“Light them yourself,” answered the old man; “you are younger than I, but let five or six be enough.”

She did not stop, however, till she had lit all the eighty, but Scheih Ibrahim was not conscious of this, and when, soon after that, Noureddin proposed to have some of the lustres lit, he answered: 

“You are more capable of lighting them than I, but not more than three.”

Noureddin, far from contenting himself with three, lit all, and opened all the eighty windows.

The Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid, chancing at that moment to open a window in the saloon of his palace looking on the garden, was surprised to see the pavilion brilliantly illuminated.  Calling the grand-vizir, Giafar, he said to him: 

“Negligent vizir, look at the pavilion, and tell me why it is lit up when I am not there.”

When the vizir saw that it was as the Caliph said, he trembled with fear, and immediately invented an excuse.

“Commander of the Faithful,” he said, “I must tell you that four or five days ago Scheih Ibrahim told me that he wished to have an assembly of the ministers of his mosque, and asked permission to hold it in the pavilion.  I granted his request, but forgot since to mention it to your Majesty.”

“Giafar,” replied the Caliph, “you have committed three faults—­ first, in giving the permission; second, in not mentioning it to me; and third, in not investigating the matter more closely.  For punishment I condemn you to spend the rest of the night with me in company of these worthy people.  While I dress myself as a citizen, go and disguise yourself, and then come with me.”

When they reached the garden gate they found it open, to the great indignation of the Caliph.  The door of the pavilion being also open, he went softly upstairs, and looked in at the half-closed door of the saloon.  Great was his surprise to see Scheih Ibrahim, whose sobriety he had never doubted, drinking and singing with a young man and a beautiful lady.  The Caliph, before giving way to his anger, determined to watch and see who the people were and what they did.

Presently Scheih Ibrahim asked the beautiful Persian if anything were wanting to complete her enjoyment of the evening.

“If only,” she said, “I had an instrument upon which I might play.”

Scheih Ibrahim immediately took a lute from a cup-board and gave it to the Persian, who began to play on it, singing the while with such skill and taste that the Caliph was enchanted.  When she ceased he went softly downstairs and said to the vizir: 

“Never have I heard a finer voice, nor the lute better played.  I am determined to go in and make her play to me.”

“Commander of the Faithful,” said the vizir, “if Scheih Ibrahim recognises you he will die of fright.”

“I should be sorry for that,” answered the Caliph, “and I am going to take steps to prevent it.  Wait here till I return.”