Presently she remembered that the front door was yet unlocked. So she
trotted out into the shop, bolted the door securely, drew down the
curtains, and put out the dim light that had burned over the counter.
Then Madame returned to the little room and looked at the two flasks
again.
Aside from her rheumatism the good lady had one other physical
weakness; she was color-blind. That is, she could seldom distinguish
one color from another, and was quite liable to think blue was green
and green was yellow. Many people have this trouble with their eyes;
but it never had bothered Madame especially in waiting upon her
customers.
Now, however, when she came back into her room and gazed at the two
flasks upon her table, she had no idea which one was of gold and which
of silver, for the weakness of her eyes prevented her from telling them
apart by means of their color.
"Let me see," she murmured; "this must be the flask which the Arab
first drew from his pocket. No--I think _this_ was the one." But the
more she hesitated the more confused she became, and in the end she
told herself honestly that she had not the faintest clue to guide her
in knowing which flask contained the Essence of Vitality and which the
cure for rheumatism.
And the pains were now so bad that she was anxious to cure them without
a moment's delay.
The engraving on the two flasks was nearly the same; and if some of
those queer foreign characters really differed, Madame did not know it.
Also in size and shape the flasks were exactly alike. Truly Madame was
in a fine quandary, and there seemed no way of getting out of it with
safety.
She had almost decided to hide both flasks until the Arab returned,
when several sharp twinges of pain caught her and made her long most
earnestly for relief. If she went to bed now she would be sure to
suffer all night, and in one of the flasks was a sure cure.
"I'll guess at it, and take the chances!" declared Madame, firmly. And
then, choosing at haphazard, she hid the silver flask behind the mirror
and put the gold one in her pocket. Afterward she picked up the lamp
and walked as silently as possible through the short passage that led
to Monsieur Jules' bake-room.
The big place was still and dark, and the little lamp only brightened
a small part of it. But Madame did not care for that. Those pains were
getting extremely hard to bear, and she had even ceased to care whether
or not she had selected the right flask.
Taking a brown bowl from the shelf she drew it nearly full of water and
then placed it upon a corner of the long, white mixing-table, beside
the lamp. Next she took the golden flask from her pocket.
[Illustration]
"How much did the Arab say to put in the water?" she wondered, pausing
in perplexed thought. "I declare, I've actually forgotten! But he said
it was sure to cure me, so I may as well use all the flask contains.
For, after I am cured, I shall not need any more of it."
Reasoning thus, Madame removed the stopper and poured into the bowl
every drop of that precious Elixir which Ali Dubh had prized more than
life itself, and which his wild countrymen had come all the way from
Arabia to America to possess. For generation after generation the
priceless liquor had been preserved with jealous care, and now the
baker's wife was rubbing it upon her limbs in an endeavor to cure the
pangs of rheumatism!
She used very little of the contents of the bowl, after all. The touch
of the Elixir upon her skin, although it was diluted with so much
water, sent a glow of exhilaration throughout all her stout body.
The pains were suddenly eased, and Madame began to feel as light and
airy as a fairy, in spite of her great mass of flesh.
It occurred to her that she would like to dance; to run and shout, to
caper about as she used to do as a girl. But soon her shrewd common
sense returned, and she told herself this was but the effect of the
wonderful medicine, and that the wisest thing she could do was to go
to bed and sleep soundly while she might.
Being still somewhat bewildered, the good woman picked up the lamp,
and, leaving the bowl containing the Elixir standing upon the table,
mounted the stairs with lighter steps than she had known in years.
Five minutes later she was in bed, snoring as loudly as Monsieur Jules
himself.
[Illustration]