雙語·豪夫童話 亞歷山大城總督和他的奴隸_矮子長鼻兒

The Sheik's Palace and His Slaves_The Dwarf Nosey

Sire! They are wrong who believe that fairies and magicians existed only at the time of Haroun-al-Raschid, or who assert that the reports of the doings of the genii and their princes, which one hears on the market-place, are untrue. There are fairies to-day, and it is not so long ago that I myself was the witness of an occurrence in which genii were concerned.

In an important city of my dear fatherland, Germany, there lived, some years ago, a poor but honest shoemaker and his wife. In the day time he sat at the corner of the street, repairing shoes and slippers, and even made new ones when he could find a customer, although he had to first purchase the leather, as he was too poor to keep any stock on hand. His wife sold vegetables and fruits, raised by her on a small plat before their door, and many people chose to buy of her because she was clean and neatly dressed, and knew how to make the best display of her vegetables.

These worthy people had a pleasant-faced, handsome boy, well-shaped and quite large for a child of eight years. He was accustomed to sit by his mother's side on the market-place, and to carry home a part of the fruit for the women or cooks who bought largely of his mother; and he rarely returned from these errands without a beautiful flower, or a piece of money, or cakes; as the masters of these cooks were always pleased to see the little fellow at their houses, and never failed to reward him generously.

One day, the shoemaker's wife sat, as usual, in the market-place;while ranged around her were baskets of cabbages and other vegetables, all kinds of herbs and seeds, and also, in a small basket, early pears, apples, and apricots. Little Jacob—this was the boy's name—sat near her and cried her wares in a manly voice:

“This way, gentlemen! See what beautiful cabbages! How sweet-smelling are these herbs! Early pears, ladies! Early apples and apricots! Who buys? My mother offers them cheap.”

An old woman came to the market, torn and ragged, with a small sharp-featured face, wrinkled with age, and a crooked pointed nose that nearly reached the chin. She leaned on a long crutch; and it was not easy to see how she got over the ground, as she limped and slid and staggered along—as if she had wheels on her feet, and was in momentary danger of being tilted over and striking her pointed nose on the pavement.

The shoemaker's wife looked attentively at this old woman. For sixteen years she had been in daily attendance at the market, but had never before seen this singular creature. But she involuntarily shrank back, as the old woman tottered towards her and stopped before her baskets.

“Are you Hannah, the vegetable dealer?” asked the old woman, in a harsh cracked voice, her head shaking from side to side.

“Yes, I am she,” replied the shoemaker's wife. “Can I do any thing for you?”

“We’ll see, we’ll see! Look at the herbs, look at the herbs, and see whether you have any thing I want,” answered the old woman as she bent down over the baskets, and, pushing her dark skinny hands down among the herbs, seized the bundles that were so tastefully spread out, and raised them one after another to her long nose, snuffing at every part of them. It pressed heavily on the heart of the shoemaker's wife to see her rare herbs handled in such a way, but she did not dare to offer any objections, as purchasers were privileged to examine her goods; and, besides this, she experienced a singular fear of the old woman. When she had rummaged through the basket, the old woman muttered: “Miserable stuff! Poor herbs! Nothing there that I want; much better fifty years ago; bad stuff—bad stuff!”

These remarks displeased little Jacob.

“You are a shameless old woman!” he cried, angrily. “First, you put your dirty brown fingers into the beautiful herbs and rumple them, then you put them up to your long nose, so that any one who saw it done will never buy them, and then you abuse our wares by calling them poor stuff, when, let me tell you, the duke's cook buys every thing of us!”

The old woman squinted at the spirited boy, laughed derisively, and said in a husky voice: “Sonny—sonny! So my nose, my beautiful long nose, pleases you? You shall also have one in the middle of your face to hang down to your chin.” While speaking, she slid along to another basket containing cabbages. She took the finest white head up in her hands, squeezed them together till they creaked, flung them down again into the basket in disorder, and repeated once more: “Bad wares! Poor cabbages!”

“Don’t wabble your head about so horribly!” exclaimed the boy, uneasily. “Your neck is as thin as a cabbage-Stem; it might break and let your head fall into the basket; who then would buy of us?”

“Don’t you like my thin neck?” muttered the old woman, laughing.“You shall have none at all, but your head shall stick into your shoulders, so as not to fall from your little body.”

“Don’t talk such stuff to the child!” said the shoemaker's wife, indignant at the continued inspection, fingering and smelling of her wares.“If you want to buy any thing, make haste, you are driving off all my other customers.”

“Good! It shall be as you say,” cried the old woman, grimly. “I will take these six heads of cabbage. But look here—I have to lean on my crutch and cannot carry any thing; let your little son carry my purchases home; I will reward him.”

The child was unwilling to go, and began to cry, as he was afraid of the ugly old woman; but his mother bade him go, as she considered it a sin to burden a weak old woman with so heavy a load. Half crying, he obeyed her; gathered the cabbages together in a towel, and followed the old woman from the market.

She went so slowly that it was three quarters of an hour before she reached a remote part of the city, and finally stopped before a tumble-down house. Then she drew a rusty old hook from her pocket, and inserted it skillfully into a small hole in the door, which sprung open with a bang. But how surprised was little Jacob as he entered! The interior of the house was splendidly fitted up; the ceilings and walls were of marble;the furniture of the finest ebony, inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl;while the floor was of glass, and so smooth that the boy slipped and fell several times. The old woman then drew a silver whistle from her pocket and whistled a tune that resounded shrilly through the house. In response to this, some Guinea-pigs came down the stairs; but, as seemed strange to Jacob, they walked upright on two legs, wore nutshells in place of shoes,and had on clothes and even hats of the latest fashion.

“Where are my slippers, you rabble?” demanded the old woman, striking at them with her crutch as they sprang squeaking into the air. “How long must I stand here waiting?”

The Guinea-pigs rushed quickly up the stairs, and soon returned, bringing a pair of cocoanut shells lined with leather, which the old woman put on.

Now all her limping and stumbling disappeared. She threw her staff away, and glided with great rapidity over the glass floor, pulling little Jacob along by the hand. At last she stopped in a room containing all kinds of furniture, that bore some resemblance to a kitchen, although the tables were mahogany, and the divans were covered with rich tapestry, suitable for a room of state.

“Take a seat,” said the old woman pleasantly, placing Jacob in a corner of the divan and moving the table before him, so that he could not well get out of his seat. “Sit down; you have had a heavy load to carry. Human heads are not so light, not so light.”

