my wife’s dress and will lead her away to put on a finer one, and I on my side shall replace the one I am wearing with another yet more splendid.  They will then return to the charge, but this time it will take much longer before they persuade me even to look at my wife.  It is as well to begin on my wedding-day as I mean to go on for the rest of our lives.

The next day she will complain to her mother of the way she has been treated, which will fill my heart with joy.  Her mother will come to seek me, and, kissing my hands with respect, will say, “My lord” (for she could not dare to risk my anger by using the familiar title of “son-in-law"), “My lord, do not, I implore you, refuse to look upon my daughter or to approach her.  She only lives to please you, and loves you with all her soul.”  But I shall pay no more heed to my mother-in-law’s words than I did to those of the women.  Again she will beseech me to listen to her entreaties, throwing herself this time at my feet, but all to no purpose.  Then, putting a glass of wine into my wife’s hand, she will say to her, “There, present that to him yourself, he cannot have the cruelty to reject anything offered by so beautiful a hand,” and my wife will take it and offer it to me tremblingly with tears in her eyes, but I shall look in the other direction.  This will cause her to weep still more, and she will hold out the glass crying, “Adorable husband, never shall I cease my prayers till you have done me the favour to drink.”  Sick of her importunities, these words will goad me to fury.  I shall dart an angry look at her and give her a sharp blow on the cheek, at the same time giving her a kick so violent that she will stagger across the room and fall on to the sofa.

“My brother,” pursued the barber, “was so much absorbed in his dreams that he actually did give a kick with his foot, which unluckily hit the basket of glass.  It fell into the street and was instantly broken into a thousand pieces.”

His neighbour the tailor, who had been listening to his visions, broke into a loud fit of laughter as he saw this sight.

“Wretched man!” he cried, “you ought to die of shame at behaving so to a young wife who has done nothing to you.  You must be a brute for her tears and prayers not to touch your heart.  If I were the grand-vizir I would order you a hundred blows from a bullock whip, and would have you led round the town accompanied by a herald who should proclaim your crimes.”