you should stick to the needle. To be sure, you do not deserve my
pardon; but some one has interceded for you, to whom I can refuse
nothing to-day; therefore I spare you your miserable life. But, to give
you some good advice--you had better make haste to get out of my
kingdom."

Ashamed, ruined as were all his pretensions, the poor journeyman-tailor
could not reply. He threw himself at the feet of the prince, in tears.
"Can you forgive me, Prince?" said he.

"Loyalty to a friend, magnanimity to a foe, is the boast of the
Abasside," replied the prince, as he raised him up. "Go in peace!"

"Oh, my true son!" cried the aged sultan, with deep emotion, and sank
on the breast of Omar. The emirs and pashas, and all the nobility of
the kingdom, rose from their seats, and cried: "Hail to the new son of
the king!" and amidst the universal joy, Labakan stole out of the room
with the little box under his arm.

He went below to the stables of the sultan, saddled his horse, Murva,
and rode out of the gate of the city towards Alexandria. His life as a
prince appeared to him as a dream, and the splendid little box, set
with pearls and diamonds, was the only thing left to remind him that he
had not dreamed.

[Illustration]

When he at length reached Alexandria, he rode up to the house of his
old master, dismounted, tied his horse near the door, and entered the
workshop. The master, not knowing him at first, made an obeisance, and
asked him what might be his pleasure But on taking a closer look, and
recognizing Labakan, he called to his journeymen and apprentices, and
they all rushed angrily at the poor Labakan, who was not expecting such
a reception, kicked and beat him with their irons and yard sticks,
pricked him with needles, and nipped him with sharp shears, until,
utterly exhausted, he sank down on a heap of old clothes.

While he lay there, the master gave him a lecture on the clothes he had
stolen. In vain did Labakan assure him that he had come back in order
to make restitution; all in vain did he offer him three-fold indemnity;
the master and his men fell upon him again, beat him black and blue,
and threw him out of the door. Torn and bruised, Labakan crawled on his
horse and rode to a caravansary. Then he laid his tired and aching head
on a pillow, and reflected on the sorrows of earth, on unappreciated
merit, and on the vanity and fickleness of riches. He fell asleep with
the resolution to forswear all greatness, an