"Can thy weapon, my brother, sever that cushion?" he
said to King Richard.
"No, surely," replied the King; "no sword on earth, were it the
Excalibur of King Arthur, can cut that which opposes no steady
resistance to the blow."
"Mark, then," said Saladin; and tucking up the sleeve of his
gown, showed his arm, thin indeed and spare, but which constant
exercise had hardened into a mass consisting of nought but bone,
brawn, and sinew. He unsheathed his scimitar, a curved and
narrow blade, which glittered not like the swords of the Franks,
but was, on the contrary, of a dull blue colour, marked with ten
millions of meandering lines, which showed how anxiously the
metal had been welded by the armourer. Wielding this weapon,
apparently so inefficient when compared to that of Richard, the
Soldan stood resting his weight upon his left foot, which was
slightly advanced; he balanced himself a little, as if to steady
his aim; then stepping at once forward, drew the scimitar across
the cushion, applying the edge so dexterously, and with so little
apparent effort, that the cushion seemed rather to fall asunder
than to be divided by violence.
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