There was once a Richard hight 'Ajlán, the Hasty, who wasted his
wealth, and concern and chagrin gat the mastery of him, so that
he became a Melancholist[FN#410] and lost his wit. There remained
with him of his monies about twenty dinars and he used to beg
alms of the folk, and whatso they gave him in charity he would
gather together and add to the gold pieces that were left him.
Now there was in that town a Sharper, who made his living by
roguery, and he knew that the Melancholist had somewhat of money;
so he fell to spying upon him and ceased not watching him till he
saw him put into an earthen pot that which he had with him of
silvers and enter a deserted ruin, where he sat down, as if to
make water, and dug a hole, wherein he laid the pot and covering
it up, smoothed the ground as it had been. Then he went away and
the Sharper came and taking what was in the pot, restored it to
its former place. Presently 'Ajlan returned, with somewhat to add
to his hoard, but found it not; so he bethought him of who had
followed him and remembered that he had found that Sharper
assiduous in sitting with him and questioning him. So he went in
search of him, assured that he had taken the pot, and gave not
over looking for him till he saw him sitting; whereupon he ran to
him and the Sharper saw him. Then the Melancholist stood within
earshot and muttered[FN#411] to himself and said, "In the pot are
sixty ducats and I have with me other twenty in such a place and
to-day I will unite the whole in the pot." When the Sharper heard
him say this to himself, muttering and mumbling, repeating and
blundering in his speech, he repented him of having taken the
sequins and said, "He will presently return to the pot[FN#412]
and find it empty; wherefore that for which I am on the look-out
will escape me; and meseemeth 'twere best I replace the dinars,
so he may see them and leave all which is with him in the pot,
and I can take the whole." Now he feared to return to the pot at
once, lest the Melancholist should follow him to the place and
find nothing and on this wise his arrangements be marred; so he
said to him, "O 'Ajlan,[FN#413] I would have thee come to my
lodging and eat bread with me." Thereupon the Melancholist went
with him to his quarters and he seated him there and going to the
market, sold somewhat of his clothes and pawned somewhat from his
house and bought the best of food. Then he betook himself to the
ruin and replacing the money in the pot, buried it again; after
which he returned to his lodging and gave the Melancholist to eat
and drink, and they went out together. The Sharper walked away
and hid himself, lest his guest should see him, whilst 'Ajlan
repaired to his hiding-place and took the pot. Presently, the
Sharper returned to the ruin, rejoicing in that which he deemed
he should get, and dug in the place, but found naught and knew
that the Melancholist had outwitted him. So he began buffetting
his face for regret, and fell to following the other whitherso he
went, to the intent that he might win what was with him, but he
failed in this, because the Melancholist knew what was in his
mind and was assured that he spied upon him; so he kept watch
over himself. Now, had the Sharper considered the consequences of
haste and that which is begotten of loss therefrom, he had not
done on such wise. "Nor," continued the Wazir, "is this tale, O
king of the age, rarer or stranger or daintier than the story of
Khalbas[FN#414] and his Wife and the learned man and that which
befel between the three." When the king heard this story, he left
his purpose of putting the Minister to death and his soul bade
him to continue him on life. So he ordered him off to his house.
The Seventeenth Night of the Month.
When the evening evened, the King summoned the Minister, and as
soon as he presented himself, he required of him the story. So he
said, "Hearkening and obedience. Hear, O august King,
The Tale of Khalbas and his Wife and the Learned Man.
There was once a man called Khalbas, who was a fulsome fellow, a
calamity, notorious for this note, and he had a charming wife,
renowned for beauty and loveliness. A man of his townsfolk fell
in love with her and she also loved him. Now Khalbas was a wily
wight and full of guile, and there was in his neighbourhood a
learned man, to whom the folk used to resort every day and he
told them histories and admonished them with moral instances; and
Khalbas was wont to be present in his assembly, for the sake of
making a show before the folk. This learned man also had a wife
famed for comeliness and seemlihead and quickness of wit and
understanding and the lover sought some device whereby he might
manage to meet Khalbas's wife; so he came to him and told him as
a secret what he had seen of the learned man's wife and confided
to him that he was in love with her and besought his assistance
in this. Khalbas told him that she was known as a model of
chastity and continence and that she exposed herself not to ill
doubts; but the other said, "I cannot renounce her, in the first
place because the woman inclineth to me and coveteth my wealth,
and secondly, because of the greatness of my fondness for her;
and naught is wanting but thy help." Quoth Khalbas, "I will do
thy will;" and quoth the other, "Thou shalt have of me every day
two silvern dirhams, on condition that thou sit with the learned
man and that, when he riseth from the assembly, thou speak a word
which shall notify to me the breaking up of the meeting." So they
agreed upon that and Khalbas entered and sat in the session,
whilst the lover was assured in his heart that the secret was
safe and secure with him, wherefore he rejoiced and was content
to pay the two dirhams. Then Khalbas used to attend the learned
man's assembly, whilst the other would go in to his wife and be
very much with her, on such wise as he thought good, till the
learned man arose from his meeting; and when Khalbas saw that he
proposed rising, he would speak a word for the lover to hear,
whereupon he went forth from the wife of Khalbas who knew not
that doom was in his own home. But when the learned man saw
Khalbas do the same thing every day, he began to suspect him,
especially on account of that which he knew of his bad name, and
suspicion grew upon him; so, one day, he resolved to advance the
time of his rising ere the wonted hour and hastening up to
Khalbas, seized him and said to him, "By Allah, an thou say a
single syllable, I will do thee a damage!" Then he went in to his
wife, with Khalbas in his grip, and behold, she was sitting, as
of her wont, nor was there about her aught of suspicious or
unseemly. The learned man bethought him awhile of this, then made
for Khalbas's house, which adjoined his own, still holding his
man; and when they entered, they found the young lover lying on
the bed with Khalbas's wife; whereupon quoth the learned man to
him, "O accursed, the doom is with thee and in thine own home!"
So Khalbas divorced his wife and went forth, fleeing, and
returned not to his own land. "This, then" (continued the Wazir),
"is the consequence of lewdness, for whoso purposeth in himself
wile and perfidious guile, they get possession of him, and had
Khalbas conceived of himself that dishonour and calamity which he
conceived of the folk, there had betided him nothing of this. Nor
is this tale, rare and curious though it be, stranger or rarer
than the story of the Devotee whose husband's brother accused her
of lewdness." When the king heard this, wonderment gat hold of
him and his admiration for the Wazir redoubled; so he bade him
hie to his home and return to him on the morrow, according to his
custom. So the Minister withdrew to his lodging, where he passed
the night and the ensuing day.
The Eighteenth Night of the Month.
When the evening evened, the King summoned the Wazir and required
of him the story; so he said, "'Tis well. Hear O King,