“But, madame, what strange things you say!” cried the boy, “I am really tired; but then I carried cabbage-heads that you bought of my mother.”

“Eh! You are mistaken,” laughed the old woman, as she lifted the cover of the basket and took out a human head by the hair. The child was frightened nearly out of his wits. He could not imagine how this had occurred; but he thought at once of his mother, and that if any one were to hear of this she would certainly be arrested.

“I must now give you a reward for being so polite,” muttered the old woman, “have patience for a little while, and I will make you a soup that you will never forget as long as you live.” With this she whistled once more.

Thereupon many Guinea-pigs, all in clothes, came in; they had kitchen aprons tied around them, and in their waistbands were ladles and carving-knives. After these, a lot of squirrels came leaping in, dressed in wide Turkish trousers, standing upright, and wearing little velvet caps on their heads. They seemed to be the scullions, as they raced up and down the walls and brought pans and dishes, eggs and butter, herbs and meal, which they placed on the hearth. Then the old woman glided across the floor in her cocoanut shoes, bustled about now here and now there, and the boy saw she was about to cook him something. Now the fire crackled and blazed up; then the kettle began to smoke and steam; an agreeable odor was spread through the room: while the old woman ran back and forth, followed by the squirrels and Guinea-pigs, and whenever she came to the fire she stopped to stick her long nose into the pot. Finally the soup began to bubble and boil, clouds of steam shot up into the air, and the froth ran over into the fire. Thereupon the old woman took the kettle off, poured some of its contents into a silver bowl, and placed the same before little Jacob, saying:

“There, sonny, there, eat some of this soup, and you shall have those things that so pleased you about me. You will also become a clever cook;but herbs—no, you will never find such herbs; why didn’t your mother have them in her basket.”

The boy did not understand very well what she said, but he gave his whole attention to the soup, which was very much to his taste. His mother had often prepared him nice food, but never any thing that could equal this. The fragrance of choice herbs and spices rose from his soup, which was neither too sweet nor too sour, and very strong.

While he was swallowing the last drops from the bowl, the Guinea-pigs burned some Arabic incense, the blue smoke of which swept through the room. Thicker and thicker became these clouds, till they filled the room from floor to ceiling. The odor of the incense had a magical effect on the boy; for, cry as often as he would that he must go back to his mother, at every attempt to rouse himself he sank back sleepily, and finally fell fast asleep on the old woman's divan. He dreamed strange dreams. It seemed to him that the old woman was pulling off his clothes, and giving him in their place the skin of a squirrel. Now he could leap and climb like a squirrel; he associated with the other squirrels and with the Guinea-pigs, all of whom were very nice well-bred people, and in common with them, thought himself in the service of the old woman. At first his duties were those of a shoe-black—that is, he had to put oil on the cocoanuts that served the old woman for slippers, and rub them until they shone brightly. However, as he had often done similar work at home, he was quite skillful at it. After the first year—as it seemed to him in his dream—he was given more genteel employment; with other squirrels, he was occupied in catching floating particles of dust, and when they had accumulated enough of these particles, they rubbed them through the finest hair sieve, for the old woman considered these dust atoms to be something superb, and as she had lost her teeth, she had her bread made of them.

After another year's service, he thought, he was placed in the ranks of those whose duty it was to provide the old woman with drinking-water. You must not suppose that she had had a cistern sunk, or placed a barrel in the yard to catch rain-water for this purpose; no, there was much more refinement displayed; the squirrels—and Jacob among them—had to collect the dew of the roses in hazelnut shells for the old woman's drink. And as she was a very thirsty body, the water-carriers had a hard time of it. In the course of another year he was given some inside work, such as the position of floor-cleaner; and as the floor was of glass, on which even a breath would gather, he had no easy task. They had to sweep it, and were required to do their feet up in old cloths, and in that condition step around the room. In the fourth year he was employed in the kitchen. This was a position of honor that could be attained only after a long apprenticeship. Jacob served there, rising from a scullion to be first pastry-cook, and soon acquired such uncommon cleverness and experience in all arts of the kitchen, that he often wondered at himself. The most difficult dishes—such as pasties seasoned with two hundred different essences, and vegetable soup consisting of all the vegetables on earth—all this he was learned in, and could prepare any thing speedily.

Thus had some seven years passed in the service of the old woman, when one day she took off her cocoanut shoes, grasped her crutch, and ordered Jacob to pluck a chicken, stuff it with herbs, and have it all nicely roasted by the time she came back. He did all this in accordance with the rules of his art. He wrung the chicken's neck, scalded it in hot water, pulled out the feathers, scraped the skin till it was nice and smooth, and, having drawn it, began to collect some herbs for the dressing. In the room where the vegetables were kept he discovered a closet which he had never noticed before, the door of which stood ajar. He went nearer, curious to see what was kept there; and beheld many baskets, from which a powerful but pleasant odor arose. He opened one of these baskets and found therein herbs of quite peculiar shape and color. The stems and leaves were of a bluish-green, and bore a small flower of brilliant red, bordered with gold. He examined this flower thoughtfully, smelt of it, and discovered that it gave forth the same strong odor that he had inhaled from the soup the old woman had cooked for him so long ago. But so strong was the fragrance that he began to sneeze; he sneezed more and more violently, and at last—woke up, sneezing.

He lay on the divan and looked around him in astonishment. “Really, how true one's dreams do seem!” said he to himself. “Just now I should have been willing to swear that I was a mean little squirrel, the companion of Guinea-pigs and other low creatures, and from them exalted to be a great cook! How my mother will laugh when I tell her all this! But may she not scold me for going to sleep in a strange house, instead of hurrying back to help her at the market-place?”

So thinking, he got up to go away; but found his limbs cramped, and his neck so stiff that he could not move it from side to side. He had to laugh at himself for being so helplessly sleepy; for every moment, before he knew it, he was striking his nose on a clothes-press, or on the wall, or knocked it against the door-frame when he turned around quickly. The squirrels and Guinea-pigs were whining around him, as if they wanted to accompany him, and he actually gave them an invitation to do so, as he stood upon the threshold, for they were nice little creatures; but they rushed quickly back into the house on their nutshells, and he could hear them squeaking from a distance.

