Dunyazad said to her, “Allah upon thee, O my sister, an thou be not sleeping, finish for us thy tale that we may cut short the watching of this our latter night!” She replied, “With love and good will!” It hath reached me, O auspicious King, the director, the right-guiding, lord of the rede which is benefiting and of deeds fair-seeming and worthy celebrating, that the Egyptian rose up and girded his loins and tucked up his sleeves, and taking him a tray said to the Syrian, “Up and after me and see what I shall do.”  Then he went out tray on head, and foregoing the Damascene to a flower-garden he gathered a bundle of blooms and sweet-scented herbs, pinks and roses and basil and pennyroyal[FN#598] and marjoram and other such, until the tray was filled, after which he turned to town.  About noontide he repaired to one of the Cathedral-mosques and entered the lavatory,[FN#599] around which were some fifteen privies:[FN#600] so he stood amiddlemost the floor considering the folk as they entered the jakes to do their jobs in private lest the bazar-people come upon them during their easement.  And all were sore pressed wanting to pass urine or to skite; so whenever a man entered the place in a hurry he would draw the door to.  Then the Lack-tact of Cairo would pull the door open, and go in to him carrying a posy of perfumed herbs, and would say, “Thy favour![FN#601] O my brother,” and the man would shout out saying, “Allah ruin thy natal realm, are we at skite or at feast?” whereat all standing there would laugh at him.  Suddenly one rushed into the lavatory sore pressed and hanging an arse[FN#602] and crying aloud in his grievous distress, “O Allah, O His Prophet, aid me!” for that he feared to let fly in his bag-trousers.  Then the Lack-tact would accost him holding in hand his posy of perfumed herbs, and softly saying, “Bismillah-take it, and give me thy favour;” and the man would roar at the top of his voice, “Allah disappoint thee! what a Lack-tact thou art:  I am sore pressed; get thee out.”  And the further that man would fare away from him the closer he would follow him saying, “Thy favour!  Take it!  Smell it!” Now at that time all the cabinets of easement were full of people, nor did one remain vacant, and the distressed man stood there expecting someone to issue that he might enter; but in his condition the delay was over-long—­And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and fell silent and ceased saying her permitted say.  Then quoth her sister Dunyazad, “How sweet and tasteful is thy tale, O sister mine, and enjoyable and delectable!” Quoth she, “And where is this compared with that I would relate to you on the coming night an the Sovran suffer me to survive?” Now when it was the next night and that was

The Eight Hundred and Thirty-ninth Night,