Abon Hassan called so loud, that his mother, who was in her own apartment, heard, and running to him upon the noise he made, said, What do you mean, son? What is the matter? At these words, Abon Hassan lifted up his head, and looking haughtily at his mother, said, Good woman, who is it you call son? Why, you, answered his mother, very calmly; are not you Abon Hassan, my son? It is a strange thing that you have forgot yourself. I your son, old trull! replied Abon Hassan; thou art mad, and knowest not what thou sayest: I am not Abon Hassan, I tell you, but the commander of the faithful. Hold your tongue, son, answered the mother; one would think you were a fool, to hear you talk thus. You are an old fool yourself, replied Abon Hassan: I tell you once more, I am the commander of the faithful, and God’s vicar on earth. Ah! child, cried the mother, is it possible that I should hear you utter such words, that show you are distracted? What evil genius possesses you, to make you talk at this rate? God bless you, and preserve you from the power of Satan. You are my son Abon Hassan, and I am your mother. After she had made use of all the arguments she could think of to bring him to himself, and to show how great an error he was in, she said, Do not you see that the room you are now in is your own, and is not like a chamber fit for the commander of the believers? Think seriously of what I have said to you, and do not fancy things that are not, nor ever can be. Abon Hassan heard all these remonstrances of his mother very patiently, holding down his eyes, and clapping his hands before his face, like one who was looking into himself to examine the truth of what he saw and heard. At last, said he to his mother, just as if he was come out of a deep sleep, and with his hands in the same posture, Methinks I am Abon Hassan, you are my mother, and I am in my own room. Then looking about him again, he added, I am Abon Hassan, there is no doubt of it; and I cannot comprehend how this fancy came into my head.