"Let not that be a hindrance, O Khoja!" said the Jew. "For I have a pelisse made of the most beautiful fur, which I will send for without delay."
In due time this arrived, and, richly clothed, the Khoja rode through the streets with a serene countenance, the Jew money-lender running after him in the greatest anxiety.
When they came before the Cadi, the Jew prostrated himself, and cried in piteous tones, "Help, O most noble Dispenser of Justice! This Khoja has stolen from me nine hundred and ninety-nine pieces of gold—and now he denies it."
Then the Cadi turned to the Khoja, who said: "O Cadi Effendi, I did indeed earnestly desire a thousand pieces of gold, and this purse came to me in fulfilment of my wishes. But when I counted the pieces I found one short. Then I said, 'The bountiful giver of these will certainly send the other also.' So I accepted what was given to me. But in this Jew money-lender is the spirit of covetousness. For half a farthing, O Cadi, he would, without doubt, lay claim to the beast I ride, or to the coat on my back."
"O my soul!" screamed the Jew. "It is indeed true that they are mine. The mule and the fur pelisse belong to me, O Cadi!"
"O you covetous rascal!" said the Cadi, "you will lay claim to my turban next, or to the Sultan's horses." And he commanded the Jew to be driven from his presence.
But the Khoja rode home again, and—he accepted the mule and the fur pelisse, as well as the nine hundred and ninety-nine pieces of gold.
Tale 2.—The Khoja at the Marriage Feast.
On the following day Khoja Effendi went to a marriage feast, dressed in his old clothes.
His appearance was indeed very shabby, and the attendants were almost disposed to refuse him admission, but he slipped in whilst honours and compliments were being paid on the arrival of some grander guests. Even those who knew him well were so much ashamed of his dress as to be glad to look another way to avoid saluting him.