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he questioned him of his yesterday’s case and he told him how he had fared, saying, ‘O my brother, when the cuckold knocked at the door, I would have entered the chest; but his wife forbade me and rolled me up in the rug. The man entered and thought of nothing but the chest; so he broke it open and abode as he were a madman, going up and coming down. Then he went his way and I came out and we abode on our wonted case till eventide, when she gave me this shirt of her husband’s; and behold, I am going to her.’
When the druggist heard the singer’s words, he was certified of the case and knew that the calamity, all of it, was in his own house and that the wife was his wife; and he saw the shirt, whereupon he redoubled in certainty and said to the singer, ‘Art thou now going to her?’ ‘Yes, O my brother,’ answered he and taking leave of him, went away; whereupon the druggist started up, as he were a madman, and ungarnished his shop.[1] Whilst he was thus engaged, the singer won to the house, and presently up came the druggist and knocked at the door. The singer would have wrapped himself up in the rug, but she forbade him and said to him, ‘Get thee down to the bottom of the house and enter the oven[2] and shut the lid upon thyself.’ So he did as she bade him and she went down to her husband and opened the door to him, whereupon he entered and went round about the
