ame one day two
rascals, who gave themselves out as weavers and said that they knew how
to weave the most exquisite stuff imaginable. Not only were the colors
and patterns uncommonly beautiful, but the clothes that were made of the
stuff had the peculiar property of becoming invisible to every person
who was unfit for the office he held or who was exceptionally stupid.

"Those must be valuable clothes," thought the emperor. "By wearing them
I should be able to discover which of the men in my empire are not fit
for their posts. I should distinguish wise men from fools. Yes, I must
order some of the stuff to be woven for me directly." And he paid the
swindlers a handsome sum of money in advance, as they required.

As for them, they put up two looms and pretended to be weaving, though
there was nothing whatever on their shuttles. They called for a quantity
of the finest silks and of the purest gold thread, all of which went
into their own bags, while they worked at their empty looms till late
into the night.

"I should like to know how those weavers are getting on with the stuff,"
thought the emperor. But he felt a little queer when he reflected that
those who were stupid or unfit for their office would not be able to see
the material. He believed, indeed, that he had nothing to fear for
himself, but still he thought it better to send some one else first, to
see how the work was coming on. All the people in the town had heard of
the peculiar property of the stuff, and every one was curious to see how
stupid his neighbor might be.

"I will send my faithful old prime minister to the weavers," thought the
emperor. "He will be best capable of judging of this stuff, for he is a
man of sense and nobody is more fit for his office than he."

So the worthy old minister went into the room where the two swindlers
sat working the empty looms. "Heaven save us!" thought the old man,
opening his eyes wide. "Why, I can't see anything at all!" But he took
care not to say so aloud.

Both the rogues begged him to step a little nearer and asked him if he
did not think the patterns very pretty and the coloring fine. They
pointed to the empty loom as they did so, and the poor old minister
kept staring as hard as he could--but without being able to see anything
on it, for of course there was nothing there to see.

"Heaven save us!" thought the old man. "Is it possible that I am a fool?
I have never thought it, and nobody must know it. Is