state of weakness that he was obliged to unwind his turban and bind
himself to his saddle, in order to avoid falling from the horse. He thus
reached Tunis, in a state of extreme exhaustion and despondency. 'No one
saluted me,' says he, 'for I was not acquainted with a single person
there. I was seized with such an emotion of sadness that I could not
suppress my sobs, and my tears flowed in abundance. One of the pilgrims,
remarking my condition, advanced towards me, saluting and comforting me.
He did not cease to cheer me up with his conversation, until I had
entered the city.'

In a short time, he seems to have recovered both his health and spirits;
for, on reaching the town of Sefakos, he married the daughter of one of
the syndics of the corporation of Tunis. This proceeding strikes us as a
singular preparation for a long and dangerous journey, but it is a
preliminary which would immediately suggest itself to a Mussulman of
good character. In fact, it was equivalent in those days--and still
would be, in some parts of the Orient--to a proclamation of his
respectability. Ibn Batuta, however, was not fortunate in this
matrimonial adventure. Two months afterwards, he naïvely informs us:
'There arose such a disagreement between myself and my father-in-law,
that I was obliged to separate from my wife. I thereupon married the
daughter of an official of Fez. The marriage was consummated at the
castle of Zanah, and I celebrated it by a feast, for which I detained
the caravan for a whole day.'

After this announcement, he is silent concerning his domestic relations.
Perhaps the number of his connubial changes was too great to be
recorded; perhaps no son was born to establish his honor among men;
perhaps, with increasing sanctity, he forswore the sex. The last
conjecture is probably correct, as it tallies with the reputation for