she had
done nothing else during her whole life!
One day she was sitting on the banks of a stream bewailing her
wretched lot, when she suddenly caught sight of herself in the
water. Her hair and part of her face was quite concealed by the
ass's head, which was drawn right over like a hood, and the
filthy matted skin covered her whole body. It was the first time
she had seen herself as other people saw her, and she was filled
with shame at the spectacle. Then she threw off her disguise and
jumped into the water, plunging in again and again, till she
shone like ivory. When it was time to go back to the farm, she
was forced to put on the skin which disguised her, and now seemed
more dirty than ever; but, as she did so, she comforted herself
with the thought that to-morrow was a holiday, and that she would
be able for a few hours to forget that she was a farm girl, and
be a princess once more.
So, at break of day, she stamped on the ground, as the fairy had
told her, and instantly the dress like the sky lay across her
tiny bed. Her room was so small that there was no place for the
train of her dress to spread itself out, but she pinned it up
carefully when she combed her beautiful hair and piled it up on
the top of her head, as she had always worn it. When she had
done, she was so pleased with herself that she determined never
to let a chance pass of putting on her splendid clothes, even if
she had ther's love, and each time Graziella talked of her longing to
escape from her prison, till at length the mermaid promised to
bring the fairy Marina to see her, in hopes she might suggest
something.
Next day the fairy came with the mermaid, and the princess
received her with delight. After a little talk she begged
Graziella to show her the inside of the tower and let her see the
garden on the top, for with the help of crutches she could manage
to move about, and being a fairy could lafter swallowing her up!
The queen fainted away with terror, and the younger princess
burst into floods of tears and could hardly be dragged away from
the fatal spot, whilst the court was overwhelmed with horror at
so great a calamity.
Orders were given to bore the earth to a great depth, but in
vain; not a trace of the vanished princess was to be found.
She sank right through the earth and found herself in a desert
place with nothing but rocks and trees and no sign of any human
being. The only living creature she saw was a very pretty little
dog, who ran up to her and at once began to caress her. She took
him in her arms, and after playing with him for a little put him
down again, when he started off in front of her, looking round
from time to time as though begging her to follow.
She let him lead her on, and presently reached a little hill,
from which she saw a valley full of lovely fruit trees, bearing
flowers and fruit together. The ground was also covered with
fruit and flowers, and in the middle of the valley rose a
fountain surrounded by a velvety lawn.
The princess hastened to this charming spot, and sitting down on
the grass began to think over the misfortune which had befallen
her, and burst into tears as she reflected on her sad condition.
The fruit and clear fresh water would, she knew, prevent her from
dying of hunger or thirst, but how could she escape if any wild
beast appeared and tried to devour her?
At length, having thought over every possible evil which could
happen, the princess tried to distract her mind by playing with
the little dog. She spent the whole day near the fountain, but as
night drew on she wondered what she should do, when she noticed
that the little dog was pulling at her dress.
She paid no heed to him at first, but as he continued to pull her
dress and then run a few steps in one particular direction, she
at last decided to follow him; he stopped before a rock with a
large opening in the centre, which he evidently wished her to
enter.
The princess did so and discovered a large and beautiful cave lit
up by the brilliancy of the stones with which it was lined, with
a little couch covered with soft moss in one corner. She lay down
on it and the dog at once nestled at her feet. Tired out with all
she had gone through she soon fell asleep.
Next morning she was awakened very early by the songs of many
birds. The little dog woke up too, and sprang round her in his
most caressing manner. She got up and went outside, the dog as
before running on in front and turning back constantly to take
her dress and draw her on.
She let him have his way and he soon led her back to the
beautiful garden where she had spent part of the day before. Here
she ate some fruit, drank some water of the fountain, and felt as
if she had made an excellent meal. She walked about amongst the
flowers, played with her little dog, and at night returned to
sleep in the cave.
In this way the princess passed several months, and as her first
terrors died away she gradually became more resigned to her fate.
The little dog, too, was a great comfort, and her constant
companion.
One day she noticed that he seemed very sad and did not even
caress her as usual. Fearing he might be ill she carried him to a
spot where she had seen him eat some particular herbs, hoping
they might do him good, but he would not touch them. He spent all
the night, too, sighing and groaning as if in great pain.
