Фредерик Марриет
The Pacha of Many Tales
Volume Three–Chapter Three
The departure of the caravan was delayed for two or three days by the vizier upon various pretexts—although it was his duty to render it every assistance—that Menouni might afford further amusement to the pacha. Menouni was well content to remain, as the liberality of the pacha was not to be fallen in with every day, and the next evening he was again ushered into the sublime presence.
“Khosh amedeid! you are welcome,” said the pacha, as Menouni made his low obeisance. “Now let us have another story. I don’t care how long it is, only let us have no more princesses to be married. That Babe-bi-bobu was enough to tire the patience of a dervish.”
“Your sublime highness shall be obeyed,” replied Menouni. “Would it please you to hear the story of Yussuf, the Water-Carrier?”
“Yes, that sounds better. You may proceed.”
The Water-Carrier
May it please your highness, it so happened that the great Haroun Alraschid was one night seized with one of those fits of sleepless melancholy with which it had pleased Allah to temper his splendid destiny, and which fits are, indeed, the common lot of those who are raised by fortune above the ordinary fears and vicissitudes of life.
“I can’t say that I ever have them,” observed the pacha. “How is that, Mustapha?”
“Your highness has as undoubted a right to them as the great caliph,” replied Mustapha, bowing, “but if I may venture to state my opinion,” continued he, drawing down to the ear of the pacha, “you have discovered the remedy for them in the strong water of the Giaour.”
“Very true,” replied the pacha; “Haroun Alraschid, if I recollect right, was very strict in his observances of the precepts of the Koran. After all, he was but a pastek—a water-melon. You may proceed, Menouni.”
The caliph, oppressed, as I before observed to your highness, with this fit of melancholy, despatched Mesrour for his chief vizier, Giaffar Bermuki, who, not unaccustomed to this nocturnal summons, speedily presented himself before the commander of the faithful. “Father of true believers! descendant of the Prophet!” said the minister, with a profound obeisance, “thy slave waits but to hear, and hears but to obey.”
“Giaffar,” replied the caliph, “I am overwhelmed with distressing inquietude, and would fain have thee devise some means for my relief. Speak—what sayest thou?”
“Hasten, O my prince, to thy favourite garden of the Tierbar, where, gazing on the bright moon, and listening to the voice of the bul-bul, you will await in pleasing contemplation the return of the sun.”
“Not so,” replied the caliph.
“By the beard of the Prophet! the caliph was right, and that Giaffar was a fool. I never heard that staring at the moon was an amusement before,” observed the pacha.
“Not so,” urged the caliph. “My gardens, my palaces, and my possessions, are no more to me a source of pleasure.”
“By the sword of the Prophet! now the caliph appears to be the fool,” interrupted the pacha.
“Shall we then repair to the Hall of the Ancients, and pass the night in reviving the memory of the wise, whose sayings are stored therein?” continued Giaffar.
“Counsel avails not,” replied the caliph; “the records of the past will not suffice to banish the cares of the present.”
“Then,” said the vizier, “will the Light of the world seek refuge from his troubles in a disguise, and go forth with the humblest of his slaves to witness the condition of his people?”
“Thou hast said well,” replied the caliph; “I will go with thee into the bazaar, and witness, unknown, the amusements of my people after the labours of the day.”
Mesrour, the chief eunuch, was at hand, and hastened for the needful disguises. After having clad themselves as merchants of Moussul, and tinged their faces of an olive hue, the caliph, accompanied by Giaffar and Mesrour, the latter armed with a scimitar, issued forth from the secret door of the seraglio. Giaffar, who knew from experience the quarter likely to prove most fertile in adventure, led the caliph past the mosque of Zobeide, and crossing the Bridge of Boats over the Tigris, continued his way to that part of the city on the Mesopotamian side of the river, which was inhabited by the wine-sellers and others, who administered to the irregularities, as well as to the wants, of the good people of Bagdad. For a short time they wandered up and down without meeting anybody; but passing through a narrow alley, their steps were arrested by the sound of a most potent pair of lungs, carolling forth a jovial song. The caliph waited awhile, in expectation of its ceasing; but he might apparently have waited until dawn of day, for verse was poured forth after verse; a small interval between them filled up by the musical gurgling of liquor from a bottle, and the gulps of the votary of Bacchus. At length, his patience being exhausted, the caliph ordered Mesrour to knock loudly at the singer’s dwelling. Hearing the noise, the fellow opened the jalousie, and came out into the verandah above. Looking down, and perceiving the three interrupters of his mirth, he bawled out—“What rascals are you that disturb an honest man at his devotions?—Begone!—fly!—away with you, scum of the earth!”
