Hadji Baba obeyed, and observed his two friends standing mute and motionless, like statues, ready at a moment’s notice to do their master’s bidding.
“Knowest thou these men?” asked the Dey.
“Your highness’s slave knows them but too well,” replied Baba, with a well-feigned shudder, which changed into a real one on his observing that a gorgeous time-piece opposite pointed to the hour of eight.
“Proceed, then, and acquit thee well, else thou shalt come to know them still better ere long.”
Thus admonished, the story-teller cleared his throat, wished intensely for a draught of water, and taxed his fertile brain to the uttermost. At last under a feeling of absolute desperation, he began—
“Once upon a time—”
The Dey nodded, as though he thought that not a bad beginning.
“Once upon a time,” continued Baba, and then, checking himself—“Your highness wishes a very marvellous story, I believe?”
“Yes, very marvellous,” said the Dey, not quite pleased with the interruption.
“Your highness shall have it—a very marvellous story, and, what is more, it shall be a true story.”