It was a remote quarter of the city into which the old woman had led him, and he had difficulty in finding his way out of the narrow alleys;besides, he was in the midst of a crowd who seemed to have discovered a dwarf in the vicinity, for all around him he heard shouts of: “Hey! Look at the ugly dwarf! Where does the dwarf come from? Why, what a long nose he has! And look at the way his head sticks into his shoulders, and his ugly brown hands!”

At any other time, Jacob would willingly have joined them, as it was one of the delights of his life to see giants or dwarfs, or any rare and strange sights; but now he felt obliged to hurry back to his mother.

He was rather uneasy in his mind when he arrived at the market. His mother still sat there, and had quite a quantity of fruit in the basket; so that he could not have slept very long after all. But still he noticed, before reaching her, that she was very sad, as she did not call on the passers to buy, but supported her head in her hand; and when he came nearer he thought her much paler than usual. He hesitated as to what he should do, but finally mustered up courage to slip up behind her, laid his hand confidingly on her arm and said:

“Mother, what is the matter? Are you angry with me?”

His mother turned around, but on perceiving him sprang back with a cry of horror.

“What do you want with me, ugly dwarf?” cried she. “Be off with you! I will not stand such tricks!”

“But, mother, what is the matter with you?” asked Jacob, in a frightened way. “You are certainly not well; why do you chase your son away from you?”

“I have already told you to go your way,” replied Hannah, angrily.“You will get no money from me by your jugglery, you hateful monster!”

“Surely, God has taken away her understanding!” said the child, sorrowfully, to himself. “What means shall I take to get her home? Dear mother, only be reasonable now; just look at me once closely; I am really your son, your Jacob.”

“This joke is being carried too far,” cried Hannah to her neighbor.“Only look at this hateful dwarf, who stands there and keeps away all my customers, besides daring to make a jest of my misfortune. He says to me,‘I am your son, your Jacob,’—the impudent fellow!”

Upon that Hannah's neighbors all got up and began to abuse him as wickedly as they knew how—and market-women, as you know, understand it pretty well—ending by accusing him of making sport of the misfortune of poor Hannah, whose son, beautiful as a picture, had been stolen from her seven years ago: and they threatened to fall upon him in a body, and scratch his eyes out, if he did not at once go away.

Poor little Jacob knew not what to make of all this. Was it not true that he had gone to the market as usual with his mother, early this morning? that he had helped her arrange the fruits, and afterwards had gone with the old woman to her house, had there eaten a little soup, had indulged in a short nap, and come right back again? And now his mother and her neighbors talked about seven years, and called him an ugly dwarf! What, then, had happened to him?

When he saw that his mother would not hear another word from him, tears sprang into his eyes, and he went sadly down the street to the stall where his father mended shoes. “Now I will see,” thought he, “whether my father will not know me. I will stop in the door-way and speak to him.” On arriving at the shoemaker's stall, he placed himself in the door-way, and looked in. The master was so busily occupied with his work, that he did not notice him at first, but when by chance he happened to look at the door, he let shoes, thread and awl drop to the ground, and exclaimed in affrights, “In heaven's name!—what is that? what is that?”

“Good evening, master,” said the boy, as he stepped inside the shop.“How do you do?”

“Poorly, poorly, little master,” replied the father, to Jacob's great surprise; as he also did not seem to recognize him. “My business does not flourish very well, I have no one to assist me, and am getting old; and yet an apprentice would be too dear.”

“But have you no little son, who could one of these days assist you in your work?” inquired the boy.

“I had one, whose name was Jacob, and who must now be a tall active fellow of twenty, who could be a great support to me were he here. He must lead a happy life now. When he was only twelve years old he showed himself to be very clever, and already understood a good deal about the trade. He was pretty and pleasant too. He would have attracted custom, so that I should not have to mend any more, but only make new shoes. But so it goes in the world!”

“Where is your son, then?” asked Jacob, in a trembling voice.

“God only knows,” replied the old man. “Seven years ago—seven years—he was stolen from us on the market-place.”

“Seven years ago!” exclaimed Jacob in amazement.

“Yes, little master, seven years ago. I remember as though it were but yesterday how my wife came home weeping, and crying that the child had been gone the whole day, that she had inquired and searched everywhere, but could not find him. I had often said that it would turn out so; for Jacob was a beautiful child, as everybody said, and my wife was so proud of him, and was pleased when the people praised him, and she often sent him to carry vegetables and the like to the best houses. That was all well enough; he was richly rewarded every time; but I always said: ‘Take care! The city is large, and many bad people live in it. Mind what I say about little Jacob?’ Well, it turned out as I had predicted. An ugly old woman once came to the market, haggled over some fruits and vegetables, and finally bought more than she could carry home. My wife—compassionate soul—sent the child with her; and from that hour we saw him no more!”

“And that was seven years ago you say?”

“It will be seven years in the Spring. We had him cried on the streets, and went from house to house and inquired for him. Many had known and loved the pretty youngster, and now searched with us; but all in vain. Nor did any one know who the woman was that had bought the vegetables;but a decrepit old woman, some ninety years of age, said that it was very likely the wicked witch Kraeuterweiss, who comes once in every fifty years to the city to make purchases.”

Such was the story Jacob's father told him; and when the shoemaker had finished, he pegged away stoutly at his shoe, drawing the thread out with both fists as far as his arms could reach. By and by Jacob comprehended what had happened to him, namely: that he had not dreamed at all, but that he must have served the wicked witch as a squirrel for seven years. Anger and grief so swelled his heart that it almost broke. The old woman had stolen seven years of his youth; and what had he received as compensation therefor? The ability to make cocoanut slippers shine brightly; to clean a glass floor; and all the mysteries of cooking that he had learned of the guinea-pigs. He stood there a long time thinking over his fate, when his father finally asked him:

“Is there any thing in my line you would like, young master? A pair of new slippers, or,” he added, smiling, “perhaps a covering for your nose.”

“What's that about my nose?” asked Jacob. “What do I want of a cover for it?”

“Well,” responded the shoemaker, “every one to his taste; but I must say this much to you: if I had such a terrible nose, I would make for it a case of rose-colored patent leather. Look! I have a fine piece of it in my hand here; it would take at least a yard. But how well your nose would be protected! As it is now, I know you can’t help striking your nose on every door-post, and against every wagon that you try to get out of the way of.”

Jacob stood mute with terror. He felt of his nose; it was thick, and at least two hands long! So, too, had the old woman changed his figure so that his mother did not know him, and everybody had called him an ugly dwarf!

