h steps, and, at the bottom of them, the fakeer sitting, just as he
used to sit, on his rickety bedstead, reading the Koran!

At first the king was so surprised and frightened that he could only
stare; but the fakeer beckoned to him to come down, so, mustering up his
courage, he boldly stepped down into the grave.

The fakeer rose, and, making a sign to the king to follow, walked a
few paces along a dark passage. Then he stopped, turned solemnly to his
companion, and, with a movement of his hand, drew aside as it were a
heavy curtain, and revealed--what? No one knows what was there shown to
the king, nor did he ever tell anyone; but, when the fakeer at length
dropped the curtain, and the king turned to leave the place, he had
had his glimpse of Paradise! Trembling in every limb, he staggered back
along the passage, and stumbled up the steps out of the tomb into the
fresh air again.

The dawn was breaking. It seemed odd to the king that he had been
so long in the grave. It appeared but a few minutes ago that he had
descended, passed along a few steps to the place where he had peeped
beyond the veil, and returned again after perhaps five minutes of that
wonderful view! And what WAS it he had seen? He racked his brains to
remember, but he could not call to mind a single thing! How curious
everything looked too! Why, his own city, which by now he was entering,
seemed changed and strange to him! The sun was already up when he turned
into the palace gate and entered the public durbar hall. It was full; a
chamberlain came across and asked him why he sat unbidden in the king's
presence. 'But I am the king!' he cried.

'What king?' said the chamberlain.

'The true king of this country,' said he indignantly.

Then the chamberlain went away, and spoke to the king who sat on the
throne, and the old king heard words like 'mad,' 'age,' 'compassion.'
Then the king on the throne called him to come forward, and, as he went,
he caught sight of himself reflected in the polished steel shield of the
bodyguard, and started back in horror! He was old, decrepit, dirty, and
ragged! His long white beard and locks were unkempt, and straggled all
over his chest and shoulders. Only one sign of royalty remained to him,
and that was the signet ring upon his right hand. He dragged it off with
shaking fingers and held it up to the king.

'Tell me who I am,' he cried; 'there is my signet, who once sat where
you sit--even yesterday!'

The king