If the princess was charmed with these tender sentiments which the caliph expressed in his compliments, she was much more amazed to hear of Nouz-hatoul-aonadat’s death. This news put her into so great a surprise, that she was not able to return an answer for some time. At last, recovering, she said, Commander of the Faithful, I am very sensible of all your tender sentiments; but cannot comprehend the news you tell me of the death of my slave, who is in perfect health. My affliction is for the death of Abon Hassan, her husband, your favourite, whom you was so kind to let me know, who often diverted me very agreeably, and for whom I have as great a value as you yourself. But, sir, the little concern you show for his death, and your so soon forgetting a man in whom you have often told me you took a great deal of pleasure, amazes and surprises me very much; and this insensibility seems the greater, by your changing his death for that of my slave. The caliph, who thought that he was perfectly well informed of the death of the slave, and had just reason to believe so, because he had both seen and heard Abon Hassan, fell a-laughing and shrugging up his shoulders, to hear Zobeide talk after this manner. Mesrour, said he, turning himself about to that eunuch, what dost thou think of the princess’s discourse? Do not women sometimes lose their senses? for, in short, thou hast heard and seen all as well as myself. Then turning about to Zobeide, Madam, said he, do not shed any more tears for Abon Hassan, for I can assure you he is well; but rather bewail the death of your dear slave. It is not many moments since her husband came all in tears, and the most inexpressible affliction, to tell me of the death of his wife. I gave him a purse of a hundred pieces of gold, and a piece of brocade, to comfort him, and bury her with; and Mesrour here, who was by, can tell you the same. The princess took this discourse of the caliph to be all a jest, and that he had a mind to impose upon her credulity. Commander of the Faithful, replied she, though you are used to banter, I must tell you this is not a proper time. What I tell you is very serious: I do not talk of my slave’s death, but of Abon Hassan her husband’s, whose fate I bewail, and so ought you too. Madam, said the caliph, putting on a grave countenance, I tell you, without raillery, that you are deceived; Nouz-hatoul-aonadat is dead, and Abon Hassan is alive, and in perfect health.