Now the attractions of Damascus so fascinated the worthy Ali, that he could hardly tear himself away, but at length he remembered that he had a home in Bagdad, meaning to return by way of Aleppo, and after he had crossed the Euphrates, to follow the course of the Tigris.

But when he reached Mossoul, Ali had made such friends with some Persian merchants, that they persuaded him to accompany them to their native land, and even as far as India, and so it came to pass that seven years had slipped by since he had left Bagdad, and during all that time the friend with whom he had left the vase of olives had never once thought of him or of it.  In fact, it was only a month before Ali Cogia’s actual return that the affair came into his head at all, owing to his wife’s remarking one day, that it was a long time since she had eaten any olives, and would like some.

“That reminds me,” said the husband, “that before Ali Cogia went to Mecca seven years ago, he left a vase of olives in my care.  But really by this time he must be dead, and there is no reason we should not eat the olives if we like.  Give me a light, and I will fetch them and see how they taste.”

“My husband,” answered the wife, “beware, I pray, of your doing anything so base!  Supposing seven years have passed without news of Ali Cogia, he need not be dead for all that, and may come back any day.  How shameful it would be to have to confess that you had betrayed your trust and broken the seal of the vase!  Pay no attention to my idle words, I really have no desire for olives now.  And probably after all this while they are no longer good.  I have a presentiment that Ali Cogia will return, and what will he think of you?  Give it up, I entreat.”

The merchant, however, refused to listen to her advice, sensible though it was.  He took a light and a dish and went into his shop.

“If you will be so obstinate,” said his wife, “I cannot help it; but do not blame me if it turns out ill.”

When the merchant opened the vase he found the topmost olives were rotten, and in order to see if the under ones were in better condition he shook some out into the dish.  As they fell out a few of the gold pieces fell out too.

The sight of the money roused all the merchant’s greed.  He looked into the vase, and saw that all the bottom was filled with gold.  He then replaced the olives and returned to his wife.

“My wife,” he said, as he entered the room, “you were quite right; the olives are rotten, and I have recorked the vase so well that Ali Cogia will never know it has been touched.”

“You would have done better to believe me,” replied the wife.  “I trust that no harm will come of it.”

These words made no more impression on the merchant than the others had done; and he spent the whole night in wondering how he could manage to keep the gold if Ali Cogia should come back and claim his vase.  Very early next morning he went out and bought fresh new olives; he then threw away the old ones, took out the gold and hid it, and filled up the vase with the olives he had bought.  This done he recorked the vase and put it in the same place where it had been left by Ali Cogia.