I, on the
contrary, recollecting the lesson I had learned from the sensible
foreigner, neither suffered my spirits to sink with superstitious fears
of ill-luck, nor did I trust presumptuously to my good fortune. I took
every possible means to secure myself. I never went to bed without
having seen that all the lights and fires in the house were extinguished,
and that I had a supply of water in the cistern. I had likewise learned
from my Frenchman that wet mortar was the most effectual thing for
stopping the progress of flames. I, therefore, had a quantity of mortar
made up in one of my outhouses, which I could use at a moment's warning.
These precautions were all useful to me. My own house, indeed, was never
actually on fire; but the houses of my next-door neighbours were no less
than five times in flames in the course of one winter. By my exertions,
or rather by my precautions, they suffered but little damage, and all my
neighbours looked upon me as their deliverer and friend; they loaded me
with presents, and offered more, indeed, than I would accept. All
repeated that I was Saladin the Lucky. This compliment I disclaimed,
feeling more ambitious of being called Saladin the Prudent. It is thus
that what we call modesty is often only a more refined species of pride.
But to proceed with my story.
"One night I had been later than usual at supper at a friend's house;
none but the watch were in the streets, and even they, I believe, were
asleep.
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