of it on the people that stood in groups by the doorways and met on the housetops, and collected on the ways leading to the wells, discussing in alarm the case of Oolb, and the Barber, and Shagpat.
Now I was standing by the tall palm near the well eastward of the city, when I heard a sound of one that approached in the dusk, mumbling sentences in the dialect of Shiraz, grumbling as it seemed; and I heard him say, "A curse on this capricious King of Oolb! Shaved is he? By the tomb of my fathers, I'll offer my skill nowhere save in Shiraz after that, and they may languish for it the length of the earth, and make offers for my service, yea, offers of pearls and precious stones and dresses and slaves, elegant damsels, instructed, sensible to eloquence. All these they may offer for an essay of my science and an exposition of my cunning on their frontispieces; yea and more, steeds they may offer and golden tackle, yea and princes shall woo me vainly, proffering estates and mansions, with gardens and established harems for but one operation of my hand upon them, and I'll refuse, scorning them contumaciously—I—"
While the Vizier Feshnavat was reciting this soliloquy Shibli Bagarag burst in on his recital, crying, "'Twas — and I guess it, and wager on the guess, O Feshnavat!—Baba Mustapha!"
Said Feshnavat, "Even he! how recognized ye him?"
And Shibli Bagarag answered, "By his loquacity,
