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anguished heart I mourned for my son for nearly a year. When the Great Feast of the Immolation 4 drew near, I summoned the shepherd and ordered him to bring me a fat cow for the sacrifice. The cow he brought me was in reality my enchanted mistress. When I bound her and pressed against her to cut her throat, she wept and cried, as if saying, “My son, my son,” and her tears coursed down her cheeks. Astonished and seized with pity, I turned away and asked the shepherd to bring me a different cow. But my wife shouted, “Go on. Butcher her, for he has none better or fatter. Let us enjoy her meat at feast time.” I approached the cow to cut her throat, and again she cried, as if saying, “My son, my son.” Then I turned away from her and said to the shepherd, “Butcher her for me.” The shepherd butchered her, and when he skinned her, he found neither meat nor fat but only skin and bone. I regretted having her butchered and said to the shepherd, “Take her all for yourself, or give her as alms to whomever you wish, and find me a fat young bull from among the flock.” The shepherd took her away and disappeared, and I never knew what he did with her.
    Then he brought me my son, my heartblood, in the guise of a fat young bull. When my son saw me, he shook his head loose from the rope, ran toward me, and, throwing himself at my feet, kept rubbing his head against me. I was astonished and touched with sympathy, pity, and mercy, for the blood hearkened to the blood and the divine bond, and my heart throbbed within me when I saw the tears coursing over the cheeks of my son the young bull, as he dug the earth with his hoofs. I turned away and said to the shepherd, “Let him go with the rest of the flock, and be kind to him, for I have decided to spare him. Bring me another one instead of him.” My wife, this very deer, shouted, “You shall sacrifice none but this bull.” I got angry and replied, “I listened to you and butchered the cow uselessly. I will not listen to you and kill this bull, for I have decided to spare him.” But she pressed me, saying, “You must butcher this bull,” and I bound him and took the knife . . .
    But dawn broke, and morning overtook Shahrazad, and she lapsed into silence, leaving the king all curiosity for the rest of the story. Then her sister Dinarzad said, “What an entertaining story!” Shah-razad replied, “Tomorrow night I shall tell you something even stranger, more wonderful, and more entertaining if the king spares me and lets me live.”

    T HE F IFTH N IGHT
    The following night, Dinarzad said to her sister Shahrazad, “Please, sister, if you are not sleepy, tell us one of your little tales.” Shahrazad replied, “With the greatest pleasure”:
    I heard, dear King, that the old man with the deer said to the demon and to his companions:
    I took the knife and as I turned to slaughter my son, he wept, bellowed, rolled at my feet, and motioned toward me with his tongue. I suspected something, began to waver with trepidation and pity, and finally released him, saying to my wife, “I have decided to spare him, and I commit him to your care.” Then I tried to appease and please my wife, this very deer, by slaughtering another bull, promising her to slaughter this one next season. We slept that night, and when God’s dawn broke, the shepherd came to me without letting my wife know, and said, “Give me credit for bringing you good news.” I replied, “Tell me, and the credit is yours.” He said, “Master, I have a daughter who is fond of soothsaying and magic and who is adept at the art of oaths and spells. Yesterday I took home with me the bull you had spared, to let him graze with the cattle, and when my daughter saw him, she laughed and cried at the same time. When I asked her why she laughed and cried, she answered that she laughed because the bull was in reality the son