"Here will I die! Let me be killed, inhuman father, for I can no longer endure this disgrace." Everyone was amazed at this speech; they crowded about the unfortunate youth, and the guards, from whom he had escaped, were about to lay hold of him and bind him again, when the sultana, who had looked on all this in speechless surprise, sprang up from the throne. "Stay, there!" cried she; "this and no other is the real prince; this is he whom my eyes have never beheld, and yet my heart has known!" The guard had involuntarily released Omar, but the sultan, burning with anger, called to them to bind the crazy fellow. "It is my business to decide here," said he, in a commanding tone, "and here one does not judge by the dreams of old women, but by certain reliable signs. This youth (pointing to Labakan) is my son, for he brought me the dagger, the true token of my friend Elsi." "He stole the dagger!" exclaimed Omar. "He abused my unsuspecting confidence with treachery!" But the sultan, accustomed to have his own way in every thing, would not listen to the voice of his son, and had the unhappy Omar forcibly dragged from the room. Then, accompanied by Labakan, he went to his own room, very angry with the sultana, with whom he had lived in peace for twenty-five years. The sultana was very unhappy over these events. She was perfectly well satisfied that an impostor had taken possession of the sultan's heart, as the unfortunate youth who had been dragged away, had often appeared in her dreams as her son. When she had in a measure quieted her sorrow, she tried to hit upon some method of convincing the sultan of his error. This was no easy task, as he who had usurped their son's place, had brought the token of recognition, the dagger, and had also, as she discovered, learned so much about Omar's early life from the prince himself, that he played his _role_ without betraying himself. She summoned the men who had accompanied the sultan to the pillar of El Serujah, in order to learn all the particulars, and then held a consultation with her most trustworthy slave-women. They chose and then rejected this and that expedient. At last Melechsalah, a wise old woman, said: "If I have heard rightly, honored mistress, the one who brought the dagger, called him whom you recognize as your son, Labakan, a crazy tailor." "Yes, that is true," answered the sultana; "but what can you make out of that?" "Suppose," continued the slave, "that this impostor had fastened his own name on your son? And if this supposition is correct, there is a fine way of catching the impostor, that I will tell to you as a secret." The sultana bent her head, and the slave whispered in her ear some expedient that seemed to please the sultana, as she prepared to go at once to the sultan.