, when Thiuli, for the seventh called Fatima,
and a small white hand slipped forth from the wall. Trembling with
joy, Mustapha grasped it, and with an important air pronounced her
seriously ill. Thiuli became very anxious, and commanded his wise
Chakamankabudibaba straightway to prescribe some medicine for her. The
physician left the room, and wrote a little scroll:

"Fatima, I will preserve thee, if thou canst make up thy mind to take
a draught, which for two days will make thee dead; nevertheless, I
possess the means of restoring thee to life. If thou wilt, then only
return answer, that this liquid has been of no assistance, and it will
be to me a token that thou agreest."

In a moment he returned to the room, where Thiuli had remained. He
brought with him an innocent drink, felt the pulse of the sick Fatima
once more, pushed the note beneath her bracelet, and then handed her
the liquid through the opening in the wall. Thiuli seemed to be in
great anxiety on Fatima's account, and postponed the examination of
the rest to a more fitting opportunity. As he left the room with
Mustapha, he addressed him in sorrowful accents:

"Chadibaba, tell me plainly, what thinkest thou of Fatima's illness?"

My brother answered with a deep sigh: "Ah, sir, may the Prophet give
you consolation! she has a slow fever, which may, perhaps, cost her
life!"

Then burned Thiuli's anger: "What sayest thou, cursed dog of a
physician? She, for whom I gave two thousand gold pieces--shall she
die like a cow? Know, if thou preservest her not, I will chop off
thine head!"

My brother immediately saw that he had made a misstep, and again
inspired Thiuli with hope. While they were yet conversing, a black
slave came from the seraglio to tell the physician, that the drink had
been of no assistance.

"Put forth all thy skill, Chakamdababelda, or whatever thy name may
be; I will pay thee what thou askest!" cried out Thiuli-Kos, well-nigh
howling with sorrow, at the idea of losing so much gold.

"I will give her a potion, which will put her out of all danger,"
answered the physician.

"Yes, yes!--give it her," sobbed the old Thiuli.

With joyful heart Mustapha went to bring his soporific, and having
given it to the black slave, and shown him how much it was necessary
to take for a dose, he went to Thiuli, and, telling him he must
procure some medicinal herbs from the sea, hastened through the gate.
On the shore, which was not far from the castle