Tales of the Caravan, Inn, and Palace Part 3

As his companions were of the same opinion, the tents were folded, and the caravan started on its way in the same order in which it had entered camp.

They journeyed nearly all night, as the days were hot and sultry, while the night was cool and starlit. They came at last to a convenient camping place, pitched their tents and lay down to rest. But the merchants did not neglect to provide for the stranger as bountifully as if he had been their most honored guest. One gave him a cus.h.i.+on, another blankets, a third gave him slaves; in short, he was as well provided for as though he had been at home.

The heated hours of the day were already upon them when they arose from their slumbers, and they therefore unanimously decided to remain where they were until evening.

When night approached, the movement of the caravan was resumed, and its progress was continued until the following noon without impediment.

After they had halted and refreshed themselves, Selim Baruch said to Muley, the youngest of the merchants--

"Although you are the youngest of us all, you are always cheerful, and could certainly give us a merry tale. Serve it up, so that we may refresh ourselves after the heat of the day."

"I should be glad to relate something that would amuse you," answered Muley. "Still, modesty in all things is becoming to youth; therefore, my older traveling companions should take precedence. Zaleukos is always so serious and silent, ought he not to tell us what it is that clouds his life? Perhaps we should be able to lighten his sorrow, if such he experiences; for we would willingly treat him as a brother, even though he is not of our religion."

The person thus addressed was a Greek merchant--a man in middle age, fine looking and of vigorous frame, but very grave. Although he was an unbeliever (that is, not a Musselman), he was much beloved by his fellow-travelers, as his whole conduct had won their esteem and confidence. He had but one hand, and some of his companions supposed that this loss was the cause of his grief.

Zaleukos replied to the confidential inquiries of Muley: "I am much honored by the interest you take in me, but have no grief--at least none that you, with even the best intentions, could dispel. Still, as Muley seems to lay so much stress on my sadness, I will tell you something that will perhaps account for my appearing sadder than other people. As you see, I have lost my left hand. It was not missing at my birth, but I was deprived of it in the darkest hours of my life.

Whether my punishment was just--whether, under the circ.u.mstances, my features could be other than sad--you may judge for yourselves when you have heard the story of the Amputated Hand."

THE AMPUTATED HAND.

I was born in Constantinople. My father was an interpreter at the Sublime Porte, carrying on at the same time quite a lucrative trade in ottar of roses and silk goods. He gave me a good education, devoting a part of his own time to my instruction, and also employing one of our priests to superintend my studies. At first he designed me to be the successor of his business, but as I developed greater talents than even he had expected, he changed his mind, and, by the advice of his friends, concluded to make a physician of me; inasmuch as a doctor, whose acquirements were greater than those of the quacks on the market-place, was sure of making his way in Constantinople. Many Franks came to our house, and one of them persuaded my father to allow me to go to the city of Paris, in his country, where the best medical education might be had gratuitously. He proposed to take me with him on his return journey, and the trip should cost me nothing. My father, who had traveled widely in his youth, a.s.sented to the arrangement, and the Frenchman told me I should have three months in which to get ready.

I was beside myself with joy at the prospect of seeing foreign countries, and waited for the day of our departure with great impatience. At last the Frenchman finished his business, and prepared for the journey. On the evening before we started, my father led me into his bedchamber. There I saw fine apparel and weapons lying on the table. But that which attracted my attention most was a large pile of gold, larger than I had ever before seen. My father embraced me, saying--

"See, my son, I have provided these clothes for your journey. These weapons are also yours; they are the same that your grandfather buckled on me when I went out into the world. I know that you can wield them; but never use them except in self-defense, and then strike hard. My fortune is not large; look, I have divided it into three parts: one is yours, another is for my own support, but the third is a sacred trust, to be well guarded, and meant to serve you in the hour of need."

Thus spake my good old father, while tears stood in his eyes, perhaps from a presentiment that he would never see me again.

Every thing went well on the journey. We soon arrived in the land of the Franks, and six days afterwards we entered the great city of Paris.

My friend rented a room for me there, and advised me as to the best disposition to make of my money, which amounted in all to two thousand thalers.

I lived for three years in this city, and learned what a qualified physician should know; but I should be guilty of untruth were I to say that I lived there contentedly, for the customs of this people did not please me. I had but few good friends there, but these few were n.o.ble young men. In all this time I had heard nothing from my father. The desire to see my home finally prevailed over all other considerations.

