"The few last days have informed me how insecure is fortune, how transient is wealth; but they have also taught me that, in the breast of the brave, lives what can never be destroyed, HONOR, and that the bright star of RENOWN sets not with fortune. The die is cast! should I resign a crown, Honor and Fame, you are my choice!" He placed his hand upon the casket that he had chosen, but the sultan commanded him not to unclose it, while he motioned to Labakan to advance, in like manner, before his table. He did so, and at the same time grasped his box. The sultan, however, had a chalice brought in, with water from Zemzem, the holy fountain of Mecca, washed his hands for supplication, and, turning his face to the East, prostrated himself in prayer: "God of my fathers! Thou, who for centuries hast established our family, pure and unadulterated, grant that no unworthy one disgrace the name of the Abassidae; be with thy protection near my real son, in this hour of trial." The sultan arose, and reascended his throne. Universal expectation enchained all present; they scarcely breathed; one could have heard a mouse crawl over the hall, so mute and attentive were all. The hindmost extended their necks, in order to get a view of the chests, over the heads of those in front. The sultan spoke: "Open the chests;" and they, which before no violence could force, now sprang open of their own accord. In the one which Omar had chosen, lay upon a velvet cushion, a small golden crown, and a sceptre: in Labakan's, a large needle, and a little linen thread. The sultan commanded both to bring their caskets before him: he took the little crown from the cushion in his hand, and, wonderful to see! it became larger and larger, until it reached the size of a real crown. Placing it on his son Omar, who kneeled before him, he kissed his forehead, and bade him sit upon his right hand. To Labakan, however, he turned and said:-- "There is an old proverb, 'Shoemaker, stick to thy last;' it seems that thou shouldst stick to thy needle. Thou hast not, indeed, merited much mercy at my hands, but one has supplicated for thee, whom this day I can refuse nothing; therefore give I thee thy paltry life; but, if I may advise, haste thee to leave my land." Ashamed, ruined as he was, the poor tailor could answer nothing: he threw himself before the prince, and tears came into his eyes. "Can you forgive me, prince?" he said. "To be true to a friend, magnanimous to a foe, is the pride of the Abassidae!" answered the prince, raising him. "Go in peace!" "My true son!" cried the old sultan, deeply affected, and sinking upon Omar's breast. The emirs and bashaws, and all the nobles of the realm, arose from their seats, to welcome the new prince, and amid this universal jubilee, Labakan, his chest under his arm, crept out of the saloon.