Edmund Dulac
IN the reign of Harun-er-Rashid, a merchant of the city of Baghdad died, leaving his vast fortune to his son Abu-l-Hasan, the Wag, who at once divided it into two equal parts: one to be set aside, and the other to be spent. Selecting a number of wealthy merchants’ sons as his boon companions, he lived a life of extravagance until every fraction of that which was to be spent was exhausted. At this he called his boon companions and laid his case before them, expecting at least sympathy, if not offers of assistance. But one and all treated him with the utmost unconcern and turned their backs on him. Sad at heart he sought comfort of his mother, complaining of the injustice of this treatment. “O, Abu-l-Hasan,” said she, “it was ever thus; when thou wast rich they were thy friends, but now thou art poor they look the other way.” And she wept with him, mingling her tears with his.
Then Abu-l-Hasan arose and at once took steps to withdraw the other half of his fortune from the safe-keeping in which he had placed it. Upon this he lived as befitted his condition in life, for he was still a wealthy man. But, remembering the lesson he had bought with the other half of his riches, he took an oath that henceforth he would consort neither with relations nor friends nor acquaintances, but only with strangers; and, furthermore, that the extent of his association with any one person would be for one night only, the acquaintanceship ceasing entirely at sunrise next morning.
Every evening thereafter, when the purple twilight fell upon Baghdad, Abu-l-Hasan would walk in the ways of the city, saluting none, but at last waylaying a stranger, upon whom he would press an invitation to good food and wine and entertainment at his house. What stranger could refuse? With the guest in the place of honour Abu-l-Hasan drank deep with him till morning, when the guest departed with the understanding that if they ever met again they were not to recognise each other.
This went on night after night for a whole year, until one night an illustrious stranger accepted Abu-l-Hasan’s invitation. It was none other than Harun-er-Rashid himself, who had wandered forth in disguise to amuse himself, as was his wont at times. Little dreaming that he was entertaining the Khalifeh unawares, Abu-l-Hasan led his guest into his saloon—a most luxurious apartment where every comfort was provided: streams of water murmuring through silver channels; golden fountains playing in cool grottoes, and, over all, an amber light shed by a wonderful lamp, subduing the richness of the place to a vague and dreaming glamour.
Here they reclined, and Abu-l-Hasan summoned a slave girl, lissom as the willow tendril, and bade her sing to the music of her lute. Sweetly then she sang these verses, inspired by the soft languor of the night:—
Oh! Love, thy footsteps stray in lands afar,
But here within my heart thou dost abide.
E’en though thou dwelt in yonder distant star
No depths of space our spirits could divide.
Thou art my Love! Thro’ all eternity
Thou art my soul, and nothing is but thee.
Er-Rashid marvelled greatly at the singer and her song, and wondered in his heart what manner of man was Abu-l-Hasan that he could entertain on so magnificent a scale.
“Tell me, young man,” he said, “what is thy name, that on a future occasion I may return thy hospitality?”
And Abu-l-Hasan told him, but added with a smile: “Alas! this night must end our acquaintance, for I have so vowed it.” Then he set forth the nature and the cause of his vow, at which Er-Rashid laughed heartily and said, “By Allah! brother; I do not blame thee!”
After this came the slave girls and spread a banquet before them, and they partook of it, Abu-l-Hasan giving the choicest portions to the Khalifeh. When they had finished their repast Abu-l-Hasan brought out his oldest and most fragrant wines, laid the wine-cloth himself, and, having lighted some small lamps and candles, filled a goblet and raised it to the Khalifeh. “Best of boon companions,” he said, “away with ceremony! Regard me as thy faithful slave and may I never be compelled to grieve thy loss.” With this he drained the goblet, and, still acting the part of the Khalifeh’s servant, filled another for his master and handed it to him. This pleased the Khalifeh greatly. He appreciated such delicate attention. He took the goblet and drank, saying within himself, “By Allah! a good return will I make him for this.” Abu-l-Hasan continued to wait upon his guest in humble fashion, and the Khalifeh enjoyed his hospitality to the full. If his host had known him to be Er-Rashid himself—which he did not—he could not have entertained him better.
