"What! is it thou, my father? How often have I entreated thee to
accept a provision for thine age which I can so well spare?"
"Speak no more of it, my son," said the old man with vehemence and in
quite another tone of voice to that he had employed before. "I knew
thee not, or would have asked nothing of thee, and will accept nothing
from thee. From the hands of him whose lips are stained with wine, who
has spurned the precepts of the Prophet and forgotten the lessons of
his youth, I will accept no favour, and will give to him no blessing."
"Go, then, old precisian!" exclaimed Abou Hassan, fiercely; "cling to
disgrace, and practise beggary; and yet, remember, one word can change
your state, banish poverty, and summon plenty."
The old man proceeded on his way, muttering inaudibly, and Abou Hassan
stood watching his retreating figure.
After a few moments of apparent indecision he followed the old man.
When the latter entered the miserable hovel in which the Caliph had
observed him on the previous evening, Abou Hassan, after a short pause,
pushed open the door and entered also.
Haroun, who was curious to learn what passed between the beggar and his
son, followed Abou Hassan along the street, and with Giafer and Mesrúr
entered the house immediately after him.
The old man, who was rather deaf, had not heard his son enter. And
when the Caliph and his two companions followed noiselessly and stood
in the deep shadow of the entry, they saw the old man kneeling on the
floor, and holding in his trembling hands the bag containing his little
hoard, to which he was adding some small coins received that day. Abou
Hassan stood looking down upon him with an expression of contemptuous
amusement.
After gazing silently for a few moments at the kneeling figure he
exclaimed, "So, so, the beggar therefore plays the miser also! You
spurn my offers, and, refusing gold and ease and leisure, hug that poor
bag of worthless copper in this filthy den."
So saying, he kicked contemptuously the bag which the old man,
terrified at the apparition of his son, still held in his hand, and its
contents were thrown upon the floor.
At this the old man gave a loud yell, and calling out "Thieves,
thieves, they are robbing me! they are robbing me!" began to scramble
about after the scattered coins.
Abou Hassan, springing upon him and whispering fiercely, "Villain!
wretch! who is robbing thee? Wouldst thou bring the neighbours upon
me?" pulled out a dagger, and would in his fury have stabbed his father
had not the Caliph at that instant made a sign to Mesrúr, who seized
his arm and held him fast. But Abou Hassan, who was a young and very
vigorous man, struggled violently, and, managing for one moment to free
his right arm, he stabbed himself to the heart.
Thus perished the Fortunate Merchant, closing, as so many do, a life of
crime by a death of violence.
The next day the Caliph ordered Abou Hassan's house and all that he had
possessed to be confiscated. The house and gardens, which were
exceedingly magnificent, he retained for his own occasional use, while
the immense quantities of valuable goods stored in the warehouses
belonging to Abou Hassan he ordered to be sold, and the proceeds to be
distributed, one half to the mosques of the city, and the other half to
the poor.
Upon the old beggar and miser, who steadfastly refused to take any part
of his son's great wealth, the Caliph conferred a small pension,
sufficient to provide for the few wants of one so long accustomed to a
life of hardship. Indeed, so strong is the force of habit, that at his
death, a few years later, he was found to have saved a considerable
portion even of this small annuity.