the door, and the caliph and
Zobeide, followed by their attendants, entered the room; but were
struck with horror, and stood motionless, at the spectacle which
presented itself to their view, not knowing what to think. At
length Zobeide breaking silence, said to the caliph, "Alas! they
are both dead! You have done much," continued she, looking at the
caliph and Mesrour, "to endeavour to make me believe that my dear
slave was dead, and I find it is true: grief at the loss of her
husband has certainly killed her." "Say rather, madam," answered
the caliph, prepossessed to the contrary, that Nouzhatoul-aouadat
died first, "the afflicted Abou Hassan sunk under his grief, and
could not survive his dear wife; you ought, therefore, to confess
that you have lost your wager, and that your palace of paintings
is mine."

"Hold there," answered Zobeide, warmed at being contradicted by
the caliph; "I will maintain you have lost your garden of
pleasures. Abou Hassan died first; since my nurse told you, as
well as me, that she saw her alive, and weeping for the death of
her husband."

The dispute of the caliph and Zobeide brought on another between
Mesrour and the nurse, who had wagered as well as they; each
affirmed to have won, and at length they proceeded to abuse each
other very grossly.

At last the caliph, reflecting on what had passed, began to think
that Zobeide had as much reason as himself to maintain that she
had won. In this embarrassment of not being able to find out the
truth, he advanced towards the corpses, and sat down at the head,
searching for some expedient that might gain him the victory over
Zobeide. "I swear," cried he presently after, "by the holy name
of God, that I will give a thousand pieces of gold to him who can
tell me which of these two died first."

No sooner were these words out of the caliph's mouth, than he
heard a voice under Abou Hassan's piece of brocade say,
"Commander of the faithful, I died first, give me the thousand
pieces of gold." At the same instant Abou Hassan threw off the
piece of brocade, and springing up, prostrated himself at his
feet, while his wife did the same to Zobeide, keeping on her
piece of brocade out of decency. The princess at first shrieked
out, but recovering herself, expressed great joy to see her dear
slave rise again, just when she was almost inconsolable at having
seen her dead. "Ah! wicked Nouzhatoul-aouadat," cried she, "what
have I suffered for your sake? H