[She goes out.
[She goes out.
Pringle.
[By the table.] I should like to ask you, Ventimore, have you known Miss Futvoyelong?
Horace.
[Still at door, looking afterSylvia.] A little over six weeks.
Pringle.
And I have known her for as many years!
Horace.
[Closing door, and coming towards him.] Have you, though? I noticed the Professor was uncommonly cordial to you. Look here, are you doing anything this evening?
Pringle.
Er—no. That is, nothing particular. Why?
Horace.
Because it would be friendly of you if you'd come and dine here.They'recoming, you know.
Pringle.
I know. [After a moment's hesitation.] Thanks, I don't mind if I do.
Horace.
Capital! I'm sure if any one can keep the old man in a good humour,youcan.
Pringle.
[Sourly.] I see. You want me to engage him in conversation and leave you free to carry on your flirtation with Miss Futvoye unobserved?
Horace.
Not quite that. There's nothingunderhandabout it. We're engaged, you know.
Pringle.
Engaged! [After a pause.] And how long have you been that?
Horace.
Only since the day before yesterday.
Pringle.
[Blankly.] Oh! [He walks down to window.] I congratulate you; er—heartily, of course. [Looking out of window.] And—and when do you think of being married?
Horace.
It's no use thinking of that, at present. Not till the Professor takes a rosier view of my prospects, at all events. But if, like a good fellow, you could putin a word for me, it would give me no end of a leg up!
Pringle.
[Dully, with his face still averted.] You don't seem to realise what you're asking!
Horace.
[Suddenly understanding, with compunction.] Mydearchap! [He puts both his hands onPringle'sshoulders.] What a selfish brute I've been not to see! Iamsorry!
Pringle.
[Stiffly.] As a matter of fact, I'd quite made up my mind to propose to her—as soon as I'd got those country jobs off my mind. And now I findyou've cut in before me!
Horace.
Well, it's straight of you to tell me. I suppose you'd rather come and dine someotherevening? If so——
Pringle.
No. A promise is a promise. I'll come. Mind you, I don't pretend it won't be an effort—but I'll see what I can do for you.
Horace.
[Gratefully.] Youarea good chap, Pringle!—one of the best! Though, really, after what you've told me, I hardly like——
Pringle.
Not another word. Anything Icansay on yourbehalf—withouttoowide a departure from strict accuracy—I'll say with pleasure. [Going up to door.] Eight o'clock's the hour, isn't it? All right. [He goes out.]
[Horacemakes a movement towards the fireplace, as if to ring the bell.Then his eye is caught by the brass bottle, which is standing in the centre of the room. He stops, looks at his watch, and decides that he has time to open the bottle. He examines the cap on its neck, then goes to sideboard and takes from it a heavy paper-weight and a champagne-opener, returns to chair on right of table and sits, holding the bottle between his knees. Using the champagne-opener as a chisel, and the paper-weight as hammer, he proceeds to chip away the deposit round the cap, whistling an air from a musical comedy as he works.
[Horacemakes a movement towards the fireplace, as if to ring the bell.Then his eye is caught by the brass bottle, which is standing in the centre of the room. He stops, looks at his watch, and decides that he has time to open the bottle. He examines the cap on its neck, then goes to sideboard and takes from it a heavy paper-weight and a champagne-opener, returns to chair on right of table and sits, holding the bottle between his knees. Using the champagne-opener as a chisel, and the paper-weight as hammer, he proceeds to chip away the deposit round the cap, whistling an air from a musical comedy as he works.
Horace.
[To himself.] I'veloosenedit. [He seizes the cap and tries to screw it off.] It'sgiving!
[Suddenly the room is in complete darkness; there is a loud report and a spurt of flame from the bottle.Horacehas fallen back on the floor, with the cap of the bottle in his hand. There is just light enough to see a tall weird figure standing with out-stretched arms behind the bottle.
[Suddenly the room is in complete darkness; there is a loud report and a spurt of flame from the bottle.Horacehas fallen back on the floor, with the cap of the bottle in his hand. There is just light enough to see a tall weird figure standing with out-stretched arms behind the bottle.
Horace.
[Sitting up and rubbing the back of his head;faintly.] Hullo! Is any one there? Who's that come in?
