Thus 'Ala-ed-Din daily increased in fair fame and renown, and the love of him grew stronger in the hearts of all the subjects, and he was magnified in the eyes of the people. At this time, moreover, certain of the Sultan's enemies rode down against him, and the Sultan equipped the troops to resist them, and made 'Ala-ed-Din leader of the army. So 'Ala-ed-Din went with the troops, till he drew near to the enemy, whose armies were very strong.

And he drew his sword, and rushed upon the enemy, and the battle and slaughter began, and the conflict was sturdy.

But 'Ala-ed-Din broke them and dispersed them, killing the greater part, and looting their goods and provisions and cattle beyond number. Then he returned triumphant after a glorious victory, and made his entry into his city, who had adorned herself for him in her rejoicing over him. And the Sultan went forth to meet him and congratulated him and embraced and kissed him, and there was a magnificent fete and great rejoicings. And the Sultan and 'Ala-ed-Din entered the palace, where there met him his bride, the Lady Bedr-el-Budur, who was rejoicing over him, and kissed him between the eyes. And they went into her palace, and presently the Sultan and all sat down, and the damsels brought sherbets. So they drank; and the Sultan ordered throughout the kingdom that they should illuminate for the victory of 'Ala-ed-Din over the enemy. And the chiefs and the soldiers and the crowd turned [their prayers] only to God in Heaven and 'Ala-ed-Din on earth, for they loved him exceedingly, because of the excess of his bounty and generosity and his fighting for his country, and his charge, and his rout of the foe. And thus was it with 'Ala-ed-Din.

But as to the Moorish sorcerer, when he had returned to his country, he spent all this time in lamenting the labour and trouble he had taken in his quest of the Lamp, and the more because his labour was fruitless; and the morsel had fallen from his hand just as it was touching his lips. And he fell to thinking over all this, and lamented, and cursed 'Ala-ed-Din in his exceeding rage, and at times he would mutter: "That this misbegotten boy is dead below ground I am satisfied, and I hope yet to get the Lamp, since it is still safe".

One day of the days he drew a table in sand and put the figures down and examined them carefully and verified them, that he might perceive and be certified of the death of 'Ala-ed-Din and the preservation of the Lamp, beneath the ground; and he looked into the figures, both "mothers" and "daughters," intently, but he saw not the Lamp. At this, anger overcame him, and he drew the figure again, to be certain of 'Ala-ed-Din's death; but he saw him not in the Treasury. So his rage increased and the more so when he ascertained that the boy was alive on the surface of the earth. And when he knew that he had come forth from underground and was possessed of the Lamp for which he himself had endured privations and labour such as man can hardly bear, then he said within himself: " I have borne many pains and suffered torments which no one else would have endured for the sake of the Lamp, and this cursed boy has taken it without an effort; and if this accursed knoweth the virtues of the Lamp, no one in the world should be richer than he." And he added: "There is nothing for it but that I compass his destruction." So he drew a second table, and inspecting the figures, discovered that 'Ala-ed-Din had acquired immense wealth and had married the daughter of the Sultan. So he was consumed with the flame of anger begotten of envy.

He arose that very hour, and equipped himself, and journeyed to the land of China, and when he arrived at the metropolis wherein dwelt 'Ala-ed-Din, he entered and alighted at one of the Khans. And he heard the people talking of nothing but the splendour of 'Ala-ed-Din's palace. After he had rested from his journey, he dressed himself and went down to perambulate the streets of the city. And he never met any people but they were admiring this palace and its splendour, and talking together of the beauty of 'Ala-ed-Din and his grace and dignity and generosity and the charm of his manners. And the Moor approached one of those who were depicting 'Ala-ed-Din with these encomiums, and said to him: " O gentle youth, who may this be whom ye praise and commend ? " And the other replied: " It is evident that thou, O man, art a stranger and comest from distant parts; but be thou from ever so distant a land, how hast thou not heard of the Emir 'Ala-ed-Din whose fame, methinks, hath filled the world and whose palace one of the Wonders of the World hath been heard of far and near? And how hast thou not heard anything of this or of the name of 'Ala-ed-Din, our Lord increase his glory and give him joy?" But the Moor answered: "Verily it is the height of my desire to see the palace, and if thou wilt do me the favour, direct me to it, since I am a stranger." Then the man said, " I hear and obey," and proceeded before him and guided him to the palace of 'Ala-ed-Din. And the Moor began to examine it, and knew that it was all the doing of the Lamp, and cried: " Ah! There is nothing for it but that I dig a pit for this cursed son of a tailor, who could not even earn a supper. And if the fates aid me I will undoubtedly send his mother back to her spinning, as she was before; and as for him, I will take his life".

He returned to the Khan in this state of grief and regret and sadness for envy of 'Ala-ed-Din. When he arrived at the Khan he took his instruments of divination and drew a table to discover where the Lamp was; and he found it was in the palace, and not on 'Ala-ed-Din himself. Whereat he rejoiced mightily, and said: " The task remaineth easy, to destroy the life of this accursed; and I have a way to obtain the Lamp." Then he went to a coppersmith and said: " Make me a number of lamps, and take their price, and more; only I wish thee to hasten to finish them." And the coppersmith answered, "I hear and obey." And he set to work at them and completed them; and when they were done the Moor paid him the price he asked for them, and took them and departed and went to the Khan, where he put them in a basket. Then he went about the streets and bazars of the city, crying: "O who will exchange old lamps for new?" And when the people heard him crying thus, they laughed at him, saying: "No doubt this man is mad, since he goeth about to exchange old lamps for new." And all the world followed him, and the street boys pursued him from place to place and mocked at him; but he gainsaid them not nor cared for that, but did not cease perambulating the city till he came under 'Ala-ed-Din's palace, when he began to cry in a louder voice, while the boys shouted at him, " Madman! Madman!" Now by the decrees of destiny the Lady Bedr-el-Budur was in the kiosk, and hearing some one crying and the boys shouting at him, and not understanding what it was all about, she ordered one of her handmaids, saying: "Go and find out who it is that crieth and what he is crying." So the damsel went to look, and perceived a man crying: "O who will exchange old lamps for new?" and the boys around him making sport of him. And she returned and told her mistress Bedr-el-Budur, saying: "O my lady, this man is crying: 'O who will exchange old lamps for new?' and the urchins are following him and laughing at him." So the Lady Bedr-el-Budur laughed too at this oddity. Now *Ala-ed-Din had left the Lamp in his apartment, instead of replacing it in the Treasury and locking it up, and one of the maids had seen it. So she said: "O my mistress, methinks I have seen in my master's room an old lamp; let us exchange it with this man for a new one, to find out if his cry be true or false." And the Lady Bedr-el-Budur said to her: "Bring the Lamp which thou sayest thou didst see in thy master's room." For the Lady Bedr-el-Budur had no knowledge of the Lamp and its qualities, and that it was this which had brought 'Ala-ed-Din her husband to his present high station; and her chief desire was to try and discover the object of this man who exchanged new lamps for old. So the damsel went and ascended to the apartment of 'Ala-ed-Din and brought the Lamp to her mistress, and none of them suspected the guile of the Moorish wizard and his cunning. Then the Lady Bedr-el-Budur ordered an agha of the eunuchs to go down and exchange the Lamp for a new one. So he took the Lamp and gave it to the Moor and received from him a new lamp, and returned to the Princess and gave her the exchange; and she, after examining it, saw it was really new, and fell a-laughing at the folly of the Moor.