“Your wisdom never grows less,” replied the caliph “those are the words of truth: nevertheless, I must go and see the madman once more.”
Giaffar, not being able to prevail, prepared the dresses; and they, accompanied by Mesrour, again sallied forth by the private gate of the seraglio. Once more were they surprised at witnessing the same illumination of the house, and one of the jalousies having burst open with the wind, they perceived the shadow of Yussuf, reflected on the wall, his beard wagging over his kabobs, and a cup of wine in his hand.
“Who is there?” cried Yussuf, when Giaffar, at the command of the caliph, knocked at the door.
“Your friends, dear Yussuf—your friends, the Moussul merchants. Peace be with you.”
“But it’s neither peace nor welcome to you, you owls,” replied Yussuf, walking out into the verandah. “By Allah! if you do not walk away, and that quickly, I shall come down to you with my bone-polisher.”
“Indeed, friend Yussuf;” replied Giaffar, “we have but two words to say to you.”
“Say them quickly, then, for you enter not my doors again, you wretched fellows, who have ruined all the water-carriers and all the bath people in Bagdad.”
“What is that you mean?” replied the caliph; “we are lost in mystery?”
“What!” replied Yussuf; “have you not heard the decree of this morning?”
“Gentle sir, we have been so busy sorting our wares, that we have not stepped out this day, and are ignorant of all that hath passed in Bagdad.”