The Stranger.
[In an attitude of supplication.] Towbah! Yah nebbi Ullah! Anna lah amill Kathahlik ibadan! Wullah-hi!
Horace.
I daresay you're perfectly right, sir—but I've no idea what you're talking about.
The Stranger.
[Repeating the Arabic sentence.] Towbah! (&c. &c.) Wullah-hi!
Horace.
[About to raise himself, sees the figure for the first time, and falls back astonished; then, recovering himself.] I suppose you've just taken the rooms on the ground-floor—so youmustbe able to make yourself understood in English?
The Stranger.
[The room has grown lighter, and he is seen to be in dull-green robes and a high-peaked turban. His long grey beard is divided into three thin strands; his eyes are slightly slanted, and his expression is a curious mixture of fatuous benignity, simplicity, and cunning.] Assuredly I can speak so as to be understood of all men.
Horace.
Then it's as well todoit. What was it you said just now?
The Stranger.
I said: "Repentance, O Prophet of Allah! I will not return to the like conduct ever!"
Horace.
Oh, I beg your pardon. [Sitting up again.] Thought you were speaking tome. But I say—[looking up at him]—how do you come to be here?
The Stranger.
Surely by thine own action!
Horace.
I see. You ran up to see what was the matter. Fact is, my head's still rather buzzy. I fancy I must have hit it somehow when I was trying to open that jar.
The Stranger.
Then itwasthy hand and none other that removed the stopper?
Horace.
I—I suppose so. AllIknow is thatsomethingwent off with a bang. I can't imagine what could have beeninsidethe beastly thing!
The Stranger.
Who else but I myself?
Horace.
[Slowly rising to his feet.] You must have your little joke, eh? [He reels against the table.] Or did I misunderstand you? My head's in such a muddle!
The Stranger.
I tell thee that I have been confined within that accursed vessel for centuries beyond all calculation.
Horace.
You can't pull my leg like that, you know! Seriously, just tell me who youare.
The Stranger.
Know then that he who now addresseth thee is none other than Fakrash-el-Aamash, a Jinnee of the Green Jinn.
Horace.
[Half to himself.] Singular, "Jinnee"—plural, "Jinn." Where did I hear that? I—I shall remember presently.
Fakrash.
I dwelt in the Palace of the Mountain of the Clouds in the Garden of Irem, above the City of Babel.
Horace.
[To himself.] Why, ofcourse! Sylvia! The Arabian Nights! [ToFakrash.] I can quite account for younow—but go on.
Fakrash.
For a certain offence that I committed, the wrath of Suleymán, the son of Dáood—on whom be peace!—[he salaams]—was heavy against me, and he commanded that I should be enclosed within a bottle ofbrass, and thrown into the Sea of El-Karkar, there to abide the Day of Doom.
Horace.
Don't think I'mbelievingin you. [Walking round the front of the bottle, as if to testFakrashby touching him.] I've sense enough to know you're notreal!
[He withdraws his hand without venturing upon the experiment.
[He withdraws his hand without venturing upon the experiment.
Fakrash.
Stroke thy head and recover thy faculties! I am real, even as thou art.
[He touchesHorace'sshoulder;Horacerecoils.
[He touchesHorace'sshoulder;Horacerecoils.
Horace.
I shall come round in time! [By the table, toFakrash.] You tell me you've just come out of this bottle?
Fakrash.
Dost thou doubt that it is even as I have said?
Horace.
Well, I should have thought myself you'd take a bigger size in bottles. But of course, I couldn't doubt you if I saw you getintoit again.
Fakrash.
That would be the easiest of actions! [He makes a sudden swooping movement, as though to re-enter the bottle, and then thinks better of it.] But I shouldindeed be a silly-bearded one to do this thing, since thou mightst be tempted to seal me up once more!
Horace.
[Disappointed, and backing against table, half afraid.] Too knowing an old bird to be caught like that, aren't you? ButIdon't mind! You'll disappear presently.
Fakrash.
True, O young man of perfect qualities and good works! But I will not leave thee before I have rewarded thy kindness. For in the sky it is written upon the pages of the air: "He who doeth kind actions shall experience the like!" Therefore—[with a lordly gesture]—demand of me what thou wilt, and thou shalt receive!
