place, from my too frequent use of the water of the Giaour, I invariably
proved that, although my voice was that of a lion, my heart was but as
water, and the finger of contempt was but too often pointed at the beard
of pretence. One evening, as I was escaping from a coffee-house, after
having drawn my attaghan, without having the courage to face my
adversary, I received a blow from his weapon which cleft my turban, and
cut deeply into my head. I flew through the streets upon the wings of
fear, and at last ran against an unknown object, which I knocked down,
and then fell along side of, rolling with it in the mud. I recovered
myself, and looking at it, found it to be alive, and, in the excess of
my alarm, I imagined it to be Shitan himself; but if not the devil
himself, it was one of the sons of Shitan, for it was an unbeliever, a
Giaour, a dog to spit upon; in short, it was a Frank hakim--so renowned
for curing all diseases that it was said he was assisted by the Devil.

* * * * *

"Lahnet be Shitan! Curses on the devil!" said Mustapha, taking his pipe
out of his mouth and spitting.

"Wallah Thaib! It is well said," replied the pacha.

* * * * *

I was so convinced that it was nothing of this world, that, as soon as
I could recover my legs, I made a blow at him with my attaghan, fully
expecting that he would disappear in a flame of fire at the touch of a
true believer; but, on the contrary, he had also recovered his legs, and
with a large cane with a gold top on it, he parried my cut, and then
saluted me with such a blow on my head, that I again fell down in the
mud, quite insensible. When I recovered, I found myself on a mat in an
outhouse, and attended by my opponent, who was plastering up my head.
"It is nothing," said he, as he bound up my head; but I suffered so much
pain, and felt so weak from loss of blood, that in spite of his
assertions, I very much doubted the fact. Shall I describe this son of
Jehanum? And when I do so, will not your highness doubt the fact? Be
chesm, upon my head be it, if I lie. He was less than a man, for he had
no beard; he had no turban, but a piece of net-work, covered with the
hair of other men in their tombs, which he sprinkled with the flour from
the baker's, every morning, to feed his brain. He wore round his neck a
piece of linen, tight as a bowstring, to prevent his head being taken
off by any devout true believer,