“Master,” said he, half crying, “have you a mirror handy, where I can look at myself?”

“Young master,” replied his father gravely. “You do not possess a figure that should make you vain, and you can have no reason to look in a glass every hour. Break off the habit; it is an especially silly one for you to indulge in.”

“Oh, do but let me look in the glass!” cried Jacob. “I assure you it is not from vanity I ask it.”

“Leave me in peace—I have none. My wife has a small one, but I don’t know where she keeps it. But if you are bound to look in a glass, across the street lives Urban, the barber, who has a mirror twice as large as your head; look into that; and in the meantime, good morning!”

With these words, his father pushed him gently out of the door, closed it after him, and sat down once more to his work. Jacob, very much cast-down, went across the street to Urban, whom he had known well in the past.

“Good morning, Urban,” said he to the barber. “I have come to beg a small favor of you; be so good as to let me look into your glass a moment.”

“With pleasure; there it is,” laughed the barber, and his customers, who were waiting for a shave, laughed with him. “You are a pretty fellow, tall and slim, with a neck like a swan, hands like a queen, and a stumpy nose that can not be equalled for beauty. You are a little vain of it, to be sure; but keep on looking; it shall not be said of me that I was so jealous I would not let you look in my glass.”

The barber's speech was followed by shouts of laughter that fairly shook the shop. Jacob, in the meantime, had approached the mirror and looked at his reflection in the glass. Tears came into his eyes. “Yes, surely you could not recognize your little Jacob, dear mother,” thought he. “He did not look thus in those joyful days when you paraded with him before the people!” His eyes had become small, like those of the pigs; his nose was monstrous, and hung down over his mouth and chin; the neck seemed to have entirely disappeared, as his head sank deeply into his shoulders, and it was only with the greatest effort that he could move it to the right or left. His body was still of the same height as seven years before; but what others gain from the twelfth to the twentieth year in height, he made up in breadth. His back and breast were drawn out rounding, so as to present the appearance of a small but closely-packed sack. This stout, heavy trunk was placed on thin, weak legs that did not seem able to support the weight. But still larger were his arms; they were as large as those of a full-grown man; his hands were rough, and of a yellowish-brown; his fingers long and spindling, and when he stretched them down straight he could touch the ground with their tips without stooping. Such was the appearance of little Jacob, who had grown to be a misshapen dwarf.

He recalled now the morning on which the old woman had come up to his mother's baskets. Every thing that he had criticised about her—the long nose, the ugly fingers, every thing, she had inflicted on him; only the long trembling neck she had left out entirely.

“Well, have you seen enough of yourself, my prince?” said the barber, stepping towards him with a laugh. “Really, if one were to try and dream of any thing like it, it would not be possible. For I will make you a proposal, my little man. My barber shop is certainly well patronized, but not so well as it used to be, which results from the fact that my neighbor, Barber Schaum, has somewhere picked up a giant, who serves to allure customers to his shop. Now, to grow a giant no great art is required; but to produce a little man like you is quite another matter. Enter my service, little man; you shall have food, drink and lodging—every thing; for all which you shall stand outside of my door mornings, and invite the people to come in; you shall make the lather, and hand the customers the towel;and be assured we shall both be benefitted. I shall get more customers than the man with the giant, while each one of them will cheerfully give you a fee.”

Jacob's soul recoiled at the thought of serving as a sign for a barber. But was he not forced to suffer this abuse patiently? He therefore quietly told the barber that he had not the time for such services, and went on his way.

Although the wicked old woman had changed his form, she had had no power over his spirit, and of this fact Jacob was well aware, as he no longer felt and thought as he had done seven years before. No; he knew he had grown wiser and more intelligent in this interval; he sorrowed not over his lost beauty, not over his ugly shape, but only over the fact that he had been driven like a dog from his father's door. He now resolved to make one more attempt to convince his mother of his identity.

He went to her in the market, and begged her to listen to him quietly. He reminded her of the day on which he had gone home with the old woman, of all the little details of his childhood, told her of his seven years’ service as a squirrel with the old witch, and how she transformed him because he had criticised her appearance. The shoemaker's wife did not know what to think of all this. His stories of his childhood agreed with her own recollections; but when he told her that he had been a squirrel for seven years, she exclaimed: “It is impossible! And there are no witches.”And when she looked at him, she shuddered at the sight of the ugly dwarf, and did not believe he could be her son. Finally, she considered it best to lay the matter before her husband. So she collected her baskets and called the dwarf to go with her. On reaching the shoemaker's stall, she said:

“Look here, this person claims to be our lost son, Jacob. He has told me all how he was stolen from us seven years ago, and how he was bewitched by an old hag.”

“Indeed!” interrupted the shoemaker, angrily. “Did he tell you that? Wait, you good-for nothing! I told him all this myself, not an hour ago, and now he runs over to jest with you! Enchanted are you, sonny? I will disenchant you again!” With this he picked up a bundle of thongs that he had just cut out, sprang at the dwarf, and lashed him on his back and arms till the dwarf cried out with pain and ran off weeping.

In that city, as in every other, there were but few pitying souls who would assist a poor unfortunate about whom there was any thing ridiculous. Therefore it was that the unfortunate dwarf remained the whole day without food or drink, and at evening was forced to choose the steps of a church for his couch, cold and hard as they were.

But when the rising sun awaked him, he began to think seriously of how he should support himself, now that his parents had cast him off. He was too proud to serve as a sign for a barber's shop; he would not travel round as a mountebank and exhibit himself for money. What should he do? It now occurred to him that as a squirrel he had made great progress in the art of cookery; he believed, not without reason, that he could hold his own with most cooks; and so he resolved to make use of his knowledge.

As soon as the streets began to show signs of life, and the morning was fairly advanced, he entered the church and offered up a prayer. Then he started on his way. The duke, the ruler of the country, was a well-known glutton and high-liver, who loved a good table, and selected his cooks from all parts of the world. To his palace the dwarf betook himself. When he came to the outer gate, the guards asked him what he wanted, and had a little sport with him. He asked to see the master of the kitchen. They laughed, and led him through the court, and at every step servants stopped to look after him, laughed loudly, and fell in behind him, so that by and by a monster procession of servants of all degrees crowded the steps of the palace. The stable-boys threw away their curry-combs, the messengers ran, the carpet-beaters forgot to dust their carpets, everybody pushed and crowded, and there was as much noise and confusion as if the enemy had been before the gates; and the shout “A dwarf! A dwarf! Have you seen the dwarf!” filled the air.

