"I have said nothing but the truth," replied the vizir. "During my last visit to Basra I saw this Aboulcassem; I stayed at his house; my eyes, though accustomed to your treasures, were surprised at his riches, and I was charmed with the generosity of his manners."

At these words the impetuous Haroun could no longer contain his anger.

"You are most insolent," he cried, "to place a private individual on an equality with myself! Your imprudence shall not remain unpunished."

So saying, he made a sign for the captain of his guards to approach, and commanded him to arrest the vizir Giafar. He then went to the apartment of the princess Zobeide his wife, who grew pale with fear on seeing his irritated countenance.

"What is the matter, my lord?" said she; "what causes you to be thus agitated?"

Haroun told her all that had passed, and complained of his vizir in terms that soon made Zobeide comprehend how enraged he was with the minister. This wise princess advised him to suspend his resentment, and send some one to Basra to ascertain the truth of Giafar's assertion; if it was false, she argued, the vizir should be punished; on the contrary, if it proved true, which she could not believe, it was not just to treat him as a criminal. This discourse calmed the fury of the caliph.

"I approve of this counsel, madam," said he, "and will acknowledge that I owe this justice to such a minister as Giafar. I will do still more; as any other person I charged with this office might, from an aversion to my vizir, give me a false statement, I will myself go to Basra and judge of the truth of this report. I will make acquaintance with this young man, whose generosity is thus extolled; if Giafar has told me true, I will load him with benefits instead of punishing him for his frankness; but I swear he shall forfeit his life if I find he has told me a falsehood."

As soon as Haroun had formed this resolution he thought of nothing but how to execute it. One night he secretly left the palace, mounted his horse, and left the city, not wishing any one to follow him, though Zobeide entreated him not to go alone. Arriving at Basra, he dismounted at the first caravansary he found on entering the city, the landlord of which seemed a good old man.

"Father," said Haroun, "is it true that there is in this city a young man called Aboulcassem, who surpasses even kings in magnificence and generosity?"

"Yes, my lord," answered the landlord; "and if I had a hundred mouths, and in each mouth a hundred tongues, I could not relate to you all his generous actions." As the caliph had now need of some repose, he retired to rest after partaking of a slight refreshment. He was up very early in the morning, and walked about until sunrise. Then he approached a tailor's shop and asked for the dwelling of Aboulcassem.

"From what country do you come?" said the tailor; "most certainly you have never been at Basra before, or you would have heard where the lord Aboulcassem lives; why, his house is better known than the palace of the king."

The caliph answered, "I am a stranger; I know no one in this city, and I shall be obliged if you will conduct me to this lord's house."

Upon that the tailor ordered one of his boys to show the caliph the way to the residence of Aboulcassem. It was a large house built of stone, with a doorway of marble and jasper. The prince entered the court, where there was a crowd of servants and liberated slaves who were amusing themselves in different ways while they awaited the orders of their master. He approached one of them and said, "Friend, I wish you would take the trouble to go to the lord Aboulcassem and tell him a stranger wishes to see him." The domestic judged from the appearance of Haroun that he was no common man. He ran to apprise his master, who coming into the court took the stranger by the hand and conducted him to a very beautiful saloon. The caliph then told the young man, that having heard him mentioned in terms of praise, he had become desirous of seeing him, and had travelled to Basra for that purpose. Aboulcassem modestly replied to this compliment, and seating his guest on a sofa, asked of what country and profession he was, and where he lodged at Basra.

"I am a merchant of Bagdad," replied the caliph, "and I have taken a lodging at the first caravansary I found on my arrival."

