smarted dreadfully, and he could hardly see to walk straight, and
everyone wondered what was the matter with him.

'Abu Nowas! What has happened?' cried the Sultan.

'Oh, noble Sultan, my wife is dead,' wept he.

'We must all die,' answered the Sultan; but this was not the reply for
which Abu Nowas had hoped.

'True, O Sultan, but I have neither shroud to wrap her in, nor money
to bury her with,' went on Abu Nowas, in no wise abashed by the way the
Sultan had received his news.

'Well, give him a hundred pieces of gold,' said the Sultan, turning to
the Grand Vizir. And when the money was counted out Abu Nowas bowed low,
and left the hall, his tears still flowing, but with joy in his heart.

'Have you got anything?' cried his wife, who was waiting for him
anxiously.

'Yes, a hundred gold pieces,' said he, throwing down the bag, 'but that
will not last us any time. Now you must go to the Sultana, clothed in
sackcloth and robes of mourning, and tell her that your husband, Abu
Nowas, is dead, and you have no money for his burial. When she hears
that, she will be sure to ask you what has become of the money and the
fine clothes she gave us on our marriage, and you will answer, "before
he died he sold everything."'

The wife did as she was told, and wrapping herself in sackcloth went up
to the Sultana's own palace, and as she was known to have been one of
Subida's favourite attendants, she was taken without difficulty into the
private apartments.

'What is the matter?' inquired the Sultana, at the sight of the dismal
figure.

'My husband lies dead at home, and he has spent all our money, and sold
everything, and I have nothing left to bury him with,' sobbed the wife.

Then Subida took up a purse containing two hundred gold pieces, and
said: 'Your husband served us long and faithfully. You must see that he
has a fine funeral.'

The wife took the money, and, kissing the feet of the Sultana, she
joyfully hastened home. They spent some happy hours planning how they
should spend it, and thinking how clever they had been. 'When the Sultan
goes this evening to Subida's palace,' said Abu Nowas, 'she will be sure
to tell him that Abu Nowas is dead. "Not Abu Nowas, it is his wife," he
will reply, and they will quarrel over it, and all the time we shall be
sitting here enjoying ourselves. Oh, if they only knew, how angry they
would be!'

As Abu Nowas had foreseen, the Sultan went, in the evening after his
business was