Zaleukos thanked the stranger for his communication, but he did not hide from him his opinion that it would be far better for one of his rank and culture, were he to live and work in Christian and European countries. He took the stranger's hand, and invited him to go with him, and to live and die with him.
Zaleukos's guest was deeply moved. "From this I know," said he, "that you have entirely forgiven me, that you even love me. Receive my heartfelt thanks."
He sprang up, and stood in all his majesty before the Greek, who shrank back at the warlike appearance, the dark glistening eyes, the deep mysterious voice of his guest. "Your proposal is good," continued he; "any other person might be persuaded; I can not accept it! My horse is saddled, my followers await me: farewell, Zaleukos!"
The friends whom destiny had so strangely united, embraced each other before parting.
"And what shall I call you? What is the name of my guest and friend who will live forever in my memory?" asked the Greek.
The stranger gave him a parting look, pressed his hand once more, and replied: "They call me the ruler of the desert; I am the Robber Orbasan."