"My house is so small," said the friend, with an air of sorrow and embarrassment, "that it can scarcely contain the living who dwell in it. How could I find room for the dead?" The young man begged his friend to have pity on him, but without avail, and the ungrateful man shut the door in his face. "You see, my son," said the old merchant, "these are the kind of friends on whom you were depending." "To tell you the truth, father," said the young man, "I have always suspected that this particular friend was a hypocrite, but all are not so. Wait, and you shall see." The younger man continued to knock at the doors of his friends. Fifty times he met with the same reception. No one wanted to do him the kindness to hide the body. "My son," said the old merchant, "you must see at last how little you can depend on man. What has become of the friends whom you were praising to me a little while ago? In your supposed misfortune each one has forsaken you. I will show you the difference between the one real friend that I have and the fifty false ones whom you have tested." As they talked, the father and son reached the door of the house of the one whom the old merchant had represented as the model of perfect friendship. The merchant related to his friend the imaginary misfortunes that had befallen his son, and begged the friend to hide the compromising sack. "Oh, happy day and blessed hour!" exclaimed the faithful friend. "My house is large, and herein you may hide whatever you choose." "Think," said the young man, "of the great dangers to which you expose yourself! Who knows but you may be accused of the murder, or, at least, of favoring the assassin." "Well," said the other, smiling, "one must expose one's self to many perils when one desires to save the son of a friend. Go to my summer residence, where you will be safe from the clutches of the law. I will come to you from time to time, and keep you company, and if ever misfortune happens to you it will likewise fall on me." At this the merchant of Bagdad opened his arms and pressed to his heart the devoted friend, thanking him for his generous offers, and relating to him the simple artifice by which he had taught his son how rare true friendship is in this world. XI A CHILD OF THE ROSES Once upon a time there was a King who had three daughters as beautiful as the stars that shine in the skies, and as different in their beauty. One day the King was sitting on his gorgeous throne, and he called his children, and said: "I love you all better than I do my life. Now tell me in turn the nature of the affection you feel for me. According to your answer I shall give each of you the husband that you deserve. The eldest approached, and said: "I love you better than I do my golden hair and my blue eyes, and I would do anything in the world to be agreeable to you." "My beloved daughter," exclaimed the Monarch, "the King of Syra shall become your husband." The second daughter spoke thus: