Madam, replied Mesrour, I swear to you by your own life, and that of the commander of the faithful, which are both dear to me, that Nouz-hatoul-aonadat is dead, and Abon Hassan is living.
Thou art a base despicable slave, said Zobeide, in a rage, and I will confound thee immediately; and thereupon she called her women, by clapping her hands together, who all came in. Come hither, said the princess to them, and speak the truth: Who was that who came and spoke with me a little before the caliph came here? The women all answered, that it was poor afflicted Nouz-hatoul-aonadat. And what, added she, addressing herself to her that was treasurer, did I order you to give her? Madam, answered the treasurer, I gave Nouz-hatoul-aonadat, by your orders, a purse of a hundred pieces of gold, and a piece of brocade, which she carried along with her. Well then, sorry slave, said Zobeide to Mesrour, in a great passion, what hast thou to say to all this? What dost thou think now, that I ought to believe thee, or my treasurer, my other women, or myself?
Mesrour did not want for arguments to contradict the princess; but, as he was afraid of provoking her too much, he chose rather to be silent, though he was satisfied within himself that the wife was dead, and not the husband.
All the time of this dispute between Zobeide and Mesrour, the caliph, who heard what was said on both sides, and was against the princess, because he had seen and spoke to Abon Hassan himself, laughed heartily to see Zobeide so exasperated against Mesrour. Madam, said he to Zobeide, I know not indeed who was the author of that saying, That women sometimes lose their wits; but I am sure you make it good. Mesrour came just now from Abon Hassan’s, and tells you that he saw Nouz-hatoul-aonadat lying dead in the middle of the room, Abon Hassan alive, and sitting by her; and yet you will not believe this evidence, which nobody can reasonably refuse: I think it is very strange.
Zobeide would not hear what the caliph represented. Pardon me, Commander of the Faithful, replied she, if I suspect you: I see very well that you have contrived with Mesrour to chagrin me, and try my patience. And as I perceive that this report was concerted between you, I beg leave to send a person to Abon Hassan’s, to know whether or no I am in the wrong.
The caliph consented, and the princess charged an old nurse, who had lived a long time with her, with that important commission. Hark ye, nurse, said she, you see the dispute between the caliph and me; therefore go to Abon Hassan’s, or rather Nouz-hatoul-aonadat’s, for he is dead, and clear up this matter. If thou bringest me good news, a handsome present is thy reward. Make haste and return quickly.
The caliph was overjoyed to see Zobeide in this embarrassment; but Mesrour, extremely mortified to find the princess so angry with him, did all he could to appease her, insomuch that she and the caliph were both satisfied with him. He was overjoyed when Zobeide sent the nurse; because he was persuaded that the report she would make would agree with his, and would justify him, and restore him to her favour.
In the mean time, Abon Hassan, who watched the window, perceived the nurse at a distance, and guessing that she was sent by Zobeide, called his wife, and told her that the princess’s nurse was coming to know the truth; therefore, said he, make haste and lay me out. Accordingly Nouz-hatoul-aonadat did so, and covered him with the piece of brocade Zobeide had given her, and put his turban upon his face. The nurse, eager to acquit herself of her commission, came a good round pace, and entering the room, perceived Nouz-hatoul-aonadat all in tears, her hair dishevelled, and seated at the head of her husband, beating her breast, and expressing a violent grief.
The good old nurse went directly to the false widow. My dear Nouz-hatoul-aonadat, said she, with a sorrowful face, I come not to interrupt your grief and tears for a husband who loved you so tenderly. Ah! good mother, replied the counterfeit widow, you see my misfortune, and how unhappy I am by the loss of my beloved Abon Hassan. Abon Hassan, my dear husband! cried she, what have I done that you should leave me so soon? Have I not always rather obeyed your will than my own? Alas! what will become of poor Nouz-hatoul-aonadat?
The nurse was in a great surprise to see every thing quite the reverse of what the chief of the eunuchs had told the caliph. This black-faced Mesrour, said she, lifting up her hands, deserves to be impaled for having made so great a difference between my good mistress and the commander of the faithful, by the notorious lie he told them. I will tell you daughter, said she, the wickedness of that villain Mesrour, who has asserted, with an inconceivable impudence, before my mistress’s face, that you were dead, and Abon Hassan was alive.