Next day, when they were gathered together, they failed not to follow their master’s instructions; they placed themselves round Agib, and one of them called out, Let us begin a play, but on condition, that he who cannot tell his own name, and that of his father and mother, shall not play at all. They all cried out, and so did Agib, We consent to it. Then he that spoke first asked every one the question, and all fulfilled the condition except Agib, who answered, my name is Agib; my mother is called the lady of beauty, and my father Schemseddin Mohammed, vizier to the sultan. At these words all the children cried out, Agib, what did you say? That is not the name of your father, but your grandfather. A curse on you, said he in a passion; what! dare you say that the vizier Schemseddin Mohammed is not my father? No, no, cried they, with great laughter, he is but your grandfather, and you shall not play with us. Nay, we will take care how we come into your company. Having spoken thus, they all left him, scoffing him, and laughing among themselves, which mortified Agib so much that he wept. This schoolmaster, who was near, and heard all that passed, came just at the nick of time, and speaking to Agib, said he, Agib, do not you know that the vizier Schemseddin Mohammed is none of your father, but your grandfather, and the father of your mother, the lady of beauty? We know not the name of your father no more than you do. We only know that the sultan was going to marry your mother to one of his grooms, a hump-back fellow; but a genie lay with her. This is hard upon you, and ought to teach you to treat your schoolfellows with less haughtiness than you have done hitherto. Little Agib being nettled at this, ran hastily out of the school, and went home crying. He came straight to his mother’s chamber, who being alarmed to see him thus grieved, asked him the reason. He could not answer for tears, his grief was so great; and it was but now and then he could speak plain enough to repeat what had been said to him, and occasioned his sorrow. When he came to himself, Mother, said he, for the love of God be pleased to tell me who is my father. My son, said she, Schemseddin Mohammed, that every day makes so much of you, is your father. You do not tell me truth, said he; he is your father, and none of mine. But whose son am I? At this question, the lady of beauty calling to mind her wedding-night, which had been succeeded by a long widowhood, began to shed tears, repining bitterly at the loss of so lovely a husband as Bedreddin. Whilst the lady of beauty and Agib were both weeping, in comes the vizier, who demanded the reason of their sorrow. The lady told him the shame Agib had undergone at school, which so much affected the vizier, that he joined his tears with theirs, and judging from this, that the misfortune which had happened to his daughter was the common discourse of the town, he was quite out of patience.