they would have
delivered me long ago out of the miserable condition I am in;
certainly I ought to look upon all as a dream. It is true,
however, that I commanded the judge of the police to punish the
imaum, and the four old men his companions; I ordered the grand
vizier to carry my mother a thousand pieces of gold; and my
commands were executed. All these points are obstacles to my
believing it a dream; but there are so many things that I cannot
comprehend, nor ever shall, that I will put my trust in God, who
knows all things."

Abou Hassan was taken up with these thoughts and reflections when
his mother came to see him. She found him so much altered and
emaciated that she shed a torrent of tears; in the midst of which
she saluted him as she used to do, and he returned her
salutation, which he had never done before since he had been in
the hospital. This she looked upon to be a good sign. "Well, my
son," said she, wiping her tears, "how do you do, and how do you
find yourself? Have you renounced all those whims and fancies
which the devil had put into your head?" "Indeed, mother,"
replied Abou Hassan, very rationally and calmly, and in a tone
expressive of his grief for the excesses he had been transported
to against her, "I acknowledge my error, and beg of you to
forgive the execrable crime which I have been guilty of towards
you, and which I detest. I ask pardon also of my neighbours whom
I have abused. I have been deceived by a dream; but by so
extraordinary a one, and so like to truth, that I venture to
affirm any other person, to whom such a thing might have
happened, would have been guilty of as great or greater
extravagancies; and I am this instant so much perplexed about it,
that while I am speaking I can hardly persuade myself but that
what befell me was matter of fact, so like was it to what happens
to people who are broad awake. But whatever it was, I do, and
shall always regard it as a dream and an illusion. I am convinced
that I am not that shadow of a caliph and commander of the
faithful, but Abou Hassan your son, the son of a person whom I
always honoured till that fatal day, the remembrance of which
will cover me with confusion, and whom in future I shall honour
and respect all my life as I ought."

At this rational declaration, the tears of sorrow and affliction
which the mother of Abou Hassan had so long shed were changed
into those of joy. "My son!" cried she, transported with
pleasure, "my sa