` Why do you weep , old man ? ' said one , in a voice as clear and musical as that of the bulbul . ' I weep for shame , ' replied he . ` What do you here ? ' questioned the other . ' I came here to die , ' said Wali Dad . And as they questioned him , he confessed all his story . Then the first stepped forward and laid a hand upon his shoulder , and Wali Dad began to feel that something strange -- what , he did not know -- was happening to him . His old cotton rags of clothes were changed to beautiful linen and embroidered cloth ; on his hard , bare feet were warm , soft shoes , and on his head a great jewelled turban . Round his neck there lay a heavy golden chain , and the little old bent sickle , which he cut grass with , and which hung in his waistband , had turned into a gorgeous scimetar , whose ivory hilt gleamed in the pale light like snow in moonlight . As he stood wondering , like a man in a dream , the other peri waved her hand and bade him turn and see ; and , lo ! before him a noble gateway stood open . And up an avenue of giant place trees the peris led him , dumb with amazement . At the end of the avenue , on the very spot where his hut had stood , a gorgeous palace appeared , ablaze with myriads of lights . Its great porticoes and verandahs were occupied by hurrying servants , and guards paced to and fro and saluted him respectfully as he drew near , along mossy walks and through sweeping grassy lawns where fountains were playing and flowers scented the air . Wali Dad stood stunned and helpless . ` Fear not , ' said one of the peris ; ` go to your house , and learn that God rewards the simple-hearted . ' With these words they both disappeared and left him . He walked on , thinking still that he must be dreaming . Very soon he retired to rest in a splendid room , far grander than anything he had ever dreamed of .
When morning dawned he woke , and found that the palace , and himself , and his servants were all real , and XXXXX he was not dreaming after all !
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