“Moreover, he should be ever grateful to your highness for the distinguished honour conferred upon him.”
“All that you say is very true, Mustapha, but where am I to meet with such a man?”
“This world is convenient in some points,” continued Mustapha; “if you want either a fool or a knave, you have not far to go to find them; but it is no easy task to select the person you require. I know but one.”
“And who is he?”
“One whose head is but as your footstool,” answered the barber, prostrating himself,—“your sublime highness’s most devoted slave, Mustapha.”
“Holy Prophet! Then you mean yourself!—Well, now I think of it, if one barber can become a pacha, I do not see why another would not make a vizier. But then what am I to do for a barber? No, no, Mustapha; a good vizier is easy to be found, but a good barber, you know as well as I do, requires some talent.”
“Your slave is aware of that,” replied Mustapha, “but he has travelled in other countries, where it is no uncommon circumstance for men to hold more than one office under government; sometimes much more incompatible than those of barber and vizier, which are indeed closely connected. The affairs of most nations are settled by the potentates during their toilet. While I am shaving the head of your sublime highness, I can receive your commands to take off the heads of others; and you can have your person and your state both put in order at the same moment.”
“Very true, Mustapha; then, on condition that you continue your office of barber, I have no objection to throw that of vizier into the bargain.”
Mustapha again prostrated himself, with his tweezers in his hand. He then rose, and continued his office.
“You can write, Mustapha,” observed the pacha, after a short silence.