He rose lightly to his feet, though with a tearful face, and the Jew straightway counted out to him a great sum of money, to deal with in the future as he had dealt with his own. But he had lost the desire to play, for he remembered too plainly that of such mirth comes bitterness. The scalded man hates boiling water, and well he knew, and clearly he perceived, that he who is in rags goes shivering in the wind. The honest merchant--whom God kept in charge--went forth with a light heart, that leaped and fluttered in his breast, because of the wealth he had in seisin. He bargained for a bark that lay in harbour, and since he had much skill in such business, he stored the ship with divers kinds of merchandise. Then putting his trust in God, and commending body and goods to His keeping, he hoisted sail, and set forth upon the water. He voyaged to divers lands, and trafficked with the merchants thereof to such purpose, that before the year had gone by he was no more in dread of beggary. God increased his store, so that he prospered in every market. But the gains and riches of the merchant in nowise made him grudging of his substance. Freely was given to him, freely he gave to others, for the love of God Who for every man ripens His harvest. In a short while the merchant became very rich. One market opened another market, and money made more money. So greatly did his substance multiply that at the end, the story tells us, he might not keep the count of his wealth. So to set field by field, and house by house, he travelled in many strange lands. One day darkened, and the next day dawned, but he never gave thought to that certain day when he must return to the Jew the loan of which he had made so fruitful a use. He called it not to mind until there was but one single day between him and the appointed time, and as it chanced he bethought him thereof when he was at sea. He well-nigh swooned when the day came to his heart and memory. "Ah, gentle Lady of the King of Glory! sweet Maid and debonair!" cried he; "unhappy wretch, what can I do?" So sore was his grief that with clenched hands he beat upon his breast, and presently with locked teeth fell fainting to the deck, where he lay senseless for a great space. The sailors ran to his succour, and, pressing about him, cried out and lamented his evil case, for certainly they deemed that he was dead. Passing heavy were they at this sad mischance, for not one word could they draw from his lips, nor for all their pains might they find in him either pulse or breath. When he was returned a little from his swoon, he addressed himself to prayer, weeping and sighing for a great while, because for grief he found no words to say.