of them, just now, deliberately taking aim at your turban; and observe, he is now reloading his piece.’  My ill luck prevailed even at this instant—­the only instant in my life when I defied its power.  I struggled with my adviser, repeating, ’I am not the wretch you take me for; I am not Murad the Unlucky.’  He fled from the danger himself; I remained, and in a few seconds afterwards a ball reached me, and I fell senseless on the sand.

“The ball was cut out of my body by an awkward surgeon, who gave me ten times more pain than was necessary.  He was particularly hurried at this time, because the army had just received orders to march in a few hours, and all was confusion in the camp.  My wound was excessively painful, and the fear of being left behind with those who were deemed incurable added to my torments.  Perhaps, if I had kept myself quiet, I might have escaped some of the evils I afterwards endured; but, as I have repeatedly told you, gentlemen, it was my ill fortune never to be able to judge what was best to be done till the time for prudence was past.

“During the day, when my fever was at the height, and when my orders were to keep my bed, contrary to my natural habits of indolence, I rose a hundred times, and went out of my tent in the very heat of the day, to satisfy my curiosity as to the number of the tests which had not been struck, and of the soldiers who had not yet marched.  The orders to march were tardily obeyed, and many hours elapsed before our encampment was raised.  Had I submitted to my surgeon’s orders, I might have been in a state to accompany the most dilatory of the stragglers; I could have borne, perhaps, the slow motion of a litter, on which some of the sick were transported; but in the evening, when the surgeon came to dress my wounds, he found me in such a situation that it was scarcely possible to remove me.

“He desired a party of soldiers, who were left to bring up the rear, to call for me the next morning.  They did so; but they wanted to put me upon the mule which I recollected, by a white streak on its back, to be the cursed animal that had kicked me whilst I was looking for the ring.  I could not be prevailed upon to go upon this unlucky animal.  I tried to persuade the soldiers to carry me, and they took me a little way; but, soon growing weary of their burden, they laid me down on the sand, pretending that they were going to fill a skin with water at a spring they had discovered, and bade me lie still, and wait for their return.

“I waited and waited, longing for the water to moisten my parched lips; but no water came—­no soldiers returned; and there I lay, for several hours, expecting every moment to breathe my last.  I made no effort to move, for I was now convinced my hour was come, and that it was the will of Mahomet that I should perish in this miserable manner, and lie unburied like a dog:  ‘a death,’ thought I, ‘worthy of Murad the Unlucky.’