unattentive to expense, until at length the caterer, who had
disbursed all his and their money for these expenses, brought
them in a long bill in hope of having an advance of cash. They
found the amount to be so considerable, that all the presents
which the caliph and Zobeide had given them at their marriage
were but just enough to pay him. This made them reflect seriously
on what was passed, which, however, was no remedy for the present
evil. But they agreed to pay the caterer; and having sent for
him, gave him all they owed him, without considering the
difficulty they should be in immediately after.
The caterer went away highly pleased at receiving so large a sum,
though Abou Hassan and his wife were not so well satisfied with
seeing the bottom of their purse, but remained a long time
silent, and very much embarrassed, to find themselves reduced to
poverty the very first year of their marriage. Abou Hassan
remembered that the caliph, when he took him into the palace, had
promised never to let him want. But when he considered how
prodigal he had been of his money, was unwilling to expose
himself to the shame of letting the caliph know the ill use he
had made of his bounty, and that he wanted a supply. Besides, he
had made over his patrimony to his mother, when the caliph had
received him near his person, and was afraid to apply to her,
lest she should discover that he had returned to the same
extravagance he had been guilty of after his father's death. His
wife, on the other hand, regarded Zobeide's generosity, and the
liberty she had given her to marry, as more than a sufficient
recompense for her service, and thought she had no right to ask
more.
Abou Hassan at last broke silence, and looking at his wife, said,
"I see you are in the same embarrassment as myself, and thinking
what we must do in this unhappy juncture, when our money fails us
so unexpectedly. I do not know what your sentiments may be; but
mine are, let what will happen, not to retrench our expenses in
the least; and I believe you will come into my opinion. The point
is, how to support them without stooping to ask the caliph or
Zobeide: and I think I have fallen on the means; but we must
assist each other."
This discourse of Abou Hassan very much pleased his wife, and
gave her some hopes. "I was thinking so as well as you," said
she; "but durst not explain my thoughts, because I do not know
how we can help ourselves; and must confess, that what you tell
me gives me a revival of pleasure. Since you say you have found
out a resource, and my assistance is necessary, you need but tell
me in what way, and I will do all that lies in my power."
"I was sure," replied Abou Hassan, "that you would not fail me in
a business which concerns us both; and therefore I must tell you,
this want of money has made me think of a plan which will supply
us, at least for a time. It consists in a little trick we must
put, I upon the caliph and you upon Zobeide, and at which, as I
am sure they will both be diverted, it will answer advantageously
for us. You and I will both die." "Not I indeed," interrupted
Nouzhatoul-aouadat; "you may die by yourself, if you please, but
I am not so weary of this life; and whether you are pleased or
not, will not die so soon. If you have nothing else to propose,
you may die by yourself; for I assure you I shall not join you."
"You are a woman of such vivacity and wonderful quickness,"
replied Abou Hassan, "that you scarcely give me time to explain
my design. Have but a little patience, and you shall find that
you will be ready enough to die such a death as I intend; for
surely you could not think I meant a real death?" "Well," said
his wife, "if it is but a sham death you design, I am at your
service, and you may depend on my zeal to second you in this
manner of dying; but I must tell you truly, I am very unwilling
to die, as I apprehended you at first."
"Be but silent a little," said Abou Hassan, "and I will tell you
what I promise. I will feign myself dead, and you shall lay me
out in the middle of my chamber, with my turban upon my face, my
feet towards Mecca, as if ready to be carried out to burial. When
you have done this, you must lament, and weep bitterly, as is
usual in such cases, tear your clothes and hair, or pretend to do
it, and go all in tears, with your locks dishevelled, to Zobeide.
The princess will of course inquire the cause of your grief; and
when you have told her, with words intermixed with sobs, she will
pity you, give you money to defray the expense of my funeral, and
a piece of good brocade to cover my body, that my interment may
be the more magnificent, and to make you a new dress in the room
of that you will have torn. As soon as you return with the money
and the brocade, I will rise, lay you in my place, and go and act
the same part with the caliph, who I dare say will be as generous
to me as Zobeide will have been to you."