After they had conversed for a short time there entered twelve pages bearing vases of agate and rock crystal, enriched with precious stones, and full of the most exquisite beverages. They were followed by twelve very beautiful female slaves, some carrying china bowls filled with fruit and flowers, and others golden caskets containing conserves of an exquisite flavour. The pages presented their beverages to the caliph; the prince tasted them, and though accustomed to the most delicious that could be obtained in the East, he acknowledged that he had never tasted better. As it was now near the hour for dinner, Aboulcassem conducted his guest to another room, where they found a table covered with the choicest delicacies served on dishes of massive gold. The repast finished, the young man took the caliph by the hand and led him to a third room more richly furnished than the two others. Here the slaves brought a prodigious quantity of gold vases, enriched with rubies, filled with all sorts of rare wines, and china plates containing dried sweetmeats. While the host and his guest were partaking of these delicious wines there entered singers and musicians, who commenced a concert, with which Haroun was enchanted.

"I have," he said to himself, "the most admirable voices in _my_ palace, but I must confess they cannot bear comparison with these. I do not understand how a private individual can live in such magnificence."

Amongst the voices there was one in particular the extraordinary sweetness of which attracted the attention of the prince, and whilst he was absorbed in listening to it Aboulcassem left the room and returned a moment after holding in one hand a wand, and in the other a little tree whose stem was of silver, the branches and leaves emeralds, and the fruit rubies. On the top of this tree was a golden peacock beautifully executed, the body of which was filled with amber, essence of aloes, and other perfumes. He placed this tree at the caliph's feet; then striking the head of the peacock with his wand, the bird extended its wings and tail, and moved itself quickly to the right and left, whilst at each movement of its body the most odoriferous perfumes filled the apartment. The caliph was so astonished and delighted that he could not take his eyes off the tree and the peacock, and he was just going to express his admiration when Aboulcassem suddenly took them away. Haroun was offended at this, and said to himself, "What does all this mean? It appears to me this young man does not merit so much praise. He takes away the tree and the peacock when he sees me occupied in looking at them more than he likes. Is he afraid I want him to make me a present? I fear Giafar is mistaken in calling him a generous man." He was thus thinking when Aboulcassem returned accompanied by a little page as beautiful as the sun. This lovely child was dressed in gold brocade covered with pearls and diamonds. He held in his hand a cup made of one single ruby, and filled with wine of a purple colour. He approached the caliph, and prostrating himself to the ground, presented the cup. The prince extended his hand to receive it, but, wonderful to relate, he perceived on giving back the cup to the page, that though he had emptied the cup, it was still quite full. He put it again to his lips and emptied it to the very last drop. He then placed it again in the hands of the page, and at the same moment saw it filling without any one approaching it. The surprise of Haroun was extreme at this wonderful circumstance, which made him forget the tree and the peacock. He asked how it was accomplished. "My lord," said Aboulcassem, "it is the work of an ancient sage who was acquainted with most of the secrets of nature;" and then, taking the page by the hand, he precipitately left the apartment. The caliph was indignant at this behaviour. "I see how it is," said he, "this young man has lost his senses. He brings me all these curiosities of his own accord, he presents them to my view, and when he perceives my admiration, he instantly removes his treasures. I never experienced treatment so ridiculous or uncourteous. Ah, Giafar! I thought you a better judge of men."

In this manner they continued amusing themselves till sunset. Then Haroun said to the young man, "Oh, generous Aboulcassem, I am confused with the reception you have given me; permit me now to retire and leave you to repose." The young lord of Basra not wishing to inconvenience his guest, politely saluted him, and conducted him to the door of the house, apologizing for not having received him in a more magnificent style. "I quite acknowledge," said the caliph on returning to his caravansary, "that for magnificence Aboulcassem surpasses kings, but for generosity, there my vizir was wrong in placing him in comparison with myself; for what present has he made me during my visit? I was lavish in my praises of the tree, the cup, and the page, and I should have thought my admiration would have induced him to offer me, at least, one of these things. No, this man is ostentatious; he feels a pleasure in displaying his riches to the eyes of strangers. And why? Only to satisfy his pride and vanity. In reality he is a miser, and I ought not to pardon Giafar for thus deceiving me." Whilst making these disagreeable reflections on his minister, he arrived at the caravansary. But what was his astonishment on finding there silken carpets, magnificent tents, a great number of servants, slaves, horses, mules, camels, and besides all these, the tree and the peacock, and the page with his cup? The domestics prostrated themselves before him, and presented a roll of silk paper, on which were written these words, "Dear and amiable guest, I have not, perhaps, shown you the respect which is your due; I pray you to forget any appearance of neglect in my manner of receiving you, and do not distress me by refusing the little presents I have sent you. As to the tree, the peacock, the page, and the cup, since they please you, they are yours already, for any thing that delights my guests ceases to be mine from that instant." When the caliph had finished reading this letter, he was astounded at the liberality of Aboulcassem, and remembered how wrongly he had judged the young man. "A thousand blessings," cried he, "on my vizir Giafar! He has caused me to be undeceived. Ah, Haroun, never again boast of being the most magnificent and generous of men! one of your subjects surpasses you.

