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Updated: May 28, 2025
I remembered in my father's house to have seen a similar one, the water of which was led up through a spacious aqueduct. In order to learn whether this fountain was constructed in the same manner, I one day praised its magnificence to Thiuli, and inquired after its architect.
Six had been read off, and declared entirely well, 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.
Hardly an hour had Mustapha been absent, when they brought Thiuli the intelligence that his slave Fatima was in the agonies of death.
Thiuli seeing now no help, cursed himself and the whole world; plucked his beard, and dashed his head against the wall. But all this was of no use, for soon Fatima gave up the ghost, in the arms of her companions.
There they assisted him to dismount, and four others escorted him up a wide marble staircase, into the presence of Thiuli. The latter personage, an old, robust man, received my brother respectfully, and had set before him the best that his castle could afford.
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.
"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.
Answer as he might, Mustapha could not arrange it so that he might see them; nevertheless, Thiuli agreed to tell him, each time, the usual health of the one he was examining. Thiuli drew forth a long list from his girdle, and began, with loud voice, to call out, one by one, the names of his slaves; whereupon, each time, a hand came forth from the wall, and the physician felt the pulse.
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.
After the meal, Mustapha gradually turned the conversation upon the new slaves; whereupon, Thiuli praised their beauty, but expressed regret because they were so sorrowful; nevertheless he believed that would go over after a time. My brother was much delighted at his reception, and, with hope beating high in his bosom, lay down to rest.
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