I was fortunately born with an honest and upright heart, or this peculiar talent might have led me too far. When I felt inclined for a joke of this nature, I turned it to profit in a conjuring trick, or waited till my friend took leave of me, and then recalled him: “Stay,” I would say, handing him the stolen article, “let this serve as a lesson to put you on your guard against persons less honest than myself.”
But to return to our Marabout. I had stolen his watch as I passed near him and slipped into its place a five-franc piece.
To prevent his detecting it, and while waiting till I could profit by my larceny, I improvised a trick. After juggling away Bou-Allem’s rosary, I made it pass into one of the numerous slippers left at the door by the guests; this shoe was next found to be full of coins, and to end this little scene comically, I made five-franc pieces come out of the noses of the spectators. They took such pleasure in this trick that I fancied I should never terminate it. “Douros! douros!” they shouted, as they twitched their noses. I willingly acceded to their request, and the douros issued at command.
The delight was so great that several Arabs rolled on the ground; this coarsely expressed joy on the part of Mohammedans was worth frenzied applause to me.
I pretended to keep aloof from the Marabout, who, as I expected, remained serious and impassive.
When calm was restored, my rival began speaking hurriedly to his neighbors, as if striving to dispel their illusion, and, not succeeding, he addressed me through the interpreter:
“You will not deceive me in that way,” he said, with a crafty look.
“Why so?”
“Because I don’t believe in your power.”
“Ah, indeed! Well, then, if you do not believe in my power, I will compel you to believe in my skill.”