"What! is it thou, my father? How often have I entreated thee to accept a provision for thine age which I can so well spare?" "Speak no more of it, my son," said the old man with vehemence and in quite another tone of voice to that he had employed before. "I knew thee not, or would have asked nothing of thee, and will accept nothing from thee. From the hands of him whose lips are stained with wine, who has spurned the precepts of the Prophet and forgotten the lessons of his youth, I will accept no favour, and will give to him no blessing." "Go, then, old precisian!" exclaimed Abou Hassan, fiercely; "cling to disgrace, and practise beggary; and yet, remember, one word can change your state, banish poverty, and summon plenty." The old man proceeded on his way, muttering inaudibly, and Abou Hassan stood watching his retreating figure. After a few moments of apparent indecision he followed the old man. When the latter entered the miserable hovel in which the Caliph had observed him on the previous evening, Abou Hassan, after a short pause, pushed open the door and entered also. Haroun, who was curious to learn what passed between the beggar and his son, followed Abou Hassan along the street, and with Giafer and Mesrur entered the house immediately after him. The old man, who was rather deaf, had not heard his son enter. And when the Caliph and his two companions followed noiselessly and stood in the deep shadow of the entry, they saw the old man kneeling on the floor, and holding in his trembling hands the bag containing his little hoard, to which he was adding some small coins received that day. Abou Hassan stood looking down upon him with an expression of contemptuous amusement. After gazing silently for a few moments at the kneeling figure he exclaimed, "So, so, the beggar therefore plays the miser also! You spurn my offers, and, refusing gold and ease and leisure, hug that poor bag of worthless copper in this filthy den." So saying, he kicked contemptuously the bag which the old man, terrified at the apparition of his son, still held in his hand, and its contents were thrown upon the floor. At this the old man gave a loud yell, and calling out "Thieves, thieves, they are robbing me! they are robbing me!" began to scramble about after the scattered coins. Abou Hassan, springing upon him and whispering fiercely, "Villain! wretch! who is robbing thee? Wouldst thou bring the neighbours upon me?" pulled out a dagger, and would in his fury have stabbed his father had not the Caliph at that instant made a sign to Mesrur, who seized his arm and held him fast. But Abou Hassan, who was a young and very vigorous man, struggled violently, and, managing for one moment to free his right arm, he stabbed himself to the heart. Thus perished the Fortunate Merchant, closing, as so many do, a life of crime by a death of violence.