“With that his grand project had rushed into his mind. Why should not the marsh, which had so far been so serious a trouble, be turned to the profit of the city? An embankment would keep out floods, drains cut through the enclosed marsh would collect the water and dry the whole. These drains could be regularly pumped out by wheels which the outer stream would turn, and a large area of good land would be added to the crowded town. On this new buildings could be raised and gardens laid out, to the great profit of all the citizens. For the city was increasing in importance, people were flocking in, there was crowding and difficulty and high rents, yet no place over which to expand between the marsh and the hills.
“He had approached the council and headmen with this project. They had hesitated long. At last they had grudgingly advanced from the taxes a sum which he warned them was inadequate. Nevertheless he had set to work, and the results were now before me. The swamp was still swamp, the embankment not completed, of the drains not more than a sixth were dug, and the whole was a confusion of mud-heaps, apparent ruin and chaos, very unattractive to the eye and very unpromising, in its outward aspect at least, of any result. It had all the character of waste and folly—yet a sum of money, small in comparison with many private resources and insignificant in the budget of the town, would suffice to crown the whole and to replace the wretched prospect of unfinished labour by a noble plain of rich gardens and new houses. But the headmen of the city were now disgusted and would vote no more. Rather did they threaten him with penalties for his loss of public pence.
“I had, during this torrent of talk, interjected here and there a question and no more. I had spoken guardedly and yet with no disrespect for his enthusiasm. I had, as we say among the merchants, ‘sounded him.’ I asked him in conclusion what sum he thought necessary for the completion of his enterprise. He named 300 gold pieces, about one-quarter of what lay concealed in my sacks upon the ground, which sacks (I had casually informed him) were filled with coarse grain from the hills.
“Upon hearing this sum given, a sum so well within my means, an interior light broke upon me. I did not pray for guidance, as is my custom in any business dealing of doubt. I was directly and immediately inspired. To this I owe the whole of my present position; for it was the foundation of all that followed. I had suffered vicissitude. It is the lot of man. But henceforward my soul was to be filled with increasing and ever-increasing wealth until I should be able to call myself, as I do now, by far the richest man in all the caliphate and perhaps in the world. This, my dear nephews, was the turning-point!”
The old man’s eyes were full of tears, his voice trembled; never had the awestruck boys imagined that their uncle, in his greatness and serenity, could be so moved.
“Oh, my children!” he continued in broken accents, “never forget in your own lives this master precept; that of all those whom Allah presents to us for exploitation, none, none is so lucrative as the creative enthusiast; the man who can make and produce and yet be managed! the genius devoid of guile! You may know him, that rare jewel, by his eyes.”
The old man recovered himself with dignity, wiped his eyes on a piece of priceless embroidered silk from Samarcand, threw it out of the window, and, in his more usual tone, pursued the recital of his fortunes.
“The young man never dreamt that such a chance and dusty traveller as I, with my one mule, could help him. He had merely burst out with his story to me as he would have done to any human being that would hear him. I had the more advantage of him from his ignorance of my real wealth.
“I told him soberly at the end of his tale that it interested me greatly, that his idea was evidently sound, but that the stupidity, ignorance, and suspicion of town councillors were common not only to his city, but to all others—a thing which I, who had travelled widely, could judge. I assured him, out of a vast experience (which he accepted with the utmost simplicity), that he could hope for no more from such a source. I then fell into a sort of bemused condition, as though I were ruminating what could next be done.
“The young man, his hopes now turned into a new channel, and, after so brief an acquaintance (for such is the nature of these enthusiasts) already beginning to look to me for aid, watched my face most anxiously. I continued silent.
“At last he could bear it no longer. He asked me impetuously what I should advise—where could he turn? What could be done? It would be a tragedy—a murder—for his great scheme to fail merely because its obvious advantage could not be put before anyone who had the provision of 300 gold pieces necessary for paying the labourers till the plan was achieved. He sprang to his feet. He walked feverishly up and down. He betrayed all the symptoms of his case.
“I answered him with great deliberation and firmness. I said, first of all,
