"Once upon a time," continued Baba, and then, checking himself—"Your highness wishes a very marvellous story, I believe?"
"Yes, very marvellous," said the Dey, not quite pleased with the interruption.
"Your highness shall have it—a very marvellous story, and, what is more, it shall be a true story."
Hadji Baba said this with so much energy and fire that the Dey again nodded his approval, and sent two thin clouds of tobacco-smoke through his nostrils, as he patted the gazelle which crouched at his feet, resting its head on his knee, and gazing affectionately at the tyrant with its magnificent eyes.
"Once upon a time," resumed the story-teller with sustained vigour and fluency, as he glanced at the clock, "there was a poor shoemaker who dwelt in a certain town, and was noted among his friends for his powers of song. One day the Sultan of the country chanced to hear of this man's talent, and sent for him to the palace. He was so pleased with him that he made him his chief musician. This shoemaker possessed magical gifts."
"Villain!" exclaimed the Dey, "didst thou not say that the story should be a true one? How can that be, when thou speakest of gifts which do not and never did exist?"
"Your highness's slave," replied Baba, "refers to
