About the Author

A light streak appears in the sky through the latticed window, the stars pale, the breeze heralding the dawn rustles gently and damply among the foliage, and on the window-ledge gay turtle-doves begin to coo and to preen themselves. Khoja Nasreddin says, kissing the languid beauty: "It is time. Farewell, my matchless pearl. Do not forget me." "Stay," she pleads, clasping her lovely arms round his neck. "Are you going away for good? Listen, tonight, as soon as it is dark, I shall send the old woman to fetch you again." "No. I have long forgotten what it is to spend two nights under the same roof. I must be on my way. I am in a hurry." "On your way? Have you pressing business in some other town? Where are you going?" "I do not know. But it is light already; the city gates are open and the first caravans are moving out. Do you hear the tinkle of camels' bells? When I hear it jinns seem to possess my feet and I cannot keep still."