The khoja, simple-minded and all as he was, once attained the dignity of bash-reïs, or mayor, of the town in which he lived. The people who elected him rejoiced that the worthy ecclesiastic had at last received public recognition of the unselfish and disinterested manner wherein he had always discharged the duties of his sacred calling, but the wealthy and high-born sneered at the very idea of such a common person as the khoja wearing with any grace or dignity the fur-lined coat of honour which went with the office of mayor. It was, however, incumbent on the town to formally recognize him as mayor, and to invite him in that capacity to a banquet. It was one of those public dinners, common enough in the East, where it is somewhat difficult to tell who is the host and who are the guests. The only thing certain was that the khoja was not paying for it – as he had no money. The invitations were issued in the name of the khoja's predecessor in office, and in due time the names of all those invited were submitted to the new mayor with the request that he would be kind enough to say if he wished all of the proposed guests to be present at the banquet.

The khoja, good and simple man, perused these names of high-born and wealthy individuals, and said, "How can I either refuse or agree to dine with any of these gentlemen? I do not know any of them. Not one of them has ever broken bread at my table, nor have I ever had the honour to break bread at their tables. It would not be right for me to say that I refuse this one or accept that one, but as they all seem to wish it I welcome all of them to the banquet. Please inform these guests, therefore, that I shall be greatly honoured by their company."

On the night of the banquet the khoja put on for the first time in his life the coat of honour, and walked with a stateliness that was worthy of imitation by kings. Neither to the right nor to the left did he look, nor did he even once answer salutations, nor give a sign of recognition to the passers-by – a most unusual way, indeed, for Khoja Nasr-ud-Dín to behave.

When he arrived at the house where the banquet was to be held he took no notice of the profound salaams paid him by the other guests. With stately tread he entered the banqueting-hall, muttering meantime as if to some invisible person who accompanied him.

"What rudeness! What vulgarity!" he was heard to say, "A shepherd would know better! Common sense, not to speak of the most ordinary gratitude, should teach you how to act on an occasion like this! Appreciate these honours that are being bestowed upon you, unsought! Make immediate obeisance lest I get angry!"

The guests looked at each other and wondered what on earth had happened to the poor khoja. Decidedly, the dizzy elevation to which he had attained had been too much for him. Some expressed pity in their looks: some expressed scorn: but, unmoved alike by their sympathy and by their contempt, the khoja stood like a statute amongst them. Finally the retiring mayor, in whose house the banquet was being held, approached the khoja and politely asked him if he would be pleased to take the seat of honour at his right and at the head of the banqueting table. The khoja sat down as he had been told, and the guests were struck dumb by his immovable face and blank stare. The food was brought and naturally offered first to the khoja, but, alas! that holy man never moved, but again muttered as if to some invisible person.

"Such rudeness!" said he, "such upbringing man has never witnessed! Take of the food and eat so that the people who were invited in your honour may also eat and enjoy the gifts of Allah!"

The astonished guests exchanged inquiring looks with each other but no one spoke. Finally the khoja opened his mouth and, in despair, assured the assembly that the fault was not his, that he had done his best.

Taking hold of the furred cuff of his coat of honour, he then pushed it towards the plate saying, "Eat, rude and ignorant emblem of dignity and power. What? You still refuse! Well, then, I wash my hands of all responsibility for your unspeakable behaviour this evening!" whereupon, to the astonishment of all present, the khoja moved rapidly towards the door, the guests simultaneously rising to their feet with Oriental politeness.

Just as he reached the threshold, the khoja turned and said to the host, "Effendiler, I am more wounded than words can tell to see you treated in this ungrateful manner. You invited to the banquet the mayor's coat, and I, your humble servant, brought that coat thither, but, as all of ye have witnessed, the base garment did not know how to behave itself. Had such an honour been paid to me, the memory of it would have helped me through life and even in the dread hour of death. To my humble table I invite you all, even though it be only bread and water that I have to offer you. In the name of Allah I invite you all to break bread with me!"