wood!" "Wherefore?" asked she; and he said, "Because of the lack of pepper in the pomegranate-seed. Meseemed they demolished my shop and broke my utensils in pieces and put me in a chest; then they sent for a carpenter to make a cross and would have crucified me thereon. But praised be God who caused all this to happen to me in sleep and not on wake!" The Lady of Beauty laughed and pressed him to her bosom, and he returned her caresses; then he thought again and said, "By Allah, I cannot help thinking it must have been a reality after all! Indeed I know not what to think of it all." Then he lay down and passed the night in a state of perplexity, saying now, "I was dreaming," and now, "I was awake," till the morning, when his uncle Shemseddin entered and saluted him. When Bedreddin saw him, he said to him, "By Allah, art thou not he who gave orders to bind me and demolish my shop and would have nailed me on a cross, and all because a mess of pomegranate-seed lacked pepper?" "O my son," replied the Vizier, "know that the truth has appeared and that which was hidden is divulged. Thou art my brother's son, and I did all this with thee but that I might certify myself that thou wast indeed he who lay with my daughter on her wedding-night. I could not be sure of this, till I saw that thou knewest the chamber and thy turban and clothes and purse and the scrolls in thy handwriting and that of my brother, for I had never seen thee and did not know thee; and I have brought thy mother with me from Bassora." So saying, he threw himself on him and they embraced and wept for excess of joy. Then said the Vizier to Bedreddin, "O my son, all this came of what passed between thy father and myself." And he told him what had taken place between them and the manner of his father's flight to Bassora; after which he sent for Agib, and when his father saw him, he exclaimed, "This is he who threw the stone at me!" Quoth the Vizier, "This is thy son." And Bedreddin threw himself on Agib and repeated the following verses: Long time have I bewailed the sev'rance of our loves, With tears that from my lids streamed down like burning rain, And vowed that, if the days should reunite us two, My lips should never speak of severance again. Joy hath o'erwhelmed me so, that for the very stress Of that which gladdens me, to weeping I am fain. Tears are become to you a habit, O my eyes! So that ye weep as well for gladness as for pain. Presently, Bedreddin's mother came in and fell on him, repeating the following verses: When we met, to each other we both did complain Of the manifold things that we each had to say; For the lover's complaint of the anguish he feels The tongue of a messenger cannot convey.