But how is a private individual able to make such presents? I ought to have asked where he amassed such riches; I was wrong not to have questioned him on this point: I must not return to Bagdad without investigating this affair. Besides, it concerns me to know why there is a man in my dominions who leads a more princely life than myself. I must see him again, and try to discover by what means he has acquired such an immense fortune."

Impatient to satisfy his curiosity, he left his new servants in the caravansary, and returned immediately to the young man's residence.

When he found himself in his presence he said, "Oh, too amiable Aboulcassem, the presents you have made me are so valuable, that I fear I cannot accept them without abusing your generosity. Permit me to send them back before I return to Bagdad, and publish to the world your magnificence and generous hospitality." "My lord," answered the young man with a mortified air, "you certainly must have had reason to complain of the unhappy Aboulcassem; I fear some of his actions have displeased you, since you reject his presents; you would not have done me this injury, if you were satisfied with me."

"No," replied the prince, "heaven is my witness that I am enchanted with your politeness; but your presents are too costly; they surpass those of kings, and if I dared tell you what I think, you would be less prodigal with your riches, and remember that they may soon be exhausted."

Aboulcassem 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 any fault against yourself that you wished to refuse my presents; and now to oblige you to accept them, I will tell you that every day I can make the same and even more magnificent ones without inconveniencing myself. I see," added he, "that this astonishes you, but you will cease to be surprised when I have told you all the adventures which have happened to me. It is necessary that I should thus confide in you."

Upon this he conducted Haroun to a room a thousand times richer and more ornamented than any of the others. The most exquisite essences perfumed this apartment, in which was a throne of gold placed on the richest carpets. Haroun could not believe he was in the house of a subject; he imagined he must be in the abode of a prince infinitely more powerful than himself. The young man made him mount the throne, and placing himself by his side, commenced the history of his life.

HISTORY OF ABOULCASSEM.

I am the son of a jeweller of Cairo, named Abdelaziz. He possessed such immense riches, that fearing to draw upon himself the envy or avarice of the sultan of Egypt, he quitted his native country and established himself at Basra, where he married the only daughter of the richest merchant in that city. I am the only child of that marriage, so that inheriting the estates of both my parents I became possessed on their death of a very splendid fortune. But I was young, I liked extravagance, and having wherewith to exercise my liberal propensities, or rather my prodigality, I lived with so much profusion, that in less than three years my fortune was dissipated.

Then, like all who repent of their foolish conduct, I made the most promising resolutions for the future.

After the life I had led at Basra, I thought it better to leave that place, for it seemed to me my misery would be more supportable among strangers. Accordingly I sold my house, and left the city before daybreak. When it was light I perceived a caravan of merchants who had encamped on a spot of ground near me. I joined them, and as they were on their road to Bagdad, where I also wished to go, I departed with them; I arrived there without accident, but soon found myself in a very miserable situation. I was without money, and of all my large fortune there remained but one gold sequin. In order to do something for a living I changed my sequin into aspres, and purchased some preserved apples, sweetmeats, balms, and roses. With these I went every day to the house of a merchant where many persons of rank and others were accustomed to assemble and converse together. I presented to them in a basket what I had to sell. Each took what he liked, and never failed to remunerate me, so that by this little commerce I contrived to live very comfortably. One day as I was as usual selling flowers at the merchant's house, there was seated in a corner of the room an old man, of whom I took no notice, and on perceiving that I did not address him, he called me and said, "My friend, how comes it that you do not offer your merchandise to me as well as the others? Do you take me for a dishonest man, or imagine that my purse is empty?"

