“Perfidious wretch!” said the genie to her, pointing at me, “is not this your gallant?” She cast her languishing eyes upon me, and answered mournfully, “I do not know him, I never saw him till this moment.”  “What!” said the genie, “he is the cause of thy being in the condition thou art justly in; and yet darest thou say thou cost not know him?” “If I do not know him,” said the princess, “would you have me lie on purpose to ruin him?” “Oh then,” said the genie, pulling out a cimeter and presenting it to the princess, “if you never saw him before, take this, and cut off his head.”  “Alas,” replied the princess, “how is it possible that I should execute such an act?  My strength is so far spent that I cannot lift up my arm; and if I could, how should I have the heart to take away the life of an innocent man, and one whom I do not know?” “This refusal,” said the genie to the princess, “sufficiently informs me of your crime.”  Upon which, turning to me, “And thou,” said he, “dost thou not know her?”

I should have been the most ungrateful wretch, and the most perfidious of all mankind, if I had not strewn myself as faithful to the princess as she had been to me, who had been the cause of her misfortunes.  I therefore answered the genie, “How should I know her, when I never saw her till now?” “If it be so,” said he, “take the cimeter and cut off her head:  on this condition I will set thee at liberty, for then I shall be convinced that thou hast never seen her till this moment, as thou gayest.”  “With all my heart,” replied I, and took the cimeter in my hand.

Do not think, madam, that I drew near to the fair princess of the isle of Ebene to be the executioner of the genie’s barbarity.  I did it only to demonstrate by my behaviour, as much as possible, that as she had strewn her resolution to sacrifice her life for my sake, I would not refuse to sacrifice mine for hers.  The princess, notwithstanding her pain and suffering, understood my meaning; which she signified by an obliging look, and made me understand her willingness to die for me; and that she was satisfied to see how ready I was also to die for her.  Upon this I stepped back, and threw the cimeter on the ground.  “I should for ever,” said I to the genie, “be hateful to all mankind were I to be so base as to murder, not only a person whom I do not know, but a lady like this, who is already on the point of expiring:  do with me what you please, since I am in your power; I cannot obey your barbarous commands.”

“I see,” said the genie, “that you both out-brave me, and insult my jealousy; but both of you shall know by my treatment of you of what I am capable.”  At these words the monster took up the cimeter and cut off one of her hands, which left her only so much life as to give me a token with the other that she bade me for ever adieu.  For the blood she had lost before, and that which gushed out then, did not permit her to live above one or two moments after this barbarous cruelty; the sight