At the hour of midnight the Khalifeh spoke to his host in serious tones. “O, Abu-l-Hasan,” said he, “tell me what thing thou dost most desire.”
“Why, my master,” replied Abu-l-Hasan, “if thou wouldst know: my most constant prayer is that I may be rid of the incessant annoyance imposed upon me by the Imam and the four Sheiks of the neighbouring mosque. When they hear the sound of music and revelry at night they inform against me, so that I am harassed by heavy fines. By Allah! if I had my way I would give each of them a thousand lashes.”
“May Allah grant thy prayer!” said Er-Rashid, and, unobserved, he dropped a lozenge into his host’s wine and handed him the goblet, bidding him drink.
Abu-l-Hasan did so and speedily thereafter fell sound asleep. The Khalifeh at once summoned his servants, who, having followed him at a little distance, were waiting without. He commanded them to place Abu-l-Hasan upon a mule and convey him to the Palace. This was soon done.
Later, when the Khalifeh had rested somewhat, he summoned the most important officials of his Court, and, indicating the sleeping figure of Abu-l-Hasan, said to them, “In the morning you will find this young man upon the royal couch. When he awakes, see to it that you obey his lightest wish as you would my own; salute him as the Khalifeh and make obeisance before him.” To his women slaves he gave similar instructions and ordered them to address Abu-l-Hasan as the Prince of the Faithful. Then Er-Rashid retired to another part of the Palace and slept.
In the morning when Abu-l-Hasan awoke upon the royal couch he stared in amazement at the attendants making obeisance before him. “O, Prince of the Faithful! it is the hour of morning prayer,” said a beautiful slave girl, stepping forward. Abu-l-Hasan laughed, for he knew not[207] what to make of it. Then he rubbed his eyes and gazed around upon the sumptuous magnificence of the apartment with its gorgeous roof and walls, its rich silk hangings, its vessels of gold and sparkling crystal, its jewelled furniture, ornaments and luxurious carpets. “By Allah!” he gasped; “have I attained to the fragrant Paradise, or do I dream?”
With that he closed his eyes as if to hold the dream in further slumber, but a eunuch advanced and kissed the ground before the royal couch. “O, Prince of the Faithful!” he said, humbly; “bethink thee of thy usual custom.” At this Abu-l-Hasan, sorely perplexed, opened his eyes again very slowly, and saw the rich trappings of the couch whereon he lay. Little by little he opened them until at last they were wide with wonder, for this was no dream—the voice of the eunuch who had spoken, the faces and forms of the attendants, the royal splendour of the place—all were as real as he could wish; and yet—yet—he raised his hand to his mouth and bit one of his fingers—hard; then cried out with sudden pain. Angrily he raised himself on one elbow, and, addressing one of the female slaves, “Come here!” he said. “My lord, I am always at thy service,” she answered, drawing near. “What is thy will, O Prince of the Faithful?” “Tell me,” he said, “who am I, and where am I?” “Thou art the Prince of the Faithful,” answered she. “Thou art in thy palace and upon thy royal couch.” “Nay, nay,” said he; “I sleep. Methinks I dream, or—” he went on, half to himself,—“Can it be? My guest—he bade me drink and—what subtle enchantment is this? Am I now Abu-l-Hasan dreaming I am the Khalifeh, or was I, last night and heretofore for many nights, the Khalifeh dreaming he was Abu-l-Hasan?” And the Khalifeh himself, observing[208] him all the while from a sheltered nook, revelled in the perplexity of his guest.
mand tied on donkey through townplace
Abu-l-Hasan orders that the Sheiks of the district should be taken to be impaled on the back of a mangy camel.
At last Abu-l-Hasan called one after another to him and questioned each in turn, asking if indeed he were the Prince of the Faithful; and in turn each showed amazement that he should put the question and assured him that indeed he was the Khalifeh of the Lord of all creatures. To the first he said, hotly, “Thou liest!” To the next: “Thou art in error!” To others: “Impossible!” and “It cannot be!” Until at last he was fairly beaten, and had to admit that he indeed was Er-Rashid himself, the Prince of the Faithful. He asked the attendants to withdraw so that he might give himself up to this new-found wonder and perplexity, and accustom himself to the strange position in which he found himself.
The morning wore on and he was aroused from his reverie by a eunuch who approached with a salutation and handed him a pair of shoes of fine spun gold set with precious stones. Abu-l-Hasan put these on. Then came female slaves with a golden basin and a silver jug and they bathed his hands. On this being done, they spread a praying carpet before him. Although he knew not well how to pray, he made many protestations to Allah, earnestly entreating that he might be convinced that this was not a dream. His prayers dispelled the doubt, but it returned when the eunuchs brought him priceless apparel in which to clothe himself, for, when he was arrayed in these magnificent garments, and sat contemplating himself, he muttered, “Surely, ’tis all a dream, and a trick of the Evil One.”
This thought was heavy upon him when a memluk entered. “O Prince of the Faithful!” he said, “the chamberlain craves speech with thee.” “Bid him enter!” replied Abu-l-Hasan, rousing himself. And presently the chamberlain was kissing the ground before him and saying, “Peace be unto thee, O Prince of the Faithful!” Then Abu-l-Hasan descended from the couch and stood before the chamberlain. “Allah! Allah!” cried that worthy servitor in astonishment. “O our Lord! forget not that all men are thy slaves and it is not fitting that the Prince of the Faithful should rise to anyone.” But Abu-l-Hasan bade him proceed with his business.
The chamberlain then informed Abu-l-Hasan that certain high officials and the chief memluks were without, awaiting his commands. “Let them enter!” said Abu-l-Hasan with growing authority. So they were summoned, and each as he advanced kissed the ground before him, saluting him as the Prince of the Faithful. Abu-l-Hasan was greatly pleased with this crowning proof of his position, and gave his commands forthwith. To the Wali he said: “Go at once to the mother of Abu-l-Hasan and give her a hundred gold pieces, with my blessing.” And he named the street where he would find her. “When you have done this,” he continued in tones of severity, “repair to the mosque and bestow upon the Imam and the four Sheiks, each a thousand lashes. Then thou shalt bind them upon camels, with their faces to the beasts’ tails, and make a public show of them in the ways of the city, proclaiming to all, ‘Behold the reward of fools who trouble their neighbours!’ When this is done thou shalt execute a sworn bond expelling them from the mosque. And see to it that thou carry this out to the very letter.”
And the Wali did as he was commanded. And Abu-l-Hasan continued issuing his commands in like fashion until the evening, when he felt weary and hungry. Dismissing the officials, he summoned a eunuch and desired food to be brought him. “It is prepared, O Prince of the Faithful!” replied the eunuch. And he led him into the banqueting chamber, where a sumptuous feast was spread. Ten slave-girls waited upon him and he ate with relish of the delicate viands they placed before him. When he had finished they led him to the drinking chamber and danced before him while he drank of the choicest and rarest wines.
“By Allah!” he said in his cups, “this is enchantment—naught but devilry, practised upon me by that guest of mine. Here, girl! why dost thou laugh?” The girl he had called came and kissed the ground before him. “O Prince of the Faithful,” she said, “here in thy palace all is thine. I laughed for very gladness to be thy slave.” And she whirled away again into the dance. Presently, however, she returned with a cup of wine and handed it to him. He drank, after which another came with another cup of wine, until the last was reached; and she, by order of the Khalifeh, had dropped a drugged lozenge into the cup. Ignorant of this, Abu-l-Hasan took it from her hand, and, saying to himself, “May Allah protect me from the Evil One!” drank the wine; and immediately on this he fell back senseless. The attendants then, in obedience to Er-Rashid’s orders, took him back to his own house and laid him on his bed, still unconscious.
