that his attainments were those which might have been made in a
hundred years.]

The Baron of Gilsland, who took this for a literal assertion that
he was a century old, looked doubtfully upon the prelate, who,
though he better understood the meaning of El Hakim, answered his
glance by mysteriously shaking his head. He resumed an air of
importance when he again authoritatively demanded what evidence
Adonbec could produce of his medical proficiency.

"Ye have the word of the mighty Saladin," said the sage, touching
his cap in sign of reverence--"a word which was never broken
towards friend or foe. What, Nazarene, wouldst thou demand
more?"

"I would have ocular proof of thy skill," said the baron, "and
without it thou approachest not to the couch of King Richard."

"The praise of the physician," said the Arabian, "is in the
recovery of his patient. Behold this sergeant, whose blood has
been dried up by the fever which has whitened your camp with
skeletons, and against which the art of your Nazarene leeches
hath been like a silken doublet against a lance of steel. Look
at his fingers and arms, wasted like the claws and shanks of the
crane. Death had this morning his clutch on him; but had Azrael
been on one side of the couch, I being on the other, his soul
should not have been left from his body. Disturb me not with
further questions, but await the critical minute, and behold in
silent wonder the marvellous event."