Behold your brother Codadad!  I have received my being, as well as you, from the sultan of Harran, the prince of Samaria brought me up, and the princess Pirouzè is my mother.  Madam,” added he, addressing himself to the Princess of Deryabar, “do you also forgive me for having concealed my birth from you?  Perhaps, by discovering it sooner, I might have prevented some disagreeable reflections, which may have been occasioned by a match you may have thought unequal.”  “No, sir,” answered the princess, “the opinion I at first conceived of you heightened every moment, and you did not stand in need of the extraction you now discover to make me happy.”

The princes congratulated Codadad on his birth, and expressed much satisfaction at being made acquainted with it.  But in reality, instead of rejoicing, their hatred of so amiable a brother was increased.  They met together at night, whilst Codadad and the princess his wife lay asleep in their tent.  Those ungrateful, those envious brothers, forgetting that had it not been for the brave son of Pirouzè they must have been devoured by the black, agreed among themselves to murder him.  “We have no other course to choose,” said one of them, “for the moment our father shall come to understand that this stranger of whom he is already so fond, is our brother, and that he alone has been able to destroy a giant, whom we could not all of us together conquer, he will declare him his heir, to the prejudice of all his brothers, who will be obliged to obey and fall down before him.”  He added much more, which made such an impression on their envious and unnatural minds, that they immediately repaired to Codadad, then asleep, stabbed him repeatedly, and leaving him for dead in the arms of the princess of Deryabar, proceeded on their journey for the city of Harran, where they arrived the next day.

The sultan their father conceived the greater joy at their return, because he had despaired of ever seeing them again:  he asked what had been the occasion of their stay?  But they took care not to acquaint him with it, making no mention either of the black or of Codadad; and only said, that, being curious to see different countries, they had spent some time in the neighbouring cities.

In the mean time Codadad lay in his tent weltering in his blood, and little differing from a dead man, with the princess his wife, who seemed to be in not much better condition than himself.  She rent the air with her dismal shrieks, tore her hair, and bathing her husband’s body with her tears, “Alas!  Codadad, my dear Codadad,” cried she, “is it you whom I behold just departing this life?  What cruel hands have put you into this condition?  Can I believe these are your brothers who have treated you so unmercifully, those brothers whom thy valour had saved?  No, they are rather devils, who under characters so dear came to murder you.  O barbarous wretches! how could you make so ungrateful a return