Abou Hassan wrapped up his wife as she had done him, and with his turban unrolled, like a man in the greatest affliction, ran to the caliph, who was holding a private council with Jaaffier and other confidential viziers.  He presented himself at the door, and the officer, knowing he had free access, opened it.  He entered holding with one hand his handkerchief before his eyes, to hide the feigned tears, which trickled down his cheeks, and striking his breast with the other, with exclamations expressing extraordinary grief.

The caliph, always used to see Abou Hassan with a merry countenance, was very much surprised to behold him in so much distress.  He interrupted the business of the council to inquire the cause of his grief.  “Commander of the faithful,” answered Abou Hassan, with repeated sighs and sobs, “God preserve your majesty on the throne, which you fill so gloriously! a greater calamity could not have befallen me than what I now lament.  Alas!  Nouzhatoul-aouadat whom you in your bounty gave me for a wife to gladden my existence, alas!” at this exclamation Abou Hassan pretended to have his heart so full, that he could not utter more, but poured forth a flood of tears.

The caliph, who now understood that Abou Hassan came to tell him of the death of his wife, seemed much concerned, and said to him with an air which shewed how much he regretted her loss, “God be merciful to her:  she was a good slave, and we gave her to you with an intention to make you happy:  she deserved a longer life.”  The tears then ran down his face, so that he was obliged to pull out his handkerchief to wipe them off.  The grief of Abou Hassan, and the tears of the caliph, excited those of Jaaffier and the other viziers.  They bewailed the death of Nouzhatoul- aouadat, who, on her part, was only impatient to hear how Abou Hassan succeeded.

The caliph had the same suspicion of the husband that Zobeide had of the wife, and imagined that he had occasioned her death.  “Wretch!” said he, in a tone of indignation, “have not you been the cause of your wife’s death by your ill treatment of her?  You ought at least to have had some regard for the princess my consort, who loved her more than the rest of her slaves, yet consented to give her to you.  What a return for her kindness!”

“Commander of the faithful,” replied Abou Hassan, affecting to weep more bitterly than before, “can your majesty for a moment suppose that Abou Hassan, whom you have loaded with your favours and kindness, and on whom you have conferred honours he could never have aspired to, can have been capable of such ingratitude?  I loved Nouzhatoul-aouadat my wife as much on these accounts, as for the many good qualities she possessed, and which drew from me all the attachment, tenderness, and love she deserved.  But, my lord,” added he, “she was to die, and God would no longer suffer me to enjoy a happiness for which I was indebted to your majesty and your beloved consort.”