_Evocation of the Genius._
The Genius Cucufa is an old hypochondriac, who fearing lest the
concerns of the world, and dealings with the rest of the genii, might
prove an obstacle to his salvation, took refuge in the Void; in order
to employ himself quite at leisure on the infinite perfections of the
great Pagoda, to pinch, scratch and make notches in his flesh, to fret
himself into madness, and starve himself to death. In that place he
lies on a straw mat, his body tuck'd up in a sack, his flanks squeez'd
with a cord, his arms crossed on his breast, and his head sunk into
a hood, which suffers nothing to issue but the end of his beard. He
sleeps, but one would think him in contemplation. All his company
is an owl which nods at his feet, some rats which gnaw his mat, and
bats which hover round his head. The manner of evoking him, is, by
repeating, to the sound of a bell, the first verse of the nocturnal
office of the Bramins: then he lifts up his hood, rubs his eyes, puts
on his sandals, and sets out. Figure to yourself an old Camaldolian
Monk carried in the air by two large horn-owls, which he holds by the
legs. In this equipage it was, that Cucufa appear'd to the Sultan.
"May the blessing of Brama be within these walls," says he, bowing.
"Amen," answered the prince. "What do you want, my son?" "A very small
matter," says Mangogul; "to procure me some pleasure at the expence of
the court ladies." "Oh, my son!" replied Cucufa, "you have a larger
appetite than a whole monastery of Bramins. What do you pretend to
do with this troop of extravagants?" "To learn from themselves their
present and past adventures, that is all." "But that is impossible,"
says the Genius. "To have women confess their adventures, is a thing
that never was, nor ever will be." "Yet it must be," added the Sultan.
At these words, the Genius scratching his ear, and combing his long
beard with his fingers, fell to thinking. His meditation was short.
"My child," said he to Mangogul, "I love you, you shall be satisfied."
Instantly he plunged his right hand into a deep pocket made under his
arm-pit on the left side of his frock, and, together with images,
bless'd beads, little leaden pagoda's, and musty sweatmeats, drew out
a silver ring, which Mangogul at first took for one of St. Hubert's
rings. "You see this ring," said he to the Sultan, "put it on your
finger, my child: every woman, at whom you shall level the stone, will
relate her intrigues in a plain, audible voice. Do not imagine however,
that 'tis by the mouth that they are to speak." "By what then will they
speak?" says Mangogul. "By the frankest part about them, and the best
instructed in those things which you desire to know," says Cucufa; "by
their Toys." "By their Toys," replies Mangogul bursting into laughter;
"that is particular. Talking Toys! That is an unheard extravagance."
"My son," said the Genius, "I have performed many greater prodigies
for your grandfather: therefore depend on my word. Go, and may Brama
bless you. Make a good use of your secret, and remember that there are
ill-placed curiosities." This said, the old hypocrite nodded his head,
pull'd his hood over his face, took his horn-owls by the legs, and
vanish'd in the air.