“You my brother!” cried Zambri in his turn.  “Can it be?  That voice—­those features, disfigured by poverty and misery.  Ah!  I recognise you, my dear Osmyn!”

No more need be said:  he flew to embrace his brother; but Osmyn, overcome by the excess of his joy, fell senseless at his feet.

He was conveyed into the finest apartment of the villa, every assistance was afforded him, and he was soon restored.  Zambri ordered him magnificent apparel, and taking him by the hand, conducted him to the banquet, and presented him to his friends.  After the repast, Osmyn related all the vicissitudes of his fortune, his long suffering, his rapid glory, the jealousy and perfidy of his enemies, “But thou,” added he, “my dear Zambri, by what good fortune do I find you in such an enviable situation?  What! this beautiful house, this crowd of slaves, these sumptuous ornaments!—­to what dost thou owe them?”

“To the receipt for preparing Sherbet,” said Zambri, smiling.  “Listen to my story, it is very simple.  Soon after we parted, I directed my steps towards Teflis, where I sought only to gain a livelihood.  On my arrival, I went into the public places where the opulent people assemble, to refresh themselves with ices and sherbet.  I solicited employment there, but was refused, and harshly sent away.  Not knowing what to do, and not having money to procure a subsistence, I went at length to one of the obscure cafes, frequented by the lowest people.  The master of this wretched place, who was named Mehdad, agreed to accept my services.  I prepared a bottle of the liquor for which the good genius had given me the receipt, but the ingredients of which, although cheap, I had not before been able to purchase, and soon I found an immense company crowding to Mehdad’s cafe.  The rich people also would take no other; and Mehdad soon had before him the prospect of becoming opulent.

“He had a daughter; she was young and beautiful; I became enamoured of her, and ventured to ask her hand.  I had preserved the secret of my receipt.  Mehdad was ignorant that he owed his good fortune to me, and believed that it was through his own talent.  He rejected my offer with disdain, and drove me from his house.  Poor fellow! he was not the first who, without knowing it, had driven good luck from his home.

“I had gained some money in his service; and I employed the fruit of my economy in forming for myself an establishment in one of the public gardens of Teflis, on the banks of the charming river Khur.  Here I erected a small, but elegant pavilion, and I sold my Sherbet to all the promenaders of the garden.  In a short time Mehdad, and all the cafes of Teflis, were abandoned for my little pavilion.  Zambri’s Sherbet was alone in demand:  it was spoken of in all companies—­it was taken at all festivals.  The garden of Zambri was crowded from morning till night.  The multitude was attracted towards my pavilion like swarms of flies towards a honey-comb.  I was compelled to erect a pavilion ten times larger than the former, and I decorated it magnificently.