“Truly, charitable sir,” replied Giaffar in a humble tone, “we are distressed merchants, strangers in this city, who have lost our way, and fear to be seized by the watch—perhaps carried before the cadi. We beseech thee, therefore, to admit us within thy doors, and Allah will reward thy humanity.”
“Admit you within my doors!—not I, indeed. What, you wish to get into my house to gormandise and swill at my expense. Go—go!”
The caliph laughed heartily at this reply; and then called out to the man, “Indeed we are merchants, and seek but for shelter till the hour of prayer.”
“Tell me, then,” replied the man, “and mind you tell me the truth. Have you eaten and drunk your fill for the night?”
“Thanks and praise be to Allah, we have supped long since, and heartily,” returned the caliph.
“Since that is the case, you may come up; but recollect it is upon one condition, that you bind yourselves not to open your lips whatever you may see me do; no matter whether it please you or not.”
“What you desire is so reasonable,” called out the caliph, “that we should be ignorant as Yaboos, if we did not at once comply.”
The man gave one more scrutinising glance at the pretended merchants; and then, as if satisfied, descended and opened his door. The caliph and his attendants followed him up to his room, where they found a table laid out for supper, on which was a large pitcher of wine, half a roasted kid, a bottle of rakee, preserves, confections, and various kinds of fruit; odoriferous flowers were also on the table, and the lighting up of the room was brilliant. The host, immediately on their entering, tossed off a bumper of wine, as if to make up for the time he had lost, and pointing to a corner, bade the intruders to sit down there, and not to disturb him any more. He commenced his solitary feast; and after another bumper of wine, as if tired of his own company, he gruffly demanded, “Where do you fellows come from, and whither are you going?”
“Sir,” replied Giaffar, who had been whispering with the caliph, “we are merchants of Moussul, who have been to an entertainment at the country seat of a khan of Bagdad. We feasted well, and left our friend just as the day closed in. Whereupon we lost our way, and found ourselves in this street; hearing the musical accents of your voice, we exclaimed, ‘Are not those notes delightful?—one who has so sweet a voice, must be equally sweet in disposition. Let us entreat the hospitality of our brother for the remainder of the night, and in the morning we will depart in peace.’”
“I do not believe a word that you have said, you ill-looking thief. You are spies or thieves, who would profit by getting into people’s houses at unseasonable hours. You, barrel-stomach, you with whiskers like a bear,” continued he, to the vizier, “hang me if ever I saw such a rascally face as yours; and you, you black-faced nigger, keep the whites of your eyes off my supper-table, or by Allah I’ll send you all to Jehanum. I see you are longing to put your fingers on the kid; but if you do, I’ve a bone-softener, which, by the blessed Prophet, shall break every bone in your three skins.” So saying, the man, taking a large cudgel from the corner of the room, laid it by the dish of kid, into which he then plunged his fingers, and commenced eating heartily.
“Giaffar,” said the caliph, in an under tone, “contrive to find out who this ferocious animal may be, and how he contrives to live so merrily?”
“In the name of Allah, let us leave him alone,” replied Giaffar, in a fright, “for should he strike us on the head with that cudgel, we should be despatched without any one being the wiser.”
“Pish! fear nothing,” replied the caliph. “Ask him boldly his name and trade.”
“Oh, my commander,” replied Giaffar, “to hear is but to obey; yet do I quake most grievously at the threats of this villainous fellow. I entreat thee that I may defer the questions until wine shall have softened down his temper.”
“Thou cowardly vizier. Must I then interrogate him myself?” replied the caliph.
“Allah forbid,” replied Giaffar; “I will myself encounter the wrath of this least of dogs—may his grave he defiled.”
During this parley, their host, who had become more good-humoured in his cups, cast his eyes upon them.
“What in the name of Shitan, are you chaps prating and chatting about?” inquired he.
Giaffar, perceiving him in a more favourable mood, seized the occasion to speak. “Most amiable and charitable sir,” replied he, “we were talking of your great liberality and kindness in thus permitting us to intrude upon your revels. We only request, in the name of friendship, the name and profession of so worthy a Mussulman, that we may remember him in our prayers.”
