“You are a notorious liar yourself,” replied the nurse, with an insulting air, “to dare maintain so great a falsity before my face, who am just come from seeing Abou Hassan dead, laid out, and have left his wife alive.”  “I am not an impostor,” replied Mesrour; “it is you who endeavour to lead us all into error.”

“What impudence,” said the nurse, “to dare tell me I lie in the presence of their majesties, when I saw just now with my own eyes what I have had the honour to tell them.”  “Indeed, nurse,” answered Mesrour again, “you had better hold your tongue, for you certainly doat.”

Zobeide, who could no longer endure this want of respect in Mesrour, who, without any regard to her, treated her nurse so injuriously in her presence, without giving the old lady time to reply to so gross an affront, said to the caliph, “Commander of the faithful, I demand justice for this insolence to us both.”  She was so enraged she could say no more, but burst into tears.

The caliph, who had heard all the dispute, thought it very intricate.  He mused some time, and could not tell what to think of so many contradictions.  The princess on her part, as well as Mesrour, the nurse, and all the women slaves, who were present, were as much puzzled, and remained silent.  At last the caliph, addressing himself to Zobeide, said, “I see we are all liars; myself first, then you, Mesrour, and you, nurse; or at least it seems not one can be believed more than the other; therefore let us go ourselves to examine the truth, for I can see no other way to clear up these doubts.”

So saying, the caliph arose, the princess followed him, and Mesrour went before to open the doors.  “Commander of the faithful,” said he, “I am overjoyed that your majesty has taken this course; and shall be much more, when I shall make it plainly appear to the nurse, not that she doats, since the expression is unfortunately displeasing to my good mistress, but that her report is not true.”

The nurse wanted not a reply; “Hold your tongue, black face,” said she; “you doat yourself.”

Zobeide, who was much provoked at Mesrour, could not bear to hear him attack her nurse again without taking her part:  “Vile slave,” said she, “say what you will, I maintain my nurse speaks the truth, and look upon you as a mere liar.”  “Madam,” replied Mesrour, “if nurse is so very certain that Nouzhatoul-aouadat is alive, and Abou Hassan dead, I will lay her what she dares of it.”  The nurse was as ready as he; “I dare,” said she, “take you at your word:  let us see if you dare unsay it.”  Mesrour stood to his word; and they laid a piece of gold brocade with silver flowers before the caliph and the princess.