Next day the mayor was at the Town Hall in the morning; the officials there apparently already knew something and were making their conjectures, for the secretary went up to him and said with an ironical smile:

“It is the custom of the Persians when an illustrious visitor comes to visit you, you must slaughter a sheep with your own hands.”

And a little later an envelope that had come by post was handed to him. The mayor tore it open and saw a caricature in it. It was a drawing of Rahat-Helam with the mayor on his knees before him, stretching out his hands and saying:

“To prove our Russian friendship

For Persia’s mighty realm,

And show respect for you, her envoy,

Myself I’d slaughter like a lamb,

But, pardon me, for I’m a⁠—donkey!”

“To prove our Russian friendship For Persia’s mighty realm, And show respect for you, her envoy, Myself I’d slaughter like a lamb, But, pardon me, for I’m a⁠—donkey!”