When he awoke from his stupor it was dark, and he called loudly for lights; but there was no answer. Where were the slave girls? Angrily he summoned one or two by name. Then it was that his mother, hearing him calling out in this way, came to his couch and asked what ailed him. Had he gone mad? “Darest thou address the Prince of the Faithful so?” he replied. “Who art thou, miserable old woman?” “Canst thou not recognise thy mother?” “Cease, woman! I am the Prince of the Faithful, the lord of the earth and all its treasures; all people are my slaves and—” “Silence!” she broke in, “if thou valuest thy life!” And, guessing that some spell had been laid upon him, she began to mutter charms to drive away the evil spirits. Then, seeking to divert his mind, she told him the good news about the Imam and the Sheiks; how they had been punished, and how she herself had received a hundred gold pieces with the Khalifeh’s blessing. When he heard this he started up, shouting: “It was I who gave orders that these things should be done; I, the Khalifeh, the Prince of the Faithful.” And thereupon he took a stick and beat his mother till the neighbours flocked in and demanded to know the cause of the trouble. “Wretched old woman!” he was shouting; “am I not the Prince of the Faithful?”
Hearing this the neighbours said among themselves, “He is mad!” And without more ado they fell upon him, and bound him, and took him to the madhouse. There he was beaten every day and treated in such a manner that he feared indeed to lose his reason. After many days of this harsh treatment his mother came to him and asked him what he was doing in such a distressful plight if, indeed, he was the Prince of the Faithful. And he was fain to admit that he had been mistaken—nay, worse still; he had been made the sport of evil spirits and the subject of enchantment. So he repented, and prayed to Allah for forgiveness; and they released him from the madhouse.
Abu-l-Hasan’s return to his old life brought with it a desire for a boon companion, and this urged his restless feet through the ways of the city again, searching for one as of old. Now Er-Rashid had kept a watchful eye on Abu-l-Hasan’s movements, and thus it happened that one evening the Khalifeh, in the garb of a merchant, stood before him. “Greeting to thee, O master of devils!” cried Abu-l-Hasan, recognising him as soon as he saw him. “Hast thou then suffered at my hands?” asked Er-Rashid. “Suffered! vilest of devil drivers!” returned Abu-l-Hasan with bitter anger. Then, after recounting the many things he had endured, he asked, “Is this the way thou returnest my hospitality, to give thy devils control over me, to make sport of my sufferings? Begone! I wish to see thy face no more.”
Er-Rashid then sought to disarm his resentment with courteous explanations. “Nay,” he said, “thou art surely in error, brother. Yet I am to blame in some way, for, on parting with thee that night, I neglected to close the door of thy house behind me; and, methinks, the Devil entered to thee after I had gone.” And so, with subtle words, Er-Rashid softened the anger of Abu-l-Hasan and drew from him the whole tale of his sufferings, advising him on this point and on that and showing a pitiful countenance at his wrongs. But not until Er-Rashid had sworn on oath that, neither by carelessness nor otherwise, would he let in the Devil upon him again, would Abu-l-Hasan comply with his earnest entreaty to be invited once more to his house that evening. “I swear by Allah,” said Er-Rashid, “thou shalt suffer no manner of ill through me.”
