At this marvellous sight the surprise of Haroun was extreme, and made him forget the tree and the peacock. He asked how that could be done.

‘My lord,’ replied Aboulcasem, ‘it is the work of an ancient sage who possessed all the secrets of nature.’

Saying these words he took the page by the hand and went out precipitately.

The caliph was indignant. ‘Oh!’ he said, ‘this young man is certainly out of his mind. He brings me his curiosities without my asking him; he pre­sents them to my gaze, and when he sees that I take the greatest pleasure in looking at them, he takes them from me. Nothing could be more ridiculous or ill-mannered. Ah, Giafar! I will teach you to judge men better!’

He did not know what to think of the character of his host, or rather he began not to have a good opinion of him, when he saw him return for the third time, followed by a maiden covered with pearls, precious stones, and still more adorned by her beauty than by her ornaments.

The caliph, at the sight of so beautiful an object, remained seized with astonishment. She made him a profound reverence and charmed him still more as she approached. He made her sit down. At the same time Aboulcasem asked for a lute ready tuned.

They brought him one made of aloes wood, ivory, sandal-wood, and ebony. He gave this instrument to the beautiful slave, who played it so perfectly that Haroun, who was a musician, cried in the excess of his admiration, ‘O young woman, how enviable is your fate. The greatest kings of the earth, the commander of the faithful himself, is not as happy as you.’

As soon as Aboulcasem remarked that his guest was enchanted with the girl, he took her by the hand and led her out of the saloon. This was a fresh mortification for the caliph. He nearly burst out, but he controlled himself, and as his host returned immediately, they continued to enjoy themselves till sunset. Then Haroun said to the young man, ‘O generous Aboulcasem, I am overwhelmed at the way you have entertained me. Permit me to retire and to leave you in peace.’ The young man of Bassora, not wishing to importune him, made him a graceful reverence, and, without opposing his wishes, conducted him as far as the door of his house, asking his pardon for not having received him as magnificently as he deserved.

‘I admit,’ said the caliph on returning to his caravanserai, ‘that as regards magnificence, Aboulcasem excels kings, but as regards generosity, my vizir has no ground for placing him on a parallel with me. Has he made me the least present? Yet I exclaimed at the beauty of the tree, the cup, the page, and the maiden. And my admiration ought at least to have compelled him to offer me some one of these things. No, that man is only ostentatious. He takes pleasure in displaying his riches before the eyes of strangers. Why? Merely to satisfy his pride and vanity. In reality, he is nothing but a miser, and I cer­tainly ought not to forgive Giafar for having lied to me.’

With these reflections, so disagreeable for his first minister, he arrived at the caravanserai. But what was his astonishment to find there silken carpets, magnificent tents, pavilions, a large number of domestics, slaves as well as freemen, horses, mules, camels, and besides all this, the tree and the peacock, the page with his cup, and the beautiful slave with her lute. The domestics prostrated themselves before him, and the girl presented to him a roll of silk paper, which he unrolled and which contained these words: ‘Dear and amiable guest, whom I do not know,—I have not, perhaps, shown you the respect due to you. I implore you to forget the shortcomings of your reception, and not to affront me by refusing the little presents that I send you. As for the tree, the peacock, the page, the cup, and the slave, they were already yours, since they pleased you: for anything that pleases my guests ceases to belong to me and becomes their own property.’

When the caliph had finished reading this letter, he was surprised at the liberality of Aboul­casem, and admitted that he had misjudged the young man. ‘A thousand million benedictions on Giafar,’ he cried. ‘He is the cause of my being disabused. Boast no longer, Haroun, of being the most magnificent and the most generous of men! One of your subjects excels you in that respect. But, he added, how can a private person make me such presents? I ought to ask him where he has found so much wealth. I was wrong in not interrogating him on that point. I do not wish to return to Bagdad without having investi­gated this matter. It concerns me to know how in the states which are under my control, there comes to be a man who leads a more delightful life than I. I must see him again, and discover adroitly by what means he has been able to make such a prodigious fortune.’

