Abou Hassan dissembled so well, that the caliph, who had never heard how extravagantly he and his wife had lived, no longer doubting his sincerity, ordered his treasurer, who was present, to give Abou Hassan a purse of a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of brocade.  Abou Hassan immediately cast himself at the caliph’s feet, and thanked him for his present.  “Follow the treasurer,” said the monarch; “throw the brocade over the corpse, and with the money shew the last testimony of thy love for thy wife.”

Abou Hassan made no reply to these obliging words of the caliph, but retiring with a low prostration, followed the treasurer; and as soon as he had got the purse and piece of brocade, went home, well pleased with having found out so quick and easy a way of supplying the necessity which had given him so much uneasiness.

Nouzhatoul-aouadat, weary with lying so long in one posture, waited not till Abou Hassan bade her rise; but as soon as she heard the door open, sprang up, ran to her husband, and asked him if he had imposed on the caliph as cleverly as she had done on Zobeide.  “You see,” said he, shewing her the stuff, and shaking the purse, “that I can act a sorrowful husband for a living wife, as well as you can a weeping widow for a husband not dead.”  Abou Hassan, however, was not without his fears that this double plot might be attended with some ill consequences.  He thought it would not be amiss to put his wife on her guard as to what might happen, that they might aft in concert.  “For,” added he, “the better we succeed in embarrassing the caliph and Zobeide, the more they will be pleased at last, and perhaps may shew their satisfaction by greater liberality.”  This last consideration induced them to carry on their stratagem farther.

The caliph, though he had important affairs to decide, was so impatient to condole with the princess on the death of her slave, that he rose up as soon as Abou Hassan was gone, and put off the council to another day.  “Follow me,” said he to Mesrour, who always attended him wherever he went, and was in all his councils, “let us go and share with the princess the grief which the death of her slave Nouzhatoul-aouadat must have occasioned.”

Accordingly they went to Zobeide’s apartment, whom the caliph found sitting on a sofa, much afflicted, and still in tears.  “Madam,” said the caliph, going up to her, “it is unnecessary to tell you how much I partake with you in your affliction; since you must be sensible that what gives you pleasure or trouble, has the same effect on me.  But we are all mortal, and must surrender up to God that life he has given us, when he requires it.  Nouzhatoul-aouadat, your faithful slave, was endued with qualifications that deserved your esteem, and I cannot but approve your expressing it after her death; but consider all your grief will not restore her to life.  Therefore, madam, if you love me, and will take my advice, be comforted for this loss, take care of a life which you know is precious to me, and constitutes all the happiness of mine. "