During the evening Abu-l-Hasan entertained his guest as before, and again, at midnight, the Khalifeh dropped a lozenge into his host’s wine, so that as soon as he had drained his cup he fell into a deep slumber. Then once more the Khalifeh commanded him to be taken to the Palace and placed upon the royal couch and surrounded by slave girls to attend his waking. Towards morning Er-Rashid, from his place of concealment, commanded one of the slave girls to strike the cords of her lute above the sleeper’s head, so that Abu-l-Hasan awoke to the strains of music. “Mother! Mother!” he called out, but the slave girls answered him, “O Prince of the Faithful! we are here to do thy bidding.” At this he gazed about him and immediately threw up his hands and called on Allah to deliver him from the wicked enchantment which the Evil One had a second time imposed upon him. Then he turned to a memluk and bade him bite his ear so that he might know whether or no he was in the flesh, and awake. The memluk at first refused to bite the ear of the Prince of the Faithful, whereupon Abu-l-Hasan would have arisen and hewn off his head, had he not obeyed and bitten the ear till his teeth met. A loud shriek from Abu-l-Hasan brought Er-Rashid to his knees with suppressed laughter. Then Abu-l-Hasan rose in wrath and cursed those who stood around him, calling upon their Master by the most holy passages of the Koran to break the spell which held him in so vile a thrall. At this Er-Rashid, unable to endure it further, called out from his hiding-place, “O Abu-l-Hasan! this is more than I can bear.” And he came forth laughing.
Abu-l-Hasan at once recognised him as Er-Rashid, the Khalifeh, and made obeisance to him, praying that he might live for ever. “Rise, Abu-l-Hasan, the Wag!” commanded the Khalifeh then; “and the peace of Allah be with thee.” With his own hands Er-Rashid then clothed him in rich apparel; after which he bestowed upon him a thousand gold pieces and raised him to the dignity of chief of his boon companions.
Abu-l-Hasan quickly grew in favour with the Khalifeh and the Lady Zubeydeh, his wife; and, in the course of time, married Nuzhat-el-Fuad, Zubeydeh’s Treasurer. They lived very happily together, tasting every delight, until all their money was spent. Then, Abu-l-Hasan, confronted with poverty and ashamed to beg a further favour from the Khalifeh, belaboured his wits with regard to filling his empty treasure chest. “O, Nuzhat-el-Fuad!” he said at length, “I would play a jest upon the Khalifeh, and I would that thou shouldst play a similar jest upon the Lady Zubeydeh; for so, methinks, we shall receive from them two hundred pieces of gold and two pieces of fine spun silk.” “I am at thy service,” she replied. “What is thy plan?” And he unfolded it to her.
It was that they should both feign death. He was to die first, and, when she had laid him out with all the proper trappings of a corpse, she was to run dishevelled and in grief to the Lady Zubeydeh, and beat her breast and shriek and moan, and finally acquaint her with the sad cause of her sorrowing. “Then,” went on Abu-l-Hasan, “she will weep with thee, for have I not found favour in her eyes? And she will comfort thee and give thee a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of fine spun silk, and bid thee go and prepare my corpse decently for the grave.” “It is well, O my lord!” said Nuzhat-el-Fuad, eagerly, “proceed—what then?”
“Then,” continued Abu-l-Hasan, “when thou comest to me with the spoil, we will set it by; and thou shalt take my place, and, when I have bestowed on thee the honours of the much-lamented dead, I myself will run to the Khalifeh, distracted with grief, and beat upon my breast and pluck my beard and tear my garments, and prostrate myself in sorrow before him, crying, ‘There is no deity but Allah!’ And, when he has lifted me up and wiped away my tears, and drawn from me the history of thy death, then will he do by me in like manner as Zubeydeh will have done by thee. He will bestow on me a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of fine spun silk, bidding me go and prepare thy corpse for decent burial. Then I will come to thee and lay my piece of silk by thine, and place my hundred pieces on thy hundred pieces, and thenceforward we shall live in luxury, my Nuzhat-el-Fuad.”
His wife laughed with glee and clapped her hands. “Verily, Abu-l-Hasan,” she cried, “thou art a wag.”
