stood before it, lost in admiration over the splendor of the embroidery
and the various shades of velvet and silk. He could not refrain from
trying it on; and behold, it fitted him as perfectly as though it had
been made for him. "Am I not as good a prince as anybody?" said he to
himself, while striding up and down the room. "Has not the master said
that I was born to be a prince?" With the clothes, the journeyman
seemed to have adopted some quite royal sentiments; he could not banish
from his mind the fancy that he was the unacknowledged son of a king;
and as such, he resolved to travel about the world, leaving a place
where the people had been so foolish as not to recognize his true rank
under the cover of his present low position. The splendid costume
seemed to him sent by a good fairy. He therefore took care not to
slight so welcome a present, pocketed what little ready money he
possessed, and, favored by the darkness of the night, strolled out of
Alexandria's gate.

Wherever he appeared, the new prince created quite a sensation; as the
splendor of his dress and his grave and majestic air were hardly in
keeping with his mode of traveling. When he was questioned on this
subject, he was accustomed to reply, in a mysterious way, that there
were some very good reasons for his traveling afoot. But when he
noticed that he was making himself ridiculous by his foot wanderings,
he invested a small sum in an old horse, which was very well adapted to
his wants, as, by its lack of speed and spirit, he was never forced
into the embarrassing position of showing his skill as a rider--a thing
quite out of his line.

One day, as he walked Murva (such was the name he had given his horse)
along the road, he was overtaken by a horseman who requested permission
to travel with him, as the road would seem much shorter if he could
enjoy Labakan's company. The horseman was a merry young man, of
pleasing appearance and conversation. He began talking with Labakan,
asking where he had come from and where he was going; and it soon
appeared that he, too, like the journeyman-tailor, was traveling about
the world without any definite plan. He said that his name was Omar;
that he was the nephew of Elsi Bey, the unfortunate Pasha of Cairo, and
was traveling in order to execute a charge that his uncle had confided
to him on his death-bed. Labakan was not so communicative about his own
affairs, but gave Omar to understand that he was of high descent,