At the sight of my tears the hearts of the infidels were softened; they ran towards me in service, and led me by the arms to the ivory idol, which was seated upon a golden chair set on a throne of teak. I kissed the hand of the little god—curses upon it and upon its worshippers! For a few days I posed as an infidel and discussed the Zend, like a Brahmin. When I became a guardian of the temple my joy was such that I could scarce control my feelings. One night, I closed fast the door of the temple and, searching, discovered a screen of jewels and gold that went from the top of the throne to the bottom. Behind this screen the Brahmin high priest was devoutly engaged with the end of a rope in his hand. Then did it become known to me that when the rope was pulled the idol of necessity raised its arm. Greatly confused at my presence, the Brahmin ran away in haste: I followed in hot pursuit and threw him headlong down a well, for I knew that, if he remained alive, he would seek to shed my blood. When the purpose of an evil man is revealed to thee, pull him up by the roots, otherwise will he not desire that thou shouldst live. The alarm being raised, I fled quickly from the land. When thou settest fire to a forest of canes, beware of the tigers, if thou art wise. Whenever I supplicate at the shrine of the Knower of Secrets, the Indian puppet comes into my recollection—it throws dust on the pride of mine eyes. I know that I raise my hand, but not by virtue of mine own strength. Men of sanctity stretch not out their hands themselves: the Fates invisibly pull the strings. CHAPTER IX CONCERNING REPENTANCE O thou of whose life seventy years have passed, perhaps thou hast slept in negligence that thy days have been thrown to the winds. Worldly aims hast thou well pursued; no preparations hast thou made for the departure to that world to come. On the Judgment Day, when the bazar of Paradise will be arrayed, rank will be assigned in accordance with one’s deeds. If thou shouldst take a goodly stock of virtues, in proportion will be thy profit; if thou be bankrupt, thou wilt be ashamed. If fifty years of thy life have passed, esteem as a precious boon the few that yet remain. While still thou hast the power of speech, close not thy lips like the dead from the praise of God. AN OLD MAN’S LAMENT One night, in the season of youth, several of us young men sat together; we sang like bulbuls and raised a tumult in the street by our mirth. An old man sat silent, apart; like a filbert-nut, his tongue was closed from speech. A youth approached him and said: “O old man! why sittest thou so mournfully in this corner? Come, raise thy head from the collar of grief and join us in our festivity.”