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