“Yes, sire,” answered the dervish; “if I am not mistaken, it is the illness of the princess which has procured me this honour.”

“You are right,” returned the Sultan, “and you will give me fresh life if you can by your prayers deliver my daughter from the strange malady that has taken possession of her.”

“Let your highness command her to come here, and I will see what I can do.”

The Sultan, full of hope, sent orders at once that the princess was to set out as soon as possible, accompanied by her usual staff of attendants.  When she arrived, she was so thickly veiled that the dervish could not see her face, but he desired a brazier to be held over her head, and laid the seven hairs on the burning coals.  The instant they were consumed, terrific cries were heard, but no one could tell from whom they proceeded.  Only the dervish guessed that they were uttered by Maimoum the son of Dimdim, who felt the princess escaping him.

All this time she had seemed unconscious of what she was doing, but now she raised her hand to her veil and uncovered her face.  “Where am I?” she said in a bewildered manner; “and how did I get here?”

The Sultan was so delighted to hear these words that he not only embraced his daughter, but kissed the hand of the dervish.  Then, turning to his attendants who stood round, he said to them, “What reward shall I give to the man who has restored me my daughter?”

They all replied with one accord that he deserved the hand of the princess.

“That is my own opinion,” said he, “and from this moment I declare him to be my son-in-law.”

Shortly after these events, the grand-vizir died, and his post was given to the dervish.  But he did not hold it for long, for the Sultan fell a victim to an attack of illness, and as he had no sons, the soldiers and priests declared the dervish heir to the throne, to the great joy of all the people.

One day, when the dervish, who had now become Sultan, was making a royal progress with his court, he perceived the envious man standing in the crowd.  He made a sign to one of his vizirs, and whispered in his ear, “Fetch me that man who is standing out there, but take great care not to frighten him.”  The vizir obeyed, and when the envious man was brought before the Sultan, the monarch said to him, “My friend, I am delighted to see you again.”  Then turning to an officer, he added, “Give him a thousand pieces of gold out of my treasury, and twenty waggon-loads of merchandise out of my private stores, and let an escort of soldiers accompany him home.”  He then took leave of the envious man, and went on his way.

Now when I had ended my story, I proceeded to show the genius how to apply it to himself.  “O genius,” I said, “you see that this Sultan was not content with merely forgiving the envious man for the attempt on his life; he heaped rewards and riches upon him.”

But the genius had made up his mind, and could not be softened.  “Do not imagine that you are going to escape so easily,” he said.  “All I can do is to give you bare life; you will have to learn what happens to people who interfere with me.”