r.'

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.'

At these words the Bassa rent his robe for joy, and embracing Neangir,
he cried, 'Oh, my son, my son, have I found you at last? Do you not come
from the house of Mohammed and Zinebi?'

'Yes, my lord,' replied Neangir, 'it was they who took care of me during
my misfortune, and taught me by their example to be less worthy of
belonging to you.'

'Blessed be the Prophet,' said the Bassa, 'who has restored one of my
sons to me, at the time I least expected it! You know,' he continued,
addressing the Cadi, 'that during the first years of my marriage I had
three sons by the beautiful Zambac. When he was three years old a holy
dervish gave the eldest a string of the finest coral, saying "Keep this
treasure carefully, and be faithful to the Prophet, and you will be
happy." To the second, who now stands before you, he presented a copper
plate on which the name of Mahomet was engraved in seven languages,
telling him never to part from his turban, which was the sign of a true
believer, and he would taste the greatest of all joys; while on the
right arm of the third the dervish clasped a bracelet with the prayer
that his right hand should be pure and the left spotless, so that he
might never know sorrow.

'My eldest son neglected the counsel of the dervish and terrible
troubles fell on him, as also on the youngest. To preserve the second
from similar misfortunes I brought him up in a lonely place, under the
care of a faithful servant named Gouloucou, while I was fighting the
enemies of our Holy Faith. On my return from the wars I hastened to
embrace my son, but both he and Gouloucou had vanished, and it is only a
few months since that I learned that the boy was living with a man
called Mohammed, whom I suspected of having stolen him. Tell me, my son,
how it came about that you fell into his hands.'

'My lord,' rep