I went into the caravanserai, sought out a friend—­the dervish whom I had known at Meshed—­and asked his advice.  “I can expect no mercy from this man,” I said, “particularly as I have not enough money to offer him, for I know his price.  Where shall I go?”

The dervish replied, “You must lose not a moment in getting within the sanctuary of the tomb of Fatimeh at Kom.  You can reach it before morning, and then you will be safe even from the Shah’s power.”

“But how shall I live when I am there?” I asked.

“I shall soon overtake you, and then, Inshallah (please God), you will not fare so ill as you imagine.”

As the day broke, I could distinguish the gilt cupola of the tomb before me; and as I perceived the horseman at some distance behind, I made all possible speed until I had passed the gateway of the sanctuary.  Kissing the threshold of the tomb, I said my prayers with all the fervency of one who has got safe from a tempest into port.

My friend the dervish arrived soon afterwards, and immediately urged upon me the importance of saying my prayers, keeping fasts, and wearing a long and mortified countenance.  As he assured me that unless I made a pretence of deep piety I should be starved or stoned to death, I assumed forthwith the character of a rigid Mussulman.  I rose at the first call, made my ablutions at the cistern in the strictest forms, and then prayed in the most conspicuous spot I could find.

By the intensity of my devotion I won the goodwill of Mirza Abdul Cossim, the first mashtehed (divine) of Persia, and by his influence I obtained a pardon from the Shah.  Now that I was free from the sanctuary, I became anxious to gain some profit by my fame for piety; so I applied to Mirza Abdul Cossim, who straightway sent me to assist the mollah Nadan, one of the principal men of the law in Tehran.  My true path of advancement, I believed, was now open.  I was on the way to become a mollah.

Nadan was an exemplary Mussulman in all outward matters; but I was not long in discovering that he had two ruling passions—­jealousy of the chief priest of Tehran, and a hunger for money.  My earliest duty was to gratify his second passion by negotiating temporary marriages for handsome fees.  In these transactions we prospered fairly well; but unfortunately Nadan’s desire to supplant the chief priest led him to stir up the populace to attack the Christians of the city, and plunder their property.  The Shah was then in a humour to protect the Christians; consequently, Nadan had his beard plucked out by the roots, was mounted on an ass with his face to its tail, and was driven out of the city with blows and execrations.

Once more homeless and almost penniless, not knowing what to do, I strolled in the dusk into a bath, and undressed.  The bath was empty save for one man, whom I recognized as the chief priest.  He was splashing about in a manner that struck me as remarkable for so sedate a character; then a most unusual floundering, attended with a gurgling of the throat, struck my ear.  To my horror, I saw that he was drowned.  Here was a predicament; it was inevitable that I should be charged with his murder.