The next day all his sorrows returned with tenfold force. He felt himself lonelier and poorer than ever, and in a fit of despair he thrust his turban on his head, stuck his sword in his belt, and left the house determined to seek an explanation from the merchant who had sold him the silver watch. When Neangir reached the bazaar he found the man he sought was absent from his shop, and his place filled by another Jew. ‘It is my brother you want,’ said he; ‘we keep the shop in turn, and in turn go into the city to do our business.’ ‘Ah! what business?’ cried Neangir in a fury. ‘You are the brother of a scoundrel who sold me yesterday a watch that ran away in the night. But I will find it somehow, or else you shall pay for it, as you are his brother!’ ‘What is that you say?’ asked the Jew, around whom a crowd had rapidly gathered. ‘A watch that ran away. If it had been a cask of wine, your story might be true, but a watch--! That is hardly possible!’ ‘The Cadi shall say whether it is possible or not,’ replied Neangir, who at that moment perceived the other Jew enter the bazaar. Darting up, he seized him by the arm and dragged him to the Cadi’s house; but not before the man whom he had found in the shop contrived to whisper to his brother, in a tone loud enough for Neangir to hear, ‘Confess nothing, or we shall both be lost.’ When the Cadi was informed of what had taken place he ordered the crowd to be dispersed by blows, after the Turkish manner, and then asked Neangir to state his complaint. After hearing the young man’s story, which seemed to him most extraordinary, he turned to question the Jewish merchant, who instead of answering raised his eyes to heaven and fell down in a dead faint. The judge took no notice of the swooning man, but told Neangir that his tale was so singular he really could not believe it, and that he should have the merchant carried back to his own house. This so enraged Neangir that he forgot the respect due to the Cadi, and exclaimed at the top of his voice, ‘Recover this fellow from his fainting fit, and force him to confess the truth,’ giving the Jew as he spoke a blow with his sword which caused him to utter a piercing scream. ‘You see for yourself,’ said the Jew to the Cadi, ‘that this young man is out of his mind. I forgive him his blow, but do not, I pray you, leave me in his power.’ At that moment the Bassa chanced to pass the Cadi’s house, and hearing a great noise, entered to inquire the cause. When the matter was explained he looked attentively at Neangir, and asked him gently how all these marvels could possibly have happened. ‘My lord,’ replied Neangir, ‘I swear I have spoken the truth, and perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that I myself have been the victim of spells wrought by people of this kind, who should be rooted out from the earth. For three years I was changed into a three-legged pot, and only returned to man’s shape when one day a turban was laid upon my lid.’