At length, however, an old man presented himself, whose beard was a cubit and a half longer than any that had appeared before him. The officers of the palace whispered to each other, as they ushered him in—“What a pity, oh! what a great pity that such a beard should be burnt!” even the Caliph, when he saw it, concurred with them in opinion; but his concern was entirely needless. This venerable personage read the characters with facility, and explained them verbatim as follows: “We were made where every thing is well made: we are the least of the wonders of a place where all is wonderful and deserving, the sight of the first potentate on earth.”

“You translate admirably!” cried Vathek; “I know to what these marvellous characters allude. Let him receive as many robes of honour and thousands of sequins of gold as he hath spoken words. I am in some measure relieved from the perplexity that embarrassed me!” Vathek invited the old man to dine, and even to remain some days in the palace.

Unluckily for him, he accepted the offer; for the Caliph having ordered him next morning to be called, said—“Read again to me what you have read already; I cannot hear too often the promise that is made me—the completion of which I languish to obtain.” The old man forthwith put on his green spectacles, but they instantly dropped from his nose, on perceiving that the characters he had read the day preceding, had given place to others of different import. “What ails you?” asked the Caliph; “and why these symptoms of wonder?”—“Sovereign of the world!” replied the old man, “these sabres hold another language today from that they yesterday held.”—“How say you?” returned Vathek:—“but it matters not; tell me, if you can, what they mean.”—“It is this, my lord,” rejoined the old man: “Woe to the rash mortal who seeks to know that of which he should remain ignorant; and to undertake that which surpasseth his power!”—“And woe to thee!” cried the Caliph, in a burst of indignation, “to-day thou art void of understanding: begone from my presence, they shall burn but the half of thy beard, because thou wert yesterday fortunate in guessing:—my gifts I never resume.” The old man, wise enough to perceive he had luckily escaped, considering the folly of disclosing so disgusting a truth, immediately withdrew and appeared not again.

But it was not long before Vathek discovered abundant reason to regret his precipitation; for, though he could not decipher the characters himself, yet, by constantly poring upon them, he plainly perceived that they every day changed; and, unfortunately, no other candidate offered to explain them. This perplexing occupation inflamed his blood, dazzled his sight, and brought on such a giddiness and debility that he could hardly support himself. He failed not, however, though in so reduced a condition, to be often carried to his tower, as he flattered himself that he might there read in the stars, which he went to consult, something more congruous to his wishes; but in this his hopes were deluded: for his eyes, dimmed by the vapours of his head, began to subserve his curiosity so ill, that he beheld nothing but a thick, dun cloud, which he took for the most direful of omens.