Hassan had disappeared, the three men led Mustapha up to the
master of the tent, who was now reclining on the cushions, saying: "We
have brought you the man whom you ordered us to capture." The Strong
One looked for some time at the prisoner, and then said: "Pasha of
Sulieika, your own conscience will tell you why your are the prisoner
of Orbasan."

When my brother heard this, he threw himself down before Orbasan, and
answered "Oh, Master, you have made a mistake. I am only a poor
unfortunate man, and not the Pasha whom you seek."

All in the tent were surprised at these words. But the master of the
tent replied--

"It will not help you much to deny your identity, as I will produce
people who know you well." He then commanded Zuleima to be brought. An
old woman was led in, who, in response to the question whether she did
not recognize in my brother the Pasha of Sulieika, said--

"Certainly! I swear by the graves of the prophets that he is the Pasha
and no other."

"Do you see, poor fool, how your stratagem is frustrated?" sneered
Orbasan. "You are so miserable a creature that I will not soil my
dagger with your blood; but when to-morrow's sun rises, I will tie you
to my horse's tail and chase through the forests with you until the sun
sets behind the hills of Sulieika."

At this announcement my brother's courage entirely deserted him. "This
is the result of my cruel father's curse that is driving me to an
ignominious death!" exclaimed he, in tears. "And thou, too, sweet
sister, and thou, Zoraide, art lost!"

"Your dissimulation will avail you nothing," said one of the robbers,
who was engaged in tying Mustapha's hands behind his back. "Get out of
the tent quickly, for the Strong One is biting his lips and glancing at
his dagger. If you would live another night, come quickly!"

As the robbers were leading my brother out of the tent, they
encountered three others, who were pushing in a prisoner before them.
"We have brought you the Pasha as you commanded us," said they, and led
the prisoner up to the cushions where Orbasan reclined. While the
prisoner was being led forward, my brother had an opportunity to
observe him closely, and he was forced to acknowledge the striking
resemblance which this man bore to him, only the stranger's complexion
was darker and he wore a black beard.

Orbasan seemed much astonished over the appearance of the second
prisoner. "Which of you, then, is the right one?" asked he, looking