His baffled brain whirled with wild and
impracticable combinations, till, at length, frightened and exhausted,
he called for his nargileh, and sought, as was his custom, serenity
from its magic tube. In this wise more than three hours had elapsed,
the young Emir was himself again, and was calculating the average of the
various rates of interest in every town in Syria, from Gaza to Aleppo,
when Baroni returned, bearing in his hand an Egyptian vase.
'You have found the magic flowers?' asked Fakredeen, eagerly.
'The flowers of arnica, noble Emir, of which the Lady Eva spoke. I wish
the potion had been made in the new moon; however, it has been blessed.
Two things alone now are wanting, that my lord should drink it, and that
it should cure him.'
It was not yet noon when Tancred quaffed the potion. He took it without
difficulty, though apparently unconscious of the act. As the sun reached
its meridian height, Tancred sank into a profound slumber. Fakredeen
rushed away to tell Eva, who had now retired into the innermost
apartments of the pavilion of Amalek; Baroni never quitted the tent of
his lord. The sun set; the same beautiful rosy tint suffused the tombs
and temples of the city as on the evening of their first forced arrival:
still Tancred slept.
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