"Father!" exclaimed the young man, "your attack is unjust, and those that I look upon as my friends—those whom I regard as my friends—would not see me suffering or in adversity unless their hearts went out to me."
"I have lived seventy years," responded the old man, "and I have been tried by good and bad fortune. I have known a great many men, and during these long years it has been well-nigh impossible for me to acquire a friend. How, at your age, and in such a short time, have you been able to find fifty friends? Learn from me, my son, to know human nature."
The old merchant strangled a sheep, put the carcass in a sack, and stained his son's clothing with the blood of the animal. At night the young man was told what he must do, and he took the carcass of the sheep on his shoulder and went out of the city.
Soon he arrived at the house of his first friend, and knocked at the door, which was promptly opened to him. His friend asked him what he wanted.
"It is in the midst of misfortune that friendship is put to a trial," responded the young man. "I have often told you of an old feud that has existed between our family and that of a lord of the court. Not long ago we met in a secluded spot. Hatred placed arms in our hands, and he fell lifeless at my feet. For fear of being pursued by justice I seized his body; it is in the sack you see on my shoulders. I beg you to hide it in your house until this affair has blown over."
"My house is so small," said the friend, with an air of sorrow and embarrassment, "that it can scarcely contain the living who dwell in it. How could I find room for the dead?"
The young man begged his friend to have pity on him, but without avail, and the ungrateful man shut the door in his face.
"You see, my son," said the old merchant, "these are the kind of friends on whom you were depending."
"To tell you the truth, father," said the young man, "I have always suspected that this particular friend was a hypocrite, but all are not so. Wait, and you shall see."
The younger man continued to knock at the doors of his friends. Fifty times he met with the same reception. No one wanted to do him the kindness to hide the body.
"My son," said the old merchant, "you must see at last how little you can depend on man. What has become of the friends whom you were praising to me a little while ago? In your supposed misfortune each one has forsaken you. I will show you the difference between the one real friend that I have and the fifty false ones whom you have tested."