Now contemporary with Abdallah the Good there was a governor of Siout named Omar the Evil. He had gained a great reputation in the country by his cruelties and oppressions, and was feared by high and low. Several times had he treated the Waled Allah with violence and indignity, bestowing upon them the name of Waled Sheitan, or Children of the Devil, and otherwise vexing and annoying them, besides levying heavy tribute, and punishing with extreme severity the slightest offense. One day he happened to be riding along in the neighborhood of their encampment when he observed Ali trying the paces of a handsome horse which he had purchased. Covetousness entered his mind, and calling to the youth, he said, "What is the price of thy horse?" "It is not for sale," was the reply. No sooner were the words uttered than Omar made a signal to his men, who rushed forward, threw the young man to the ground in spite of his resistance, and leaving him there, returned leading the horse. Omar commanded them to bring it with them, and rode away, laughing heartily at his exploit. But Ali was not the man to submit tamely to such injustice. He endeavored at first to rouse the passions of his tribe, but not succeeding, resolved to revenge himself or die in the attempt. One night, therefore, he took a sharp dagger, disguised himself, and lurking about the governor's palace, contrived to introduce himself without being seen, and to reach the garden, where he had heard it was the custom of Omar to repose awhile as he waited for his supper. A light guided him to the kiosque where the tyrant slept alone, not knowing that vengeance was nigh. Ali paused a moment, doubting whether it was just to strike an unprepared foe; but he remembered all his tribe had suffered as well as himself, and raising his dagger, advanced stealthily toward the couch where the huge form of the governor lay. A slight figure suddenly interposed between him and the sleeping man. It was that of a young girl, who, with terror in her looks, waved him back. "What wouldst thou, youth?" she inquired. "I come to slay that enemy," replied Ali, endeavoring to pass her and effect his purpose while there was yet time. "It is my father," said she, still standing in the way and awing him by the power of her beauty. "Thy father is a tyrant, and deserves to die." "If he be a tyrant he is still my father; and thou, why shouldst thou condemn him?" "He has injured me and my tribe." "Let injuries be forgiven, as we are commanded. I will speak for thee and thy tribe. Is not thy life valuable to thee? Retire ere it be too late; and by my mother, who is dead, I swear to thee that I will cause justice to be done." "Not from any hopes of justice, but as a homage to God for having created such marvelous beauty, do I retire and spare the life of that man which I hold in my hands."