“That is Safti, the jewel doctor,” murmured Abdul in the ear of the Princess.
“A jewel doctor! What is that?” asked the Princess.
“When you are sick he cures you with jewels.”
“And what can he cure?” said the Princess, still looking at Safti, who was now bargaining vociferously with a fat Arab for a piece of milk-white jade.
“All things. I was sick of a fever that comes with the summer. He gave me a stone crushed to a powder, and I was well. He saved from death one of the Bey’s sons, who was dying from hijada. And then, too, he has a stone in a ring which can preserve sight to him who is going blind.”
The Princess started violently.
“Impossible!” she cried.
“It is true,” said Abdul. “It is a green stone—like that.”
He pointed to an emerald which an Arab was holding up to the light.
The Princess put her hand to her eyes. They still ached, and her temples were throbbing furiously.