At the upper end of the room he saw a noble man with a long white
beard. It was the Barmecide; and poor Schacabac bowed low before him,
as was the custom in that country.
The Barmecide spoke very kindly, and asked what was wanted.
Schacabac told him about all his troubles, and said that it was now
two days since he had tasted bread.
"Is it possible?" said the Barmecide. "You must be almost dead with
hunger; and here I have plenty and to spare!"
Then he turned and called, "Ho, boy! Bring in the water to wash our
hands, and then order the cook to hurry the supper."
Schacabac had not expected to be treated so kindly. He began to thank
the rich man.
"Say not a word," said the Barmecide, "but let us get ready for the
feast."
Then the rich man began to rub his hands as though some one was
pouring water on them. "Come and wash with me," he said.
Schacabac saw no boy, nor basin, nor water. But he thought that he
ought to do as he was bidden; and so, like the Barmecide, he made a
pretense of washing.
"Come now," said the Barmecide, "let us have supper."
He sat down, as if to a table, and pre-tend-ed to be carving a roast.
Then he said, "Help yourself, my good friend. You said you were
hungry: so, now, don't be afraid of the food.
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