"Yes, my father."
"Tell me: which did you choose?"
"The most beautiful of all," exclaimed the Prince; "the fairest of the stars, the rose that perfumes the gardens."
"The stars are all brilliant," said the King, "and each flower sheds its perfume. Answer me, my son; which is the lady of your choice?"
"My father, it is the veiled lady."
"Unfortunate boy, you are lost!" cried the monarch. "It is the Queen of Golconda, the prisoner of Magor, the King of the Magicians, that you have chosen. My poor son! to make her your queen you must take her away from that terrible sorcerer."
"Well, my father," cried the enthusiastic young prince, "I will be her deliverer!"
"Alas, my son!" said the King, "I fear you will fail, and then you will be turned into a statue of stone."
"The risk is mine," cried Prince Erian. "I shall overcome him."
"Ah, my son! your defeat is certain. Remain with me."