‘How can the ogre get at you when we are all here?' they said.
‘There are two thousand of us all told, and every man has his
sword.'

‘He will manage it somehow,' answered Dschemila, ‘he is a
powerful king!'

‘She is right,' said an old man. ‘Take away the litter, and let
her go on foot if she is afraid.'

‘But it is absurd!' exclaimed the rest; ‘how can the ogre get
hold of her?'

‘I will not go,' said Dschemila again. ‘You do not know that
monster; I do.'

And while they were disputing the bridegroom arrived.

‘Let her alone. She shall stay in her father's house. After all,
I can live here, and the wedding feast shall be made ready.'

And so they were married at last, and died without having had a
single quarrel.

[Marehen und Gedichte aus der Stadt Tripolis,]