"Thou!" said Yousouf, "art thou mad? what sayst thou?"
"I speak the melancholy truth," cried Mohammed; "I have not a noble heart like thine. Some time since I discovered in the wall the gold and silver which the Jew thought to find there; but instead of saying as thou hast done, 'I will share it with my friend,' I put off from day to day the fulfilment of this sacred duty. Ah, Yousouf, I am unworthy of thy friendship, and am very unhappy!"
Yousouf remained silent for a few moments, but soon his brow grew clear, and a pleasing smile diffused itself over his features and illuminated his fine dark eyes.
"What man," said he, "is entirely master over his own thoughts? Thou didst hesitate, sayst thou, before confiding to me the discovery thou hadst made. That may be, but thou wouldst not have failed to do so at last. Thou wouldst never have been able to behold thyself rich, knowing me to be poor, and to sit at a feast whilst I lived upon black bread. Thou didst not thoroughly understand the wants and feelings of thy heart: that is all. Thou didst not at once perceive wherein lies true happiness, for which reason thou hast caused thyself much uneasiness. It is over now; our friendship has been tried by gold; nothing remains for us but to enjoy the good fortune that has befallen us. Let us seek to do so like wise men, and never let us forget to set apart for the poor a portion of that which Allah has bestowed upon us."
The two friends agreed therefore to give a hundred doubloons to the poor of the great mosque. Then with the rest of their treasure they purchased a beautiful country house not far from the sea, on the coast of Punta Pescada. There they lived happily for many long years, always admired and esteemed for their mutual affection, and for the goodness of their hearts; for, strange to say, their sudden and unexpected change of fortune never served to render them callous to the poor, nor indifferent to the wants and troubles of their fellow-creatures.
VII.
THE STORY OF THE TREASURES OF BASRA.
All historians agree that the caliph Haroun-al-Raschid would have been the most perfect prince of his time, as he was also the most powerful, if he had not so often given way both to anger and to an insupportable vanity. He was always saying that no prince in the world was so generous as himself. Giafar, his chief vizir, being at last quite disgusted with his boasting, took the liberty to say to him one day, "Oh, my sovereign lord, monarch of the world, pardon your slave if he dares to represent to you that you ought not thus to praise yourself. Leave that to your subjects and the crowds of strangers who frequent your court. Content yourself with the knowledge that the former thank heaven for being born in your dominions, and that the latter congratulate themselves on having quitted their country to come and live under your laws." Haroun was very angry at these words; he looked sternly at his vizir, and asked him if he knew any one who could be compared to himself in generosity.