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THE JEWISH PHYSICIAN’S STORY.
In my younger days I lived at Damascus, where I studied my art; and one day, as I sat in my house, there came to me a servant with a summons from the governor of the city. So I followed him to the house and entering the saloon, saw, lying on a couch of juniper-wood, set with plates of gold, that stood at the upper end, a sick youth, never was seen a handsomer. I sat down at his head and offered up a prayer for his recovery. He made a sign to me with his eyes and I said to him, “O my lord, give me thy hand.” So he put forth his left hand, at which I wondered and said to myself, “By Allah, it is strange that so handsome a young man of high family should lack good breeding! This can be nothing but conceit.” However, I felt his pulse and wrote him a prescription and continued to visit him for ten days, at the end of which time he recovered and went to the bath, whereupon the governor gave me a handsome dress of honour and appointed me superintendent of the hospital at Damascus. I accompanied him to the bath, the whole of which they had cleared for his accommodation, and the servants came in with him and took off his clothes within the bath, when I saw that his right hand had been newly cut off, and this was the cause of his illness. At this I was amazed and grieved for him: then looking at his body I saw on it the marks of beating with rods, for which he had used ointments. I was perplexed at this and my perplexity appeared in my face. The young man looked at me and reading my thought, said to me, “O physician of the age, marvel not at my case. I will tell thee my story, when we leave the bath.” Then we washed and returning to his house, partook of food and rested awhile; after which he said to me, “What sayest thou to taking the air in the garden?”