At last the princess fell asleep, and when she awoke her first
thought was for her little pet, but not finding him at her feet
as usual, she ran out of the cave to look for him. As she stepped
out of the cave she caught sight of an old man, who hurried away
so fast that she had barely time to see him before he
disappeared.
This was a fresh surprise and almost as great a shock as the loss
of her little dog, who had been so faithful to her ever since the
first day she had seen him. She wondered if he had strayed away
or if the old man had stolen him.
Tormented by all kinds of thoughts and fears she wandered on,
when suddenly she felt herself wrapped in a thick cloud and
carried through the air. She made no resistance and before very
long found herself, to her great surprise, in an avenue leading
to the palace in which she had been born. No sign of the cloud
anywhere.
As the princess approached the palace she perceived that everyone
was dressed in black, and she was filled with fear as to the
cause of this mourning. She hastened on and was soon recognised
and welcomed with shouts of joy. Her sister hearing the cheers
ran out and embraced the wanderer, with tears of happiness,
telling her that the shock of her disappearance had been so
terrible that their mother had only survived it a few days. Since
then the younger princess had worn the crown, which she now
resigned to her sister to whom it by right belonged.
But the elder wished to refuse it, and would only accept the
crown on condition that her sister should share in all the power.
The first acts of the new queen were to do honour to the memory
of her dear mother and to shower every mark of generous affection
on her sister. Then, being still very grieved at the loss of her
little dog, she had a careful search made for him in every
country, and when nothing could be heard of him she was so
grieved that she offered half her kingdom to whoever should
restore him to her.
Many gentlemen of the court, tempted by the thought of such a
reward, set off in all directions in search of the dog; but all
returned empty-handed to the queen, who, in despair announced
that since life was unbearable without her little dog, she would
give her hand in marriage to the man who brought him back.
The prospect of such a prize quickly turned the court into a
desert, nearly every courtier starting on the quest. Whilst they
were away the queen was informed one day that a very ill-looking
man wished to speak with her. She desired him to be shown into a
room where she was sitting with her sister.
On entering her presence he said that he was prepared to give the
queen her little dog if she on her side was ready to keep her
word.
The princess was the first to speak. She said that the queen had
no right to marry without the consent of the nation, and that on
so important an occasion the general council must be summoned.
The queen could not say anything against this statement; but she
ordered an apartment in the palace to be given to the man, and
desired the council to meet on the following day.
Next day, accordingly, the council assembled in great state, and
by the princess's advice it was decided to offer the man a large
sum of money for the dog, and should he refuse it, to banish him
from the kingdom without seeing the queen again. The man refused
the price offered and left the hall.
The princess informed the queen of what had passed, and the queen
approved of all, but added that as she was her own mistress she
had made up her mind to abdicate her throne, and to wander
through the world till she had found her little dog.
The princess was much alarmed by such a resolution, and implored
the queen to change her mind. Whilst they were discussing the
subject, one of the chamberlains appeared to inform the queen
that the bay was covered with ships. The two sisters ran to the
balcony, and saw a large fleet in full sail for the port.
In a little time they came to the conclusion that the ships must
come from a friendly nation, as every vessel was decked with gay
flags, streamers, and pennons, and the way was led by a small
ship flying a great white flag of peace.
The queen sent a special messenger to the harbour, and was soon
informed that the fleet belonged to the Prince of the Emerald
Isles, who begged leave to land in her kingdom, and to present
his humble respects to her. The queen at once sent some of the
court dignitaries to receive the prince and bid him welcome.
She awaited him seated on her throne, but rose on his appearance,
and went a few steps to meet room, and seizing his
sword, cut off first the negro's head and then his wife's. He
next brought in some warm water, and washed his sister all over,
till her skin was white and shining again.
'Ah, now we see that you are our sister!' they all said. 'What
fools the negro must have thought us, to believe for an instant
that we could have a sister who was black!' And all that day and
the next they remained in the castle.
But on the third morning they said to their sister: 'Dear sister,
you must lock yourself into this castle, with only the cat for
company. And be very careful never to eat anything which she does
not eat too. You must be sure to give her a bit of everything. In
seven days we shall be back again.'
'All right,' she answered, and locked herself into the castle
with the cat.
On the eighth day the brothers came home. 'How are you?' they
asked. 'You have not been anxious?'
'No, why should I be anxious? The gates were fast locked, and in
the castle are seven doors, and the seventh is of iron. What is
there to frighten me?'
'No one will try to hurt us,' said the brothers, 'for they fear
us greatly. But for yourself, we implore you to do nothing
without consulting the cat, who has grown up in the house, and
take care never to neglect her advice.'
'All right,' replied Udea, 'and whatever I eat she shall have
half.'
'Capital! and if ever you are in danger the cat will come and
tell us--only elves and pigeons, which fly round your window,
know where to find us.'
'This is the first I have heard of the pigeons,' said Udea. 'Why
did you not speak of them before?'
We always leave them food and water for seven days,' replied the
brothers.
'Ah,' sighed the girl, 'if I had only known, I would have given
them fresh food and fresh water; for after seven days anything
becomes bad. Would it not be better if I fed them every day?'
'Much better,' said they, 'and we shall feel any kindnesses you
do towards the cat or the pigeons exactly as if they were shown
to ourselves.'
'Set your minds at ease,' answered the girl, 'I will treat them
as if they were my brothers.'
That night the brothers slept in the castle, but after breakfast
next morning they buckled on their weapons and mounted their
horses, and rode off to their hunting grounds, calling out to
their sister, 'Mind you let nobody in till we come back.'
'Very well,' cried she, and kept the doors carefully locked for
seven days and on the eighth the brothers returned as before.
Then, after spending one evening with her, they departed as soon
as they had done breakfast.
Directly they were out of sight Udea began to clean the house,
and among the dust she found a bean which she ate.
'What are you eating?' asked the cat.
'Nothing,' said she.
'Open your mouth, and let me see.' The girl did as she was told,
and then the cat said 'Why did you not give me half?'
'I forgot,' answered she, 'but there are plenty of beans about,
you can have as many as you like.'
'No, that won't do. I want half of that particular bean.'
'But how can I give it you? I tell you I have eaten it. I can
roast you a hundred others.'
'No, I want half of that one.'
'Oh! do as you like, only go away!' cried she.
So the cat ran straight to the kitchen fire, and spit on it and
put it out, and when Udea came to cook the supper she had nothing
to light it with. 'Why did you put the fire out?' asked she.
'Just to show you how nicely you would be able to cook the
supper. Didn't you tell me to do what I liked?'
The girl left the kitchen and climbed up on the roof of the
castle and looked out. Far, far away, so far that she could
hardly see it, was the glow of a fire. 'I will go and fetch a
burning coal from there and light my fire,' thought she, and
opened the door of the castle. When she reached the place where
the fire was kindled, a hideous man-eater was crouching over it.
'Peace be with you, grandfather,' said she.
'The same to you,' replied the man-eater. 'What brings you here,
Udea?'
'I came to ask for a lump of burning coal, to light my fire
with.'
'Do you want a big lump or a little lump?'
'Why, what difference does it make?' said she.
'If you have a big lump you must give me a strip of your skin
from your ear to your thumb, and if you have a little lump, you
must give me a strip from your ear to your little finger.'
Udea, who thought that one sounded as bad as the other, said she
would take the big lump, and when the man-eater had cut the skin,
she went home again. And as she hastened on a raven beheld the
blood on the ground, and plastered it with earth, and stayed by
her till she reached the castle. And as she entered the door he
flew past, and she shrieked from fright, for up to that moment
she had not seen him. In her terror she called after him. 'May
you get the same start as you have given me!'
'Why should you wish me harm,' asked the raven pausing in his
flight, 'when I have done you a service?'
'What service have you done me?' said she.
'Oh, you shall soon see,' replied the raven, and with his bill he
scraped away all the earth he had smeared over the blood and then
flew away.
In the night the man-eater got up, and followed the blood till he
came to Udea's castle. He entered through the gate which she had
left open, and went on till he reached the inside of the house.
But here he was stopped by the seven doors, six of wood and one
of iron, and all fast locked. And he called through them 'Oh
Udea, what did you see your grandfather doing?'
'I saw him spread silk under him, and silk over him, and lay
himself down in a four-post bed.'
When he heard that, the man-eater broke in one door, and laughed
and went away.
And the second night he came back, and asked her again what she
had seen her grandfather doing, and she answered him as before,
and he broke in another door, and laughed and went away, and so
each night till he reached the seventh door. Then the maiden
wrote a letter to her brothers, and bound it round the neck of a
pigeon, and said to it, 'Oh, thou pigeon that served my father
and my grandfather, carry this letter to my brothers, and come
back at once.' And the pigeon flew away.
It flew and it flew and it flew till it found the brothers. The
eldest unfastened the letter from the pigeon's neck, and read
what his sister had written: 'I am in a great strait, my
brothers. If you do not rescue me to-night, to-morrow I shall be
no longer living, for the man-eater has broken open six doors,
and only the iron door is left. So haste, haste, post haste.'
'Quick, quick! my brothers,' cried he.
'What is the matter?' asked they.
'If we cannot reach our sister to-night, to-morrow she will be
the prey of the man-eater.'
And without more words they sprang on their horses, and rode like
the wind.
The gate of the castle was thrown down, and they entered the
court and called loudly to their sister. But the poor girl was so
ill with fear and anxiety that she could not even speak. Then the
brothers dismounted and passed through the six open doors, till
they stood before the iron one, which was still shut. 'Udea,
open!' they cried, 'it is only your brothers!' And she arose and
unlocked the door, and throwing herself on the neck of the eldest
burst into tears.
'Tell us what has happened,' he said, 'and how the man- eater
traced you here.' 'It is all the cat's fault,' replied Udea.
'She put out my fire so that I could not cook. All about a bean!
I ate one and forgot to give her any of it.'
'But we told you so particularly,' said the eldest brother,
'never to eat anything without sharing it with the cat.'
'Yes, but I tell you I forgot,' answered Udea.
'Does the man-eater come here every night?' asked the brothers.
'Every night,' said Udea, 'and he breaks one door in and then
goes away.'
Then all the brothers cried together, 'We will dig a great hole,
and fill it with burning wood, and spread a covering over the
top; and when the man-eater arrives we will push him into it.' So
they all set to se,' he said. 'Give me your
youngest daughter.'
Then they led the servant maid up to him, and he said to her:
'You must mount on my back, and I will take you to my castle.'
And with these words he swung her on to his back and left the
palace.
When they reached the place where he had met the king and given
him the wreath of wild flowers, he stopped, and told her to
dismount that they might rest a little.
So they sat down by the roadside.
'I wonder,' said the wolf, 'what your father would do if this
forest belonged to him?'
And the girl answered: 'My father is a poor man, so he would cut
down the trees, and saw them into planks, and he would sell the
planks, and we should never be poor again; but would always have
enough to eat.'
Then the wolf knew that he had not got the real princess, and he
swung the servant-maid on to his back and carried her to the
castle. And he strode angrily into the king's chamber, and spoke.
'Give me the real princess at once. If you deceive me again I
will cause such a storm to burst over your palace that the walls
will fall in, and you will all be buried in the ruins.'
Then the king and the queen wept, but they saw there was no
escape. So they sent for their youngest daughter, and the king
said to her: 'Dearest child, you must go with the white wolf, for
I promised you to him, and I must keep my word.'
So the princess got ready to leave her home; but first she went
to her room to fetch her wreath of wild flowers, which she took
with her. Then the white wolf swung her on his back and bore her
away. But when they came to the place where he had rested with
the servant-maid, he told her to dismount that they might rest
for a little at the roadside. Then he turned to her and said: 'I
wonder what your father would do if this forest belonged to him?'
And the princess answered: 'My father would cut down the trees
and turn it into a beautiful park and gardens, and he and his
courtiers would come and wander among the glades in the summer
time.'
'This is the real princess,' said the wolf to himself. But aloud
he said: 'Mount once more on my back, and I will bear you to my
castle.'
And when she was seated on his back he set out through the woods,
and he ran, and ran, and ran, till at last he stopped in front of
a stately courtyard, with massive gates.
'This is a beautiful castle,' said the princess, as the gates
swung back and she stepped inside. 'If only I were not so far
away from my father and my mother!'
But the wolf answered: 'At the end of a year we will pay a visit
to your father and mother.'
And at these words the white furry skin slipped from his back,
and the princess saw that he was not a wolf at all, but a
beautiful youth, tall and stately; and he gave her his hand, and
led her up the castle stairs.