Nouzhatoul-aouadat highly approved the project, and said to Abou
Hassan, "Come, lose no time; strip to your shirt and drawers,
while I prepare a winding sheet. I know how to bury as well as
any body; for while I was in Zobeide's service, when any of my
fellow-slaves died, I had the conducting of the funeral." Abou
Hassan did as his wife mentioned, and laid himself on the sheet
which she had spread on the carpet in the middle of the room. As
soon as he had crossed his arms, his wife wrapped him up, turned
his feet towards Mecca, and put a piece of fine muslin and his
turban upon his face, so that nothing seemed wanting but to carry
him out to be buried. After this she pulled off her head-dress,
and with tears in her eyes, her hair dishevelled, and seeming to
tear it off, with a dismal cry and lamentation, beating her face
and breast with all the marks of the most lively grief, ran
across the court to Zobeide's apartments, who, hearing the voice
of a person crying very loud, commanded some of her women to see
who it was; they returned and told her that it was Nouzhatoul-
aouadat, who was approaching in a deplorable condition.
The princess, impatient to know what had happened to her, rose up
immediately, and went to meet her at the door of her ante-
chamber. Nouzhatoul-aouadat played her part to perfection. As
soon as she saw Zobeide, who held the door open, she redoubled
her cries, tore her hair off by handfuls, beat her face and
breast, and threw herself at her feet, bathing them with her
tears.
Zobeide, amazed to see her slave in such extraordinary
affliction, asked what had happened; but, instead of answering,
she continued her sobs; and at last feigning to strive to check
them, said, with words interrupted with sighs, "Alas! my most
honoured lady and mistress, what greater misfortune could have
befallen me than this, which obliges me to throw myself at your
highness's feet)' God prolong your days, my most respectable
princess, in perfect health, and grant you many happy years! Abou
Hassan! poor Abou Hassan! whom you honoured with your esteem, and
gave me for a husband, is no more!"
At these words Nouzhatoul-aouadat redoubled her tears and sighs,
and threw herself again at the princess's feet. Zobeide was
extremely concerned at this news. "Abou Hassan dead!" cried she;
"that agreeable, pleasant man! I did not expect his death so
soon; he seemed to promise a long life, and well deserved to
enjoy it!" She then also burst into tears, as did all her women,
who had been often witnesses of Abou Hassan's pleasantries when
the caliph brought him to amuse the princess Zobeide, and all
together continued for some time bewailing his loss. At length
the princess Zobeide broke silence: "Wicked woman!" cried she,
addressing herself to the false widow, "perhaps you may have
occasioned his death. Your ill temper has given him so much
vexation, that you have at last brought him to his grave."
Nouzhatoul-aouadat seemed much hurt at the reproaches of Zobeide:
"Ah, madam," cried she, "I do not think I ever gave your majesty,
while I was your slave, reason to entertain so disadvantageous an
opinion of my conduct to a husband who was so dear to me. I
should think myself the most wretched of women if you were
persuaded of this. I behaved to Abou Hassan as a wife should do
to a husband for whom she has a sincere affection; and I may say,
without vanity, that I had for him the same regard he had for me.
I am persuaded he would, were he alive, justify me fully to your
majesty; but, madam," added she, renewing her tears, "his time
was come, and that was the only cause of his death."
Zobeide, as she had really observed in her slave a uniformly
equal temper, mildness, great docility and zeal for her service,
which shewed she was rather actuated by inclination than duty,
hesitated not to believe her on her word, and ordered her
treasurer to fetch a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of rich
brocade.
The slave soon returned with the purse and piece of brocade,
which, by Zobeide's order, she delivered to Nouzhatoul-aouadat,
who threw herself again at the princess's feet, and thanked her
with great self-satisfaction at finding she had succeeded so
well. "Go," said Zobeide, "use that brocade to cover the corpse
of your husband, and with the money bury him handsomely, as he
deserves. Moderate the transport of your afflictions: I will take
care of you."
