“What,” replied he, “do you live in Bagdad, and not know that here lives the noble Sindbad the Sailor, that famous traveller who sailed over every sea upon which the sun shines?”

The porter, who had often heard people speak of the immense wealth of Sindbad, could not help feeling envious of one whose lot seemed to be as happy as his own was miserable.  Casting his eyes up to the sky he exclaimed aloud:—­

“Consider, Mighty Creator of all things, the difference between Sindbad’s life and mine.  Every day I suffer a thousand hardships and misfortunes, and have hard work to get even enough bad barley bread to keep myself and my family alive, while the lucky Sindbad spends money right and left and lives upon the fat of the land!  What has he done that you should give him this pleasant life—­what have I done to deserve so hard a fate?”

So saying he stamped upon the ground like one beside himself with misery and despair.  Just at this moment a servant came out of the palace, and taking him by the arm said, “Come with me, the noble Sindbad, my master, wishes to speak to you.”

Hindbad was not a little surprised at this summons, and feared that his unguarded words might have drawn upon him the displeasure of Sindbad, so he tried to excuse himself upon the pretext that he could not leave the burden which had been intrusted to him in the street.  However the lackey promised him that it should be taken care of, and urged him to obey the call so pressingly that at last the porter was obliged to yield.

He followed the servant into a vast room, where a great company was seated round a table covered with all sorts of delicacies.  In the place of honor sat a tall, grave man, whose long white beard gave him a venerable air.  Behind his chair stood a crowd of attendants eager to minister to his wants.  This was the famous Sindbad himself.  The porter, more than ever alarmed at the sight of so much magnificence, tremblingly saluted the noble company.  Sindbad, making a sign to him to approach, caused him to be seated at his right hand, and himself heaped choice morsels upon his plate, and poured out for him a draught of excellent wine, and presently, when the banquet drew to a close, spoke to him familiarly, asking his name and occupation.

“My lord,” replied the porter, “I am called Hindbad.”

“I am glad to see you here,” continued Sindbad.  “And I will answer for the rest of the company that they are equally pleased, but I wish you to tell me what it was that you said just now in the street.”  For Sindbad, passing by the open window before the feast began, had heard his complaint and therefore had sent for him.

At this question Hindbad was covered with confusion, and hanging down his head, replied, “My lord, I confess that, overcome by weariness and ill-humor, I uttered indiscreet words, which I pray you to pardon me.”