The sultan immediately returned to the city with his army, and re-entered his palace victorious, amidst the acclamations of the people, who followed him in crowds, praying to heaven to prolong his life, and extolling Codadad to the skies.  They found Pirouzè and her daughter-in-law waiting to congratulate the sultan; but words cannot express the transports of joy they felt, when they saw the young prince with him:  their embraces were mingled with tears of a very different kind from those they had before shed for him.  When they had sufficiently yielded to all the emotions that the ties of blood and love inspired, they asked Codadad by what miracle he came to be still alive?

He answered, that a peasant mounted on a mule happening accidentally to come into the tent, where he lay senseless, and perceiving him alone, and stabbed in several places, had made him fast on his mule, and carried him to his house, where he applied to his wounds certain herbs chewed, which recovered him.  “When I found myself well,” added he, “I returned thanks to the peasant, and gave him all the diamonds I had.  I then made for the city of Harran; but being informed by the way, that some neighbouring princes had gathered forces, and were on their march against the sultan’s subjects, I made myself known to the villagers, and stirred them up to undertake his defence.  I armed a great number of young men, and heading them, happened to arrive at the time when the two armies were engaged.”

When he had done speaking, the sultan said, “Let us return thanks to God for having preserved Codadad; but it is requisite that the traitors, who would have destroyed him, should perish.”  “Sir,” answered the generous prince, “though they are wicked and ungrateful, consider they are your own flesh and blood:  they are my brothers; I forgive their offence, and beg you to pardon them.”  This generosity drew tears from the sultan, who caused the people to be assembled and declared Codadad his heir.  He then ordered the princes, who were prisoners, to be brought out loaded with irons.  Pirouzè’s son struck off their chains, and embraced them all successively, with as much sincerity and affection as he had done in the court of the black’s castle.  The people were charmed with Codadad’s generosity, and loaded him with applause.  The surgeon was next nobly rewarded in requital of the services he had done the princess of Deryabar.

The story of Abou Hassan, or the sleeper
awakened.

In the reign of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed, there lived at Bagdad a very rich merchant, who, having married a woman advanced in years, had but one son, whom he named Abou Hassan, and educated with great restraint:  when his son was thirty years old, the merchant dying, left him his sole heir, and master of great riches, amassed together by much frugality and close application to business.  Abou Hassan,