The burning days and the sultry nights he devoted to his service; while others slept he sat wakeful, thinking out new forms of amusement, new ways to distract the King, and enable him to retain that place which to him, hitherto most poor and friendless, was as the sorcerer's golden apple.
For Nicomar there was but one god—and that god was wealth.
He laboured and strove for and endlessly desired it.
A year went by, and still he remained the favourite, and he began to feel a little more secure and at ease....
"Nicomar," cried the King one day, as they sat together in the sunset glow, "I have resolved that you shall put milk where the sea now is. I have tired of water, and I desire instead an ocean of milk."
Nicomar stared in dismay.
"That which your Majesty wishes is impossible," he made answer.
The King frowned.
"Impossible is no word between you and me. That which I command must never be impossible," he exclaimed angrily. "Hitherto you have obeyed my orders; do so now."
The Indian trembled, but dared not protest.