“I have come,” said the student, “for the talismans in thy keeping, to the choice among which I have entitled myself.”
“Thou hast fairly earned them,” replied the old man, “and I may not say thee nay. Thou canst, however, only possess any of them in the shape which it has received at my hands during the long period for which these have remained in my custody.”
“I must submit to the condition,” said the student.
“Behold, then, Aladdin’s lamp,” said the ancient personage, tendering a tiny vase hardly bigger than a pill-box, containing some grains of a coarse, rusty powder.
“Aladdin’s lamp!” cried the student.
“All of it, at least, that I have seen fit to preserve,” replied the old man. “Thou art but just in time for this even. It is proper to apprise thee that the virtues of the talisman having necessarily dwindled with its bulk, it is at present incompetent to evoke any Genie, and can at most summon an imp, of whose company thou wilt never be able to rid thyself, inasmuch as the least friction will inevitably destroy what little of the talisman remains.”
“Confusion!” cried the young man, “Show me, then, Aladdin’s ring.”
“Here,” replied the old man, producing a plain gold hoop,
“This, at least,” asked the student, “is not devoid of virtue?”
“Assuredly not, if placed on the finger of some fair lady. For, its magic properties depending wholly upon certain engraved characters, which I have gradually obliterated, it is at present unadapted to any other use than that of a wedding-ring, which it would subserve to admiration.”