In the same land there was a poor man whose name was Schac-a-bac. His clothing was rags, and his food was the scraps which other people had thrown away. But he had a light heart, and was as happy as a king.
Once when Schac-a-bac had not had anything to eat for a long time, he thought that he would go and ask the Bar-me-cide to help him.
The servant at the door said, "Come in and talk with our master. He will not send you away hungry."
Schacabac went in, and passed through many beautiful rooms, looking for the Barmecide. At last he came to a grand hall where there were soft carpets on the floor, and fine pictures on the walls, and pleasant couches to lie down upon.
At the upper end of the room he saw a noble man with a long white beard. It was the Barmecide; and poor Schacabac bowed low before him, as was the custom in that country.
The Barmecide spoke very kindly, and asked what was wanted.
Schacabac told him about all his troubles, and said that it was now two days since he had tasted bread.
"Is it possible?" said the Barmecide. "You must be almost dead with hunger; and here I have plenty and to spare!"
Then he turned and called, "Ho, boy! Bring in the water to wash our hands, and then order the cook to hurry the supper."
Schacabac had not expected to be treated so kindly. He began to thank the rich man.