“Why, thou impudent old porpus; did you not promise to ask no questions? In the name of friendship! Truly it is of long standing.”
“Still I pray Allah that it may increase. Have we not sat a considerable time in your blessed presence—have you not given us refuge? All we now ask is the name and profession of one so amiable and so kind-hearted?”
“Enough,” replied the host, pacified with the pretended humility of the vizier. “Silence, and listen. Do you see that skin which hangs over my head?” The caliph and his companions looked up and perceived the tanned skin of a young ox, which appeared to have been used for carrying water. “It is that by which I gain my daily bread. I am Yussuf, son of Aboo Ayoub, who dying some five years ago, left me nothing but a few dirhems and this strong carcass of mine, by which to gain a livelihood. I was always fond of sports and pastimes—overthrew every body who wrestled with me; nay, the man who affronts me, receives a box on the ear which makes it ring for a week afterwards.”
“Allah preserve us from affronting him,” whispered the caliph.
“When old Aboo died, I perceived, if I did not speedily turn my strength to some account, I should starve; so it struck me that there were no people more merry than the water-carriers, who supply for a few paras to the houses of this city the soft water of the river. I resolved to become one, but instead of going backwards and forwards with a goat-skin on my shoulders, I went down to the curriers, and selected the soft skin of the young ox which hangs above me, fitted it to my shoulders, and filling it at the river, marched up to the bazaar. No sooner did I appear than all the water-carriers called out, ‘That villain, Yussuf, is about to take away our bread. May Shitan seize him. Let us go to the cadi and complain.’ The cadi listened to their story, for they accused me of witchcraft, saying that no five men could lift the skin when it was full. He sent one of his beeldars to summon me before him. I had just filled my skin at the river, when the officer came from this distributor of bastinadoes. I followed him to the court, laden as I was. The crowd opened to let me pass, and I appeared before the cadi, who was much astonished at my showing so little inconvenience from such an enormous burthen. ‘Oh! Yussuf,’ cried he, ‘hear and answer; thou art accused of witchcraft.’ ‘Who accuses me, O cadi?’ replied I, throwing down my skin of water. Whereupon two hang-dogs stepped forward, and cried with loud voices, ‘Behold us here, O wise and just one.’ The cadi put one aside, and questioned the other, who swore on the book, that the devil had given me a pig’s skin, and had promised that as long as I served the followers of the Prophet out of the unclean vessel, he would enable me to carry as much as ten men. The second witness confirmed this evidence; and added, that he heard me talking with the devil, who offered to turn himself into a yaboo, and carry water for me, which I had civilly declined, for what reason he knew not, as he did not hear the rest of the conversation.
“At this evidence, the cadi and mollahs who sat with him, turned up their eyes with horror, and proceeded to discuss the degree of punishment, which so enormous a crime deserved, quite forgetting to ask me if I had any thing to offer in my defence. At last they settled that, as a commencement, I should receive five hundred bastinadoes on the soles of my feet; and, if I lived, about as many more on my belly. The cadi was about to pronounce his irrevocable fetva, when I took the liberty of interrupting this rapid course of justice. ‘O cadi,’ said I, ‘and ye, mollahs, whose beards drop wisdom, let your slave offer, at the footstool of justice, the precious proofs of innocence.’ ‘Produce them quickly then, thou wedded to Shitan and Jehanum,’ replied the cadi. Whereupon I loosened the string which attached the mouth, and allowed all the water to run out of the skin. I then turned the skin inside out, and showing to them the horns of the young ox, which fortunately I had not cut off, I demanded of the cadi and of the mollahs, if any of them had ever seen a pig with horns. At this they every one fell a laughing, as if I had uttered a cream of a joke. My innocence was declared, and my two accusers had the five hundred bastinadoes shared between them. The water-carriers were too much alarmed at the result of this attempt to attack me any more, and the true believers, from the notoriety of the charge, and my acquittal of having rendered them unclean, from the use of swinish skin, all sought my custom. In short, I have only to fill my skin, to empty it again, and I daily realise so handsome an income, that I have thrown care to the dogs, and spend in jollity every night what I have worked hard for every day. As soon as the muezzin calls to evening prayers, I lay aside my skin, betake myself to the mosque, perform my ablutions, and return thanks to Allah. After which I repair to the bazaar, purchase meat with one dirhem, rakee with another, others go for fruit and flowers, cakes, sweetmeats, bread, oils for my lamps, and the remainder I spend in wine. As soon as all is collected, I arrive at my own house, put every thing in order, light up my lamps, and enjoy myself after my own fashion. So now you know all I choose to tell you, and whether you are merchants or spies in disguise, I care not. Be satisfied and depart, for the dawn is here.”
