I awoke refreshed, but suffering under the cravings of hunger, which now assailed me.  I had been three days without food; but hitherto I had not felt the want of it, as my more importunate thirst had overcome the sensation.  Now that the greater evil had been removed, the lesser increased and became hourly more imperious.  I walked out and scanned the horizon with the hopes of some caravan appearing in sight, but I watched in vain; and returned to the fountain.  Two more days passed away, and no relief was at hand:  my strength failed me; I felt that I was dying; and, as the fountain murmured, and the birds sang, and the cool breeze fanned my cheeks, I thought that it would have been better to have been swallowed up in the desert than to be tantalised by expiring in such a paradise.  I laid myself down to die, for I could sit up no more; and as I turned round to take a last view of the running water, which had prolonged my existence, something hard pressed against my side.  I thought it was a stone, and stretched out my hand to remove it, that I might be at ease in my last moments; but when I felt, there was no stone there; it was something in the pocket of my jacket.  I put my hand in, unconscious what it could be; I pulled it out, and looking at it before I threw it away, found that it was a piece of hard dry bread.  I thought that it had been sent to me from heaven, and it was as pure an offering as if it had come from thence, for it was the gift of innocence and affection—­it was the piece of bread which my little darling girl had received for her breakfast, and which on my departure she had thrust into my pocket, when I imagined she had been searching for fruit.  I crawled to the spring, moistened it, and devoured it, with tears of gratitude to heaven, mingled with the fond yearnings of a father’s heart.

It saved my life; for the next day a small caravan arrived, which was bound to Cairo.  The merchants treated me with great kindness, tied me on one of the camels, and I once more embraced my family, whom I had never thought to see again.  Since that I have been poor, but contented—­I deserved to lose all my property for my wickedness, and I submit with resignation to the will of Allah.

And now I trust that your highness will acknowledge that I was justified in making use of the expression, that “Happy was the man who could at all times command a crust of bread!”

* * * * *

“Very true,” observed the pacha; “that’s not a bad story:  Mustapha, give him five pieces of gold, and allow him to depart.”

The camel-driver quitted the divan, prostrating himself before the pacha, and overjoyed at the fortunate termination of what had threatened so much danger.  The pacha was silent for a little while, during which he puffed his pipe—­when he observed:—­

“Allah Kebur, God is most powerful!  That man has suffered much—­and what has he to show for it?—­a green turban—­He is a Hadjy; I never thought that we should have heard so good a story about a ‘crust of bread.’  His description of the simoom parched up my entrails.  What think you, Mustapha, cannot a true believer go to heaven, without a visit to the tomb of the prophet?”