"
He sprang down the stairway and walked hastily toward the cliffs.
After looking cautiously around, he crept through the narrow opening
in the rocks into the passage. The silence did him good, and a happy
smile played about his lips. "Here I am king," he cried, loudly and
joyously. "This is my realm, and I shall soon enter my throne-
chamber. How have I longed for this, how glad am I!" Suddenly he
stood still. "What were Mother Khadra's words?" he asked himself.
"'Only he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Have I not always
said to myself that I would accustom myself to want, and learn to
enjoy by denying myself that which pleases me? Have I not said that
I would not walk on rose-leaves, but learn to tread on thorns, that
my feet might become inured to pain? And now, like a foolish child,
I am delighted at the prospect of entering my cave, my throne-
chamber! 'Only he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Remember
that, Mohammed, and learn to practise self-denial; I will learn it!"
he cried so loudly that his voice resounded throughout the entire
cave.
He turned and retraced his steps. "I would gladly have gone into my
cave, would gladly have reclined on my mat, have looked up at the
blue sky, and down into the beautiful, sea, that tells me such
wondrous stories. Folly! I can hear stories elsewhere. Scha-er
Mehsed tells stories, too, and on the whole that is more convenient
than to tell them to myself.
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