“With all my heart,” said Abou Hassan, taking the glass, “and, as commander of the faithful, I command you to sing it; for I am persuaded that so beautiful a lady cannot compose a song which does not abound with wit and pleasantry.”  The lady took a lute, and tuning it to her voice, sung with so much justness, grace, and expression, that Abou Hassan was in perfect ecstasy all the time, and was so much delighted, that he ordered her to sing it again, and was as much charmed with it as at first.

When the lady had concluded, Abou Hassan drank off his glass, and turned his head towards her to give her those praises which he thought she merited, but was prevented by the opiate, which operated so suddenly, that his mouth was instantly wide open, and his eyes close shut, and dropping his head on the cushions, he slept as profoundly as the day before when the caliph had given him the powder.  One of the ladies stood ready to catch the glass, which fell out of his hand; and then the caliph, who enjoyed greater satisfaction in this scene than he had promised himself, and was all along a spectator of what had passed, came into the hall to them, overjoyed at the success of his plan.  He ordered Abou Hassan to be dressed in his own clothes, and carried back to his house by the slave who had brought him, charging him to lay him on a sofa in the same room, without making any noise, and to leave the door open when he came away.

The slave took Abou Hassan upon his shoulders, carried him home by a back door of the palace, placed him in his own house as he was ordered, and returned with speed, to acquaint the caliph.  “Well,” said the caliph, “Abou Hassan wished only to be caliph for one day, to punish the imaum of the mosque of his quarter, and the four old men who had displeased him:  I have procured him the means of doing this, and he ought to be content.”

In the mean time, Abou Hassan, who was laid upon his sofa by the slave, slept till very late the next morning.  When the powder was worked off, he awoke, opened his eyes, and finding himself at home, was in the utmost surprise.  “Cluster of Pearls!  Morning Star!  Coral Lips!  Moon Face!” cried he, calling the ladies of the palace by their names, as he remembered them; “where are you? come hither.”

Abou Hassan called so loud, that his mother, who was in her own apartment, heard him, and running to him upon the noise he made, said “What ails you, son? what has happened to you?” At these words Abou Hassan lifted up his head, and looking haughtily at his mother, said, “Good woman! who is it you call son?” “Why you,” answered his mother very mildly; “are not you Abou Hassan my son?  It is strange that you have forgotten yourself so soon.”  “I your son! old bull!” replied Abou Hassan; “you are a liar, and know not what you say!  I am not Abou Hassan, I tell you, but the commander of the faithful!”