“By all means,” said Muley Mustapha; “but, before going any further, how many hands had this Kibosh?”
“I was about to come to that,” returned the Soothsayer, tranquilly. “He had two hands, on each of which were one thumb and four fingers. He had likewise two feet, with five toes on each. This being a true story, I will not attempt to conceal the fact that he was furthermore blessed with two eyes, the like number of ears, one nose and mouth, and as many hairs on his head and chin as might be; for these I did not try to enumerate.
“Having finished his frugal meal and smoked his chibouk, Kibosh went to the mosque, like a good Mussulman. His wife, the faithful Zaidee, remained at home. She had many things to do, attending to the wants of her numerous offspring, preparing the mid-day meal, and arranging the thousand little details of her house for the day. Moreover, she knew that her attire was hardly meet for the eyes of strangers. Her next-door neighbor, Ayesha, the wife of Hassan, the porter, had but the day before called on her, attired in a new yashmak, which was a sore trial to the patience of Zaidee, it having cost not less than fifty piastres at the bazaar kept by Solyman, the one-eyed Hebrew, opposite the fountain adjacent to the house of Amrou, the camel-driver.”
Here the Pasha, stifling a yawn, asked wearily, “How many eyes didst thou say the Hebrew dog had?”
“One, your Highness. The other, I believe, was lost in consequence of—”
“It matters not how it was lost,” said the Pasha, hastily. “Allah be thanked, it was lost! and thy story hath some novelty. Go on.”
“For these reasons Zaidee remained at home while Kibosh went to the mosque. As it happened, he met on the way none other than his neighbor, the porter Hassan; and the two fell to talking of many things, such as the weather, the hardness of the times, and the great cost of bread and dates, and other such subjects.
“Even as they were speaking, they were accosted by a poor cripple, who beseeched alms of them in the name of Allah. ‘Alas!’ replied Kibosh. ‘I am but a poor man, with a large family, and can give thee naught save my prayers.’ But Hassan smiled a little haughtily, and, pulling out his wallet, displayed it full of shining gold and silver pieces. As he saw the eyes of Kibosh fixed upon it in wonder, he hastily closed the wallet, and said, ‘I, too, am but a poor man,’ and gave the beggar naught. But, when they had passed on, Kibosh spoke to Hassan, saying, ‘O Hassan! but now thou didst complain of thy poverty; and, lo! thou hast a purse full of gold and silver.’
“‘It is not mine,’ said Hassan, in confusion: ‘it is my wife’s.’
“‘But thy wife is as poor as thyself,’ retorted Kibosh, severely; for he knew that Ayesha was only the daughter of old Cassim, the tent-maker, who was as poor as any man in the quarter, and indeed lived partly on the bounty of his son-in-law.