“Make a good use of them, my brother,” said the holy man.  “Remember riches sometimes have wings if we keep them for ourselves, and the poor are at our gates expressly that we may help them.”

My eyes were so blinded by gold, that I paid no heed to his wise counsel, and only looked about for something else to grasp.  Suddenly I remembered the little box of ointment that the dervish had hidden, and which most likely contained a treasure more precious than all the rest.  Giving him one last embrace, I observed accidentally, “What are you going to do with that little box of ointment?  It seems hardly worth taking with you; you might as well let me have it.  And really, a dervish who has given up the world has no need of ointment!”

Oh, if he had only refused my request!  But then, supposing he had, I should have got possession of it by force, so great was the madness that had laid hold upon me.  However, far from refusing it, the dervish at once held it out, saying gracefully, “Take it, my friend, and if there is anything else I can do to make you happy you must let me know.”

Directly the box was in my hands I wrenched off the cover.  “As you are so kind,” I said, “tell me, I pray you, what are the virtues of this ointment?”

“They are most curious and interesting,” replied the dervish.  “If you apply a little of it to your left eye you will behold in an instant all the treasures hidden in the bowels of the earth.  But beware lest you touch your right eye with it, or your sight will be destroyed for ever.”

His words excited my curiosity to the highest pitch.  “Make trial on me, I implore you,” I cried, holding out the box to the dervish.  “You will know how to do it better than I!  I am burning with impatience to test its charms.”

The dervish took the box I had extended to him, and, bidding me shut my left eye, touched it gently with the ointment.  When I opened it again I saw spread out, as it were before me, treasures of every kind and without number.  But as all this time I had been obliged to keep my right eye closed, which was very fatiguing, I begged the dervish to apply the ointment to that eye also.

“If you insist upon it I will do it,” answered the dervish, “but you must remember what I told you just now—­that if it touches your right eye you will become blind on the spot.”

Unluckily, in spite of my having proved the truth of the dervish’s words in so many instances, I was firmly convinced that he was now keeping concealed from me some hidden and precious virtue of the ointment.  So I turned a deaf ear to all he said.

“My brother,” I replied smiling, “I see you are joking.  It is not natural that the same ointment should have two such exactly opposite effects.”

“It is true all the same,” answered the dervish, “and it would be well for you if you believed my word.”

But I would not believe, and, dazzled by the greed of avarice, I thought that if one eye could show me riches, the other might teach me how to get possession of them.  And I continued to press the dervish to anoint my right eye, but this he resolutely declined to do.