And the yellow stone swelled again, and hissed and foamed as if it were about to burst.
Then the damsel told how the negress had deceived her, how instead of her the Bey had taken the negress to wife.
And all this time the yellow stone went on swelling and hissing and foaming as if there were a real living heart inside it, till suddenly it burst and turned to ashes.
Then the damsel took the little knife by the handle and said: "Oh, thou yellow patience-stone, thou wert but a stone, and yet thou couldst not endure that I, a tender little damsel, a poor little damsel, should thus be thrust out." And with that she would have buried the knife in her breast, but the Bey rushed forward and snatched away the knife.
"Thou art my real true Kismet," cried the youth, as he took her into the upper chamber in the place of the negress. But the treacherous negress they slew, and they sent for the damsel's mother and all lived together with great joy.
And the little bird came sometimes and perched in the window of the palace, and sang his joyful lay. And this is what he sang: "Oh, little damsel, happy little damsel, that hast found thy Kismet!"
