_Mah._ Had I been able, I would gladly have given you more. _Omar._ To be sure, if you wish it, I must return you the five hundred sequins, though you can shew no claim to them by law. _Mah._ Ah, brother! _Omar._ I will send them to you:--are you expecting no letters from Persia? _Mah._ I have nothing more to expect. _Omar._ To be frank with you, brother; you should have lived a little more closely, and not have married either, just as I have kept from it to this very hour; but from your childhood you were always somewhat indiscreet, so let this serve as a warning to you. _Mah._ You had a right to refuse me the favour I requested of you, but not to make me such bitter reproaches into the bargain. Mahmoud's heart was deeply touched, and he left his ungrateful brother. "And is it then true," cried he, "that covetousness only is the soul of men? Their own selves are their first and last thought! For money they barter truth and love; do violence to the most beautiful feelings, to gain possession of the sordid metal that fetters us to the grovelling earth in its disgraceful chains! Self-interest is the rock on which all friendship is shivered. Men are an abandoned race. I have never known a friend nor a brother; and my only intercourse has been with men of trade. Fool that I was to speak to them of love and friendship! Money only it is that one must change and exchange for them." Returning home, he took a circuitous path, in order to let his painful emotions subside. He wept at the sight of the noisy market-throng; every one was as busy as an ant in carrying stores into his dingy dwelling; no one cared for the other, unless induced by a sense of profit; all were hurrying this way and that, as insensible as ciphers. He went home disconsolate. There his grief was heightened; he found the five hundred sequins, which he had once given with the greatest good-will to his brother; they were soon the prey of his creditors. All he possessed was publicly sold; one of his ships came into port, but the cargo only served to pay the remainder of his debts. Poor as a beggar, he left the town without even passing by his hard-hearted brother's house. His wife accompanied him in his misery, comforting him, and seeking to dissipate his grief, but she succeeded very poorly. The remembrance of his misfortune was still too fresh in Mahmoud's mind; still he saw before him the towers of the town where the brother dwelt who had remained so cold and unmoved by his distress.