"I will tell you later," said Yusuf. "For the present—have some dates, will you not?"
A servant entered with a tray on which were fruits and small cakes.
The peddler besought Yusuf, for friendship's sake, to eat with him; but the Persian made a gesture of disgust.
"I have already eaten," he said. "Overeating in Mecca in the hot season is not wise. Abraham, do you always wear so many rings on your fingers?"
"Oh, no," returned the Jew, "sometimes I wear them; sometimes I carry them for months in my belt. This"—pointing to a huge band of ancient workmanship—"is the most curious one of the lot. I got it for carrying a bundle of manuscript from a man at Oman to your friend Amzi, here. It seems that Amzi had once lived with him at Oman, but the man—I forget his name—went inland to Teheran, or some other place in Persia, and Amzi, after traveling about for two or three years, settled in Mecca. This one"—and he pointed out the ring on which Yusuf's eyes were fixed—"is the most expensive of the lot, but a stone fell out of it once when I was carrying it in my belt."
"Did you not look in your belt for it?"
"No use; it had worked out between the stitches. I had no idea where I lost it."
"Have you had that ring long?"
"Long! Why, that ring has not been off my person for fifteen years."
"I suppose you would not sell it?"