Still laughing, she proceeded to lay him out, directed by her lord and master, who, though dead, failed nothing in his instructions as to the minutest details—even to placing upon his stomach a knife and a pinch of salt. Then she put on the garb of woe and dishevelled her hair, and ran weeping to the Lady Zubeydeh, who, seeing her thus distracted, was filled with pity and questioned her gently as to the cause of so great a grief. But Nuzhat-el-Fuad’s sobs and tears rose to shrieks of wild despair before at length she made the matter plain. And, when Zubeydeh knew it, she wept with her and mourned for Abu-l-Hasan the Wag; and she bestowed upon her a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of fine spun silk, bidding her prepare his body for the grave.
When Nuzhat-el-Fuad returned to the house and showed Abu-l-Hasan the first fruits of his plan, he arose and, sharing her delight, danced with glee. Together they took the spoil and laid it by; then they addressed themselves to the second part of their jest. Nuzhat-el-Fuad was speedily disposed according to the first rites of the dead, and Abu-l-Hasan fell to tearing his garments and setting his turban awry, and practising postures of grief. Then he set forth to the Palace, plucking his beard and moaning as he ran. When he arrived there the Khalifeh was in the judgment hall, but Abu-l-Hasan was given immediate audience because of his haste and despair. “What ails thee?” said the Khalifeh, regarding Abu-l-Hasan with dismay, for he was beating his breast and moaning in agony of mind. “Alas! O Prince of the Faithful! Alas! that thy boon companion had ever been born!” At which outburst of grief the Khalifeh took him gently and sought to learn the cause of such overwhelming woe. At length, Abu-l-Hasan told him. Nuzhat-el-Fuad, the half of his life, was dead! “Now, by Allah!” said the Khalifeh, “there is no god but Allah!” And he smote his palms together and raised his eyes to heaven. He condoled with the bereaved man and bade him submit to the will of Allah. It was Abu-l-Hasan’s plain duty to do this—especially as he, the Khalifeh, would send him a far fairer woman than the one he had lost. Then he bestowed on Abu-l-Hasan a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of fine silk, and bade him prepare the corpse for burial in a manner befitting one so dear.
people feasting
Full of suppressed joy, Abu-l-Hasan took the guerdon and hastened back to his house, where he found Nuzhat-el-Fuad ready to dance in her turn. They rejoiced together and presently added the gold pieces and the silk to those already laid by.
Now, the Khalifeh, as soon as he could dismiss his Council, hurried with Mesrur, his executioner, to Zubeydeh to condole with her on the loss of Nuzhat-el-Fuad. But when he came to her he found her weeping and waiting for his coming to condole with him on the loss of Abu-l-Hasan. And when it came to a clear misunderstanding between them as to which was dead—Abu-l-Hasan or Nuzhat-el-Fuad,—or, at the furthest, which had died first, the Khalifeh settled the matter in his own mind by turning to Mesrur, his executioner, and saying, “Truly, there is little sense in a woman.”
“Jest not with me,” cried Zubeydeh, laughing contemptuously. “Is it not enough that Abu-l-Hasan is dead, that thou shouldst seek to bury his wife with him! Cease! Nuzhat-el-Fuad came to me in grief, mourning the death of Abu-l-Hasan.”
“Cease to thee!” replied Er-Rashid, “for Abu-l-Hasan came since to me, mourning the death of Nuzhat-el-Fuad. Silence, woman! It is Nuzhat-el-Fuad who is dead.” Then Zubeydeh recounted all the facts of the case, but the Khalifeh only laughed and reiterated: “It is certainly Nuzhat-el-Fuad who is dead, and not Abu-l-Hasan.”
And so they continued to contradict each other until the Khalifeh grew very angry, and, thinking to settle the matter easily, sent Mesrur in all haste to the house of Abu-l-Hasan to ascertain the truth.
The Executioner set forth running at full speed, and no sooner was he gone than the Khalifeh said to Zubeydeh, “Wilt thou make me a wager?” “I will,” said she, “for certain am I that Abu-l-Hasan is dead.” “And equally certain am I that none but Nuzhat-el-Fuad is dead.” So the Khalifeh staked his Garden of Delight against Zubeydeh’s Hall of Statues, and, when this was agreed upon, they waited impatiently for Mesrur’s return.
