Of course it was not long before his reputation reached the ears of the
man who envied him, and this wicked wretch resolved never to rest till
he had in some way worked ill to the dervish whom he hated. So he left
his house and his business to look after themselves, and betook himself
to the new dervish monastery, where he was welcomed by the founder with
all the warmth imaginable. The excuse he gave for his appearance was
that he had come to consult the chief of the dervishes on a private
matter of great importance. "What I have to say must not be
overheard," he whispered; "command, I beg of you, that your dervishes
retire into their cells, as night is approaching, and meet me in the
court."
The dervish did as he was asked without delay, and directly they were
alone together the envious man began to tell a long story, edging, as
they walked to and fro, always nearer to the well, and when they were
quite close, he seized the dervish and dropped him in. He then ran off
triumphantly, without having been seen by anyone, and congratulating
himself that the object of his hatred was dead, and would trouble him
no more.
But in this he was mistaken! The old well had long been inhabited
(unknown to mere human beings) by a set of fairies and genii, who
caught the dervish as he fell, so that he received no hurt. The
dervish himself could see nothing, but he took for granted that
something strange had happened, or he must certainly have been dashed
against the side of the well and been killed. He lay quite still, and
in a moment he heard a voice saying, "Can you guess whom this man is
that we have saved from death?"
"No," replied several other voices.