“Alas!” he said, “I did not discern thy merit, nor welcome thee on thy arrival. I regret to see thee in this condition with such a stock of knowledge.”
The usher then approached the stranger courteously in order that he might place the Cādi’s turban upon his head. But the doctor repelled him with his hands and tongue, saying:
“Place not upon my head the fetters of pride, for to-morrow this fifty-yarded turban would turn my head from those in jaded garb. Those who called me ‘lord’ and ‘chief’ would then appear insignificant in mine eyes. Is pure water different whether it be contained in a goblet of gold or an earthen ewer? A man’s head requires brain and intellect, not an imposing turban like thine. A big head does not make one worthy; it is like the gourd, void of kernel. Be not proud because of thy turban and beard, for the one is cotton and the other grass. One should aim at the degree of eminence that is conformable with one’s merit. With all this intellect, I will not call thee man, though a hundred slaves walk behind thee. How well spoke the shell when a greedy fool picked it out of the mire: ‘None will buy me for the smallest price: be not so insane as to wrap me up in silk.’ A man is not better than his fellows by reason of his wealth, for an ass, though covered with a satin cloth, is still an ass.”
In this way the clever doctor washed the rancour from his heart with the water of words. Thus do those who are aggrieved speak harshly. Be not idle when thine enemy has fallen. Dash out his brains when thou art able, for delay will efface the grudge from thy mind.
So overcome was the Cādi by his vehemence that he exclaimed, “Verily, this day is a hard one.” He bit his fingers in amazement, and his eyes stared at the doctor like the two stars near the pole of the lesser bear. As for the latter, he went abruptly out and was never seen there again. They in the court clamoured to know whence such an impertinent fellow had come. An official went in search of him, and ran in all directions, asking whether a man of that description had been seen. Some one said: “We know no one in this city so eloquent as Sadi.”
A hundred thousand praises to him who said so; see how sweetly he uttered the bitter truth!
Story of the Honey-seller
A man of smiling countenance sold honey, captivating the hearts of all by his pleasant manner. His customers were as numerous as flies around the sugar-cane—if he had sold poison people would have bought it for honey.
A forbidding-looking man regarded him with envy, being jealous of the way his business prospered. One day he paraded the town with a tray of honey on his head and a scowl on his face. He wandered about crying his wares, but no one evinced desire to buy. At nightfall, having earned no money, he went and sat dejectedly in a corner, with a face as bitter as that of a sinner fearful of retribution.