I therefore seized a favorable opportunity to return. An emba.s.sy from the Franks was bound to the Sublime Porte. I engaged as surgeon in the retinue of the amba.s.sadors, and arrived safely once more in Stamboul.

I found my father's house closed. The neighbors were astonished to see me, and told me that my father had been dead for two months. The priest who had instructed me in my youth, brought me the key, and alone and bereft I entered the desolate house. I found every thing as my father had left it, with the single exception of the gold that he had promised to leave me--that was missing. I asked the priest about it. He made a low bow, and replied:

"Your father died as a holy man, leaving his gold to the church."

This was incomprehensible to me, yet what should I do? I had no witnesses against the priest, and must console myself with the reflection that he had not also regarded the house and goods of my father as a legacy to the church. This was the first misfortune that happened to me, but from this time forth, stroke followed stroke. My reputation as a physician did not spread, because I could not stoop to advertise myself on the market-place; and, above all, I missed my father, whose recommendation would have secured me admittance to the wealthiest and most influential families, which now never gave a thought to the poor Zaleukos. Then, too, my father's goods found no sale, as the old customers disappeared after his death, and to gain new ones would require time.

Once, as I was hopelessly thinking over my situation, it occurred to me that I had often seen countrymen of mine wandering through the land of the Franks, and displaying their wares in the squares of the cities. I remembered that their goods found a ready sale, because they came from a strange country, and that the profits on such merchandise were very large. My resolution was taken at once. I sold the homestead, gave a part of the sale money to a trustworthy friend to keep for me, and with the remainder bought such goods as were not common among the Franks; shawls, silk stuff's, ointments, oils, etc. I then took pa.s.sage on a s.h.i.+p, and so began my second journey to the land of the Franks.

It seemed as though fortune smiled on me again the moment we left the Dardanelles behind. Our voyage was short and fortunate. I wandered through the cities and towns of the Franks, and every-where found ready purchasers for my wares. My friend in Stamboul kept forwarding me consignments of fresh goods, and day by day my financial condition improved. When I thought I had made money enough to venture on some larger undertaking, I went to Italy with my goods. I have omitted speaking on one thing that brought me in quite a little sum of money; this was my knowledge of medicine. When I entered a town, I scattered notices announcing the arrival of a Greek physician, whose skill had restored many to health; and my balsams and medicines brought me in many a sequin.

At last I reached the city of Florence. It was my intention to remain some time in this place, partly because the city pleased me, and partly for the reason that I wished to recover from the fatigue of my wanderings. I rented a shop in the Santa Croce quarter, and not far from it, in an inn, I found a suite of beautiful rooms that overlooked a terrace. I then distributed notices that advertised me as a merchant and physician. I had no sooner opened my shop than a stream of customers poured in, and although my prices were rather high, I sold more than others, because I was polite and affable with my customers.

I had pa.s.sed four days pleasantly in Florence, when one evening, after closing my shop, as I was counting over the profits of the day, I came across a note, in a little box, that I could not remember having put there. I opened the note, and found that it contained a request that I would come to the Ponte Vecchio that night punctually at twelve o'clock. I studied for a long time over the matter; but, as I did not know a soul in Florence, I concluded that somebody wished to lead me secretly to a sick person, as had happened more than once before. I therefore resolved to go; but, by way of precaution, I took along the sword that my father had given me.

Shortly before midnight I started, and soon came to the Ponte Vecchio.

I found the bridge deserted, and determined to wait until the person who had invited me there should appear. The night was cold; the moon shone bright, and I looked down at the waves of the Arno gleaming in the moonlight. The church clocks struck twelve. I raised my head, and before me stood a tall man, covered with a red mantle, a corner of which he held before his face. I was somewhat startled at first by his sudden appearance, but collecting myself immediately, said to him:

"If you are the person who ordered me here, tell me what it is you desire?"

The man in the red mantle turned about and said slowly: "Follow me!"

I felt somewhat uneasy about accompanying this stranger, and replied: "Not so, dear sir, until you first tell me where I am to follow you; and you might also show me your face, so that I may a.s.sure myself that you mean me no harm."

The stranger, however, a.s.sumed to be indifferent, and said, "If you won't go, Zaleukos, then don't!"

This aroused my anger. "Do you think," exclaimed I, "that a man like me will allow himself to be made sport of by every fool? and that I should wait here in this cold night for nothing?"