Horace.
Oh, I shall be awake so soon it's not worth while troubling you.
Fakrash.
Dismiss bashfulness from thee. [Advancing towards him.] For by thy hand hath my deliverance been accomplished, and if I were to serve thee for a thousand years, regarding nothing else, even thus could I not requite thee!
Horace.
[Retreating in some alarm to window.] Look here. I don't wantanything, and—and the best thingyoucan do is to vanish.
Fakrash.
[At back of table.] Not till thou hast told me thy name and the trade that thou followest.
Horace.
Oh, you'll gothen? [Fakrashassents.] Well, I'll humour you. My name is Horace Ventimore, and I'm an architect. I get my living by building houses, you know. Or rather, Ishould, if I could only get hold of a client—which I can't.
Fakrash.
[Coming down nearer bottle.] Grant thy servant a period of delay, and it may be that I can procure thee a client.
Horace.
Good old Arabian Nights again! You'd better not make the delay long—my head will be clear very soon.
Fakrash.
Greater rewards by far will I bestow upon thee, most meritorious of men! But now—[going up to right]—I must leave thee for a season.
Horace.
IknewI was coming round—you'll be gone directly.
Fakrash.
Aye, for I must seek out Suleymán—[salaaming]—on whom be peace!—and obtain pardon from him.
[He waves his arm, and the door at back flies open.
[He waves his arm, and the door at back flies open.
Horace.
[Eagerly.] Yes—Iwould! You go and dothat! Make haste! [The door closes, leavingFakrashvisible through it in an unearthly light.] Good-bye—and good luck!
Fakrash.
[Through door.] To thee also! And be assured that I will not be unmindful of thy welfare!
[The door becomes solid asFakrashvanishes.
[The door becomes solid asFakrashvanishes.
Horace.
[Rubbing his eyes.] What a queer dream! [He goes up to the door, opens it, then returns and sits by table.] So vivid! [He sees the brass bottle on the floor.] Open! [Looking inside it.] Empty! H'm, better get it out of the way.
[He takes the bottle in one hand and the cap in the other, and carries them into the bedroom on right. The moment he has gone there is a rush of wind, and then a heavy thud on the balcony outside, andMr. Wackerbath,a stout, prosperous-looking, elderly gentleman, in tall hat, frock-coat, white waistcoat, &c., reels through the open window into the room, and sinks into the armchair on left of tablet where he sits puffing and blowing.
[He takes the bottle in one hand and the cap in the other, and carries them into the bedroom on right. The moment he has gone there is a rush of wind, and then a heavy thud on the balcony outside, andMr. Wackerbath,a stout, prosperous-looking, elderly gentleman, in tall hat, frock-coat, white waistcoat, &c., reels through the open window into the room, and sinks into the armchair on left of tablet where he sits puffing and blowing.
Mr. Wackerbath.
[Feebly.] WhereamI? How did I——? [He takes off his hat.] Ah, of course! I remember now. [He rises asHoraceenters from bedroom.] Mr.—ah—Ventimore, I think? Mr. Horace Ventimore?
Horace.
[Slightly surprised.] Yes, that's my name. [Offering chair on right of table.] Won't you sit down?
Mr. Wackerbath.
Thank you—I will. [He sits down.] I—I ought to apologise for dropping in on you in this—ah—unceremonious way—but I acted, I may say—ah—on a sudden impulse.
Horace.
I'm afraid I haven't much time to spare—but if it's anything of importance——
Mr. Wackerbath.
[Panting.] You must give me a little time—till I—ah—get my wind again.
Horace.
Certainly. I know the stairs herearerather steep.
Mr. Wackerbath.
Are they? I don't remember noticing them. However! My name, Mr. Ventimore, is Wackerbath—Samuel Wackerbath, of Wackerbath and Greatrex, a firm of auctioneers and estate agents whose name may—ah—possibly be not unfamiliar to you.
Horace.
[Who has obviously never heard it before.] Oh, of course—of course.
Mr. Wackerbath.
I may tell you that for the last few years I have rented an old place—Moatham Abbey they call it—in Surrey, which is not quite as up-to-date as I could wish in the matter of modern conveniences.
Horace.
That's not unusual with ancient abbeys, is it?