The steward of the palace now appeared at the door, with a stern face, and a large whip in his hand. “For heaven's sake, you dogs, why do you make such a noise? Don’t you know that the duke still sleeps?” and thereupon he raised the lash and let it fall on the backs of some stable-boys and guards.

“Oh, master!” cried they, “don’t you see any thing? We bring here a dwarf—a dwarf such as you have never seen before.”

The steward was able to control his laughter only with great difficulty, when he saw the dwarf. But it would not do to compromise his dignity by a laugh, so he drove away the crowd with his whip, led the dwarf into the palace, and asked him what he wanted. When he heard that Jacob wanted to see the master of the kitchen, he replied:

“You are mistaken, sonny; it is me, the steward of the palace, whom you wish to see. You would like to become body-dwarf to the duke. Isn’t that so?”

“No, master,” answered the dwarf; “I am a clever cook, and experienced in all kinds of rare dishes; if you will take me to the master of the kitchen perhaps he can make use of my services.”

“Every one to his own way, little man; but you are certainly an ill-advised youth. In the kitchen! Why, as body-dwarf you would have no work to do, and food and drink to your heart's desire, and fine clothes. Still, we will see. Your art will hardly be up to the standard of a cook for the duke, and you are too good for a scullion.” With these words the steward took him by the hand and led him to the rooms of the master of the kitchen.

“Gracious master!” said the dwarf, bowing so low that his hands rested on the floor, “have you no use for a clever cook?”

The master of the kitchen looked him over from head to foot, and burst into a loud laugh, “What? You a cook? Do you think that our hearths are so low that you can see the top of one by standing on your toes and lifting your head out of your shoulders? Oh dear, little fellow! Whoever sent you to me for employment as a cook has made a fool of you.” So spoke the master of the kitchen, laughing loudly; and the steward and all the servants in the room joined in the laugh.

But the dwarf did not allow himself to be disconcerted. “An egg or two, a little syrup and wine, and meal and spices, can be spared in a house where there is such plenty,” said he. “Give me some kind of a dainty dish to prepare, furnish me with what I need, and it shall be made quickly before your eyes, and you will have to confess that I am a cook by rule and right.” While the dwarf spoke, it was wonderful to see how his little eyes sparkled, how his long nose swayed from side to side, and his long spider-like fingers gesticulated in unison with his speech.

“Come on!” cried the master of the kitchen, taking the arm of the steward. “Come on; just for a joke, let's go down to the kitchen!”

They went through many passages, and at last reached the kitchen, which was a high roomy building splendidly fitted up. On twenty hearths burned a steady fire; a stream of clear water, in which fish were darting about, flowed through the middle of the room; the utensils for immediate use were kept in closets made of marble and costly woods, and to the right and left were ten rooms in which were preserved every thing costly and rare for the palate that could be found in the entire country of the Franks and even in the Levant. Kitchen servants, of all degrees, were running about, rattling kettles and pans, and with forks and ladles in their hands;but when the master of the kitchen entered, they all stopped and remained so still that one heard only the crackling of the fires and the splashing of the stream.

“What has His Grace ordered for breakfast this morning?” inquired the master of the kitchen of the breakfast-cook.

“Sir, he has been pleased to order Danish soup and red Hamburg dumplings.”

“Very well,” said the master of the kitchen. “Did you hear, little man, what His Grace will have to eat? Do you feel capable of preparing these difficult dishes? In any event, you will not be able to make the dumplings, for that is a secret.”

“Nothing easier,” replied the dwarf, to the astonishment of his hearers; for when a squirrel he had often made these dishes. “Nothing easier; for the soup, I shall require this and that vegetable, this and that spice, the fat of a wild boar, turnip, and eggs; but for the dumpling,”continued he, in a voice so low that only the master of the kitchen and the breakfast-cook could hear, “for the dumpling, I shall use four different kinds of meat, a little wine, the oil of a duck, ginger, and a certain vegetable called ‘stomach's joy.’”

“Ha! By St. Benedict! What magician learned you this?” cried the cook, in astonishment. “He has given the receipt to a hair, and the‘stomach's joy’ we did not know of ourselves. Yes, that would improve the flavor, no doubt. O you miracle of a cook!”

“I would not have believed it,” said the master of the kitchen; “but let him make the experiment; give him what things he wants, and let him prepare the breakfast.”

These commands were carried out, and every thing was laid out near the hearth, when it was discovered that the dwarf's nose barely came up to the fire-place. Therefore a couple of chairs were placed together, and upon them a marble slab was laid, and the little magician was then invited to try his skill. The cooks, scullions, servants, and various other people, formed a large circle around him, and looked on in astonishment to see how dexterous were his manipulations and how neatly his preparations were conducted. When he was through, he ordered both dishes to be placed on the fire, and to allow them to cook to the exact moment when he should call out. Then he began to count one, two, three, and so on, until he reached five hundred, when he sang out: “Stop!” The pots were then set to one side, and the dwarf invited the master of the kitchen to taste of their contents.

The head cook took a gold spoon from one of the scullions, dipped it in the brook, and handed it to the master of the kitchen, who stepped up to the hearth with a solemn air, dipped his spoon into the food, tasted it, closed his eyes, smacked his lips, and said:

“By the life of the duke, it's superb! Won’t you take a spoonful, steward?”

The steward bowed, took the spoon, tasted, and was beside himself with pleasure. “With all respect for your art, dear head cook, you have had experience, but have never made either soup or Hamburg dumpling that could equal this!”

The cook now took a taste, shook the dwarf most respectfully by the hand, and said: “Little One! You are a master of the art; really, that‘stomach's joy’ makes it perfect.”

At this moment the duke's valet came into the kitchen and announced that his grace was ready for his breakfast. The food was now placed on silver plates and sent in to the duke; the master of the kitchen taking the dwarf to his own room, where he entertained him. But they had not been there long enough to say a pater-noster, (such is the name of the Franks’ prayer, O Sire, and it does not take half as long to say it as to speak the prayer of the Faithful,) when there came a message from the duke requesting the presence of the master of the kitchen. He dressed himself quickly in his court costume, and followed the messenger.

The duke appeared to be in fine spirits. He had eaten all there was on the silver plates, and was wiping his beard as the master of the kitchen entered. “Hear me, master of the kitchen,” said he, “I have always been very well pleased with your cooks up to the present time; now tell me who it was that prepared my breakfast this morning? It was never so delicious since I sat on the throne of my ancestors; tell me the cook's name that I may send him a present of a few ducats.”

