She took the sword from him, and, coming towards me, raised it to strike; but I made a sign with my eye, imploring her pity. She replied also with a sign, as if to say, "I have suffered all this through thee." But I still implored her with the speech of the eye, for, as the poet saith:
The language of the eye, like the kisses of the mouth is sweet as honey, and only lovers understand it. When the lips are closed, love openeth the windows of the soul, and conveyeth its meaning by soft glances.
And when my meaning was thus conveyed to her, she flung away the sword and faced the Efrite, crying, "I cannot slay him, for he hath done me no injury." The Efrite answered her not, but, taking up the sword, handed it to me. "Strike off her head," he said, "and I will set thee free." I took the sword, and arose to do the deed; but, while my arm was raised to strike, love spoke again from her eyes. My hand trembled, my heart melted. I flung the sword from me. "Wherefore should I slay this woman, who hath done me no injury, and whom I have never seen before?" I said to the Efrite. "Never before God can I commit this crime." The Efrite took the sword, and saying, "It is clear there is love between you," he cut off one of the lady's hands, then the other, and then both her feet. And, in her pain, her eyes were turned on me, and the words of love were in them. The Efrite saw her look, and cried, "Is it not enough? Wilt thou still commit the crime of unfaithfulness with thine eye?" And, raising the sword again, he cut off her head.
"O man," he said, turning to me, "it is lawful for one, having known his wife for twenty-five years, to kill her for the crime of unfaithfulness. As for thee, I will not permit thee to join her. I will not take thy life, but, as I am minded to punish thee, I will give thee thy choice as to whether thou wilt be changed into the form of a dog, or an ass, or an ape." Since he had shewn me this clemency, I thought by pleading to melt him further, so that perchance he would pardon me altogether. Therefore, I recited many instances of kindness and generosity shewn by Efrites to mortals, some of which I had gleaned from books, while others I invented then and there, with a ready wit. But, though the Efrite listened, his bearing changed not towards me one hair's breadth. "Thou hast been misinformed," he said at last. "The Efrite knows neither kindness nor generosity: he is only constrained by the justice of those who have sovereignty over him. Wherefore, hold thy peace, and neither fear that I shall slay thee, nor hope that I shall pardon thee. Thou shalt be punished by the power of enchantment, and thou knowest not how to prevent it."