Mr. Wackerbath.
[Solemnly.] Precisely. Well, to come to the point, I've lately acquired some land in the neighbourhood of Surrey and Hampshire, with a view to building a country residence. [Horacebecomes more interested, and seats himself at table onMr. Wackerbath'sright.] You see, there's an excellent site—on a hill with a south aspect, just above the village of Lipsfield, and overlooking the valley and river——
Horace.
[Making a note.] Well, Mr. Wackerbath——?
Mr. Wackerbath.
Well, as I was saying only a minute or two ago to a friend as we were crossing Westminster Bridge on our way to Waterloo——[He pauses, with an endeavour to recollect.] WherewasI?
Horace.
Waterloo.
Mr. Wackerbath.
Ah, yes. I remarked to him: "All I require isa thoroughly capable architect." [Horacegrows alert and excited.] And instantlyyourname flashed across my mind. So I—ah—hurried off at once, and—here Iam!
Horace.
[With a sudden misgiving.] May I ask—you—you weren'trecommendedto me by—by—[he looks round at the door through whichFakrashhas vanished]—any one?
Mr. Wackerbath.
[With dignity.] Certainly not! It was—ah—entirely my own idea. But why do you ask? [Huffily.] Is an introduction necessary?
Horace.
[Relieved.] No, no—not in the least! I—I merely asked. I shall be very pleased to undertake the commission. Could you give me some idea of the amount you thought of spending on the house?
Mr. Wackerbath.
Well, I don't think I could go to more than—say,sixtythousand pounds.
Horace.
[Half rising in his surprise.] Sixty thousand! [He recollects himself and sits down in assumed calm.] Oh, not more thanthat? Isee.
Mr. Wackerbath.
For the house itself. But there'll be the out-buildings—and the decorations. Altogether, I sha'n'tcomplain so long as the total doesn't exceed a hundred thousand. I take it that, for that sum, Mr. Ventimore, you could give me a country-house that I shall have no cause—ah—to feel ashamed of.
Horace.
I can safely promisethat. And now—when could I run down and have a look at the site, and go into the matter thoroughly?
Mr. Wackerbath.
We must fix a day later. I'm rather in a hurry now; and besides, I must consult the wife. Perhaps you could give me an appointment here?
Horace.
These are only my private rooms. I shall be at my office in Great College Street to-morrow, if you could look in then. [Giving him card.] Here's the address.
Mr. Wackerbath.
Good! [He rises and moves towards window, whileHoracerings bell by fireplace.] I'll look in on my way from Waterloo to the City. [He perceives that he is walking out on to a balcony, and turns.] How the devil did I come in? I'll be with you at eleven sharp.
[He goes towards the bedroom door on the right.
[He goes towards the bedroom door on the right.
Horace.
[At door to landing.]Thisway, Mr. Wackerbath.
Mr. Wackerbath.
[Vaguely.] I thought I camethatway. [As he goes up.] I can see already that you're the very man for me. [At door to landing.] Now I must be off, or I shall miss my train to Lipsfield. [AsHoraceoffers to see him downstairs.] Don't trouble—I can find my way down. Eleven sharp to-morrow.Goodevening.
[As he passes outHoracetouches his back, as though half suspecting him to be another illusion.Mr. Wackerbathturns and shakes hands effusively, then goes out, andHoracecloses door.
[As he passes outHoracetouches his back, as though half suspecting him to be another illusion.Mr. Wackerbathturns and shakes hands effusively, then goes out, andHoracecloses door.
Horace.
[To himself.]He'sno dream, anyhow! [With exultation.] A client! A real client of my own! At last!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Enters from landing.] Did you ring for me, sir?—or was it only to let the gentleman out?
[She comes down.
[She comes down.
Horace.
Oh, thereissomething I had to tell you. We shall befiveat dinner, not four. You can manage all right, eh?
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Comfortably.] Lor, yes, sir.Thatwon't make no difference!
Horace.
[In front of table.] By the way, Mrs. Rapkin, youhaven't let your ground-floor yet, have you? To—to an Asiatic gentleman?
Mrs. Rapkin.
Me, sir? Let to a Asiatic! No,—nor wouldn't! Why, there was Rapkin's own sister-in-law let her droring-room floor to one. And—[darkly]—reason she 'ad to repent of it—for all his gold spectacles.
