'Yes, it is.'
'And have you found her?'
'Yes, and I have brought her to you.'
'Oh, where is she? let me see her!' cried the mother.
'Here, behind me,' answered Dschemil.
But when the poor woman caught sight of her daughter, she shrieked, and exclaimed, 'Are you making fun of me? When did I ever give birth to an ass?'
'Hush!' said Dschemil, 'it is not necessary to let the whole world know! And if you look at her body, you will see two scars on it.'
'Mother,' sobbed Dschemila, 'do you really not know your own daughter?'
'Yes, of course I know her.'
'What are her two scars then?'
'On her thigh is a scar from the bite of a dog, and on her breast is the mark of a burn, where she pulled a lamp over her when she was little.'
'Then look at me, and see if I am not your daughter,' said Dschemila, throwing off her clothes and showing her two scars.
And at the sight her mother embraced her, weeping.
'Dear daughter,' she cried, 'what evil fate has befallen you?'
'It was the ogre who carried me off first, and then bewitched me,' answered Dschemila.
'But what is to be done with you?' asked her mother.
'Hide me away, and tell no one anything about me. And you, dear cousin, say nothing to the neighbours, and if they should put questions, you can make answer that I have not yet been found.'
'So I will,' replied he.
Then he and her mother took her upstairs and hid her in a cupboard, where she stayed for a whole month, only going out to walk when all the world was asleep.
Meanwhile Dschemil had returned to his own home,