As soon as Nouzhatoul-aouadat got out of the princess's presence,
she dried up her tears, and returned with joy to Abou Hassan, to
give him an account of her good success. When she came home she
burst out a laughing on seeing her husband still stretched out in
the middle of the floor; she ran to him, bade him rise and see
the fruits of his stratagem. He arose, and rejoiced with his wife
at the sight of the purse and brocade. Unable to contain herself
at the success of her artifice, "Come, husband," said she,
laughing, "let me act the dead part, and see if you can manage
the caliph as well as I have done Zobeide."
"That is the temper of all women," replied Abou Hassan, "who, we
may well say, have always the vanity to believe they can do
things better than men, though at the same time what good they do
is by their advice. It would be odd indeed, if I, who laid this
plot myself, could not carry it on as well as you. But let us
lose no time in idle discourse; lie down in my place, and witness
if I do not come off with as much applause."
Abou Hassan wrapped up his wife as she had done him, and with his
turban unrolled, like a man in the greatest affliction, ran to
the caliph, who was holding a private council with Jaaffier and
other confidential viziers. He presented himself at the door, and
the officer, knowing he had free access, opened it. He entered
holding with one hand his handkerchief before his eyes, to hide
the feigned tears, which trickled down his cheeks, and striking
his breast with the other, with exclamations expressing
extraordinary grief.
The caliph, always used to see Abou Hassan with a merry
countenance, was very much surprised to behold him in so much
distress. He interrupted the business of the council to inquire
the cause of his grief. "Commander of the faithful," answered
Abou Hassan, with repeated sighs and sobs, "God preserve your
majesty on the throne, which you fill so gloriously! a greater
calamity could not have befallen me than what I now lament. Alas!
Nouzhatoul-aouadat whom you in your bounty gave me for a wife to
gladden my existence, alas!" at this exclamation Abou Hassan
pretended to have his heart so full, that he could not utter
more, but poured forth a flood of tears.
The caliph, who now understood that Abou Hassan came to tell him
of the death of his wife, seemed much concerned, and said to him
with an air which shewed how much he regretted her loss, "God be
merciful to her: she was a good slave, and we gave her to you
with an intention to make you happy: she deserved a longer life."
The tears then ran down his face, so that he was obliged to pull
out his handkerchief to wipe them off. The grief of Abou Hassan,
and the tears of the caliph, excited those of Jaaffier and the
other viziers. They bewailed the death of Nouzhatoul- aouadat,
who, on her part, was only impatient to hear how Abou Hassan
succeeded.
The caliph had the same suspicion of the husband that Zobeide had
of the wife, and imagined that he had occasioned her death.
"Wretch!" said he, in a tone of indignation, "have not you been
the cause of your wife's death by your ill treatment of her? You
ought at least to have had some regard for the princess my
consort, who loved her more than the rest of her slaves, yet
consented to give her to you. What a return for her kindness!"
"Commander of the faithful," replied Abou Hassan, affecting to
weep more bitterly than before, "can your majesty for a moment
suppose that Abou Hassan, whom you have loaded with your favours
and kindness, and on whom you have conferred honours he could
never have aspired to, can have been capable of such ingratitude?
I loved Nouzhatoul-aouadat my wife as much on these accounts, as
for the many good qualities she possessed, and which drew from me
all the attachment, tenderness, and love she deserved. But, my
lord," added he, "she was to die, and God would no longer suffer
me to enjoy a happiness for which I was indebted to your majesty
and your beloved consort."
Abou Hassan dissembled so well, that the caliph, who had never
heard how extravagantly he and his wife had lived, no longer
doubting his sincerity, ordered his treasurer, who was present,
to give Abou Hassan a purse of a hundred pieces of gold and a
piece of brocade. Abou Hassan immediately cast himself at the
caliph's feet, and thanked him for his present. "Follow the
treasurer," said the monarch; "throw the brocade over the corpse,
and with the money shew the last testimony of thy love for thy
wife."
