The rider's gestures had been seen while he was still at a distance; but now, in spite of the feeble trot of his horse, he had arrived at the foot of the hill, thrown himself from his horse, and rushed up the hill. "Stay, there!" cried he, "Stop, whoever you may be, and do not let yourselves be misled by the shameful impostor! My name is Omar, and no mortal may dare to assume my name!" Deep astonishment was expressed in the faces of the bystanders, at the turn affairs had taken, and the old prince was especially perplexed, as he looked inquiringly from one to the other. But Labakan said, with forced composure: "Most gracious Sire and Father, do not allow this person to mislead you. He is, to my certain knowledge, a crazy tailor from Alexandria, called Labakan, and more deserving of our pity than our anger." These words brought the prince to the verge of madness. Foaming with rage he attempted to spring on Labakan, but the bystanders interposed, and held him fast, while the old prince said: "Of a truth, my dear son, the poor fellow is mad; let him be bound and placed on one of our dromedaries; perhaps we may be able to render the unfortunate youth some assistance." The anger of the prince was past. He threw himself, weeping, at the feet of his father: "My heart tells me that you are my father; by the memory of my mother, I charge you to listen to me!" "Eh, God preserve us!" answered the old man. "He is beginning to talk strangely again; how does the fellow come by such stupid notions!" Thereupon he took Labakan's arm, and was conducted down the hill by him. They both mounted beautiful, richly-caparisoned horses, and rode at the head of the caravan, over the plain. The hands of the prince were bound, and he was tied fast on one of the dromedaries, while two horsemen rode on each side, and kept a careful watch on all his movements. The elderly prince was Saaud, Sultan of Wechabiten. He had lived for years without children, until finally a son, whom he had so ardently desired, was born to him. But the astrologer of whom he inquired the destiny of the boy, gave the opinion that "until his twenty-second year the child would be in danger of being supplanted by an enemy," therefore to be on the safe side, the sultan had given the prince to his tried and true friend, Elsi Bey, to be brought up, and for twenty-two painful years had waited for his home-coming. All this the sultan told his pretended son, and expressed himself as well pleased with his figure and demeanor.