“Thereafter, for all of a moon,” went on Gazzar, “Abou was as one in a dream, wandering here and there drearily, bethinking him how he was ever to know more of the face that had appeared to him through the curtains of the houdah. And whether the driver of the camel would ever return. As day after day passed and there was no word, he grew thin and began to despair and to grow weary of life. At last there came to his shop an aged man, long of beard and dusty of garb, who inquired for Abou. And being shown him said: ‘I would speak with thee alone.’ And when Abou drew him aside he said: ‘Dost thou recall the procession of the caliph’s daughter to Ish-Pari in the mountains beyond Azol?’ And Abou answered, ‘Ay, by Allah!’ ‘And dost thou recall one of whom thou madest inquiry?’ ‘Aye,’ replied Abou, vastly stirred. ‘I asked who it was that was being borne aloft in state.’ ‘And what was the price for that knowledge?’ ‘A hundred dinars.’ ‘Keep thy dinars—or, better yet, give them to me that I may give them to the poor, for I bring thee news. She who was in the houdah was none other than the Princess Yanee, daughter of the caliph and heir to all his realm. But keep thou thy counsel and all thought of this visit and let no one know of thy inquiry. There are many who watch, and death may yet be thy portion and mine. Yet, since thou art as thou art, young and without knowledge of life, here is a spray of the myrtles of Ish-Pari—but thou art to think no further on anything thou hast seen or heard. And thou dost not—death!’ He made the sign of three fingers to the forehead and the neck and gave Abou the spray, receiving in return the gold.”
“Marhallah!” cried Soudi. “How pleasant it is to think of so much gold!”
“Yea,” added Haifa, “there is that about great wealth and beauty and comfort that is soothing to the heart of every man.”
“Yet for ten more anna,” began Gazzar, “the price of a bed in the stall of a camel, how much more glorious could I make it—the sweetness of the love that might be, the wonder of the skill of Abou—anna, anna—but five more, that I may take up this thread with great heart.”
“Jackal!” screamed Ajeeb fiercely. “Thou barkst for but one thing—anna. But now thou saidst if thou hadst but ten more, and by now thou hast a hundred. On with thy tale!”
“Reremouse!” said Chudi. “Thou art worse than thy Yussuf himself!” And none gave an anna more.
“Knowing that the myrtle was from the princess,” went on Gazzar wearily, “and that henceforth he might seek but durst not even so much as breathe of what he thought or knew, he sighed and returned to his place in the bazaar.
“But now, Yussuf, returning not long after from a far journey, came to Abou with a bold thought. For it related to no other thing than the great treasury of the caliph, which stood in the heart of the city before the public market, and was sealed and guarded and built of stone and carried the wealth of an hundred provinces. Besides, it was now the time of the taking of tithes throughout the caliphate, as Yussuf knew, and the great treasury was filled to the roof, or so it was said, with golden dinars. It was a four-square building of heavy stone, with lesser squares superimposed one above the other after the fashion of pyramids. On each level was a parapet, and upon each side of every parapet as well as on the ground below there walked two guards, each first away from the centre of their side to the end and then back, meeting at the centre to reverse and return. And on each side and on each level were two other guards. No two of these, of any level or side, were permitted to arrive at the centre or the ends of their parapet at the same time, as those of the parapets above or below, lest any portion of the treasury be left unguarded. There was but one entrance, which was upon the ground and facing the market. And through this no one save the caliph or the caliph’s treasurer or his delegated aides might enter. The guards ascended and descended via a guarded stair. “Anna, O friends,” pleaded Gazzar once more, “for now comes the wonder of the robbing of the great treasury—the wit and subtlety of Abou—and craft and yet confusion of the treasurer and the Caliph—anna!—A few miserable anna!”
“Jackal!” shouted Azad Bakht, getting up. “Thou robbest worse than any robber! Hast thou a treasury of thine own that thou hopest to fill?”
“Give him no more anna,” called Feruz stoutly. “There is not an anna’s worth in all his maunderings.”