Before the Sultan allowed either of the young men to open their caskets he sent for a ewer of water from the holy stream in Mecca, and, having washed his hands, he turned his face towards the East and prayed to the Prophet that he would allow this test to decide beyond all doubt the identity of the rightful prince. Then he arose and bade the young men open their caskets, but although before it had been found impossible to raise the lids they now flew open of their own accord. Inside Omar’s casket, upon a tiny velvet cushion, lay a little golden crown and sceptre, but within Labakan’s lay a needle and thread. The Sultan commanded them to bring the caskets to him. He took the little crown from its velvet bed and immediately it began to increase in size until it was large enough to set upon his son’s head, which the Sultan did, bidding Omar sit down at his right hand. Then turning to Labakan, he said: “There is an old proverb, ‘The shoemaker must stick to his last,’ and it seems that you must stick to your needle. Had it not been that someone, to whom I can deny nothing, has pleaded for you, it would have gone hardly with you, but as it is I will spare your wretched life, but I warn you to hasten to leave my country.” Ashamed and repentant, Labakan cast himself at the feet of the prince. “Can you ever forgive me my treachery?” he cried, with tears in his eyes. “‘Faithful to a friend, generous to an enemy,’ is the motto of our race,” answered the prince--“therefore I bid thee ‘go in peace.’” “You are indeed my son,” cried the aged Sultan, embracing him, and all the pashas and emirs rose and shouted: “Hail to the king’s son, hail to our noble prince.” During the noise occasioned by these general rejoicings, Labakan, his casket beneath his arm, slipped unperceived from the room. He hurried down to the stable, bridled his horse Murva, and rode out of the gateway in the direction of Alexandria. His life as prince appeared to him now like a brief but splendid dream, only the beautiful casket set with pearls and diamonds remained to remind him that he had not dreamt it all. When at length he reached Alexandria, he rode to the shop of his former master, dismounted, fastened his horse to the door-post and went in. His master, who did not recognise him at first, bowed and asked what he might require, but when he looked at the supposed customer more closely he saw who he was and, calling his apprentices and pupils to come to his assistance, they all set upon Labakan and beat him soundly with whatever they happened to have in their hands, flat irons, measures, shears, and so on, until at last the poor fellow fell at their feet as limp as a heap of old clothes.