me, to procure me the honour of his bed. The vizier could not
hear this without horror. O heavens! replies he, in a passion,
have you lost your senses, daughter, that you make such a
dangerous request to me? You know the sultan has sworn by his
soul that he will never lie above one night with the same woman,
and to order her to be killed the next morning; and would you
that I should propose you to him? Pray consider well to what your
indiscreet zeal will expose you. Yes, dear father, replies the
virtuous daughter, I know the risk I run; but that does not
frighten me. If I perish, my death will be glorious; and if I
succeed, I shall do my country an important piece of service. No,
no, says the vizier, whatever you can represent to engage me to
let you throw yourself into that horrible danger, do not you
think that ever I will agree to it. When the sultan shall order
me to strike my poignard into your heart, alas! I must obey him;
and what a dismal employment is that for a father? Ah! if you do
not fear death, yet at least be afraid of occasioning me the
mortal grief of seeing my hand stained with your blood. Once
more, father, says Scheherazade, grant me the favour I beg. Your
stubbornness, replies the vizier, will make me angry; why will
you run headlong to your ruin? They that do not foresee the end
of a dangerous enterprise can never bring it to a happy issue. I
am afraid the same thing will happen to you that happened to the
ass, which was well, and could not keep itself so. What
misfortune befel the ass? replies Scheherazade. I will tell you,
says the vizier, if you will hear me.