"Formed an alliance with a Cossack leader, and made war upon the Khan. But the Khan defeated them in seven pitched battles, and that discouraged your brother so that he returned home."
"Hearty commiserations for my brothers' misfortunes!" I said, after a few moments spent in reflection. "And the Princess—is she beautiful, that she inspires such courage and resolution?"
"The Princess Vanella is an exceedingly nice girl," said my father. "She is graceful, respectful to her elders, plays upon the lute like a true daughter of the desert, makes excellent muffins, and has the happiest disposition (next to that of your lamented mother) I have ever known. She is worthy of your highest ambition. To win her hand would be happiness, even should you thereafter lose the kingdom that goes with her. And those realms, my son," added my father, with a sigh, "are always slipping through one's fingers!"
In silence I waited my father's recovery from his emotion. My loved parent had lost several kingdoms already—not by his fault, but through misfortune. From our earliest days my mother taught us never to remind Papa of the thrones that were once his. She was always considerate.
"Why should I not undertake this adventure in my turn?" I asked soon after.
"So I asked your brothers; but they were inclined to ridicule the idea."
"'Ultimate ridicule is most satisfactory,'" I suggested, quoting a proverb of my native land.
"No doubt," my father agreed, nodding his great white turban. "Really, your chances are excellent. The fairy stories are all in your favor. You are the third son, and I have nothing to give you; your elder brothers have failed, and scorn your desire to attempt the tasks. You will, when you go, have only your father's blessing—which I will furnish. All seems favorable. But are you stupid
