"I am he, Caliph," answered Abdul; "permit me to express my thanks for the palace with which you have endowed your most humble servant." "I have heard much good of you," said the Caliph, when he had ordered his suite to retire; "and pray you to show me the magic jewels that help you to such power and wisdom." "Of which jewels are you speaking?" asked Abdul Kassim, amazed. "Well," smiled the Caliph, "which jewels should I mean but those you have inherited from your father?" The young man stared. So the Caliph, too, took him for the possessor of the magic stones? Without reserve he confessed that, to avoid disputes he had voluntarily retired and left the stones to his brothers. "But," said the Caliph, "Micha ben Jahzeel, the Jew, saw the casket in your house!" "The casket he may have seen," answered Abdul Kassim; "I begged it of my brothers in memory of my father." The Caliph seemed still in doubt. He sent a slave to Abdul Kassim's palace to bring the casket. The messenger brought it, gave it to the Caliph, and retired. The Caliph opened the lid and looked inside. It was in truth empty! His gaze fell on the inscription:-- "'Tis Allah's will that he who cherishes The precious gift that never perishes, Shall make the East to bend as low As palms that in the whirlwind blow." He read the verse and looked at the youth. "Abdul Kassim," he said, "you have jewels in your heart more precious than all the treasures of the earth. For love of your brothers you gave up the stones, and for love of your father you have preserved this seemingly worthless casket. But Allah has blessed you for your virtues and has, by means of this humble iron casket, raised you to power and wealth. I dare not refuse to assist you. I will give you the most priceless gift at my disposal--the hand of my only daughter." He called the chief overseer of the harem and bade him lead Fatma to the throne-room. The maiden had passed the night in weeping, for she had heard that she was to be given in marriage to a strange man. She shuddered at the thought, for as only child of the Caliph she had been thoroughly spoiled, and hated the idea of leaving her father's roof. Abdul Kassim, who until now had been struck utterly dumb with astonishment, could not refrain from a cry of admiration at the sight of the lovely Fatma. She seemed to him a hundred times more beautiful than any description he had heard of her in Bagdad. In the midst of her grief Fatma retained her woman's curiosity, and on hearing the youth's voice, cast one glance at him over her father's shoulder. The first impression seemed not unfavourable. She eyed his slender form as he stood leaning on his sword, and gradually ceased her sobbing. She even raised herself and took hold of the Caliph's arm. "Father," she said, "do with me what you will; not without cause do the people call you 'The Wise One'."