e passage into the hall. He placed himself in the
midst, and cried with great earnestness,

"Who dares here to usurp Jussuf's place? Who dares here to pass for
Jussuf's wife? I am Jussuf, who was thought lost! Where is the
impostor? Let him come here, that he may receive the just reward of
his treachery."

Whilst he spoke a richly-dressed man, but unknown to him, approached,
and said,

"You speak of deceit! Nobody here passes for Jussuf but yourself. We
expected him, because we have sure knowledge that he has landed
to-day. You may be the expected one. Now for the proof: what word will
your lips breathe on this talisman?" He held to him Modibjah's
talisman. Jussuf looked astonished and surprised, for the spark had
disappeared.

"Haschanascha!" he cried, with a sigh. The spark shone out clear, and
a veiled lady walked forth from the circle of numerous assembled
guests, and asked, as she threw her veil back, "Do you remember
Haschanascha, your betrothed?" But he looked at her with marks of
astonished joy. There were indeed the beautiful features of her face,
the mild look of her soft eyes, the happy seriousness that reigned in
Haschanascha's forehead; but her dark complexion had disappeared, and
in its place played a soft blush, like the first breath of dawn, on
her cheeks.

"Haschanascha!" cried he, at last awaking from his astonishment, "are
you indeed she? I can no longer trust my senses, since I have been
lost in so many adventures and dreams, that I cannot distinguish
between reality and dreaming. Is it possible that you live? You were
dead through my guilt."

"Ask not after what is past," said Modibjah's voice. "The King of the
Genii has selected you to be his favourite on earth. Two daughters of
genii were destined to try to lead you different ways; human nature
nearly conquered, but you came out at last victorious from the fight.
You have chosen the nobler. May she adorn your life with greater joy,
as she helped you to conquer your selfishness, which bound you in
weakness to the form you carried in the box! This is Haschanascha, the
sister of your friend Hassan Assad, who has carried on your business
since you separated from him near Shiraz. I am uncle to both; and that
your wife may not enter your house as a beggar, here are the presents
destined for the wedding present, which you saw under the ruins of the
destroyed capital."

With these words he embraced Jussuf, who was again lost in
astonishment. Th