The honest man having made this purchase, put on a dervise’s or monk’s habit, to lead a retired life, and caused several cells to be made in the house, where in a short time he established a numerous society of dervises. He soon came to be publicly known by his virtue, through which he acquired the esteem of many people, as well of the commonalty as of the chief of the city: in short, he was extremely honoured and cherished by every one. People came from afar to recommend themselves to his prayers; and all who came to live with him published what blessings they received through his means. The great reputation of this honest man having spread to the town from whence he came, it touched the envious man so much to the quick, that he left his house and affairs with a resolution to go and ruin him. With this intent he went to the new convent of dervises, of which his former neighbour was the head, who received him with all imaginable tokens of friendship. The envious man told him that he was come on purpose to communicate a business of importance to him, which he could not do but in private; and that nobody may hear us, let us, said he, take a walk in your court; and seeing night begins to draw on, command your dervises to retire to their cells. The head of the dervises did as he required. When the envious man saw that he was alone with this good man, he began to tell his errand, walking side by side in the court, till he saw his opportunity; and getting the good man near the brink of the well, he gave him a thrust, and pushed him into it, without any body being witness to so wicked an action. Having done thus, he marched off immediately, got out at the gate of the convent without being known to any one, and went home to his own house, well satisfied with his journey, being fully persuaded that the object of his hatred was no more in this world; but he found himself highly mistaken. Scheherazade could go no farther, because day began to appear. The sultan conceived great indignation against the envious man, and said to himself, I heartily wish that no hurt may have come to this honest man: I hope to hear to-morrow that Heaven did not forsake him on this occasion. FORTY-SEVENTH NIGHT.