Mesrour did not want for arguments to contradict the princess; but, as he was afraid of provoking her too much, chose rather to be silent, though he was satisfied that the wife was dead, and not the husband.

During the whole of this dispute between Zobeide and Mesrour, the caliph, who heard the evidence on both sides, and was persuaded of the contrary of what the princess asserted, because he had himself seen and spoken to Abou Hassan, and from what Mesrour had told him, laughed heartily to see Zobeide so exasperated.  “Madam,” said he to her, “once more I repeat that I know not who was the author of that saying, that ‘Women sometimes lose their wits,’ but I am sure you make it good.  Mesrour has just come from Abou Hassan’s, and tells you that he saw Nouzhatoul-aouadat lying dead in the middle of the room, Abou Hassan alive, and sitting by her; and yet you will not believe this evidence, which nobody can reasonably refuse; I cannot comprehend this conduit.”

Zobeide would not hear the caliph.  “Pardon me, commander of the faithful,” replied she, “if I suspect you:  I see that you have contrived with Mesrour to vex me, and to try my patience.  And as I perceive that this report was concerted between you, I beg leave to send a person to Abou Hassan’s, to know whether or not I am in the wrong.”

The caliph consented, and the princess charged with this important commission an old nurse, who had lived with her from her infancy.  “Hark you nurse,” said she, “you see my dispute with the commander of the faithful, and Mesrour; I need tell you no more.  Go to Abou Hassan’s or rather to Nouzhatoul-aouadat’s, for Abou Hassan is dead, and clear up this matter for me.  If you bring me good news, a handsome present is your reward:  make haste, and return immediately.”

The nurse set out, to the great joy of the caliph, who was delighted to see Zobeide in this embarrassment; but Mesrour, extremely mortified to find the princess so angry with him, did all he could to appease her, and to make her and the caliph both satisfied with him.  He was overjoyed when Zobeide sent the nurse; because he was persuaded that the report she must make would agree with his, justify him, and restore him to her favour.

In the mean time Abou Hassan, who watched at the window, perceived the nurse at a distance, and guessing that she was sent by Zobeide, called his wife, and told her that the princess’s nurse was coming to know the truth.  “Therefore,” said he, “make haste and lay me out.”  Accordingly Nouzhatoul-aouadat covered him with the brocade Zobeide had given her, and put his turban upon his face.  The nurse, eager to acquit herself of her commission, hobbled as fast as age would allow her, and entering the room, perceived Nouzhatoul-aouadat in tears, her hair dishevelled, and seated at the head of her husband, beating her breast, with all the expressions of violent grief.