Horace.
[Relieved.] Ah, Ithoughtyou hadn't. [Sits on table.] Well, about the waiting to-night? I suppose I can depend on Rapkin for that, eh? Whereishe?
Mrs. Rapkin.
Well, sir, not to deceive you, he ain't back yet from his Public—Libery ashecalls it.
Horace.
Oh,that'swhat he calls it, eh?
Mrs. Rapkin.
Whatever he's took, sir, you may rely on him to 'and the dishes without 'aving no accidents.
[A noise is heard from the street below, which gradually resolves itself into an Oriental chant.
[A noise is heard from the street below, which gradually resolves itself into an Oriental chant.
Horace.
What's going on outside? [He goes to window, looks out, and then starts back uneasily.] I say. It's—it's devilish odd—but there seems to me to be a whole caravan of camels down there!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Crossing to window.] Camuels, sir?
Horace.
Well, you look and see whatyoumake of them!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Looking down over balcony.] Lor! Theydolook like camuels, sir—orsomethinko' that. I expect they belong to the 'Ippodrome, or else a circus.
Horace.
[Relieved.] I say, what a sensible woman you are! Of course! I never thought ofthat!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Still looking out, while the chant finishes with a few shouts, as though a halt were called.] They seem to be stopping outside the 'ouse. Them camuels have folded up, and all the niggers as is with them is a kneelin' down with their noses on the kerbstone!
Horace.
[Uncomfortably.] They're onlyresting. Come away and don't take any notice. They'll move on presently.
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Still at window.] But they'reunpackin'the camuels now! And—well, if they ain't bringing everythink in'ere!
[She retreats to behind the table.
[She retreats to behind the table.
Horace.
Great Scott!
[He comes down to left of stage.
[He comes down to left of stage.
Mrs. Rapkin.
They wouldn't bemorethings as you've been buying at that auction, sir, would they?
[The chant is heard now inside the house.
[The chant is heard now inside the house.
Horace.
No, no. It's a mistake! Itmustbe a mistake!
Mrs. Rapkin.
Then I'd better go and tell them——
[She moves towards door to landing, but before she reaches it, it flies open mysteriously. A moment afterwards a tall, fierce Oriental in turban and robes appears in doorway and salaams.Mrs. Rapkinrecoils with a cry.Then a train of black slaves enter, carrying large sacks, bales, and chests, which they deposit on the table and floor, till the room is completely blocked; their chief stands down on right, with his back to the audience, and directs them by gestures.
[She moves towards door to landing, but before she reaches it, it flies open mysteriously. A moment afterwards a tall, fierce Oriental in turban and robes appears in doorway and salaams.Mrs. Rapkinrecoils with a cry.Then a train of black slaves enter, carrying large sacks, bales, and chests, which they deposit on the table and floor, till the room is completely blocked; their chief stands down on right, with his back to the audience, and directs them by gestures.
Horace.
Look here! I say,—you fellows! You've come to the wrong house!
[The slaves pay no attention to him.
[The slaves pay no attention to him.
Mrs. Rapkin.
'Ere! my goodmen, what are you comin' in 'erefor, bringing all your dust into my apartments?
Horace.
[Standing paralysed; to himself.] We can'tbothbe dreaming!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Trying to remonstrate with slaves.] This rubbish don't belong'ere! I can't 'ave the 'ole place littered up with it! You needn't act so ridic'lous if youareniggers! [ToHorace.] It ain't no usemytalking to 'em, sir. They're not likeChristians—they're deaf and dumb, seemingly!Youtry!
Horace.
[Going to theHead Slave,who salaams as he approaches.] Can you understand if I ask a question? [TheHead Slavesalaams again.] Well, I—I know it seems a silly thing to ask—but—but you don't happen to be sent here by—by anybody with a name something like Fakrash? [TheHead Slaveimplies by a gesture that this is so.] Youhave!... Well, look here.Idon't want 'em. I decline to take 'em in. You have all these things put on the camels again, and clear out! Do you see what I mean? [By this time the other slaves have gone; theHead Slavesignifies in pantomime that the things areHorace's,salaams, and goes out, the door closing behind him mysteriously.] I don't believe that idiot understandsnow! They've gone off to fetchmore!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Who has returned to window.] They've gone off altogether, sir. I can't see nothink now but a cloud of dust.
