your happiness, which ought now to be so much the dearer to you as it has cost you so much perplexity.  To atone for all your afflictions, comfort yourself with the joy of being in the company of those who ought to be dearest to you.  While you are dressing yourself, I shall acquaint your mother, who is beyond measure impatient to see you; and will likewise bring to you your son, whom you saw at Damascus, and for whom you showed so much affection without knowing him.  No words are sufficient to express the joy of Bedreddin when he saw his mother and his son.  These three embraced, and showed all the transports which love and tenderness can inspire.  The mother spoke to Bedreddin in the most moving terms; she mentioned the grief she had felt for his long absence, and the tears she had shed.  Little Agib, instead of flying his father’s embraces as at Damascus, received them with ail the marks of pleasure; while his father, divided between two objects so worthy of his love, thought he could not give sufficient proofs of his affection.

In the mean time Schemseddin went to the palace to give an account of the happy success of his travels to the sultan, who was so charmed with the recital, that he ordered it to be taken down in writing, and to be preserved among the archives of his kingdom.  After Schemseddin’s return to his house, having prepared a noble feast, he sat down at the table with his family, and all his household passed the day in social conviviality.

The vizier Giafar having made an end of the story of Bedreddin Hassan, told the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, that this was what he had to relate to his majesty.  The caliph found the story so surprising, that, without further hesitation, he granted his slave Rihan’s pardon, and to condole the young man for the grief of having unhappily deprived himself of a woman whom he loved so tenderly, he married him to one of his slaves, bestowed liberal gifts upon him, and entertained him until he died.

But, sir, said Scheherazade, observing that day began to appear, though the story I have how told you be agreeable, I have one that is even much more so.  If your majesty will please to hear it the next night, I am certain you will be of the same mind.  Schahriar rose without giving any answer, and was in a quandary what to do.  The good sultaness, said he within himself, tells very long stories; and when once she begins one, there is no refusing to hear it out.  I cannot tell whether I shall put her to death to-day or not.  No, surely not, I will do nothing rashly:  the story she promises is perhaps more diverting than those she has yet told, and I will not deprive myself of the pleasure of hearing it.  Dinarzade did not fail to awake the sultaness of the Indies, who thus commenced her story.

THE STORY OF THE LITTLE HUNCH-BACK.