As soon as Nouz-hatoul-aonadat got out of the princess’s presence, she dried up her tears, and returned with joy to Abon Hassan, to give him an account of her good success. When she came into her own apartment, and saw her husband still stretched out in the middle of the floor, she ran to him laughing, and bade him rise, and see the fruits of his project. Upon which he arose, and rejoiced with his wife at the sight of the purse and brocade, who, for her part, could, not contain herself. Come, husband, said she laughing, let me act the dead part, and see if you can manage the caliph as well as I have done Zobeide. This is the temper of all women, replied Abon Hassan, who, we may well say, have always the vanity to believe they can do things better than men, though, at the same time, what they do is by their advice. It would be odd indeed, if I, who laid this plot myself, could not carry it on likewise. But let us lose no time in idle discourse: lie down in my place, and see if I do not come off with as much applause. Abon Hassan wrapped up his wife as she had done him; and with his turban undone, and set awry on his head, and like a man in the greatest affliction imaginable, he ran to the caliph, who was holding a private council with the grand vizier Giafar and some other viziers, and he having free access wheresoever he was, went with his handkerchief before his eyes, to hide the feigned tears which trickled down his cheeks, and striking his breast with the other, expressed an extraordinary grief. The caliph, who was ever used to see Abon Hassan gay and merry, was very much surprised to behold him in that sorrowful state, and asked him the cause of his grief. Commander of the Faithful, answered Abon Hassan, with repeated sighings and sobbings, may God preserve your majesty on the throne, which you fill so gloriously! Alas! Nouz-hatoul-aonadat, whom you in your bounty gave me for a wife, is ——. At this exclamation, Abon Hassan pretended to have his heart so full that he could not utter one syllable more, but poured forth a flood of tears. The caliph, who presently understood that Abon Hassan came to tell him of the death of his wife, seemed very much concerned, and said to him, God comfort thee; she was a good slave, and we gave her to thee with an intention to make thee happy: she deserved a longer life. Then the tears ran down his face, so that he was obliged to pull out his handkerchief to wipe them off. In short, Abon Hassan dissembled so well, that the caliph, who did not in the least doubt of his sincerity, ordered his treasurer, who was then present, to give Abon Hassan a purse of a hundred pieces of gold, and a piece of brocade. Abon Hassan immediately cast himself at the caliph’s feet, and thanked him for his present. Follow the treasurer, said that monarch; throw the brocade over the corpse, and with the money show the last testimony of thy love for thy wife.