The Sheik offered ransom money, but the Franks would not part with the boy, because they believed that if they kept him long enough the father would be glad to pay even the most extortionate price for his release. But suddenly they were recalled to their own land, and as they had not time to bargain with the Sheik before embarking, they carried the boy Kairam with them. The boy’s mother died of a broken heart and the poor old man never ceased to grieve for his son. Every year, upon the anniversary of the day his son was captured, he made a rule of setting at liberty twelve slaves. In order to divert his mind from his sorrow, the twelve who were about to be liberated each had to recount to him a story, and when this had been done they were released. Upon one of these anniversaries some ten or eleven years after Kairam’s abduction, the Sheik took his seat on the floor, for his mourning for his son forbade him to sit upon the carpet of joy, his friends and acquaintance, who had come to comfort him, sat near him, and close beside him was Mustapha, the Dervish, who was his closest friend and had been his son’s instructor. The slaves who were about to be released were gathered before him; some were old and some young, but the one who called for the most attention was a tall and very handsome young man, whom the Sheik had purchased for a large sum of money, only a few days previously, of a slave trader from Tunis. When several of the slaves had told their stories and it came to this young man’s turn, he arose, bowed to the Sheik, and said in a clear voice: “My Lord, the stories that have already been told are so much more interesting than any I could tell relating to myself, that with your permission I will recount to you the adventures of one of my friends. “Upon the slave ship which brought me from Algeria there was a young man of about my own age who seemed to have been born to a better position than that in which I found him. “The rest of the unfortunate beings upon the ship were either of a low class, so that I did not care to mix with them, or else spoke a language I did not understand, and so, whenever I had any spare time, I spent it with this young man. His name was Almansor, and, by the manner in which he spoke, I judged him to be an Egyptian. “We took great pleasure in each other’s society, and one day we told each other our stories, and his seemed certainly more interesting than mine. “Almansor’s father held a distinguished position in an Egyptian town. He spent the days of his childhood surrounded by every comfort, although he was not spoilt or allowed to become effeminate, for his father was a wise man and trained him to be good and virtuous, and gave him for his instructor a very learned man who taught him all that a youth should know. Almansor was about ten years of age when the Franks came from over the sea and made war upon his nation.