I will show you a way how to mortify him, so that he will never torment you more; nay, I believe it will make him leave the school:  When he comes again to-morrow, and if you have a mind to play together, set yourselves round him, and do one of you call out, Come let us play, but upon condition, that he who desires to play shall tell his own name, and the names of his father and mother; and they who refuse it shall be esteemed bastards, and not suffered to play in our company.  Next day, accordingly, when they were gathered together, they failed not to follow their master’s instructions:  they placed themselves round Agib, and one of them called out, Let us begin a play, but on condition, that he who cannot tell his own name, with that of his father and mother, shall not play at all.  They all cried out, and so did Agib, We consent to it.  Then he that spoke first asked every one the question, and all fulfilled the condition except Agib, who answered, My name is Agib, my mother is called the lady of beauty, and my father Schemseddih Mohammed, vizier to the sultan.

At these words the children cried out, Agib, What do you say?  That is not the name of your father, but of your grandfather.  A curse on you, said he in a passion:  What! dare you say that the vizier Schemseddin is not my father?  No, no, cried they, with great laughter, he is but your grandfather, and you shall not play with us; nay, we will take care how we come into your company.  Having spoken thus, they left him, scoffing and laughing among themselves, which mortified Agib so much that he wept.  The schoolmaster, who was near, and heard all that passed, came just at the nick of time, and speaking to Agib, says, Agib, do not you know that the vizier Schemseddin is not your father, but your grandfather, and the father of your mother, the lady of beauty?  We know not the name of your father any more than you do; but only know that the sultan was going to marry your mother to one of his grooms, a hump-back fellow, but a genius lay with her.  This is hard upon you, and ought to teach you to treat your school-fellows with less haughtiness than you have done hitherto.  Little Agib, being nettled at this, ran hastily out of the school, and went home crying.  He came straight to his mother’s chamber, who, being alarmed to see him thus grieved, asked him the reason.  He could not answer for tears, and it was but now and then he could speak plain enough to repeat what had been the occasion of his sorrow.  Having come to himself, Mother, said he, for the love of God, be pleased to tell me who is my father.  My son, said she, Schemseddin Mohammed, that every day makes so much of you, is your father.  You do not tell me truth, said he; he is your father, not mine; but whose son am I?  At this question, the lady of beauty, calling to mind her wedding-night, which had been succeeded by a long widowhood, began to shed tears, repining bitterly at the loss of so lovely a husband as Bedreddin.  Whilst she and Agib were