When Murad Essed had finished speaking all eyes were fixed upon Abou
Hassan, who said: "We have all listened with interest to the story of
our friend Murad Essed, showing how a rich man may become poor; I have
now in my turn to show you, by a relation of my own experience, how a
poor man may become rich.
"But in telling you my history, I should weary you if I were to recall
all the particulars of my early struggles. It will be sufficient to
say that of all that I now possess I inherited nothing, and that only
seven years ago I was as badly off as Murad Essed is at present. About
that time I became acquainted with an old merchant who imparted to me
the secret of the success I have since then obtained. This secret, you
will be perhaps somewhat disappointed to learn, consists neither in a
charm nor in any kind of magical art or sorcery. It is comprised
simply in a particular mode of dealing, and one, in fact, completely
opposed to that which is in general use.
"You know that it is the common habit of merchants when they buy
anything to offer much less for it, and when they sell anything to ask
more for it than the price which they think it is worth. And only
after a long time spent in haggling and bargaining, they conclude their
business.
"But by the advice of my old friend, the merchant, I adopted, and have
constantly adhered to, a totally different plan. When I buy anything I
name what I consider to be a fair price for it; the seller either
accepts my offer at once and without discussion, or refuses. No man
ever refuses the price I offer more than once, because it is my rule
never to deal again with a man who has once refused to deal at my
price. In like manner, when I sell anything, I fix the price I will
accept and rather destroy the goods than part with them for any other
price than that I have put upon them.
"This is the whole secret of my success. My story is, you see, a very
brief one; the origin of my fortune appears very simple when I discover
it to you; but that the plan, simple as it may seem, has its merits,
you may convince yourselves by looking round you."
Abou Hassan, as he said this, waved his hand, indicating the handsome
room in which they were sitting, and beyond it, seen through the gilded
arches at the end of the apartment, the garden outside, where the moon,
which had now risen, was illuminating with its enchanting light the
trees, whose branches were heavy with various fruits, the fountains
splashing into their marble basins, and, finally, in the distance, a
group of girls of marvellous beauty who had just entered the garden
dancing and singing.
"Behold," said he, rising, "the nymphs of paradise beckon us from the
banquet and the wine bowl to other pleasures."
But the Caliph, when Abou Hassan and his other guests had risen from
the banqueting-hall to go into the garden, sat lost in reverie.
As Abou Hassan had waved his hand to direct the attention of his guests
to the splendid results of his new system of trading and his
magnificent surroundings it flashed upon the mind of the Caliph that he
had seen that hand before. The shapely fingers, and the rings
containing many precious stones of unusual size and beauty, recalled to
him irresistibly the hands of the old man with his face shielded by the
huge green shade over his eyes, whom he had been watching earlier in
the evening.
So Abou Hassan, the Fortunate Merchant, the young and sparkling host of
this gay party, was identical with the villainous purchaser of stolen
goods, whose base pursuits the ointment had revealed to him. The new
plan of naming one price and taking no other had been practised only
with those who feared justice and practised robbery.
The Caliph, absorbed in these thoughts, observed nothing that was going
on about him until Abou Hassan approached him, and, addressing him,
personally requested him to rise and accompany himself and his friends
into the garden.
Then the Caliph, rising and thanking Abou Hassan for his hospitality,
declared that now the moon was up he must pursue his journey, and,
taking leave together with Giafer, he left the house of the Fortunate
Merchant and returned immediately to the palace.
The next evening, being desirous to continue his observation of the
prosperous though illicit trade of the Fortunate Merchant, the Caliph
stationed himself as before with Giafer in the dark recess of the
arched gateway opposite the room to which the thieves resorted.
At first the room was empty. A number of parcels still lay strewn upon
the floor; the table was there, and the lamp stood upon it, burning
with a small and dim flame that lighted the place badly, but the
mysterious and silent figure with his slovenly turban, great green
shade over the eyes, and with the small hands and bejewelled fingers,
was absent. The Caliph could see the misshapen mute lying in the
ante-room perfectly motionless and taking not the slightest notice of
the usual signal given two or three times by men who came furtively to
the door desiring to enter.
At length, just as the Caliph was beginning to speculate whether the
man could possibly have become suspicious and have effected his escape,
Abou Hassan came quickly along the street, hastening evidently to the
house where he was to assume his disguise and enter on his business.
As he arrived almost exactly opposite to the spot where Haroun and
Giafer were standing in the obscurity of the great gateway, there
approached from the right or opposite direction that same old beggar
and miser who had accosted the Caliph on the previous evening. On
perceiving some one before him he began immediately to solicit alms in
the whining tone common to his class.
"An old man," he said, "a very old man, my lord, ragged, hungry,
without shelter."