After an hour or two of meditation and quiet, the Asra took resolution on a certain matter which he had been pondering for a long while. Ever since he had become certain that the curse was actually on him, he had wondered whether or not Churi had yet disposed of the ruby. It was Churi’s place to have thought of the stone for him; and he hated himself for the desire he had to touch it again. But it had apparently never occurred to the eunuch to use the blessed jewel as a remedy; and, as often as the thought came to Fidá, he put it resolutely from him in shame. By this time, however, his hunger to gaze upon the charm had grown great and fierce. He felt an intense desire to live; and, believing the means of health to be within easiest reach, what wonder that his temptation came again and again? This evening, in view of the new trust, which he had the strongest desire honorably to keep, the temptation suddenly overcame him, and, putting away his pride, perhaps even his self-respect, he went to seek out the doctor.
Churi was in his own room, eating. Looking up from his food, he gave Fidá his usual easy salute:
“Vishnu favor thee! I am told that thou’rt to be given sole charge of the young prince. Truly, Asra, the King loves thee as well as his wife. Wilt deign to eat with me?”
Fidá did not respond to the ill-timed raillery. He stood leaning against the wall, gazing at the eunuch with so strange an expression that Churi changed his mood.
“Thou’rt ill to-night,” said he, more gently.
“Yes, I am ill,” answered the Asra, in a low, harsh tone. “I am dying, Churi.”
“Dying! Why shouldst thou die, lover?”
“Allah! Thou knowest why.”
“Ah! The old legend. Dost really believe—that—”
“Canst thou doubt that I am cursed?”