Horace.
[Sinks into chair on right of table with his head buried in his hands.] The fools! The confounded fools!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[Comes to table and looks forHoracein vain.] Sir! Sir! [Sees him over the bales, &c.] Sir! Whereareyou going to 'ave your dinner-partynow?
Horace.
[Forlornly.] Oh, I don't know—I don't know! Don't worry me now, Mrs. Rapkin! Go away! Can't you see I want to think—I want tothink!
Mrs. Rapkin.
[As she goes towards door at back.] Well, Imustsay and Idosay that if this'adto 'appen, it couldn't have come more ill-convenient! [She goes out.
[As soon as she has goneHoracerises and comes to an antique-looking trunk on left; he opens it, and brings out an enormous emerald and ruby, each the size of a cocoa-nut; he looks at them for a moment in dismay, and drops them back with a groan. Then he crosses to a sack on the right, opens it, and brings out an immense diamond. While he is doing all this,Fakrashhas risen from among the bales behind the table, and watches him with benign complacency.
[As soon as she has goneHoracerises and comes to an antique-looking trunk on left; he opens it, and brings out an enormous emerald and ruby, each the size of a cocoa-nut; he looks at them for a moment in dismay, and drops them back with a groan. Then he crosses to a sack on the right, opens it, and brings out an immense diamond. While he is doing all this,Fakrashhas risen from among the bales behind the table, and watches him with benign complacency.
Horace.
[As he returns the diamond to the sack.] Oh! damn it all!
Fakrash.
My son!
Horace.
[Recoiling on sacks.] I'm not dreamingnow! I'm awake! And yet—all that story of yours about your being shut up in a brass bottle? Ididdreamthat—eh?
Fakrash.
Nay, it is even as I told thee.
Horace.
And itwasyou who sent me all these things?
Fakrash.
A few trifling gifts by no means suited to thy dignity! Thou owest me no thanks.
Horace.
I—I'd rather not owe youanything. I mean—I can't possibly accept any presents from you.
Fakrash.
Nay, they are freely thine.
Horace.
I don't want to be ungracious, but I must decline to be under any obligation whatever to a—well, to a perfect stranger like yourself.
Fakrash.
Hast thou not placed me under the heaviest of obligations by delivering me from a bottle of brass? To escape out of a bottle is pleasant!
Horace.
So I should imagine. But, you see, I'd no notion what I wasdoingor—well, it's donenow, and if you really wish to show your gratitude for a very trifling service, I'll tell you how you can do it. [In a tone of earnest entreaty.] Take back all these gifts of yours, and let me alone!
Fakrash.
[Beaming.] Truly I am amazed by thy modesty and magnanimity!
Horace.
I'mnotmagnanimous—I'm devilish annoyed! [Exasperated.] Hang it all!Can'tyou understand that all these things are no earthly use tome? You might just as well have sent me so many white elephants!
Fakrash.
As thou pleasest! To send thee elephants—yea, even in abundance—will be no difficult undertaking.
[He makes a movement as though about to summon them.
[He makes a movement as though about to summon them.
Horace.
[Aghast.] Good Lord! Don't you go wasting white elephants onme! You take everything so literally! AllImeant was that if these thingswerewhite elephants, instead of what they are, I couldn't be more embarrassed!Nowdo you see?
Fakrash.
[Coming down to right.] Thou seemest to me to be despising riches beyond all price.
Horace.
Exactly! Because theyarebeyond all price!Lookat those sacks—bulging, simplybulgingwith diamonds and rubies and emeralds as big as ostrich eggs! Well, I can'twear'em. They'd be too dressy! I can'tsell'em—no one could afford to buy a single one of 'em! And how am I to account for having them at all?
Fakrash.
Thou canst surely say that they are presents to thee from Fakrash-el-Aamash, a Jinnee of the Green Jinn, in return for thy kindness in releasing him from a bottle of brass.
Horace.
Oh,canI? I fancy I see myself giving that explanation! [More mildly.] No, Fakrash,—you meant well—but the kindest thingyoucan do is to remove all this at once——
Fakrash.
