"Your taste is rather for other things," Basterga continued, affecting to misunderstand the act. "This illuminated manuscript, now, may interest you? It is in characters which are probably strange to you?"
"Is it Hebrew?" the Syndic muttered stiffly, his temper still asserting itself.
"No, it is in the ancient Arabic character; that into which the works of Aristotle were translated as far back as the ninth century of our era. It is a curious treatise by the Arabic sage, Ibn Jasher, who was the teacher of Ibn Zohr, who was the teacher of Averroes. It was carried from Spain to Rome about the year 1000 by the learned Pope Sylvester the Second, who spoke Arabic and of whose library it formed part."
"Indeed!" Blondel responded, staring at it. "It must be of great value. How came it into your possession, Messer Basterga?"
Basterga opened his mouth and shut it again. "I do not think I can tell you that," he said.
"It contains, I suppose, many curious things?"
"Curious?" Basterga replied impulsively, "I should say so! Why, it was in that volume I found——" And there in apparent confusion he broke off. He laughed awkwardly, and then, "Well, you know," he resumed, "we students find many things interest us which would fail to touch the man of affairs". As if he wished to change the subject, he took the manuscript from the Syndic's hand and threw it carelessly on the table.
Messer Blondel thought the carelessness overdone, and, his interest aroused, he followed the manuscript, he scarcely knew why, with his eyes. "I think I have heard the name of Averroes?" he said. "Was he not a physician?"
"He was many things," Basterga answered negligently. "As a physician he was, I believe, rather visionary than practical. I have his Colliget, his most famous work in that line, but for my part, in the case of an ordinary disease, I would rather trust myself," with a shrug of contempt, "to the Grand Duke's physician."
"But in the case of an extraordinary disease?" the Syndic asked shrewdly.