"But I'm _not_ rich, and I've already declined any riches from you,"
said Horace. "And, what's more to the point, I'm perfectly and
hopelessly obscure. If you had the slightest sense of humour--which I
fear you have not--you would at once perceive the absurdity of proposing
to unite a radiant, ethereal, superhuman being to a commonplace
professional nonentity in a morning coat and a tall hat. It's really too
ridiculous!"

"What thou hast just said is not altogether without wisdom," said
Fakrash, to whom this was evidently a new point of view. "Art thou,
indeed, so utterly unknown?"

"Unknown?" repeated Horace; "I should rather think I was! I'm simply an
inconsiderable unit in the population of the vastest city in the world;
or, rather, not a unit--a cipher. And, don't you see, a man to be worthy
of your exalted kinswoman ought to be a celebrity. There are plenty of
them about."

"What meanest thou by a celebrity?" inquired Fakrash, falling into the
trap more readily than Horace had ventured to hope.

"Oh, well, a distinguished person, whose name is on everybody's lips,
who is honoured and praised by all his fellow-citizens. Now, _that_ kind
of man no Jinneeyeh could look down upon."

"I perceive," said Fakrash, thoughtfully. "Yes, I was in danger of
committing a rash action. How do men honour such distinguished
individuals in these days?"

"They generally overfeed them," said Horace. "In London the highest
honour a hero can be paid is to receive the freedom of the City, which
is only conferred in very exceptional cases, and for some notable
service. But, of course, there are other sorts of celebrities, as you
could see if you glanced through the society papers."

"I cannot believe that thou, who seemest a gracious and talented young
man, can be indeed so obscure as thou hast represented."

"My good sir, any of the flowers that blush unseen in the desert air, or
the gems concealed in ocean caves, so excellently described by one of
our poets, could give me points and a beating in the matter of
notoriety. I'll make you a sporting offer. There are over five million
inhabitants in this London of ours. If you go out into the streets and
ask the first five hundred you meet whether they know me, I don't mind
betting you--what shall I say? a new hat--that you won't find half a
dozen who've ever even heard of my existence. Why not go out and see for
yourself?"

To his surprise and gratification the Jinnee took this ser