The caliph, who had been much amused with Yussuf’s account of himself, replied, “In truth, you are a wonderful man, and it must be allowed that, in separating yourself from your fellows, you escape many troubles and inconveniences.”
“Ay,” replied Yussuf; “thus have I lived for five years. Every night has my dwelling been lighted up as you see it, and my fortunate stars have never suffered me to go without meat and drink, such as you three now smell and long for, but shall not put your fingers to.”
“But, friend Yussuf,” observed Giaffar, “suppose that to-morrow, the caliph should issue a decree, putting an end to the trade of supplying with water, and declare that whoever was found with a skin-full should be hanged. In such a case, what would you do? You could not light up your lamps; you could not enjoy your kabobs and pillau, neither would you be able to purchase fruits, sweetmeats, or a drop of wine.”
“May Shitan seize your unlucky soul, you tun-bellied beast of ill-omen! for the bare supposition of such a thing; depart—depart quickly, and never let me see you again.”
“My good friend, Yussuf, I did but jest; five years, as you observe, have passed away without a day’s intermission of your enjoyment, nor is it probable that the caliph will ever issue such a ridiculous and unheard-of decree. I only observed, that supposing he did, what could you do, never leaving a single asper for the next day’s provision?”
At the repetition of the vizier’s speech, Yussuf became highly exasperated. “You dare to repeat to me your unlucky words and ill-omens,—and you ask me what I shall do! Now hear me: by the beard of the Prophet, should the caliph issue such a decree, with this good cudgel I will search all Bagdad, until I find you all. You, and you,” continued Yussuf, looking fiercely at the caliph and the vizier, “I will beat until you are as black as he is, (pointing to Mesrour), and him I will cudgel until he is as white as the flesh of the kid I have been regaling on. Depart at once, you shall no longer pollute my roof.”
The caliph was so much diverted with the anger of Yussuf, and yet in such dread of showing it, that he was obliged to thrust the end of his robe into his mouth, as they walked out under a shower of curses from the water-carrier.
“By the sword of the Prophet, but they were well out of this scrape!” observed the pacha. “May the grave of the rascal’s mother he defiled! to offer to cudgel the vice-gerent of the Prophet.”
“The caliph was in disguise, and Yussuf knew him not,” replied Mustapha.
“Those who threaten me in disguise, will find that no excuse, we swear by our beard,” replied the pacha. “Proceed Menouni.”
It was daylight before the great Haroun re-entered the secret gate of the seraglio, and retired to his couch. After a short slumber he arose, performed his ablutions, and proceeded to the divan, where he found the principal officers of his court, the viziers, omras, and grandees, assembled to receive him: his imagination, however, still dwelt upon the events of the preceding night; and after the ordinary business of the day had been transacted, and the petitioners who attended had been dismissed, he called for his grand vizier, who presented himself with the customary obeisances.
“Giaffar,” said the caliph, “issue a decree to the governor of the city that it be proclaimed throughout the streets of Bagdad, that no person whatever, shall, for the space of three days, carry water from the river to the bazaars for sale; and that whoever trespasses shall be hanged.”
The governor, Khalid hen Talid, immediately that he received the fetva, took the proper measures to have it promulgated. Heralds were despatched throughout the various quarters of the city, who proclaimed the will of the caliph. The people wondered, but submitted.
Yussuf, who had performed his morning devotions, had reached the banks of the Tigris, and just filled, and hoisted on his shoulders, his ox-skin of water, when the appearance of one of the heralds attracted his attention: he listened to the legal proclamation, and let down his ox-skin with a curse upon all merchants of Moussul.
“Confusion to the scoundrels, who last night prophesied such an unlucky event! If I could but lay hands upon them!” exclaimed Yussuf. “They did but hint it, and behold it is done.”
Whilst Yussuf was thus lamenting over his empty water-skin, some of the other water-carriers came up, and began to console him after the fashion of Job’s comforters.
“Surely,” said one, “you need not be troubled at this edict, you gain more than any five of us every day, and you have no wife nor child to provide for. But I, wretched man that I am, will have the misery of beholding my wife and children starving before the expiration of the three days.”
