They little knew what awaited them at the door of the theatre; but they had scarce gone down the steps when they found themselves face to face with the “resuscitated Moor.”
The first movement of terror overcome, they surrounded the man, felt and cross-questioned him; but, annoyed by these repeated questions, he had no better resource than to escape at full speed.
The next evening the second performance took place, and produced nearly the same effect as the previous one.
The blow was struck: henceforth the interpreters and all those who had dealings with the Arabs received orders to make them understand that my pretended miracles were only the result of skill, inspired and guided by an art called prestidigitation, in no way connected with sorcery.
The Arabs doubtlessly yielded to these arguments, for henceforth I was on the most friendly terms with them. Each time a chief saw me, he never failed to come up and press my hand. And, even more, these men whom I had so terrified, when they became my friends, gave me a precious testimony of their esteem—I may say, too, of their admiration, for that is their own expression.
Three days had elapsed since my last performance, when I received a despatch from the governor, ordering me to be at the palace by twelve o’clock, military time.
Of course I kept the appointment, and the last stroke of twelve was still striking by the clock of the neighboring mosque when I sent in my name at the palace. A staff officer immediately came to me.
“Come with me, M. Robert-Houdin,” he said, with a half mysterious air. “I am ordered to conduct you.”
I followed my conductor, and, as the door of a magnificent room was open at the end of a gallery we crossed, I saw a strange sight. Some thirty of the most important Arab chiefs were arranged in a circle, of which I naturally formed the centre when I entered the room.
“Salâm aleikoum!” they said, in a grave and almost solemn voice, as they laid their hands on their hearts.