In three leaps I reached him, seized him by the cloak, and shouted still louder, at the same time laying my other hand on my sword; but the stranger had already disappeared around the next corner, leaving the cloak in my hand.

By and by my rage subsided; I still had the cloak, and this should furnish the key to this singular adventure. I put it on and started to go home. But before I had gone a hundred steps from the bridge, somebody brushed by me, and whispered to me in French: "Take care, Count; it can't be done to-night!" But before I could look around, this person was far away, and I saw only a shadow flitting by the houses. I saw at once that these whispered words were meant for the owner of the cloak, and did not in any way concern me; but they shed no light on the mystery.

The next morning I considered what would better be done in the matter.

My first thought was to have the mantle cried in the streets, as though I had found it, but in that case the owner could have sent for it by some third party, and I should be no wiser for my pains. While I was thinking of this, I examined the mantle closely. It was of heavy reddish-purple Genoese velvet, with a border of Astrachan fur, and richly embroidered with gold. The splendid appearance of the cloak led me to think of a plan that I resolved to put in execution. I took the cloak to my store, and offered it for sale; but placed such a high price on it that I was sure it would find no purchaser. My purpose in this was to look everybody who asked about the furred cloak directly in the eye. I thought that as I had had a momentary glimpse of the figure of the unknown man after the loss of his cloak, I would know it among a thousand. There were many admirers of the cloak, whose extraordinary beauty attracted all eyes; but none of them resembled the stranger, and not one of them would pay the exorbitant price of two hundred sequins.

It struck me as strange that when I asked one and another whether such cloaks were common in Florence, they all answered, "no," and a.s.sured me that they had never before seen such a rich and elegant piece of work.

As evening drew near, a young man, who had often been in my shop, and who had already bid high for the cloak, came in, and threw down a purse of sequins, exclaiming:

"Before G.o.d, Zaleukos, I must have your cloak, even if it beggars me."

He at once began to count out his gold pieces. I was in quite a dilemma. I had only hung up the mantle in order that it might perhaps catch the eye of its owner; and along came a young fool to pay the monstrous price, but what could I do? I finally consented to the bargain, as from one point of view I should be well compensated for my night's adventure. The youth put on the mantle and left, but turned on the threshold and detached a paper that was fastened to the mantle, which he threw to me, saying: "Here, Zaleukos, is something that evidently does not go with the cloak."

I took the paper unconcernedly, and found the following words were written on it: "Bring the cloak to the Ponte Vecchio to-night, at the appointed time, and you will receive four hundred sequins."

I was thunderstruck. I had forfeited this chance, and, had not even attained my purpose. But not stopping to consider the matter, I gathered up the two hundred sequins, and rushed out after the man who had bought the cloak. "Take back your money my good friend," said I, "and leave me the mantle, as it is impossible for me to part with it."

At first the young man looked on this as a joke; but when he saw that I was really in earnest, he angrily refused to comply with my demand, treated me as a fool, and thus we speedily came to blows. I was so fortunate as to s.n.a.t.c.h the cloak away from him in the scuffle, and was hastening away with it, when the young man summoned the police, and we were taken to court. The judge was surprised at the accusation against me, and awarded the cloak to my opponent. But I offered the young man twenty, fifty, eighty, yes, one hundred sequins, over and above his two hundred, if he would leave me in possession of the mantle. My gold accomplished what my entreaties could not. He took my sequins, while I carried away the mantle in triumph, contenting myself with the thought that even if all Florence considered me insane, I knew, better than they, that I should clear something by this transaction.

Impatiently I awaited the night. At the same hour as on the previous night, I went to the Ponte Vecchio with the mantle on my arm. At the last stroke of the clock, a form approached out of the darkness. It was undoubtedly the man I had met the night before.

"Have you the mantle?" I was asked.

"Yes," replied I; "but it cost me a hundred sequins cash."

"I know it," was the reply, "look here, there are four hundred."

He walked with me up to the broad bal.u.s.trade of the bridge, and counted out the gold pieces. They glistened brightly in the moonlight; their gleam rejoiced my heart. Oh, I dreamed not that it was the last joy it would ever experience. I put the money in my pocket, and attempted to get a good look at the stranger; but he wore a mask, through which dark eyes darted a formidable look on me.

"I thank you, sir, for your kindness," said I. "What now do you require from me? But I say to you beforehand that it must not be any thing wrong."

"Your anxiety is needless," replied he, as he placed the mantle on his shoulders. "I need your services as a doctor; still, not for a living patient, but for a dead one."