Tales of the Caliph | Page 8

had he not stepped quickly on one side to
avoid it. But the man, although he passed close by him, neither looked

at nor spoke to him, and seemed altogether unconscious of his
presence.
It now first dawned upon the Caliph that the strange and invisible
substance which he had picked up in the dungeon, and which he still
carried in his hand, possessed indeed the marvellous property of
rendering him entirely invisible to other men. This accounted for the
remarkable panic of his jailer, who, when he looked into, and even
entered his dungeon, failed to see him; it explained why the soldiers
had permitted him to leave the building unmolested, why the horseman
had nearly ridden over him, and why the clown who had just passed
had, without knowing it, nearly brained him with his load.
Much comforted and strengthened by the discovery of this wonderful
exemption from observation which he now enjoyed, he walked on
briskly, till the sun, being now high in the heavens, and the heat very
great, he came to a village, and entering boldly an inn there, and
passing through into an empty apartment, he lay down upon a not very
soft divan he found in it, and straightway fell asleep.
The Caliph being tired with the walk and the excitement of the morning,
slept so long and soundly that it was night and quite dark when he
awoke. And being even then but half awake he did not realize that he
was no longer in the castle-dungeon; therefore, perceiving that it was
not yet light, he turned over and went to sleep again. In a few hours'
time, in the midst of a dream that he was in his own palace at Bagdad
and presiding at some great feast, he awoke once more, saw that it was
beginning to be light, remembered where he was, and found himself
exceedingly hungry. Going, therefore, very quietly into the next
apartment, he found the innkeeper lying there soundly asleep, and on
the table the remains of a substantial supper. At once seating himself,
the Caliph was not long in finishing the repast and assuaging the pangs
of hunger.
Having all his life been used to eat and drink whatever he required,
without any thought of payment, it is very likely that he might have
eaten his meal and departed without the least concern or thought of the
fact that he possessed at that moment nothing to pay for it. However, it

so fell out that he was enabled to recompense his involuntary host very
handsomely. For after he had finished eating, and before he rose from
his seat, he heard a slight rustling sound outside the room, as though
some one were stealthily approaching.
Now the Caliph, before lying down to rest on the previous afternoon,
had taken the precaution to bestow the mysterious and wonderful
charm he had picked up, in a place of safety. He had put it inside his
turban, in such a way that he could feel it pressing like a soft elastic pad
upon his forehead. And therefore, in virtue of his contact with that
charm, he was still invisible to every other human being.
Such being the case, the thief peering into the room saw no one but the
keeper of the inn, who was sleeping very soundly. Entering, therefore,
with noiseless tread, his feet being bare, he approached the sleeper, and
extracted very dexterously a small packet of coin which he carried
secreted in his girdle. With this packet the thief glided from the room,
and stopping outside but a single instant to place it inside the folds of
his own turban, he walked briskly away.
The Caliph followed him closely. About a hundred yards from the door
of the inn there flowed a small stream or brook, across which the only
bridge was a couple of planks. Just as they arrived at this point the
Caliph took off the fellow's turban, and, with a push from behind, threw
him into the water. The stream was neither deep nor swift, and the thief
soon picked himself up, scrambled to the other side, and then, without
once looking back, took to his heels, being fully persuaded that it was
the man he had just robbed who had pursued and overtaken him. The
Caliph, after taking the parcel of coin out of the turban, which he then
threw away, walked quietly back towards the inn, without deigning to
bestow another thought on the thief whom he had thrown into the
water.
Before he reached the door of the inn, he saw the innkeeper, who had
awoke and discovered his loss, rush out of the house wild and
bareheaded, his turban having tumbled or been knocked off in his
excitement. Running past the