Meanwhile, Abu-l-Hasan, seated at the window in his house, beheld the executioner come running in haste, and said to his wife, “Methinks the Khalifeh hath announced thy death to Zubeydeh and she hath contradicted him, saying it is Abu-l-Hasan that is dead. And then, one word giving another, each hath become more obstinate, until the Khalifeh hath proposed a wager and hath now sent his executioner running hither to learn which is dead. I think, therefore, to preserve my honour in the Khalifeh’s eyes, it is well that thou be the corpse so that Mesrur may see thee and return and inform the Khalifeh, who will then at once believe my assertion and win his wager.”
Swiftly Nuzhat-el-Fuad obeyed, and, by the time Mesrur reached the house, she was extended ready for burial, while Abu-l-Hasan sat at her head weeping and beating his breast. And Mesrur advanced and uncovered her face, crying “There is no god but Allah! Alas! Our sister Nuzhat-el-Fuad is taken away!” He hastened back to the Palace and told the Khalifeh and Zubeydeh that Abu-l-Hasan was alive and well, and that Nuzhat-el-Fuad was dead. At this the Khalifeh laughed heartily, saying “Now have I won thy Hall of Statues!” Then he bade Mesrur tell the story again, omitting no smallest point; for he said Zubeydeh was lacking in sense and dull of comprehension. This enraged Zubeydeh and she retorted that it was the one who believed the word of a slave like Mesrur who was lacking in sense. But the more angry she became the more the Khalifeh laughed, until she calmed herself and said, “O Prince of the Faithful! this slave here is lying in order to please thee. Now I will send my messenger, and then the truth of the matter will be clear.” The Khalifeh, still laughing, readily[219] consented; and Zubeydeh summoned an old woman and bade her run with all speed to this house of the quick and the dead and learn for a certainty which was prepared for the grave. And the old woman set forth running as fast as her legs would carry her.
Now, when Nuzhat-el-Fuad, seated at the window, saw her drawing near, she said to Abu-l-Hasan, “Methinks the Lady Zubeydeh hath found fault with Mesrur’s report of thy death, and hath sent her messenger to learn the truth. Therefore, to preserve my honour in Zubeydeh’s eyes, is it not proper that thou be dead?”
“That is so,” said Abu-l-Hasan, and he extended himself on the floor, while his wife prepared his corpse for the grave. When the old woman came in she found Nuzhat-el-Fuad sitting at his head, weeping bitterly and tearing her hair. “O my mother!” she wailed, “there was none like him! Alas! I am alone and wretched!” And she fell to moaning and sobbing and rocking herself to and fro in uncontrollable grief.
The old woman comforted her and told her how Mesrur had sought to stir up a quarrel between the Khalifeh and Zubeydeh by a lying report. Nuzhet-el-Fuad, in return, protested that, not long since, she was with the Lady Zubeydeh, who had bestowed upon her a hundred pieces of gold and a piece of fine spun silk, saying, “Go prepare thy husband’s body for the grave!” And in a fresh outburst of grief Nuzhet-el-Fuad cried, “Oh! would that Mesrur’s tale were true! Would that I had died and Abu-l-Hasan had lived, for I am solitary and know not what to do.”
After the two had wept together over the body of Abu-l-Hasan the old woman hastened back to the Palace and[220] told her story to the Lady Zubeydeh, who laughed heartily and bade her tell it to the Khalifeh. On hearing it the Khalifeh paused and pondered, but Mesrur cried, “Thou liest, hag! I myself saw Nuzhet-el-Fuad lying dead and Abu-l-Hasan alive.”
