there, and the lamp stood upon it, burning
with a small and dim flame that lighted the place badly, but the
mysterious and silent figure with his slovenly turban, great green
shade over the eyes, and with the small hands and bejewelled fingers,
was absent. The Caliph could see the misshapen mute lying in the
ante-room perfectly motionless and taking not the slightest notice of
the usual signal given two or three times by men who came furtively to
the door desiring to enter.

At length, just as the Caliph was beginning to speculate whether the
man could possibly have become suspicious and have effected his escape,
Abou Hassan came quickly along the street, hastening evidently to the
house where he was to assume his disguise and enter on his business.
As he arrived almost exactly opposite to the spot where Haroun and
Giafer were standing in the obscurity of the great gateway, there
approached from the right or opposite direction that same old beggar
and miser who had accosted the Caliph on the previous evening. On
perceiving some one before him he began immediately to solicit alms in
the whining tone common to his class.

"An old man," he said, "a very old man, my lord, ragged, hungry,
without shelter."

Abou Hassan, as he heard the voice, exclaimed--

"What! is it thou, my father? How often have I entreated thee to
accept a provision for thine age which I can so well spare?"

"Speak no more of it, my son," said the old man with vehemence and in
quite another tone of voice to that he had employed before. "I knew
thee not, or would have asked nothing of thee, and will accept nothing
from thee. From the hands of him whose lips are stained with wine, who
has spurned the precepts of the Prophet and forgotten the lessons of
his youth, I will accept no favour, and will give to him no blessing."

"Go, then, old precisian!" exclaimed Abou Hassan, fiercely; "cling to
disgrace, and practise beggary; and yet, remember, one word can change
your state, banish poverty, and summon plenty."

The old man proceeded on his way, muttering inaudibly, and Abou Hassan
stood watching his retreating figure.

After a few moments of apparent indecision he followed the old man.
When the latter entered the miserable hovel in which the Caliph had
observed him on the previous evening, Abou Hassan, after a short pause,
pushed open the door and entered also.

Haroun, who was curious to learn what passed between the beggar and his
son, fo