"My lord," answered I, "I pray you pardon me. All that I have is at your service, I ask nothing for it." At the same time I offered him my basket; he took some perfume, and told me to sit down by him. I did so, and he asked me a number of questions, who I was, and what was my name.

"Excuse me satisfying your curiosity," said I, sighing; "I cannot do so without reopening wounds which time is beginning to heal."

These words, or the tone in which I uttered them, prevented the old man from questioning me further. He changed the discourse, and after a long conversation, on rising to depart he took out his purse and gave me ten gold sequins. I was greatly surprised at this liberality. The wealthiest lords to whom I had been accustomed to present my basket had never given me even one sequin, and I could not tell what to make of this man.

On the morrow, when I returned to the merchants, I again found my old friend; and for many days he continued to attract my attention. At length, one day, as I was addressing him after he had taken a little balm from my basket, he made me again sit by him, and pressed me so earnestly to relate my history, that I could not refuse him. I informed him of all that had happened to me; after this confidence he said:

"Young man, I knew your father. I am a merchant of Basra; I have no child, and have conceived a friendship for you; I will adopt you as my son, therefore console yourself for your past misfortunes. You have found a father richer by far than Abdelaziz, and who will have as much affection for you." I thanked the venerable old man for the honour he did me, and followed him as he left the house. He made me throw away my basket of flowers, and conducted me to a large mansion that he had hired. There I was lodged in a spacious apartment with slaves to wait on me, and by his order they brought me rich clothes. One would have thought my father Abdelaziz again lived, and it seemed as if I had never known sorrow. When the merchant had finished the business that detained him at Bagdad,--namely, when he had sold the merchandise he brought with him,--we both took the road to Basra. My friends, who never thought to see me again, were not a little surprised to hear I had been adopted by a man who passed for the richest merchant in the city. I did my best to please the old man. He was charmed with my behaviour. "Aboulcassem," he often said to me, "I am enchanted that I met you at Bagdad. You appear worthy of all I have done for you." I was touched with the kindness he evinced for me, and far from abusing it, endeavoured to do all I could to please my kind benefactor.

Instead of seeking companions of my own age, I always kept in his company, scarcely ever leaving him. At last this good old man fell sick, and the physicians despaired of his life. When he was at the last extremity he made all but myself leave him, and then said, "Now is the time, my son, to reveal to you a most important secret. If I had only this house with all its riches to bequeath, I should leave you but a moderate fortune; but all that I have amassed during the course of my life, though considerable for a merchant, is nothing in comparison to the treasure that is concealed here, and which I am now about to reveal to you. I shall not tell you how long ago, by whom, or in what manner it was found, for I am ignorant of that myself; all I know is, that my grandfather, when dying, told the secret to my father, who also made me acquainted with it a few days before his death. But," continued he, "I have one advice to give you, and take care you do not slight it. You are naturally generous. When you are at liberty to follow your own inclinations, you will no doubt be lavish of your riches. You will receive with magnificence any strangers who may come to your house. You will load them with presents, and will do good to all who implore your assistance. This conduct, which I much approve of if you can keep it within bounds, will at last be the cause of your ruin. The splendour of your establishment will excite the envy of the king of Basra, and the avarice of his ministers. They will suspect you of having some hidden treasure. They will spare no means to discover it, and will imprison you. To prevent this misfortune, you have only to follow my example. I have always, as well as my grandfather and father, carried on my business and enjoyed this treasure without ostentation; we have never indulged in any extravagance calculated to surprise the world."