“It is thou that liest!” retorted the old woman, “and thou hast a reason.” And Mesrur would have laid his hands upon her, but Zubeydeh interposed, weeping; whereupon the Khalifeh said, “Nay, nay; it seems we are all liars, and methinks the proper course is that we all go together to the house of Abu-l-Hasan and so see who lieth truly and who lieth falsely.” So all four went forth disputing and laying wager on wager as they went.
Now, Abu-l-Hasan, who had said within himself, “The matter cannot end here,” had seated himself at the window to watch; and, when he saw the four approaching, he turned to his wife and remarked wisely, “O Nuzhet-el-Fuad! Verily, all is not a pancake that is slippery, and the pitcher that goes often to the fountain will one day be broken. Mesrur and the old woman have brewed trouble with their different tales. See! here come the Khalifeh and his messenger, and the Lady Zubeydeh and her messenger; and they are contending and disputing among themselves. Now, to save our reputation for veracity, we must both be dead.”
With great haste they laid themselves out, and, before the babel of contention reached the house, they were lying side by side prepared for burial, and like nothing so much as the silence of the grave. And thus the Khalifeh, and Zubeydeh, and Mesrur, and the old woman, found them when they entered. “Alas!” cried the Lady Zubeydeh, turning to the Khalifeh and Mesrur, “by your repeated tales of her death you have succeeded at last in killing her!” “This is foolish talk,” replied the Khalifeh, while Mesrur and the old woman glared at one another, speechless. “Did not Abu-l-Hasan come to me, plucking his beard and smiting his breast, and saying, ‘Nuzhet-el-Fuad is dead?’ Truly, then, she died first, and he, after we had made our wager, died of grief. I, therefore, have won.” But Zubeydeh replied to this in a torrent of words, saying that Nuzhet-el-Fuad came to her, tearing her hair and calling out in sorrow for the death of Abu-l-Hasan. And as this was before the wager was made she in her turn claimed to have won. A long dispute ensued in which Mesrur and the old woman joined, but neither side could convince the other; and none knew but the two who lay still as death.
At last the Khalifeh, weary of the wrangle, sat himself down at the heads of the two corpses and said hotly, “By Allah! By the tomb of the Prophet! By the graves of all my ancestors! I would give a thousand pieces of gold to any one who could tell me which of these two died before the other.”
No sooner had Abu-l-Hasan heard these words than he, being somewhat quicker in such things than his wife, sprang up crying, “O Prince of the Faithful! it was I who died first. And I have won the thousand pieces according to thine oath.” But, when Nuzhet-el-Fuad sat up before them, and the Lady Zubeydeh saw that they had practised a trick to obtain the gold, she chid her gently, reproaching her for not asking for help; and yet she wept all the time with joy that she was alive. And the Khalifeh—he wept with laughter, and, as soon as he could speak, he cried, “O Abu-l-Hasan, truly thou art a wag!” “Nay, O Prince of the Faithful!”[222] replied Abu-l-Hasan, “I had dispensed the good gifts at thy hands, and, being sore stricken with poverty, could contrive no other way but to play this trick upon thee. When I was alone I used my gold wisely, but since thou hast given me this female slave to wife, all thy wealth would not suffice for our extravagance; wherefore, if my lord make not haste to bestow upon me the thousand pieces of gold according to his oath, I may not take it, and—”
At this the Khalifeh and the Lady Zubeydeh laughed heartily, and even Mesrur twisted his face into a grin and forgot his threat to bastinade the old woman.
“Come,” said the Khalifeh, “I must reward thee for thy victory over death.” And, when they had gained the Palace, Er-Rashid gave him the thousand pieces of gold, and assured to him an unstinted plenitude in the future. Zubeydeh also, in token of similar goodwill, bestowed a thousand pieces of gold upon Nuzhet-el-Fuad. And Abu-l-Hasan and Nuzhet-el-Fuad lived happily thereafter, until, in the end, the last cup of joy was drunk, and the Gleaner, who gleans in palaces and the humblest homes, came to gather them in.
The End