Another said, “Be comforted, Yussuf, three days will soon pass away, and then you will relish your kabobs, and your rakee, your sweetmeats and your wine, with greater pleasure, having been so long deprived of them.”
“Besides,” added a third, “you must not forget, Yussuf, that the Prophet has declared that a man is eternally damned, body and soul, who is constantly drunk as you are.”
These observations kindled Yussuf’s bile to that degree, that he was nearly venting his spleen upon his sarcastic consolers. He turned away, however, in his rage, and throwing his empty skin over his shoulders, proceeded slowly towards the mosque of Zobeide, cursing as he went along, all Moussul merchants, down to the fiftieth generation. Passing the great baths, he was accosted by one of the attendants with whom he was intimate, who inquired, why he was so depressed in spirits?
“That cold-blooded caliph of ours, Haroun Alraschid, has put an end to my earnings for three days, by threatening to hang any water-carrier who shall carry his load to the bazaar. You know, my friend, that I never have put by a single para, and I fear that in three days my carcase will become shrivelled with famine, and dried up for the want of a cup of rakee.”
“Which thou hast often divided with me before now,” replied the other; “so even now will I divide my work with you, Yussuf. Follow me, if you do not object to the employment, which requires little more than strength, and, by Allah, you have that, and to spare. Surely upon a pinch like this, you can take up a hair-bag, and a lump of soap, and scrub and rub the bodies of the true believers. Those hands of yours, so enormous and so fleshy, are well calculated to knead the muscles and twist the joints of the faithful. Come, you shall work with us during these three days at the hummaum, and then you can return to your old business.”
“Thy words of comfort penetrate deep into my bosom,” replied Yussuf, “and I follow thee.”
The bath-rubber then took him in, bound an apron round his waist, and lent him a bag, three razors, pumice stone for scrubbing the soles of the feet, a hair bag, and a sponge. Having caparisoned and furnished him with implements, he led Yussuf into the apartment where was the reservoir of hot water, and desired him to wait for a customer. Yussuf, had not long sat down on the edge of the marble bath, when he was summoned to perform his duties on a hadji, who, covered with dust and dirt, had evidently just returned from a tedious pilgrimage.
Yussuf set to work with spirit; seizing the applicant with one hand, he stripped him with the other, and first operated upon the shaven crown with his razor. The hadji was delighted with the energy of his attendant. Having scraped his head as clean as he could with an indifferent razor, Yussuf then soaped and lathered, scrubbed and sponged the skin of the pilgrim, until it was as smooth and glossy as the back of a raven. He then wiped him dry, and taking his seat upon the backbone of his customer, he pinched and squeezed all his flesh, thumped his limbs, twisted every joint till they cracked like faggots in a blaze, till the poor hadji was almost reduced to a mummy by the vigour of the water-carrier, and had just breath enough in his body to call out, “Cease, cease, for the love of Allah—I am dead, I am gone.” Having said this, the poor man fell back nearly senseless. Yussuf was very much alarmed; he lifted up the man, poured warm water over him, wiped him dry, and laid him on the ottoman to repose, covering him up. The hadji fell into a sound slumber, and in half an hour awoke so refreshed and revived, that he declared himself quite a new man.
“It is only to hadjis,” observed Yussuf, “that I give this great proof of my skill.”
The man put his hand into his pocket, pulled out three dirhems, and presented them to Yussuf, who was astounded at such liberality; and again expressing his satisfaction, the hadji left the hummaum. Delighted with his success, Yussuf continued his occupation, and attended with alacrity every fresh candidate for his joint-twisting skill. By the time that evening prayers commenced he had kneaded to mummies half a dozen more true believers, and had received his six dirhems, upon which he determined to leave off for that day.
Having left the bath, he dressed himself, went home, took his leathern pitcher, dish, and basket, and went to the bazaar, where he purchased a piece of mutton, and left it at the most noted kabob maker’s in the district to be cooked; he then purchased his wine and rakee, wax tapers, and flowers, pistachio nuts, dried fruit, bread, and oil for his lamps. When he had completed his purchases he called at the cook’s shop, where he found his mutton nicely kabobed, and smoking in the dish. Paying the cook, and putting it into his basket, he hastened home over the bridge of boats, exulting in his good fortune. When he arrived, he swept out his room, dressed himself in better clothes, lighted his lamps, spread out his table, and then squatted himself down, with his legs twisted under him, and tossing off a bumper of wine, he exclaimed, “Well, I am lucky; nevertheless, here’s confusion to all Moussul merchants, with their vile omens. Allah send their unlucky footsteps here to-night—that’s all.”