Impatient to satisfy his curiosity, he left his new domestics in the caravanserai and returned to the young man immediately, and when alone with him, ‘O too amiable Aboulcasem,’ he said, ‘the presents which you have made me are so consider­able that I feel I cannot accept them without abusing your generosity. Permit me to return them to you, and charmed by the reception you have given me, let me go and publish in Bagdad your magnificence and your generous inclinations.’

‘My lord,’ replied the young man with a mortified air, ‘you have doubtless occasion to complain of the unhappy Aboulcasem. Some action of his must have displeased you since you reject his presents. You would not do me this injury if you were pleased with me.’

‘No,’ replied the prince, ‘Heaven bears me witness that I am enchanted with your politeness, but your presents are too precious. They surpass those of kings, and if I dare tell you what I think, you should be less prodigal of your wealth, and reflect that it may become exhausted.’

Aboulcasem smiled at these words and said to the caliph, ‘My lord, I am very glad to learn that it is not to punish me for having committed a fault that you wish to refuse my presents. To induce you to receive them, I will tell you that I can make similar ones every day, yea, even greater ones without inconvenience. I see,’ he added, ‘that this speech astonishes you, but you will cease to be surprised at it when I have related to you all the adventures which have happened to me. I must needs confide in you.’

Thus speaking, he conducted Haroun into a room a thousand times richer and more ornate than the others. Several very fragrant perfume-burners scented it, and in it was a golden throne with rich foot carpets. Al-Raschid could not per­suade himself that he was in a private person’s house; he thought he must be with a prince more powerful than himself. The young man made him mount the throne, seated himself at his side, and commenced the history of his life in this manner:

‘I am the son of a jeweller of Cairo, named Abdelaziz. He possessed such wealth that, fearing to rouse against himself the envy or the avarice of the Sultan of Egypt, he left his country and came to establish himself at Bassora, where he espoused the only daughter of the richest merchant of the town.

‘I was the sole issue of this marriage, so that, inheriting all the wealth of my father and mother after their death, I had a very brilliant fortune. But I was very young. I liked spending, and seeing that I had the means for indulging my liberal tendencies, or, rather, my prodigality, I lived with such extravagance that in less than two or three years my patrimony was dissipated.

‘Then, like all those who repent of their ill-conduct, I made the finest reflections in the world. After the figure I had cut at Bassora I thought it best to go and live miserably elsewhere. It seemed to me that my poverty would be less insupportable before the eyes of strangers. I sold my house, the only thing that remained to me. I joined a cara­van of merchants, with whom I went to Moussul, then to Damascus; and, crossing the desert of Arabia and Mount Pharan, I arrived at Cairo.

‘The beauty of the houses and the magnificence of the mosques surprised me; and, remembering suddenly that I was in the town where Abdelaziz was born, I could not help sighing and shedding tears. “Oh, my father!” I said to myself, “if you were still alive and saw in the place where you enjoyed so enviable an existence, your son in such deplorable case, how great would be your grief!” Occupied with this thought which sad­dened me, I walked by the banks of the Nile. I was behind the sultan’s palace. A young lady, whose beauty struck me, appeared at a window. I stopped to look at her; she perceived it and retired. As night was approaching, and as I had not yet secured a lodging, I went to look for one in the neighbourhood.

‘I slept little; the young lady’s features were continually before my mind’s eye. I felt that I loved her already. “Would to God,” I said, “that I had not seen her or that she had not noticed me. I should not have conceived for her this mad love or I should have had the pleasure of looking at her longer.” I did not fail to return on the morrow beneath her windows in the hope of seeing her. But I was disappointed. She did not appear. That troubled me greatly, without dis­couraging me, however; for I returned the follow­ing day and was more fortunate. The lady appeared, and seeing that I was looking at her with attention she said,