So he carried him away and hid with him till the night， when he threw him down on the fuel-heap in the stoke-hole of a bath and went his way. In the morning， the stoker of the bath came to his work and finding Zoulmekan cast on his back on the fuel-heap，exclaimed， "Could they find no other place in which to throw this dead man？" So saying， he gave him a push with his foot， and he moved， whereupon quoth the stoker， "This is some one who has eaten hashish and thrown himself down at hazard." Then he looked at him and saw that he had no hair on his face and was endowed with grace and comeliness； so he took pity on him and knew that he was sick and a stranger. "There is no power and no virtue but in God！" said he "I have sinned against this youth； for indeed the Prophet （whom God bless and preserve！） enjoins hospitality to strangers." Then he lifted him up and carrying him to his own house， committed him to his wife and bade her tend him. So she spread him a bed and laid a cushion under his head， then heated water and washed his hands and feet and face. Meanwhile， the stoker went to the market and buying rose-water and sherbet of sugar， sprinkled Zoulmekan"s face with the one and gave him to drink of the other. Then he fetched a clean shirt and put it on him. With this， Zoulmekan scented the breeze of recovery and life returned to him； and he sat up and leant against the pillow. At this the stoker rejoiced and exclaimed， "O my God， I beseech Thee， by Thy hidden mysteries， make the salvation of this youth to be at my hands！" And he nursed him assiduously for three days，giving him to drink of sherbet of sugar and willow-flower water and rose-water and doing him all manner of service and kindness，till health began to return to his body and he opened his eyes and sat up. Presently the stoker came in and seeing him sitting up and showing signs of amendment， said to him， "How dost thou now， O my son？" "Thanks be to God，" replied Zoulmekan， "I am well and like to recover， if so He please." The stoker praised the Lord of All for this and going to the market， bought ten chickens， which he carried to his wife and said to her， "Kill two of these for him every day， one in the morning and the other at nightfall." So she rose and killed a fowl， then boiling it，brought it to him and fed him with the flesh and gave him the broth to drink. When he had done eating， she brought hot water and he washed his hands and lay back upon the pillow； whereupon she covered him up and he slept till the time of afternoon-prayer.
Then she killed another fowl and boiled it； after which she cut it up and bringing it to Zoulmekan， said， "Eat， O my son！"
Presently， her husband entered and seeing her feeding him， sat down at his head and said to him， "How is it with thee now， O my son？" "Thanks be to God for recovery！" replied he. "May He requite thee thy goodness to me！" At this the stoker rejoiced and going out， bought sherbet of violets and rose-water and made him drink it. Now his day"s earnings at the bath were five dirhems， of which he spent every day two dirhems for Zoulmekan，one for sweet waters and sherbets and another for fowls； and he ceased not to entreat him thus kindly for a whole month， till the trace of illness ceased from him and he was quite recovered whereupon the stoker and his wife rejoiced and the former said to him， "O my son， wilt thou go with me to the bath？"
"Willingly，" replied he. So the stoker went to the market and fetched an ass， on which he mounted Zoulmekan and supported him in the saddle， till they came to the bath Then he made him alight and sit down， whilst he repaired to the market and bought lote-leaves and lupin-meal，[FN#23] with which he returned to the bath and said to Zoulmekan， "O my son， in the name of God， enter，and I will wash thy body." So they both entered the inner room of the bath， and the stoker fell to rubbing Zoulmekan"s legs and was going on to wash his body with the lote-leaves and powder， when there came to them a bathman， whom the keeper of the bath had sent to Zoulmekan， and seeing the stoker rubbing and washing the latter， said to him， "This is trespassing on the keeper"s rights." "By Allah，" replied the stoker， "the master overwhelms us with his favours！" Then the bathman proceeded to shave Zoulmekan"s head， after which he and the stoker washed and returned to the latter"s house， where he clad Zoulmekan in a shirt of fine stuff and a tunic of his own and gave him a handsome turban and girdle and wound a silken kerchief about his neck. Meanwhile the stoker"s wife had killed two chickens and cooked them for him； so， as soon as Zoulmekan entered and seated himself on the couch， the stoker arose and dissolving sugar in willow-flower water， made him drink it. Then he brought the tray of food and cutting up the chickens， fed him with the meat and broth， till he was satisfied， when he washed his hands and praised God for recovery， saying to the stoker， "It is to thee，under God the Most High， that I owe my life！" "Leave this talk，"
replied the stoker， "and tell us the manner of thy coming to this city and whence thou art； for I see signs of gentle breeding in thy face." "Tell me first how thou camest to fall in with me，"
said Zoulmekan； "and after I will tell thee my story." "As for that，" rejoined the stoker， "I found thee lying on the rubbish-heap， by the door of the stoke-house， as I went to my work， near the morning， and knew not who had thrown thee down there. So I carried thee home with me； and this all I have to tell." Quoth Zoulmekan， "Glory to Him who quickens the bones，though they be rotten！ Indeed， O my brother， thou hast not done good to one who is unworthy， and thou shalt reap the reward of this. But where am I now？" "In the city of Jerusalem，" replied the stoker； whereupon Zoulmekan called to mind his strangerhood and his separation from his sister and wept. Then he discovered his secret to the stoker and told him his story， repeating the following verses：
They heaped up passion on my soul， beyond my strength to bear，And for their sake my heart is racked with weariness and care.
Ah， be ye pitiful to me， O cruel that ye are， For e"en my foes do pity me， since you away did fare！
Grudge not to grant unto mine eyes a passing glimpse of you， To ease the longing of my soul and lighten my despair.
I begged my heart to arm itself with patience for your loss.
"Patience was never of my wont，" it answered； "so forbear."