jealous, but who, nevertheless, attained ultimately even greater skill than Lokman himself.[1] This nephew, though uninvited, determined to witness the operation, so he climbed on to the house-top, where he knew of a small window through which he could look into the sick-room, and see all that was going on.
In the meantime Lokman administered benj to the sufferer and, as soon as the anesthetic had taken effect, proceeded to lay him open. So doing, he revealed a huge crab clinging to the heart.
At the sight even Lokman himself lost courage, and said: “There, sure enough, is the cause of sickness, but how to remove the beast I know not. If any one here knows a way, for Allah’s sake let him name it.” The physicians replied, “We cannot tell how to remove the creature, for, if we use force, it will only cling more tightly to the heart, and the man will die.” Hardly had these words been spoken when, to Lokman’s surprise and shame, the unseen watcher on the house-top shouted into the room, “Ilhak bi ’n-nâr ya homâr!” “Follow up with fire, thou ass!” On hearing this most opportune advice, Lokman sent one of his colleagues running to the Butchers’ Street, to ask the keeper of the first Kobab-broiling-shop to lend him an iron skewer. Others were told to prepare a brazier; others to
- ↑ That enmity should exist between such relatives is natural, for his sister’s son is commonly a man’s worst rival: a circumstance which has given rise to the common saying: “If thou hast no sister’s son, but art so foolish as to desire one, take a lump of clay and mould one for thyself, and to thine own liking, and then, when he is perfect, behead him lest he perchance come to life and do thee an injury.”
