Schemseddin Mohammed returned to his daughter’s chamber more astonished than before. Well, then, my abused daughter, said he, can you give me no farther light into this matter? --Sir, said she, I can give you no other account than what I have done already. Here are my husband’s clothes, which he left upon the chair; perhaps you may find somewhat there, that may solve your doubt. Then she showed him Bedreddin’s turban, which he took and examined narrowly on all sides. I should take this to be a vizier’s turban, if it were not made after the Moussoul [61] fashion. But perceiving somewhat to be sewed between the stuff and the lining, he called for scissors, and having unript it, found the paper which Nourreddin Ali gave Bedreddin, his son, as he was dying, and which he had put into his turban for more security. Schemseddin Mohammed having opened the paper, knew his brother Nourreddin’s hand, and found this superscription, ‘For my son, Bedreddin Hassan.’ Before he could make any reflections upon it, his daughter delivered him the bag that lay under his clothes, which he likewise opened, and found it full of sequins; for, as I told you before, notwithstanding all the liberality of Bedreddin, it was still kept full by the genie and fairy. He read these following words upon a note in the bag: ‘A thousand sequins belonging to Isaac the Jew.’ And these lines underneath, which the Jew wrote before he parted from Bedreddin Hassan. ‘Delivered to Bedreddin Hassan, for the cargo of the first of those ships that formerly belonged to Nourreddin Ali, his father, of worthy memory, sold unto me upon its arrival in this place.’ He had scarce read these words, when he gave a shout, and fainted away. The vizier, Schemseddin Mohammed, being recovered from his fit by the help of his daughter, and the woman she called to her assistance. Daughter, said he, do not frighten yourself at this accident; the reason of it is such as you can scarcely believe. Your bridegroom is your cousin, the son of Nourreddin Ali. The thousand sequins in the bag puts me in mind of a quarrel I had with my dear brother; it is, without doubt, the dowry he gives you. God be praised for all things, and particularly for this miraculous adventure, which demonstrates his almighty power. Then looking again upon his brother’s writing, he kissed it several times, shedding abundance of tears. He looked over the book from one end to the other, where he found the date of his brother’s arrival at Balsora, of his marriage, and of the birth of Bedreddin Hassan; and when he compared the same with the day of his own marriage, and the birth of his daughter at Cairo, he admired how every thing did agree so exactly.