The caliph, though he had a great deal of business to transact in council, was nevertheless so impatient to go and condole with the princess upon the death of her slave, that he rose up as soon as Abon Hassan was gone, and put off the council to another day. Follow me, said he to Mesrour, who always attended him wherever he went, and let us go and share with the princess the grief which the death of her slave Nouz-hatoul-aonadat causes her.
Accordingly, they went to Zobeide’s apartment, whom the caliph found seated on a sofa, very much afflicted, and all in tears. Madam, said the caliph, going up to her, it is necessary to tell you how much I partake with you in your affliction; since you are not insensible that what gives you pleasure or trouble, has the same effect on me. But we are all mortals, and must surrender up to God that life he gives us, when he requires it. Nouz-hatoul-aonadat, your faithful slave, was endued with qualifications that deserved all your esteem, and I do not disapprove your expressing it after her death; but consider, all your grief will not bring her to life again. Therefore, madam, if you love me, and would take my advice, be comforted for this loss, and take care of a life which you know is precious to me.
If the princess was charmed with these tender sentiments which the caliph expressed in his compliments, she was much more amazed to hear of Nouz-hatoul-aonadat’s death. This news put her into so great a surprise, that she was not able to return an answer for some time. At last, recovering, she said, Commander of the Faithful, I am very sensible of all your tender sentiments; but cannot comprehend the news you tell me of the death of my slave, who is in perfect health. My affliction is for the death of Abon Hassan, her husband, your favourite, whom you was so kind to let me know, who often diverted me very agreeably, and for whom I have as great a value as you yourself. But, sir, the little concern you show for his death, and your so soon forgetting a man in whom you have often told me you took a great deal of pleasure, amazes and surprises me very much; and this insensibility seems the greater, by your changing his death for that of my slave.
The caliph, who thought that he was perfectly well informed of the death of the slave, and had just reason to believe so, because he had both seen and heard Abon Hassan, fell a-laughing and shrugging up his shoulders, to hear Zobeide talk after this manner. Mesrour, said he, turning himself about to that eunuch, what dost thou think of the princess’s discourse? Do not women sometimes lose their senses? for, in short, thou hast heard and seen all as well as myself. Then turning about to Zobeide, Madam, said he, do not shed any more tears for Abon Hassan, for I can assure you he is well; but rather bewail the death of your dear slave. It is not many moments since her husband came all in tears, and the most inexpressible affliction, to tell me of the death of his wife. I gave him a purse of a hundred pieces of gold, and a piece of brocade, to comfort him, and bury her with; and Mesrour here, who was by, can tell you the same.
The princess took this discourse of the caliph to be all a jest, and that he had a mind to impose upon her credulity. Commander of the Faithful, replied she, though you are used to banter, I must tell you this is not a proper time. What I tell you is very serious: I do not talk of my slave’s death, but of Abon Hassan her husband’s, whose fate I bewail, and so ought you too. Madam, said the caliph, putting on a grave countenance, I tell you, without raillery, that you are deceived; Nouz-hatoul-aonadat is dead, and Abon Hassan is alive, and in perfect health.
Zobeide was very much piqued at this answer of the caliph. Commander of the Faithful, replied she smartly, surely you would make me think that you were mad; give me leave to repeat to you once more that it is Abon Hassan who is dead, and that my slave Nouz-hatoul-aonadat is living; it is not an hour ago since she went from hence; she came here in so disconsolate a state, that the sight of her was enough to have drawn tears from my eyes, if she had not told me her affliction. All my women, who cried with me, can bear me witness, and tell you also, that I made her a present of a hundred pieces of gold, and a piece of brocade; and the grief which you found me in was upon the death of her husband; and just that instant that you came in, I was going to send you a compliment of condolence.
At these words of Zobeide, the caliph cried out, in a fit of laughter, This, madam, is a strange piece of obstinacy; but, continued he seriously, you may depend upon Nouz-hatoul-aonadat’s being dead. I tell you not, sir, replied Zobeide instantly; it is Abon Hassan that is dead, and you shall never make me believe otherwise.
Upon this the caliph began to be angry, and set himself upon a sofa, some distance from the princess, and, speaking to Mesrour, said, Go immediately, and see which it is, and bring me word; for though I am certain that it is Nouz-hatoul-aonadat, I would rather take this way, than be any longer obstinately positive. For my part, replied Zobeide, I know very well that I am in the right, and you will find it to be Abon Hassan. And for mine, replied the caliph, I am so sure that it is Nouz-hatoul-aonadat, that I will lay you what wager you will that Abon Hassan is well.
Do not think to come off there, said Zobeide: I accept of your wager, and I am so well persuaded of his death, that I would willingly lay the dearest thing in the world to me. You know what I have in my disposal, and what I value most; propose the bet, and I will stand to it.
Since it is come to that, said the caliph, I will lay my garden of pleasures against your palace of paintings, though the one is worth much more than the other. It is no matter for that, replied Zobeide; if your garden is more valuable, you have made choice of what you thought fit, and what belonged to me, as an equivalent against what you lay; and I say done to the wager, and will not turn back. The caliph said the same, and both waited until Mesrour returned.