'The ring was given to me by my dearest friend when I first set out upon
an arduous pilgrimage not yet completed. There is but one person in the
world, except the donor, to whom I would part with it, and with that
person I am unacquainted. All this may seem improbable, but all this is
true. I have truth alone to support me. I am destitute and friendless;
but I am not a beggar, nor will any suffering induce me to become one.
Feeling, from various circumstances, utterly exhausted, I entered a
coffee-house and lay down, it may have been to die. I could not sleep,
although my eyes were shut, and nothing would have roused me from a
tremulous trance, which I thought was dying, but this plunderer here,
who would not wait until death had permitted him quietly to possess
himself of a jewel I value more than life.'
'Show me the jewel.'
The youth held up his hand to Honain, who felt his pulse, and then took
off the ring.
'O, my Fatima!' exclaimed Abdallah.
'Silence, sir!' said Honain. 'Page, call a jeweller.'
Honain examined the ring attentively. Whether he were near-sighted, or
whether the deceptive light of the covered bazaar prevented him from
examining it with ease, he certainly raised his hand to his brow, and
for some moments his countenance was invisible.
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