“All but this sapphire in the centre,” replied Shib Das. “The imitation is so good that I myself was at first deceived. Were that jewel real, I should have asked double the price for the weapon.”
“I will give you twenty rupees,” said Karm Illahi—who had never yet bought anything without trying to lower the price. Had he been offered a hen for an anna, he would have tried to get it for eleven pies.[44]
“No,” replied Shib Das calmly; “I have but one price for the things in my shop, and that is the fair one. A year ago I should have asked you at least seventy rupees for that scimitar, and have sworn that every jewel in the hilt was real.”
“And why do you not do so now?” inquired Karm Illahi in no small surprise.
“Because I am a Christian,” was the simple reply of Shib Das.
Karm Illahi smiled a mocking smile, but he drew forth a bag of money which he carried with him, and counted out the thirty rupees. Bál Mukand heard him muttering to himself as he did so: “This Christian is a fool, for none but a fool would have said that the stone was false, or have asked less for his goods than he might have hoped to get from a stranger.”
Not such was the thought of the more enlightened Bál Mukand. “If all men dealt with such honesty and truth, this would be a happy land,” he said in his heart. “The folly of such men as this Shib Das is better than the wisdom of the worldly.”
Scarcely had the Mussulman left the place with the scimitar which he had bought, than Yuhanna, a Christian catechist, came up to the jeweller’s shop. Still Bál Mukand lay perfectly quiet and listened, whilst Yuhanna exchanged greetings with Shib Das.
Then said the jeweller: “Doubtless you have come, O Yuhanna, for the monthly subscription for the church fund and the support of the poor.”
“Yes, O brother,” replied Yuhanna. “I am going my rounds amongst the Christians, but as yet I have collected but little. The funds are low, and we have more sick to help and more widows to relieve than usual.”