On Warren's next visit he resolved to conduct himself with more reverence. St. Paul was looking much the same as on the previous occasion. Sam genuflected, and held down his head, putting his hands devoutly together, and making such other manifestations of reverence as he thought the case required.
St. Paul looked at Warren with wonderment, and was evidently by no means satisfied with his salutations.
"Who the devil," said the madman, "do you think you are making those idiotic signs to? Whom do you take me for?"
"St. Paul, your holiness."
"'St. Paul, your holiness,' he repeated. 'My ——, you ought to be put into a lunatic asylum and looked after. You must be stark mad to think I am the holy Apostle St. Paul. What put that into your silly brains? Down on your knees, villain, at once, and prostrate yourself before the Shah of Persia—the dawn of creation and the light of the universe!'
"I thought this was coming it pretty strong," continued Sam, "but as it was all in my day's work, I conformed as well as I could to my instructions. The difficulty was in knowing how to address His Majesty, so I stammered, 'Dread potentate!' and seeing it pleased him, 'Light of the universe,' I cried, 'it is morning! May I rise?'
"'I perceive,' said the Shah, 'you are a genius,'"
"What did you think of his state of mind after that?" I asked.
Sam laughed and answered: "I thought he was getting better, more rational, and thanked him for his good opinion. 'Mighty potentate,' said I, 'monarch of the universe, I apologize for my mistake, but I was at St. Luke's yesterday,'
"'My faithful Luke!' said he, and clapped his hands. I knew once more where he was.