One day, at the end of half a year, he came into her room and
said: 'My dear one, you must get ready for a wedding. Your eldest
sister is going to be married, and I will take you to your
father's palace. When the wedding is over, I shall come and fetch
you home. I will whistle outside the gate, and when you hear me,
pay no heed to what your father or mother say, leave your dancing
and feasting, and come to me at once; for if I have to leave
without you, you will never find your way back alone through the
forests.'
When the princess was ready to start, she found that he had put
on his white fur skin, and was changed back into the wolf; and he
swung her on to his back, and set out with her to her father's
palace, where he left her, while he himself returned home alone.
But, in the evening, he went back to fetch her, and, standing
outside the palace gate, he gave a long, loud whistle. In the
midst of her dancing the princess heard the sound, and at once
she went to him, and he swung her on his back and bore her away
to his castle.
Again, at the end of half a year, the prince came into her room,
as the white wolf, and said: 'Dear heart, you must prepare for
the wedding of your second sister. I will take you to your
father's palace to-day, and we will remain there together till
to-morrow morning.'
So they went together to the wedding. In the evening, when the
two were alone together, he dropped his fur skin, and, ceasing to
be a wolf, became a prince again. Now they did not know that the
princess's mother was hidden in the room. When she saw the white
skin lying on the floor, she crept out of the room, and sent a
servant to fetch the skin and to burn it in the kitchen fire. The
moment the flames touched the skin there was a fearful clap of
thunder heard, and the prince disappeared out of the palace gate
in a whirlwind, and returned to his palace alone.
But the princess was heart-broken, and spent the night weeping
bitterly. Next morning she set out to find her way back to the
castle, but she wandered through the woods and forests, and she
could find no path or track to guide her. For fourteen days she
roamed in the forest, sleeping under the trees, and living upon
wild berries and roots, and at last she reached a little house.
She opened the door and went in, and found the wind seated in the
room all by himself, and she spoke to the wind and said: 'Wind,
have you seen the white wolf?'
And the wind answered: 'All day and all night I have been blowing
round the world, and I have only just come home; but I have not
seen him.'
But he gave her a pair of shoes, in which, he told her, she would
be able to walk a hundred miles with every step. Then she walked
through the air till she reached a star, and she said: 'Tell me,
star, have you seen the white wolf?'
And the star answered: 'I have been shining all night, and I have
not seen him.'
But the star gave her a pair of shoes, and told her that if she
put them on she would be able to walk two hundred miles at a
stride. So she drew them on, and she walked to the moon, and she
said: 'Dear moon, have you not seen the white wolf?'
But the moon answered, 'All night long I have been sailing
through the heavens, and I have only just come home; but I did
not see him.'
But he gave her a pair of shoes, in which she would be able to
cover four hundred miles with every stride. So she went to the
sun, and said: 'Dear sun, have you seen the white wolf?'
And the sun answered, 'Yes, I have seen him, and he has chosen
another bride, for he thought you had left him, and would never
return, and he is preparing for the wedding. But I will help you.
Here are a pair of shoes. If you put these on you will be able to
walk on glass or ice, and to climb the steepest places. And here
is a spinning-wheel, with which you will be able to spin moss
into silk. When you leave me you will reach a glass mountain. Put
on the shoes that I have given you and with them you will be able
to climb it quite easily. At the summit you will find the palace
of the white wolf.'
Then the princess set out, and before long she reached the glass
mountain, and at the summit she found the white wolf's palace, as
the sun had said.
But no one recognised her, as she had disguised herself as an old
woman, and had wound a shawl round her head. Great preparations
were going on in the palace for the wedding, which was to take
place next day. Then the princess, still disguised as an old
woman, took out her spinning-wheel, and began to spin moss into
silk. And as she spun the new bride passed by, and seeing the
moss turn into silk, she said to the old woman: 'Little mother, I
wish you would give me that spinning-wheel.'
And the princess answered, 'I will give it to you if you will
allow me to sleep to-night on the mat outside the prince's door.'
And the bride replied, 'Yes, you may sleep on the mat outside the
door.'