I faithfully promised the merchant I would imitate his prudence. He told me where I should find the treasure, and assured me that whatever idea I might have formed of its splendour, I should find the reality far exceed my expectations. At last, when the generous old man died, I, as his sole heir, performed for him the last offices, and, taking possession of his property, of which this house is a part, proceeded at once to see this treasure. I confess to you, my lord, that I was thunderstruck. I found it to be, if not inexhaustible, at least so vast that I could never expend it, even if heaven were to permit me to live beyond the age of man. My resolution therefore was at once formed, and instead of keeping the promise I made to the old merchant, I spend my riches freely. It is my boast that there is no one in Basra who has not benefited by my generosity. My house is open to all who desire my aid, and they leave it perfectly contented. Do you call it _possessing_ a treasure if it must not be touched? And can I make a better use of it than by endeavouring to relieve the unhappy, to receive strangers with liberality, and to lead a life of generosity and charity? Every one thought I should be ruined a second time.

"If Aboulcassem," said they, "had all the treasures of the commander of the faithful, he would spend them."

But they were much astonished, when, instead of seeing my affairs in disorder, they, on the contrary, appeared every day to become more flourishing. No one could imagine how my fortune increased, while I was thus squandering it. As the old man predicted, a feeling of envy was excited against me. A rumour prevailed that I had found a treasure. This was sufficient to attract the attention of a number of persons greedy of gain. The lieutenant of police at Basra came to see me.

"I am," said he, "the daroga, and am come to demand where the treasure is which enables you to live in such magnificence."

I trembled at these words, and remained silent. He guessed from my confused air that his suspicions were not without foundation; but instead of compelling me to discover my treasure, "My lord Aboulcassem," continued he, "I exercise my office as a man of sense.

Make me some present worthy of my discretion in this affair, and I will retire."

"How much do you ask?" said I.

"I will content myself with ten gold sequins a day."

"That is not enough--I will give you a hundred. You have only to come here every day or every month, and my treasurer will count them out to you."

The lieutenant of police was transported with joy at hearing these words. "My lord," said he, "I wish that you could find a thousand treasures. Enjoy your fortune in peace; I shall never dispute your possession of it." Then taking a large sum of money in advance he went his way.

A short time after the vizir Aboulfatah-Waschi sent for me, and, taking me into his cabinet, said:

"Young man, I hear you have discovered a treasure. You know the fifth part belongs to God; you must give it to the king. Pay the fifth, and you shall remain the quiet possessor of the other four parts."

I answered him thus: "My lord, I acknowledge that I _have_ found a treasure, but I swear to you at the same time that I will confess nothing, though I should be torn in pieces. But I promise to give you every day a thousand gold sequins, provided you leave me in peace."

Aboulfatah was as tractable as the lieutenant of police. He sent his confidential servant, and my treasurer gave him thirty thousand sequins for the first month. This vizir, fearing no doubt that the king of Basra would hear of what had passed, thought it better to inform him himself of the circumstance. The prince listened very attentively, and thinking the affair required investigating, sent to summon me. He received me with a smiling countenance, saying:

"Approach, young man, and answer me what I shall ask you. Why do you not show me your treasure? Do you think me so unjust, that I shall take it from you?"

"Sire," replied I, "may the life of your majesty be prolonged for ages; but if you commanded my flesh to be torn with burning pincers I would not discover my treasure; I consent every day to pay to your majesty two thousand gold sequins. If you refuse to accept them, and think proper that I should die, you have only to order it; but I am ready to suffer all imaginable torments, sooner than satisfy your curiosity."

The king looked at his vizir as I said this, and demanded his opinion.

"Sire," said the minister, "the sum he offers you is considerable--it is of itself a real treasure. Send the young man back, only let him be careful to keep his word with your majesty."

The king followed this advice; he loaded me with caresses, and from that time, according to my agreement, I pay every year to the prince, the vizir, and the lieutenant of police, more than one million sixty thousand gold sequins. This, my lord, is all I have to tell you. You will now no longer be surprised at the presents I have made you, nor at what you have seen in my house.