Some fatalities come in certain shapes, and some
in others- but this of which I speak has come in the shape of a
crotchet.'"
"A what?" said the king.
"'A crotchet'" said Scheherazade. "'One of the evil genii, who are
perpetually upon the watch to inflict ill, has put it into the heads
of these accomplished ladies that the thing which we describe as
personal beauty consists altogether in the protuberance of the
region which lies not very far below the small of the back. Perfection
of loveliness, they say, is in the direct ratio of the extent of
this lump. Having been long possessed of this idea, and bolsters being
cheap in that country, the days have long gone by since it was
possible to distinguish a woman from a dromedary-'"
"Stop!" said the king- "I can't stand that, and I won't. You have
already given me a dreadful headache with your lies. The day, too, I
perceive, is beginning to break. How long have we been married?- my
conscience is getting to be troublesome again. And then that dromedary
touch- do you take me for a fool? Upon the whole, you might as well
get up and be throttled.
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