Here Menouni stopped, and made his salaam. “May it please your highness to permit your slave to retire for the night, for the tale of Yussuf, the water-carrier, cannot be imparted to your highness in one evening.”
The pacha, although much amused, was also a little tired. “Be it so, good Menouni; but recollect, Mustapha, that the caravan must not depart, till I hear the end of this story.”
“Be chesm, on my eyes be it,” replied Mustapha; and they all retired for the night.
“What is the cause?” demanded the pacha hastily, as next day Mustapha listened with apparent patience to the long details of one of the petitioners for justice.
“It is, O lord of wisdom, a dispute between these men, as to a sum of money which they received as guides to a Frank, who journeyed into the interior. The one was hired for the journey, but not being well acquainted with the road called in the assistance of the other; they now dispute about the division of the money, which lies at my feet in this bag.”
“It appears that the one who was hired did not know the way?”
“Even so,” replied Mustapha.
“Then he was no guide, and doth not deserve the money. And the other, it appears, was called in to assist?”
“Thy words are the words of wisdom,” replied Mustapha.
“Then was he not a guide but only an assistant; neither can he be entitled to the money as guide. By the beard of the Prophet, justice must not be fooled thus, and the divan held in our presence he made foolish by such complaints. Let the money be distributed among the poor, and let them each have fifty bastinadoes on the soles of the feet. I have said it.”
“Wallah thaib—it is well said,” replied Mustapha, as the two disputants were removed from the presence.
“Now call Menouni,” said the pacha, “for I am anxious to hear the story of Yussuf, and the future proceedings of the caliph; and a part of this bag of money will reward him for the honey which falls from his lips.”
Menouni made his appearance and his obeisance; the pacha and Mustapha received their pipes from the Greek slave, and the Kessehgou then proceeded with his story.
The great caliph, Haroun Alraschid, had as usual held his afternoon audience; the court was dismissed. Haroun, whose whole thoughts were upon the bankrupt condition of Yussuf, and who was anxious to know how he had got on after the fetva had been promulgated, sent for his vizier Giaffar. “I wish to ascertain,” said the caliph to the vizier, “if the unlucky Yussuf has managed to provide for his bacchanalian revels to-night?”
“There can be no doubt, O vice-gerent of the Prophet,” replied Giaffar, “that the young man is seated in the dark, in a most dismal mood, without either wine or kabob, or aught to comfort him.”
“Send for Mesrour, then; we will again resume our disguises, and pay him a visit.”
“Let the humblest of your slaves,” interposed Giaffar in a great fright, “represent at the footstool of your highness a true picture of what we may anticipate. Doubtless this lion slayer of Shitan, being famished, will not forget our prophecy, and ascribing the fulfilment to our bad omens, will in his mood sacrifice us to his empty stomach.”
“Your wisdom is great, Giaffar,” replied the caliph “the man is truly a savage, and doubtless will rage with hunger; nevertheless we will go and see in what state he may be.”
Giaffar trembled at the idea of being subjected to the wrath of such a fellow as Yussuf, but made no reply. He went for Mesrour and the dresses, and having put them on, they all three issued forth from the private gate of the seraglio. They had nearly reached the end of the narrow lane in which Yussuf’s house was situated, when the strong reflection of the lights from the windows told them that, at all events, he was not lamenting his hard fate in darkness; and as they approached, the sound of his jovial voice proved also that it was neither in silence that he submitted to his destiny. As they came under the window he ceased singing, and ejaculated a loud curse upon all Moussul merchants, wishing that he might only see them once again before the devil had them. The caliph laughed at this pious wish, and taking up a handful of pebbles threw them at the jalousies of Yussuf’s windows.
“Who the devil is there?” roared the water-carrier; “is it you, ye bankrupt vagabonds, who have annoyed me? Begone; or by the sword of the Prophet, I’ll impale you all three on my broomstick.”
“Dost thou not know us, Yussuf?” replied the caliph; “we are your friends, and once more request admission under thy hospitable roof.”
Yussuf came out into the verandah. “Oh! it is you, then; now take my advice; go in peace. I am now in good humour, and peaceably disposed, but had I fallen in with you to-day, I would have twisted off your necks.”
