The Moullah was seated on the earth, from which he did not arise, or
show any mark of reverence; nor did he interrupt the tale of his beads,
which he continued to count assiduously while Hartley was speaking. When
he finished, the old man raised his eyes, and looked at him with an air
of distraction, as if he was endeavouring to recollect what he had been
saying; he at length pointed to one of the cells, and resumed his
devotions like one who felt impatient of whatever withdrew his attention
from his sacred duties, were it but for an instant.
Hartley entered the cell indicated, with the usual salutation of Salam
Alaikum. His patient lay on a little carpet in a corner of the small
white-washed cell. He was a man of about forty, dressed in the black
robe of his order, very much torn and patched. He wore a high conical
cap of Tartarian felt, and had round his neck the string of black beads
belonging to his order. His eyes and posture indicated suffering, which
he was enduring with stoical patience.
"Salam Alaikum," said Hartley; "you are in pain, my father?"--a title
which he gave rather to the profession than to the years of the person
he addressed.
"_Salam Alaikum bema sebastem_," answered the Fakir; "Well is it for you
that you have suffered patiently. The book saith, such shall be the
greeting of the angels to those who enter paradise."
The conversation being thus opened, the physician proceeded to enquire
into the complaints of the patient, and to prescribe what he thought
advisable.
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