an." When my brother heard this, he bowed low and answered:--

"My lord, you appear to labor under a mistake; I am a poor
unfortunate, not the Bashaw, whom you seek." At this all were amazed;
the master of the tent, however, said:--

"Dissimulation can help you little, for I will summon the people who
know you well." He commanded them to bring in Zuleima. An old woman
was led into the tent, who, on being asked whether in my brother she
recognised the Bashaw of Sulieika, answered:--

"Yes, verily! And I swear by the grave of the Prophet, it is the
Bashaw, and no other!"

"Seest thou, wretch, that thy dissimulation has become as water?"
cried out the Mighty in a furious tone. "Thou art too pitiful for me
to stain my good dagger with thy blood, but to-morrow, when the sun is
up, will I bind thee to the tail of my horse, and gallop with thee
through the woods, until they separate behind the hills of Sulieika!"
Then sank my poor brother's courage within him.

"It is my cruel father's curse, that urges me to an ignominious
death," exclaimed he, weeping; "and thou, too, art lost, sweet
sister, and thou, Zoraida!"

"Thy dissimulation helps thee not," said one of the robbers, as he
bound his hands behind his back. "Come, out of the tent with thee! for
the Mighty is biting his lips, and feeling for his dagger. If thou
wouldst live another night, bestir thyself!"

Just as the robbers were leading my brother from the tent, they met
three of their companions, who were also pushing a captive before
them. They entered with him. "Here bring we the Bashaw, as thou hast
commanded," said they, conducting the prisoner before the cushion of
the Mighty. While they were so doing, my brother had an opportunity of
examining him, and was struck with surprise at the remarkable
resemblance which this man bore to himself; the only difference being,
that he was of more gloomy aspect, and had a black beard. The Mighty
seemed much astonished at the resemblance of the two captives.

"Which of you is the right one?" he asked, looking alternately at
Mustapha and the other.

"If thou meanest the Bashaw of Sulieika," answered the latter in a
haughty tone, "I am he!"

The Mighty regarded him for a long time with his grave, terrible eye,
and then silently motioned to them to lead him off. This having been
done, he approached my brother, severed his bonds with his dagger, and
invited him by signs to sit upon the cushion beside him. "It grieves
me