“What!” said the person to whom he addressed himself, “have you never seen or heard talk of her? She is the admiration of the whole town, for her fasting, her austerities, and her exemplary life. Except Mondays and Fridays, she never stirs out of her little cell; and on those days on which she comes into the town, she does an infinite deal of good; for there is not a person who has the headache, but is cured by her laying her hand upon them.”
The magician wanted no further information. He only asked the person in what part of the town this holy woman’s cell was. After he had shewn him it, and he had concluded and determined on the detestable design he had in his head, and that he might know the way again, and be fully informed, he watched all her steps the first day she went out after he had made this inquiry, without losing sight of her till evening, when he saw her re-enter her cell. When he had fully observed the place, he went to one of those houses where they sell a certain hot liquor, and where any person may pass the night, particularly in the great heats, when the people of that country prefer lying on a mat to a bed. About midnight, after the magician had satisfied the master of the house for what little he had called for, he went out, and proceeded directly to the cell of Fatima, the holy woman, the name she was known by throughout the town. He had no difficulty in opening the door, which was only fastened with a latch, and he shut it again after he had got in, without any noise; and when he entered the cell, perceived Fatima by moonlight lying in the air on a sofa, covered only by an old mat, with her head leaning against the wall. He awakened her and clapped a dagger to her breast.
Poor Fatima, opening her eyes, was very much surprised to see a man with a dagger at her breast ready to stab her, and who said to her, “If you cry out, or make the least noise, I will kill you: but get up and do as I bid you.”
Fatima, who had lain down in her clothes, got up trembling with fear. “Do not be so much frightened,” said the magician, “I only want your habit: give it me presently, and take mine.” Accordingly Fatima and he changed clothes. Then he said, “Colour my face as yours is, that I may be like you;” but perceiving that the poor creature could not help trembling, to encourage her, he said, “I tell you again you need not fear anything: I swear by the name of God I will not take away your life.” Fatima lighted her lamp, made him come into the cell, and taking a pencil and dipping it into a certain liquor, rubbed it over his face, and assured him the colour would not change, and that his face was of the same dye as her own: after which she put her own head-dress on his head, with a veil, with which she showed him how to hide his face as he passed through the town. After this, she put a long string of beads about his neck which hung down to the middle of his body, and giving him the stick she used to walk with, in his hand, brought him a looking-glass, and bid him look if he was not as like her as possible. The magician found himself disguised as he wished to be; but he did not keep the oath he so solemnly swore to the good Fatima; but instead of stabbing her, for fear the blood might discover him, he strangled her; and when he found she was dead, threw her body into a cistern just by the cell.