“When I recovered from my fainting fit, they gave me some wine, in order to recruit my strength and spirits. ‘Ah, madam,’ I then said to my wife, ‘if it should ever fall to my lot again to partake of a ragout with garlic, I swear to you, that instead of once, I will wash my hands one hundred and twenty times; with alkali, with the ashes of the plant from which alkali is made, and with soap.’—‘Well then,’ replied my wife, ‘on this condition I will forget what has passed, and live with you as my husband.’
“‘This is the reason,’ continued the merchant of Bagdad, addressing himself to all the company, ‘why I refused to eat of the garlic ragout which was before me.’
“The women not only applied the root to my wounds, as I have before said, to stop the blood, but they also put some balsam of Mecca to them, which was certain of being unadulterated, since it came from the caliph’s own store. Through the virtue of this excellent balsam I was perfectly cured in a very few days. After this, my wife and I lived together as happily as if I had never tasted the garlic ragout. As, however, I had always been in the habit of enjoying my liberty, I began to grow excessively weary of being constantly shut up in the palace of the caliph; I did not, nevertheless, give my wife any reason to suspect that this was the case, for fear of displeasing her. At last, however, she perceived it; nor indeed did she wish to leave the palace less anxiously than myself. Gratitude alone kept her near Zobeidè. She possessed, however, both courage and ingenuity; and she so well represented to her mistress the constraint I felt myself under, in not being able to live in the city, and associate with men in a similar condition to myself, as I had always been accustomed to do, that this excellent princess had more gratification in depriving herself of the pleasure of having her Favourite near her, than in not complying with what we both equally wished.
“It was on this account that, about a month after our marriage, I one day perceived my wife come in, followed by many eunuchs, each of whom carried a bag of money. When they were retired, my wife said to me, ‘You have not, it is true, remarked to me the uneasiness and langour which so long a residence in the palace has caused you; but I have nevertheless perceived it; and I have fortunately found out a method to satisfy you. My mistress Zobeidè has permitted us to leave the palace, and here are fifty thousand sequins, which she has presented us with, that we may begin to live comfortably and commodiously in the city. Take ten thousand, and go and purchase a house.’
“I very soon found one for this sum, and after furnishing it most magnificently, we went to live there. We took with us a great number of slaves of both sexes, and we dressed them in the handsomest manner possible. In short, we began to live the most pleasant kind of life; but, alas! it was not of long duration. At the end of a year my wife was taken ill, and a very few days put a period to her existence.
“I should certainly have married again, and continued to live in the most honourable manner at Bagdad; but the desire I felt to see the world, inspired me with other views. I sold my house; and after purchasing different sorts of merchandize, I attached myself to a caravan, and travelled into Persia. From thence I took the road to Samarcand, and at last came and established myself in this city.
“This, sire,” said the purveyor to the sultan of Casgar, “is the history which the merchant of Bagdad related to the company where I was yesterday.”—“And it truly comprises some very extraordinary things,” replied the sultan, “but yet it is not comparable to that of my little hunchback.” The Jewish physician then advanced, and prostrated himself before the throne of the prince; and in getting up, he said to him, “If your majesty will have the goodness to listen to me, I flatter myself, that you will be very well satisfied with the history I shall have the honour to relate.”—“Speak, then,” said the sultan, “but, if it be not more wonderful than that of the hunchback, do not hope I shall suffer thee to live.
THE STORY
TOLD BY THE JEWISH PHYSICIAN.
While I was studying medicine at Damascus, sire, and had even began to practise that admirable science with considerable reputation, a slave came to inquire for me; and desired me to go to the house of the governor of the city, to visit a person who was ill. I accordingly went; and was introduced into a chamber, where I perceived a very well made young man, but apparently very much depressed, from the pain he suffered; I saluted him, and went and sat down by his side. He returned no answer to my salutation; but expressed to me by his eyes, that he understood me, and was grateful for my kindness. “Will you do me the favour, sir,” I said to him, “to put out your hand, that I may feel your pulse?” When, instead of giving me his right hand, as is the usual custom, he presented his left to me. This astonished me very much. “Surely,” said I to myself, “it is a mark of great ignorance of the world, not to know, that it is the constant custom always to present the right hand to a physician.” I nevertheless felt his pulse, wrote a prescription, and then took my leave.