He exercised himself in these questions and answers till he reached the house of his sick friend, who happened at the time to labour under great nausea and depression of spirits. The deaf man asked him: “How do you feel, my friend?” Said the sick man, in peevish tones: “Do not ask me—I am ready to give up the ghost.” The deaf man smiled and said: “God be praised! My prayer has been heard.” After that he asked: “Who is your physician, my friend?” Quoth the sick man: “The angel of death.” This puzzled the deaf man a little, but he answered: “That is well. I also had him in view, because he is so skilful, and cures every patient he treats.” Then he asked what his food and medicine were. The sick man replied: “Pain and distress.” Said the deaf man: “May they redound to your welfare; both are very proper for your disease.” Then he began to recite the _Fátiha_, and the sick man said: “May God forgive you,” and the deaf man took his leave.
It is related that a rich man in the city of Balkh possessed a garden pleasant to behold as the roses on the cheeks of fairies, adorned with various fragrant plants, blossoming flowers, and fruit-bearing trees. In that garden a little bird took up its abode and amused itself by casting the fruits, whether they were ripe or not, on the ground. Whenever the gardener entered and beheld the damage thus occasioned, the bottom of his heart was stung with the thorn of grief, and the blooming verdure of the spring of his joy became withered by the cold blasts of the autumn of that event. Though he rubbed the hands of regret much on each other, he could not remedy the evil until he had spread a net in the haunts of the bird, which was soon made a prisoner. When the gardener discovered his good fortune he joyfully leaped from his ambush, caught hold of the little bird, intending to despatch it to the regions of non-existence. In its extremity the feathered captive thus spoke to the gardener: “Ornament of the world of intelligence! may the paradise of your good wishes always be the recipient of various divine favours! Consider that if you destroy me, your loss cannot be repaired, and that he who dies is saved from all the troubles of this world. But as I am to be killed for acts which you deem improper, the love of life impels me to make a statement, if you will permit me, after which you may do as you choose; but remember that patience is a virtue of the high-minded, and hastiness a failing of foolish men.”[259] The gardener, whose wrath had somewhat abated during the address of the little bird, replied: “Before the whirlwind of death blows in the field of your life, you are at liberty to say what you desire to say.”