After a long walk, Yussuf sat down on a large stone.  “Well,” said he, “I am still Yussuf, and my trust is in God; but it would be better, instead of looking after these rascals, if I were to look out for some means of providing myself with a supper to-night.”  So saying, he rose, went home, put on some clothes of better materials, and twisting up his red cotton sash for a turban, he took up his praying-carpet, with a determination to go to the bazaar and sell it for what it would fetch.  As he passed the mosque of Hosein, he observed several mollahs, reading and expounding the more abstruse passages of the Koran.  Yussuf knelt and prayed awhile, and returning to the door of the mosque he was accosted by a woman, who appeared to be waiting for some one.  “Pious sir,” said she, “I perceive by your goodly habit and appearance that you are one of the cadi’s law officers.”

“I am as you please—­I am Yussuf, and my trust is in God.”

“Oh! my hadji, then become my protector.  I have an unjust debtor who refuses me my due.”

“You cannot intrust a better person,” replied Yussuf.  “I am a strong arm of the law, and my interest at court is such that I have already procured two decrees.”

“Those are great words, O hadji.”

“Tell me, then, who is this debtor, that I may seize him and carry him before the cadi.  Haste to tell me, and for a few dirhems I will gain your cause, right or wrong.”

“My complaint is against my husband, who has divorced me, and notwithstanding, refuses me my dowry of five dinars, my clothes, and my ornaments.”

“What is your husband’s trade?”

“Pious sir, he is an embroiderer of papouches.”

“Let us lose no time, my good woman; show me this miracle of injustice, and by Allah, I will confound him.”

Upon this the woman unbound the string of coins from her head, and cutting off three dirhems, presented them to Yussuf.  Yussuf seized the money, and tucking up his sleeves, that he might appear more like an officer he bade her to lead to the delinquent.  The woman led him to the great mosque, where her husband, a little shrivelled-up man, was performing his duties with great devotion.  Yussuf, without saying a word, took him up, carpet and all, and was about to carry him off.

“In the name of the Prophet, to what class of madmen do you belong?” screamed the astonished devotee.

“Release me; do not crush my poor ribs within your grasp.  Set me down, and I will walk with you, as soon as I have put on slippers.”

The people crowded round to know what was the matter.  “Ho, ho, that will presently appear,” replied Yussuf.  “His wife is his creditor, and I am her law officer; my demand is, that you restore to her fifty dinars, besides all the gold jewels and ornaments she has had these last fifty years.”

“How can that be,” replied the little man, “seeing that I am not forty years old?”