“Sire, it is a strange story,” replied the master of the kitchen; and went on to tell the duke how a dwarf had been brought to him that morning who wished a place as cook, and what had occurred afterwards. The duke was greatly astonished. He had the dwarf called, and asked him who he was, and where he came from. Now poor Jacob certainly could not say that he had been enchanted, and had once taken service as a squirrel; still he kept to the truth by saying that he had now neither father nor mother, and had learned how to cook from an old woman. The duke did not question him further, but examined the singular shape of his new cook.

“If you will remain in my service,” said the duke, “I will give you fifty ducats a year, a holiday suit, and two pair of trowsers besides. You will be expected to prepare my breakfast every morning with your own hands; must direct the preparation of dinner, and have a general oversight of my kitchen. As I am in the habit of naming all the people in my palace, you shall take the name of Nosey, and hold the office of assistant master of the kitchen.”

The dwarf, Nosey, prostrated himself before the mighty duke of the Franks, kissed his feet, and promised to serve him faithfully.

Thus was the dwarf provided for. And he did his office honor; for it can be said that the duke was quite another man while the dwarf remained in his service. Formerly he had been wont to express his displeasure by throwing the dishes, that were taken in to him, at the heads of the cooks;in fact, once in his anger, he had thrown a roasted calf's foot, that was not tender enough, at the master of the kitchen, and it hit him on the forehead and disabled him for three days. To be sure, the duke made amends for his anger afterwards by distributing handfuls of ducats among his victims;but nevertheless the cooks never took his meals in to him without fear and trembling. Since the dwarf's arrival, however, there was a magical change. Instead of three meals a day, the duke now indulged in five, in order to do justice to the skill of the assistant master of the kitchen; and he never betrayed the least appearance of dissatisfaction. On the contrary, he found every thing new and rare, was sociable and pleasant, and grew fleshier and happier from day to day.

He would often send for the master of the kitchen and the dwarf Nosey, in the middle of the meal, and giving them seats on either side of himself, would feed them the choicest morsels with his own fingers; a favor that they both knew how to prize.

The dwarf became the wonder of the city. Permission was constantly sought of the master of the kitchen to see him cook, and a few gentlemen of the highest rank were able to induce the duke to let their cooks take lessons from Nosey, and this brought the dwarf in quite a sum of money, as each pupil had to pay half a ducat daily. And in order to keep the good will of the other cooks, and prevent them from becoming jealous, Nosey distributed this money among them.

Thus lived Nosey, in exceptional comfort and honor, for nearly two years; and only when he thought of his parents did he feel sorrowful. One day, however, a curious incident occurred.

Nosey was especially fortunate in his purchases. For this reason he was in the habit of going to market himself for fowls and fruits, whenever his duties would permit. One morning he went to the goose-market to look for some heavy fat geese, such as his master loved. His form, far from arousing jokes and laughter, commanded respect, for he was known to be the famous chief cook of the duke, and every woman who had geese to sell was happy if he turned his nose towards her.

At the further end of a row of stalls, he saw a woman sitting in a corner, who had also geese to sell, but, unlike the other market-women, she did not cry her wares or attempt to attract buyers. To her he went and weighed her geese. They were just what he wanted, and he bought three, together with the cage, shouldered his burden, and started on his way home. It occurred to him as a very strange thing that only two of these geese cackled, as genuine geese are accustomed to do, while the third one sat quite still and reserved, occasionally sighing and sneezing like a human being. “It must be half-sick,” said he, as he went along. “I must hurry back so as to kill and dress it.” But, to his astonishment, the goose replied, quite plainly:

If you stick me,

I will bite ye.

If my neck you do not save,

You will fill an early grave.

Terribly frightened. Nosey sat the cage down, and the goose looked at him with beautiful intelligent eyes, and sighed.

“Good gracious!” exclaimed the dwarf. “Can you speak? Miss Goose? I would not have thought it! Well, now, don’t be anxious; one knows how to live without having any designs on such a rare bird. But I would be willing to bet that you have not always had these feathers. I was myself once a contemptible little squirrel.”

“You are right,” replied the goose, “in saying that I was not born with this ignominious form. Alas! It was never sung to me in my cradle that Mimi, daughter of the great Wetterbock, would meet her death in the kitchen of a duke!”

“Do not be uneasy, dear Miss Mimi,” said the dwarf cheerfully.“On my word of honor, and as sure as I am the assistant master of the kitchen of His Grace, no one shall harm you. I will fix you up a coop in my own room, where you shall have plenty of food, and I will devote all my leisure time to your entertainment. The other kitchen servants shall be told that I am fattening a goose with different kinds of vegetables, for the duke; and whenever an opportunity offers, I will set you at liberty.”

The goose thanked him with tears, and the dwarf did as he had promised. Nor did he furnish her with common goose food, but with pastry and sweetmeats, and whenever he was at liberty he paid her visits of condolence. They told one another their histories, and in this way Nosey learned that she was a daughter of the magician Wetterbock, who lived on the island of Gothland, and who had begun a quarrel with an old witch, who in turn had vanquished him by a clever stratagem, and had then revenged herself upon him by transforming his daughter into a goose, and bringing her thus far from home. When the dwarf had told her his story, she said:

“I am not inexperienced in these matters. My father gave my sisters and myself instructions in the art, as far as he thought best; your account of the quarrel you had with the old woman over the market baskets, your sudden transformation while inhaling the steam of that vegetable soup, taken in connection with some expressions of the old woman that you told me of, prove conclusively to me that you are bewitched by herbs;that is to say, if you can find the plant that the old woman used in your transformation, you can be restored to your former shape.”

This announcement was not very consoling to the dwarf, for where was he to find the plant? Still, he thanked the goose, and strove to be hopeful.

About this time the duke received a visit from a neighboring prince who was on friendly terms with him. He sent for the dwarf, and said to him: “Now is the time when you will have to prove your devotion to me, and your mastery of the art of cooking. The prince who visits me is accustomed to the very best, as you know, and is an excellent judge of fine cooking as well as a wise man. See to it, therefore, that my table is provided daily with such dishes as will cause his wonder to increase from day to day. And, on the penalty of my displeasure, you must not make the same dish twice, during his stay here. My treasurer will supply you with all the money you may want for this purpose. And even though you be forced to cook gold and diamonds in lard, do it! I would rather be ruined than put to the blush before him.”