This is a thing that cannot be. For to bestow gifts and receive them back disgraceth the giver.
Horace.
Not when the gifts are only in the way. [He nearly trips over a sack.] Justlookat this room!
Fakrash.
Verily it is but a miserable apartment for a person of thy distinction!
Horace.
It's quite good enough for me when it isn't lumbered up like this. I'm expecting friends to dinner this evening, and how the deuce am I to entertain them comfortably unless you make it possible for me?
Fakrash.
[Benevolently.] Have no uneasiness. I will see that thou art enabled to entertain thy guests as is fitting.
Horace.
Good! [At window.] Then you'll send for that caravan of yours?
Fakrash.
I hear and obey.
[He goes towards door at back and waves his hand. The door flies open. The chant is heard as before. A pause, after which theHead Slaveenters and salaams.Then the train of black slaves pour in noiselessly, and proceed to carry out the chests, &c., and throw the bales out over the balcony.
[He goes towards door at back and waves his hand. The door flies open. The chant is heard as before. A pause, after which theHead Slaveenters and salaams.Then the train of black slaves pour in noiselessly, and proceed to carry out the chests, &c., and throw the bales out over the balcony.
Horace.
[Encouraging them.] That's right!Allthose are to go. Put your back into it! [To some slaves who are throwing down bales from the balcony.] Do be careful! You nearly bowled a camel overthattime! [The last slave has gone out with a sack from which an immense blue jewel has rolled;Horacepicks it up and calls after him.] Hi! You've dropped a little sapphire thing! [TheHead Slavetakes the sapphire from him and salaams.] Sure you've got the lot? All right! Good day! [TheHead Slavemakes a final salaam and goes out, the door closing after him mysteriously;HoraceapproachesFakrash.] It's awfully nice of you not to beoffended, old fellow, and I'm just as much obliged as if I'dkeptthe things, you know.
Fakrash.
It is no matter. Thou shalt receive other rewards more to thy liking.
Horace.
[Alarmed.] No, no! I assure you I don't wantanything. I can get along quite well by myself. Because—of course,youwouldn't know it, but—[with pride]—I've got a client now!
Fakrash.
[Calmly.] I know it. Was he not my first gift unto thee?
Horace.
[Staggered.] Your first——? No, no—don't you go taking credit forthat! He assured me himself that he came of his own accord!
Fakrash.
He knew no better. Nevertheless it was I that procured him for thee.
Horace.
How?
Fakrash.
[Airily.] In the easiest manner possible. Having remarked him upon a bridge, I transported him instantly to thy dwelling, impressing him without his knowledge with thy names and thy marvellous abilities.
Horace.
[Horrified—to himself.] Good Lord! Hesaidhe came in by the window! [ToFakrash.] So you didthat, did you? Then you took a confounded liberty! You'd no business to introduce clients to me in that irregular way! Don't you ever do this sort of thing again! Just attend to your own affairs in future. Iunderstoodyou were going off in search of Suleymán. It's high time youstarted. You won't find him inthiscountry, you know.
Fakrash.
He is on some journey—for in Jerusalem itself could I find no sign of him.
Horace.
Oh, come! You can't have flown as far as Jerusalem and backalready!
Fakrash.
Know'st thou not that, to a Jinnee of the Jinn, distance is but a trifling matter?
Horace.
So much the better! You'll be back in the East all the sooner. And when youarethere, youstaythere. Don't get disheartened if you don't find Suleymán directly. Keep on pegging away till youdo! Why, the mere travelling will be a pleasant change for you!
Fakrash.
[On right of table; sententiously.] Well and wisely was it written: "In travel there are five advantages. [Proceeding to enumerate them on his fingers.] The first of these is——"
Horace.
[Impatiently, as he moves to his bedroom door on right.] I know, I know! Don't you bother to run through themnow—I've got to dress for dinner. Just you bundle off to Arabia and search for Suleymán like billy-oh. Good-bye!
Fakrash.
May Allah never deprive thy friends of thy presence! Never have I encountered a mortal who has pleased me so greatly!
Horace.
[At bedroom door.] Awfully good of you to say so!
Fakrash.
Farewell! Prepare to receive a reward beyond all thine expectations!