Now my heart was filled with terrors, for I feared lest in this way or in that Heliodore had fallen into the hands of the accursed Musa.  I prayed Yusuf to tell me the truth of the matter, whereon he swore by the Prophet that she was safe, but would say no more.  Nor did this comfort me much, since for aught I knew he might mean she was safe in death.  I was aware, further, that the Moslems held it no crime to deceive an infidel.  Week was added to week, and still I languished in this rich prison.  The best of garments and food were brought to me; I was even given wine.  Kind hands tended me and led me from place to place.  I lacked nothing except freedom and the truth.  Doubt and fear preyed upon my heart till at length I fell ill and scarcely cared to walk in the garden.  One day when Yusuf visited me I told him that he would not need to come many more times, since I felt that I was going to die.

“Do not die,” he answered, “since then perchance you will find you have done so in vain,” and he left me.

On the following evening he returned and told me that he had brought a physician to see me, a certain Mahommed, who was standing before me.  Although I had no hope from any physician, I prayed this Mahommed to be seated, whereon Yusuf left us, closing the door behind him.

“Be pleased to set out your case, General Olaf,” said Mahommed in a grave, quiet voice, “for know that I am sent by the Caliph himself to minister to you.”

“How can that be, seeing that he is in Baghdad?” I answered.  Still, I told him my ailments.

When I had finished he said: 

“I perceive that you suffer more from your mind than from your body.  Be so good, now, as to repeat to me the tale of your life, of which I have already heard something.  Tell me especially of those parts of it which have to do with the lady Heliodore, daughter of Magas, of your blinding by Irene for her sake, and of your discovery of her in Egypt, where you sought her disguised as a beggar.”

“Why should I tell you all my story, sir?”

“That I may know how to heal you of your sickness.  Also, General Olaf, I will be frank with you.  I am more than a mere physician; I have certain powers under the Caliph’s seal, and it will be wise on your part to open all your heart to me.”

Now I reflected that there could be little harm in repeating to this strange doctor what so many already knew.  So I told him everything, and the tale was long.

“Wondrous!  Most wondrous!” said the grave-voiced physician when I had finished.  “Yet to me the strangest part of your history is that played therein by the lady Martina.  Had she been your lover, now, one might have understood—­perhaps,” and he paused.

“Sir Physician,” I answered, “the lady Martina has been and is no more than my friend.”