Thus spake the duke; and the dwarf replied with a low obeisance:“It shall be as you say, my master; God willing, I will so provide that this prince of epicures shall be satisfied.”

The little cook put forth all his skill. He spared neither his master's money nor himself. And he might be seen the livelong day in the midst of clouds of smoke and flame, while his voice sounded constantly through the kitchen, as he ordered the under-cooks and scullions about like a prince.

The duke's guest had now been fourteen days with him, and had been well entertained. They ate not less than five times a day, and the duke was contented with the skill of his dwarf, for he saw satisfaction on the brow of his guest. But on the fifteenth day, it happened that the duke sent for the dwarf while they sat at table, and presented him to his guest, with the inquiry how the dwarf's cooking had pleased him.

“You are a marvelous cook,” replied the prince, “and know what constitutes good cheer. In all the time I have been here, you have not given us the same dish twice, and every thing has been well prepared. But tell me why it is you have let so long a time pass without producing the queen of dishes—the Pastry Souzeraine?”

The dwarf was all of a tremble, for he had never heard of this queen of pastries; but still he recovered himself, and replied:

“O Sire! I had hoped that the light of your countenance would be shed on this palace for many days yet; therefore I delayed this dish; for what could be a more appropriate compliment from the cook on the day of your departure, than the queen of the pastries?”

“Indeed?” laughed the duke, “and were you waiting for the day of my death, before you should compliment me in the same manner? For you have never placed this pastry before me. But think of some other parting dish: for you must set this pastry on the table to-morrow.”

“It shall be as you say, master!” answered the dwarf, as he went out. But he was very much disturbed in mind, for he knew that the day of his disgrace and misfortune was at hand. He had not the slightest idea how to make the pastry. He therefore went to his chamber and wept over his hard fate.

Just then the goose, Mimi, who had the run of his chamber, came up to him and inquired the cause of his sorrow. “Cease to weep,” said she, on learning of the incident of the pastry.“This entrée was a favorite dish of my father's, and I know about how it is made. You take this and that, so and so much, and if there should happen to be any little thing left out, why, the gentlemen will never notice it.”

The dwarf, on hearing Mimi's recipe, jumping for joy, blessed the day on which he had bought the goose, and ran off to make the queen of the pastries. He first made a small one by way of experiment, and lo, it tasted finely, and the master of the kitchen, to whom he gave a morsel, heartily praised his skill.

On the following day, he baked the pastry in a larger form, and after decorating it with a wreath of flowers, sent it, hot from the oven, to the duke's table. He then donned his best suit of clothes, and followed after it. As he entered the dining-room, the head carver was in the act of cutting the pastry and serving it up to the duke and his guest, with a silver pie-knife. The duke took a large mouthful of the pastry, cast his eyes up at the ceiling, and said as soon as he had swallowed it:

“Ah! ah! ah! They are right in calling this the queen of the pastries;but my dwarf is also king of all cooks—isn’t that so, dear friend?”

The prince helped himself to a small piece, tasted and examined it attentively, and then, with a scornful smile, pushed the plate away from him, exclaiming: “The thing is very cleverly made, but still it isn’t the genuine Souzeraine. I thought it would turn out that way.”

The duke scowled, and reddening with mortification, cried: “Dog of a dwarf! How dare you bring this disgrace on your master? Shall I have your big head taken off as a penalty for your bad cookery?”

“Alas, master, I prepared the dish in accordance with all the rules of art; there certainly can not any thing be wanting!” cried the dwarf trembling.

“You lie, you knave!” exclaimed the duke, giving him a kick, “or my guest would not say that some ingredient was wanting. I will have you cut up in small pieces and made into a pastry yourself!”

“Have pity!” cried the dwarf, falling on his knees before the guest, and clasping his feet. “Tell me what is wanting in this dish that it does not suit your palate? Do not let me die on account of a handful of meat and meal.”

“That wouldn’t help you much, dear Nosey,” answered the prince, laughing. “I felt pretty sure yesterday that you couldn’t make this dish as my cook does. Know, then, that there is an herb wanting, that is not known at all in this country, called Sneeze-with-pleasure, and, without this, the pastry is tasteless and your master will never have it as good as mine.”

The last words aroused the anger of the duke to the highest pitch.“And yet I will have it!” exclaimed he, with flashing eyes. “For I swear on my princely word, that I will either show you the pastry just as you require it, or—the head of this fellow impaled on the gate of my palace. Go, dog! Once more I grant you twenty-four hours’ time.”

The dwarf went back to his own room, and complained to the goose of his fate, for as he had never heard of this plant, he must die.

“Is that all that is wanted?” said she. “I can help you in that case, for I learned to know all vegetables from my father. At any other time you might have been doomed; but fortunately now there is a full moon, and at this time the plant blooms. But tell me, are there any old chestnut trees in the vicinity of the palace?”

“Oh, yes,” replied the dwarf, with a lighter heart; “by the lake, two hundred steps from the house, there is a large group of them; but what has that to do with it?”

“Well, at the foot of old chestnuts blooms this plant,” replied Mimi.“Therefore, let us lose no time in our search. Take me under your arm, and set me down when we are in the garden, and I will assist you.”

He did as she said, and went with her to the palace entrance. But there he was stopped by the guard who extended his weapon, and said:

“My good Nosey, it's all up with you; I have received the strictest orders not to let you out of the house.”

“But there can’t be any objection to my going into the garden,” urged the dwarf. “Be so kind as to send one of your comrades to the steward, and ask him whether I may not be allowed to look for vegetables in the garden.” The guard did as requested, and the dwarf received permission to go into the garden, as it was surrounded by high walls and escape was impossible. When Nosey was safely outside, he put the goose down carefully, and she ran on before him to the lake where the chestnut trees stood. He followed her closely, with beating heart, as his last hope was centered on the success of their search, and if they did not find the plant, he was fully resolved that he would throw himself into the lake, rather than submit to being beheaded. The goose wandered about under all the trees, turning aside every blade of grass with her bill, but all in vain was her search, and she began to cry from pity and anxiety, as the night was at hand, and it was difficult to distinguish objects around her.

Just then the dwarf chanced to look across the lake and he shouted:

“Look, look! Across the lake stands an old chestnut tree; let us go over there and search—perhaps we shall find my luck blooming there.”

