s.' So the old woman, seeing him resolute to shun
her, leaned to him, and put one hand to her dress, and squatted beside
him, and said, 'O youth, thou hast been thwacked!'

He groaned, lifting not his face, nor saying aught. Then said she, 'Art
thou truly in search of great things, O youth?'

Still he groaned, answering no syllable. And she continued, ''Tis surely
in sweet friendliness I ask. Art thou not a fair youth, one to entice a
damsel to perfect friendliness?'

Louder yet did he groan at her words, thinking, 'A damsel, verily!' So
the old woman said, 'I wot thou art angry with me; but now look up, O
nephew of the barber! no time for vexation. What says the poet?--

"Cares the warrior for his wounds
When the steed in battle bounds?"

Moreover:

"Let him who grasps the crown strip not for shame,
Lest he expose what gain'd it blow and maim!"

So be it with thee and thy thwacking, O foolish youth! Hide it from
thyself, thou silly one! What! thou hast been thwacked, and refusest the
fruit of it--which is resoluteness, strength of mind, sternness in
pursuit of the object!'

Then she softened her tone to persuasiveness, saying, ''Twas written I
should be the head of thy fortune, O Shibli Bagarag! and thou'lt be
enviable among men by my aid, so look upon me, and (for I know thee
famished) thou shah presently be supplied with viands and bright wines
and sweetmeats, delicacies to cheer thee.'

Now, the promise of food and provision was powerful with Shibli Bagarag,
and he looked up gloomily. And the old woman smiled archly at him, and
wriggled in her seat like a dusty worm, and said, 'Dost thou find me
charming, thou fair youth?'

He was nigh laughing in her face, but restrained himself to reply, 'Thou
art that thou art!'

Said she, 'Not so, but that I shall be.' Then she said, 'O youth, pay me
now a compliment!'

Shibli Bagarag was at a loss what further to say to the old woman, for
his heart cursed her for her persecutions, and ridiculed her for her
vanities. At last he bethought himself of the saying of the poet, truly
the offspring of fine wit, where he says:

Expect no flatteries from me,
While I am empty of good things;
I'll call thee fair, and I'll agree
Thou boldest Love in silken strings,
When thou bast primed me from thy plenteous store!
But, oh! till then a clod am I:
No seed within to throw up flowers:
All's drouthy to the fo