‘Aboulfatah,’ he said, ‘see what fatal order the Commander of the Faithful sends me. Can I avoid obeying it?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ replied the minister. ‘Do not abandon yourself to your affliction. Aboul­casem must be destroyed. I am going, without taking his life, to make everyone believe that he is dead. I shall keep him so well con­cealed that he will never be seen. By this means you will always remain on the throne, and you will have all the riches of this young man: for when we are masters of his person we will make him suffer such tortures that we will make him discover his treasure.’

‘Do what you wish,’ replied the king; ‘but what shall we say to the caliph?’

‘Rely upon me for that too,’ replied the vizir. ‘The Commander of the Faithful will be deceived like the others. Only let me execute the plan which I contemplate, and don’t let the rest cause you any anxiety.’

Aboulfatah, accompanied by several courtiers who did not know his intention, went to see Aboulcasem. He received them as the first persons of the court. He regaled them magnifi­cently. He made the vizir seat himself in the place of honour and overwhelmed him with civilities, without having the least suspicion of his perfidy. Whilst they were all at table and were drinking excellent wines, the treacherous Aboul­fatah threw skilfully into Aboulcasem’s cup, with­out anyone perceiving it, a powder which deprived the drinker of all feeling, the body falling into lethargy and resembling a corpse long dead.

The young man had no sooner lifted the cup to his lips than weakness overtook him. His servants advanced to support him; but soon, seeing in him all the indications of a dead man, they laid him on a sofa and began to utter terrible cries. All the guests, struck by a sudden terror, remained seized with astonishment. As for Aboulfatah, it is impossible to say how far he carried his dis­simulation. He did not content himself with feigning an immoderate grief: he began to tear his garments, and by his example incite all the others to grief. He then ordered a coffin of ivory and ebony to be made; and whilst they were at work on it, he took possession of all the effects of Aboulcasem, and placed them in sequestration in the king’s palace.

The rumour of the young man’s death spread in the town. Everyone of both sexes put on mourning and flocked to the door of his house, with bare heads and feet. The old men and the young, the women and the girls, were in tears. They made the air resound with cries and lamentations. One would have said they mourned, some an only son, others a brother, and the others a dearly loved husband.

Rich and poor were both equally affected by his death. The rich mourned a friend who received them agreeably in his house, and the poor a bene­factor whose charity they could never tire. There was general consternation.

The unhappy Aboulcasem was enclosed in the coffin, which the people, by order of Aboulfatah, bore outside the town to a great cemetery where there were several tombs, and among others a magnificent one where rested the father of this vizir with some other persons of his family.

They put the coffin in the tomb, and the treacherous Aboulfatah, with his head on his knees, beat his breast. He made every demon­stration of a man possessed by despair. All who saw him had pity on him and prayed heaven to console him.

As night approached all the people retired into the town, and the vizir remained with two of his slaves in the tomb, the door of which they doubly locked. Then they lit a fire, warmed water in a silver basin, then, having taken Aboulcasem from the coffin, they washed him with warm water. The young man recovered his senses by degrees. He cast his eyes on Aboulfatah, whom he recog­nised.

‘Ah, my lord!’ he said, ‘where are we, and to what a state do I see myself reduced?’

‘Miserable fellow,’ replied the minister, ‘learn that it is I who cause your misfortune. I have brought you here to have you in my power, and to make you suffer a thousand ills if you do not discover your treasure to me. I shall break your body in pieces. I shall invent every day new tortures to make your life insupportable to you. In a word, I shall not cease to torment you if you do not give up to me those hidden riches which enable you to live with more than kingly mag­nificence.’

‘You can do all you wish,’ replied Aboulcasem, ‘I shall not reveal my treasure.’

Hardly had he said these words than the cowardly and cruel Aboulfatah had the unhappy son of Abdelaziz held by his slaves, and drew from beneath his robe a whip made of intertwined lion-skin thongs, with which he struck him for some time, and with such violence that the young man fainted. When the vizir saw him in this state, he ordered his slaves to replace him in his coffin, and leaving him in the tomb which he had well closed, he went home.

He went the next morning to give an account to the king of what he had done.

‘Sire,’ he said to him, ‘I experienced yesterday the firmness of Aboulcasem. It has not yet been belied, but I do not think it will resist the tor­ments which I am preparing for him.’

The prince, who was not less barbarous than his minister, said to him:

‘Vizir, I am pleased with you. I hope we shall soon learn where the treasure is. However, the courier must be sent back without further delay. What are we going to write to the caliph?’

‘Let us inform him,’ replied Aboulfatah, ‘that Aboulcasem having learnt that your place was given to him, was so overjoyed at it, and indulged in such great rejoicings, that he died suddenly in a debauch.’

The king approved of this idea. They wrote immediately to Haroun-al-Raschid and sent back his courier.

The vizir, who flattered himself that Aboul­casem would that very day discover his treasure to him, left the town with the resolution to go and make him suffer fresh tortures. But on arriving at the tomb, he was surprised to find the door open. He entered quite troubled, and not seeing the son of Abdelaziz in the coffin, he thought that he had lost his senses. He returned promptly to the palace and related this accident to the king, who felt himself seized with a mortal terror, and said: ‘O Heaven, what will become of us? Since this young man has escaped us we are lost. He will not fail to go to Bagdad and speak to the caliph.’

Aboulfatah, on his side, in despair at having no longer by his side the victim of his avarice and cruelty, said to the king his master: ‘Would to Heaven that I had yesterday taken his life. He would not cause us so much anxiety. We must not, however,’ he added, ‘despair yet. If he has taken flight, as it is idle to doubt, he cannot be far from here. Let us go with all the soldiers of the guard. Let us search all the environs of the town. I hope we shall find him.’

The king decided, without difficulty, on such an important search. He assembled all his soldiers, and dividing them into two bodies, he gave one to his vizir. He put himself at the head of the other; and these troops scoured the country.

Whilst they were seeking Aboulcasem in all the villages, in the woods, and in the mountains, the vizir Giafar, who had started on his way, met the courier on the road, who said to him: ‘My lord, it is useless to go to Bassora if Aboul­casem is the sole object of your journey; for the young man is dead. His obsequies have been held a few days ago. My eyes have been the sad witness of them.’

Giafar, who anticipated with pleasure seeing the new king, and presenting him with his patents himself, was very afflicted at his death. He shed tears, and thinking it useless to continue his journey, he retraced his steps.

As soon as he had arrived at Bagdad, he went to the palace with the courier. The sadness which appeared upon their countenances made the caliph understand in advance that they had some misfortune to announce to him.

‘Ah! Giafar,’ cried the prince, ‘you have soon returned. What news do you bring me?’

‘Commander of the Faithful,’ replied the vizir, ‘you doubtless will not expect the sad news which I am going to tell you. Aboulcasem is no more. Since your departure from Bassora, this young man has lost his life.’

Haroun-al-Raschid had no sooner heard these words than he threw himself down from his throne. He remained for some moments stretched on the ground without giving any sign of life. They hastened to succour him, and when he had recovered from his swoon, he sought with his eyes the courier who came from Bassora, and having perceived him, he asked for his despatch. The courier presented it to him. The prince read it with much attention. He then shut himself up in his cabinet with Giafar. He showed him the letter of the King of Bassora. After having re-read it several times, the caliph said:

‘That does not seem natural. I suspect the King of Bassora and his vizir. Instead of exe­cuting my orders they have killed Aboulcasem.’