The goose took the lead, hopping and flying, and Nosey ran after as fast as his little legs would carry him. The chestnut tree cast a large shadow, so that nothing could be seen under its branches; but the goose suddenly stopped, clapped her wings with joy, put her head down into the long grass, and plucked something that she presented with her bill to the astonished dwarf, saying:

“That is the plant, and there are a lot of them growing there, so that you will never lack for them.”

The dwarf examined the plant thoughtfully; it had a sweet odor, that reminded him involuntarily of the scene of his transformation. The stems and leaves were of a bluish-green color, and it bore a brilliant red flower with a yellowish border.

“God be praised!” exclaimed he at length. “How wonderful! Do you know that I believe this is the very plant that changed me from a squirrel to this hateful form? shall I make an experiment with it?”

“Not yet,” replied the goose. “Take a handful of these plants with you and let us go to your room; collect what money and other property you have, and then we will try the virtue of this plant.”

Taking some of the plants with them, they went back to his room, the heart of the dwarf beating so that it might almost be heard. After packing up his savings, some fifty or sixty ducats, and his shoes and clothes in a bundle, he said: “God willing, I will now free myself of this shape,” stuck his nose deep down into the plant and inhaled its fragrance.

Thereupon a stretching and cracking took place in all his limbs; he felt his head being raised from his shoulders; he squinted down at his nose and saw it getting smaller and smaller; his back and breast began to straighten out, and his legs grew longer.

The goose looked on in astonishment.

“Ha! How tall, how handsome you are!” exclaimed she. “Thank God! Nothing remains of your former shape?”

Jacob, greatly rejoiced, folded his hands and prayed. But in his joy he did not forget how much he was indebted to the goose; he longed with all his heart to go at once to his parents, but gratitude caused him to forego this pleasure, and to say:

“Whom but you have I to thank for my restoration. Without you I should never have found this plant, and should have forever remained a dwarf, or have died under the ax. Come, I will take you to your father; he, who is so experienced in magic, can easily disenchant you.”

The goose wept tears of joy, and accepted his offer. Jacob walked safely out of the palace with the goose, without being recognized, and started at once on his way to the coast to reach Mimi's home.

What shall I say further? That they reached their journey's end safely; that Wetterbock disenchanted his daughter, and sent Jacob, loaded down with presents, back to his native city; and that his parents easily recognized their son in the handsome young man; that he bought a shop with the presents given him by Wetterbock; and that he became rich and happy.

To this I will add, that after Jacob's escape from the palace, great trouble ensued; for on the following day, as the duke was about to carry out his threat of taking off the dwarf's head if he did not succeed in finding the plant, that individual was nowhere to be found. But the prince asserted that the duke had connived at his escape, so as not to be compelled to kill his best cook; and the prince accused the duke of breaking his word. From this a great war broke out between the two rulers, which is known to history as “The Vegetable War.” Many battles were fought, but finally peace was restored, and this peace was called “The Pastry Peace,” inasmuch as at the peace banquet, the Souzeraine, queen of the pastries, was prepared by the prince's cook, and rejoiced the palate of his grace, the duke.

Thus do the most trivial causes often lead to great results; and this, O Sire, is the story of the Dwarf Nosey.

Such was the story of the Frankish slave. When he had finished, Ali Banu had fruits served to him and the other slaves, and conversed, while they were eating, with his friends. The young men who had been introduced into the room so stealthily, were loud in their praises of the sheik, his house, and all his surroundings.

“Really,” said the young writer, “there is no pleasanter way of passing the time than in hearing stories. I could sit here the livelong day with my legs crossed, and one arm resting on a cushion, with my head supported by my hand, and, if allowable, the sheik's nargileh in my hand, and so situated listen to stories with the greatest zest. Something like this, I fancy, will be our existence in the Gardens of Mohammed.”

“So long as you are young and able to work,” replied the old man, who had conducted the young men into the house, “you can not be in earnest in such an idle wish. At the same time, I admit that there is a peculiar charm about these narratives. Old as I am—and I am now in my seventy-seventh year—and much as I have already heard in my life, still I am not ashamed when I see a large crowd gathered round a story-teller at the corner, to take my place there too and listen to him. The listener dreams that he is an actor in the events that are narrated; he lives for the time being amongst these people, among these wonderful spirits, with fairies and other folk, whom one does not meet every day; and has afterwards, when he is alone, the means of entertaining himself, just as does the traveller through the desert, who has provided well for his wants.”

“I had never thought much about wherein the charm of these stories lay,” responded another of the young men. “But I agree with you. When I was a child, I could always be quieted with a story. It mattered not, at first, of what it treated, so long as it was told me, so long as it was full of incidents and changes. How often have I, without experiencing the slightest fatigue, listened to those fables which wise men have devised, and in which they express a world of wisdom in a sentence: stories of the fox and the foolish stork, of the fox and the wolf, and dozens of stories of lions and other animals. As I grew older, and associated more with men, those short stories failed to satisfy me; I required longer ones, which treated too of people and their wonderful fortunes.”

“Yes, I recall that time very plainly,” interrupted one of the last speaker's friends. “It was you who created in us the desire for stories of all kinds. One of your slaves knew as many as a camel-driver could tell on the trip from Mecca to Medina. And when he was through with his work, he had to sit down with us on the grassplot before the house, and there we would tease until he began a story; and so it went on and on until night overtook us.”

“And was there not then disclosed to us a new, an undiscovered realm?” said the young writer. “The land of genii and fairies, containing, too, all the wonders of the vegetable kingdom, with palaces of emeralds and rubies, inhabited by giant slaves, who appear when a ring was turned around on the finger and back again, or by rubbing a magical lamp, and brought splendid food in golden shells? We felt that we were transported to that country; we made those marvelous voyages with Sinbad, we accompanied Haroun-al-Raschid, the wise ruler of the Faithful, on his evening walks, and we knew his vizier as well as we knew each other;in short, we lived in those stories, as one lives in his nightly dreams, and for us there was no part of the day so enjoyable as the evening, when we gathered on the grass-plot, and the old slave told us stories. But tell us, old man, why it is that this craving for stories is as strong in us to-day as it was in our childhood?”

The commotion that had arisen in the room, and the request of the steward for silence, prevented the old man from replying. The young men were uncertain whether they ought to rejoice at the prospect of hearing another story, or to feel vexed that their entertaining conversation with the old man had been broken off so suddenly. When silence had been restored, a second slave arose and began his story.