Abou Hassan made no reply to these obliging words of the caliph,
but retiring with a low prostration, followed the treasurer; and
as soon as he had got the purse and piece of brocade, went home,
well pleased with having found out so quick and easy a way of
supplying the necessity which had given him so much uneasiness.
Nouzhatoul-aouadat, weary with lying so long in one posture,
waited not till Abou Hassan bade her rise; but as soon as she
heard the door open, sprang up, ran to her husband, and asked him
if he had imposed on the caliph as cleverly as she had done on
Zobeide. "You see," said he, shewing her the stuff, and shaking
the purse, "that I can act a sorrowful husband for a living wife,
as well as you can a weeping widow for a husband not dead." Abou
Hassan, however, was not without his fears that this double plot
might be attended with some ill consequences. He thought it would
not be amiss to put his wife on her guard as to what might
happen, that they might aft in concert. "For," added he, "the
better we succeed in embarrassing the caliph and Zobeide, the
more they will be pleased at last, and perhaps may shew their
satisfaction by greater liberality." This last consideration
induced them to carry on their stratagem farther.
The caliph, though he had important affairs to decide, was so
impatient to condole with the princess on the death of her slave,
that he rose up as soon as Abou 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 was in all his
councils, "let us go and share with the princess the grief which
the death of her slave Nouzhatoul-aouadat must have occasioned."
Accordingly they went to Zobeide's apartment, whom the caliph
found sitting on a sofa, much afflicted, and still in tears.
"Madam," said the caliph, going up to her, "it is unnecessary to
tell you how much I partake with you in your affliction; since
you must be sensible that what gives you pleasure or trouble, has
the same effect on me. But we are all mortal, and must surrender
up to God that life he has given us, when he requires it.
Nouzhatoul-aouadat, your faithful slave, was endued with
qualifications that deserved your esteem, and I cannot but
approve your expressing it after her death; but consider all your
grief will not restore her to life. Therefore, madam, if you love
me, and will take my advice, be comforted for this loss, take
care of a life which you know is precious to me, and constitutes
all the happiness of mine. "
If the princess was charmed with these tender sentiments which
the caliph expressed in his compliments, she was amazed to hear
of Nouzhatoulaouadat's death. This news threw her into such
astonishment, that she was not able to return an answer for some
time. At last recovering, she replied with an air expressive of
surprise, "Commander of the faithful, I am very sensible of all
your tender sentiments; but give me leave to say, I 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 Abou Hassan,
her husband, your favourite, whom I esteemed, as much for the
regard you had for him, as his having so often diverted me
agreeably, and for whom I had as great a value as yourself. But
the little concern you shew for his death, and your so soon
forgetting a man in whose company you have so often told me you
took so much pleasure, surprises me; and this insensibility seems
the greater, from the deception you would put upon me in 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 Abou Hassan, laughed, and
shrugged up his shoulders, to hear Zobeide talk in this manner.
"Mesrour," said he, to the eunuch, "what do you think of the
princess's discourse? Do not women sometimes lose their senses;
for you have heard and seen all as well as myself?" Then turning
to Zobeide, "Madam," said he, "shed no more tears for Abou
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 in 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; and
Mesrour, who was present, can tell you the same."
The princess took this discourse of the caliph's to be all a
jest, and thought he had a mind to impose upon her. "Commander of
the faithful," replied she, "though you are used to banter, I
must tell you, this is not a proper time for pleasantry. What I
tell you is very serious; I do not talk of my slave's death, but
of Abou Hassan's, her husband, 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;
Nouzhatoul-aouadat is dead, and Abou Hassan is alive, and in
perfect health."
Zobeide was much piqued at this dry answer of the caliph.
