The apartment from which the caliph and Zobeide set out, though distant from Abou Hassan’s, was nevertheless just opposite, so that he perceived them coming, and told his wife that he was much mistaken if the caliph and Zobeide, preceded by Mesrour, and followed by a great number of women, were not about to do them the honour of a visit.  She looked through a lattice and saw them, seemed frightened, and cried out, “What shall we do? we are ruined.”  “Fear nothing,” replied Abou Hassan.  “Have you forgotten already what we agreed on?  We will both feign ourselves dead, and you shall see all will go well.  At the slow rate they are coming, we shall be ready before they reach the door.”  Accordingly, Abou Hassan and his wife wrapped up and covered themselves with the pieces of brocade, and waited patiently for their visitors.

Mesrour, who came first, opened the door, and the caliph and Zobeide, followed by their attendants, entered the room; but were struck with horror, and stood motionless, at the spectacle which presented itself to their view, not knowing what to think.  At length Zobeide breaking silence, said to the caliph, “Alas! they are both dead!  You have done much,” continued she, looking at the caliph and Mesrour, “to endeavour to make me believe that my dear slave was dead, and I find it is true:  grief at the loss of her husband has certainly killed her.”  “Say rather, madam,” answered the caliph, prepossessed to the contrary, that Nouzhatoul-aoudat died first, “the afflicted Abou Hassan sunk under his grief, and could not survive his dear wife; you ought, therefore, to confess that you have lost your wager, and that your palace of paintings is mine.”

“Hold there,” answered Zobeide, warmed at being contradicted by the caliph; “I will maintain you have lost your garden of pleasures.  Abou Hassan died first; since my nurse told you, as well as me, that she saw her alive, and weeping for the death of her husband.”

The dispute of the caliph and Zobeide brought on another between Mesrour and the nurse, who had wagered as well as they; each affirmed to have won, and at length they proceeded to abuse each other very grossly.

At last the caliph, reflecting on what had passed, began to think that Zobeide had as much reason as himself to maintain that she had won.  In this embarrassment of not being able to find out the truth, he advanced towards the corpses, and sat down at the head, searching for some expedient that might gain him the victory over Zobeide.  “I swear,” cried he presently after, “by the holy name of God, that I will give a thousand pieces of gold to him who can tell me which of these two died first.”