"Commander of the faithful," replied she smartly, "God preserve
you from continuing longer in this mistake, surely you would make
me think your mind is not as usual. Give me leave to repeat to
you once more, that it is Abou Hassan who is dead, and that my
slave Nouzhatoul-aouadat, his widow, is living. It is not an hour
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
wept 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;
the grief which you found me in, was on account of the death of
her husband; and just at the instant you entered, 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 Nouzhatoul-aouadat's
being dead." "I tell you no, sir," replied Zobeide sharply; "it
is Abou Hassan that is dead, and you shall never make me believe
otherwise."
Upon this the caliph's anger rose in his countenance. He seated
himself on the sofa at some distance from the princess, and
speaking to Mesrour, said, "Go immediately, see which it is, and
bring me word; for though I am certain that it is Nouzhatoul-
aouadat, I would rather take this method than be any longer
obstinately positive about the matter, though of its certainty I
am perfectly satisfied." No sooner had the caliph commanded than
Mesrour was gone. "You will see," continued he, addressing
himself to Zobeide, "in a moment, which of us is right." "For my
part," replied Zobeide, "I know very well that I am in the right,
and you will find it to be Abou Hassan." "And for myself,"
returned the caliph, "I am so sure that it is Nouzhatoul-aouadat,
that I will lay you what wager you please that Abou Hassan is
well."
"Do not think to come off so," said Zobeide; "I accept your
wager, and I am so well persuaded of his death, that I would
willingly lay the thing dearest to me in the world against what
you will, though it were of less value. 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 so," 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." "Is the question at present,"
replied Zobeide, "if your garden is more valuable than my palace?
That is not the point. You have made choice of what you thought
fit belonging to me, as an equivalent against what you lay; I
accept the wager, and that I will abide by it, I take God to
witness." The caliph took the same oath, and both waited
Mesrour's return.
While the caliph and Zobeide were disputing so earnestly, and
with so much warmth, Abou Hassan, who foresaw their difference,
was very attentive to whatever might happen. As soon as he
perceived Mesrour through a window, at which he sat talking with
his wife, and observed that he was coming directly to their
apartment, he guessed his commission, and bade his wife make
haste to act the dead part once more, as they had agreed, without
loss of time; but they were so pressed, that Abou Hassan had much
ado to wrap up his wife, and lay the piece of brocade which the
caliph had given him upon her, before Mesrour reached the house.
This done, he opened the door of his apartment, and with a
melancholy, dejected countenance, and his handkerchief before his
eyes, went and sat down at the head of the pretended deceased.
By the time he was seated, Mesrour came into the room. The dismal
sight which met his eyes, gave him a secret joy on account of the
errand the caliph had sent him on. Abou Hassan rose up to meet
him, and kissing his hand out of respect, said, sighing and
sobbing, "You see me under the greatest calamity that ever could
have befallen me the death of my dear wife, Nouzhatoul-aouadat,
whom you honoured with your favours."
Mesrour, affected by this discourse, could not refuse some tears
to the memory of the deceased. He lifted up the cloth a little at
the head, and peeping under it, let it down again, and said, with
a deep sigh, "There is no other God but Allah, we must all submit
to his will, and every creature must return to him. Nouzhatoul-
aouadat, my good sister," added he, sighing, "thy days have been
few: God have mercy on thee." Then turning to Abou Hassan, who
was all the time in tears, "We may well say," added he, "that
women sometimes have whims, and lose their senses in a most
unpardonable manner; for Zobeide, good mistress as she is, is in
that situation at present; she will maintain to the caliph that
you are dead, and not your wife; and whatever the caliph can say
to the contrary, he cannot persuade her otherwise. He called me
to witness and confirm this truth; for you know I was present
when you came and told him the sorrowful news: but all signifies
nothing. They are both positive; and the caliph, to convince
Zobeide, has sent me to know the truth, but I fear I shall not be
believed; for when women once take up a thing, they are not to be
beaten out of it."