So the princess gave her the spinning-wheel. And that night,
winding the shawl all round her, so that no one could recognise
her, she lay down on the mat outside the white wolf's door. And
when everyone in the palace was asleep she began to tell the
whole of her story. She told how she had been one of three
sisters, and that she had been the youngest and the fairest of
the three, and that her father had betrothed her to a white wolf.
And she told how she had gone first to the wedding of one sister,
and then with her husband to the wedding of the other sister, and
how her mother had ordered the servant to throw the white fur
skin into the kitchen fire. And then she told of her wanderings
through the forest; and of how she had sought the white wolf
weeping; and how the wind and star and moon and sun had
befriended her, and had helped her to reach his palace. And when
the white wolf heard all the story, he knew that it was his first
wife, who had sought him, and had found him, after such great
dangers and difficulties.
But he said nothing, for he waited till the next day, when many
guests--kings and princes from far countries --were coming to his
wedding. Then, when all the guests were assembled in the
banqueting hall, he spoke to them and said: 'Hearken to me, ye
kings and princes, for I have something to tell you. I had lost
the key of my treasure casket, so I ordered a new one to be made;
but I have since found the old one. Now, which of these keys is
the better?'
Then all the kings and royal guests answered: 'Certainly the old
key is better than the new one.'
'Then,' said the wolf, 'if that is so, my former bride is better
than my new one.'
And he sent for the new bride, and he gave her in marriage to one
of the princes who was present, and then he turned to his guests,
and said: 'And here is my former bride'--and the beautiful
princess was led into the room and seated beside him on his
throne. 'I thought she had forgotten me, and that she would never
return. But she has sought me everywhere, and now we are together
once more we shall never part again.'
Mohammed with the Magic Finger
Once upon a time, there lived a woman who had a son and a
daughter. One morning she said to them: 'I have heard of a town
where there is no such thing as death: let us go and dwell
there.' So she broke up her house, and went away with her son and
daughter.
When she reached the city, the first thing she did was to look
about and see if there was any churchyard, and when she found
none, she exclaimed, 'This is a delightful spot. We will stay
here for ever.'
By-and-by, her son grew to be a man, and he took for a wife a
girl who had been born in the town. But after a little while he
grew restless, and went away on his travels, leaving his mother,
his wife, and his sister behind him.
He had not been gone many weeks when one evening his mother said,
'I am not well, my head aches dreadfully.'
'What did you say?' inquired her daughter-in-law.
'My head feels ready to split,' replied the old woman.
The daughter-in-law asked no more questions, but left the house,
and went in haste to some butchers in the next street.
'I have got a woman to sell; what will you give me for her?' said
she.
The butchers answered that they must see the woman first, and
they all returned together.
Then the butchers took the woman and told her they must kill her.
'But why?' she asked.
'Because,' they said, 'it is always our custom that when persons
are ill and complain of their head they should be killed at once.
It is a much better way than leaving them to die a natural
death.'
'Very well,' replied the woman. 'But leave, I pray you, my lungs
and my liver untouched, till my son comes back. Then give both to
him.'
But the men took them out at once, and gave them to the
daughter-in-law, saying: 'Put away these things till your husband
returns.' And the daughter-in-law took them, and hid them in a
secret place.
When the old woman's daughter, who had been in the woods, heard
that her mother had been killed while she was out, she was filled
with fright, and ran away as fast as she could. At last she
reached a lonely spot far from the town, where she thought she
was safe, and sat down on a stone, and wept bitterly. As she was
sitting, sobbing, a man passed by.
'What is the matter, little girl? Answer me! I will be your
friend.'
'Ah, sir, they have killed my mother; my brother is far away, and
I have nobody.'
'Will you come with me?' asked the man.
'Thankfully,' said she, and he led her down, down, under the
earth, till they reached a great city. Then he married her, and
in course of time she had a son. And the baby was known
throughout the city as 'Mohammed with the magic finger,' because,
whenever he stuck out his little finger, he was able to see
anything that was happening for as far as two days' distance.
By-and-by, as the boy was growing bigger, his uncle returned from
his long journey, and went straight to his wife.
'Where are my mother and sister?' he asked; but his wife
answered: 'Have something to eat first, and then I will tell
you.'
But he replied: 'How can I eat till I know what has become of
them?'
Then she fetched, from the upper chamber, a box full of money,
which she laid before him, saying, 'That is the price of your
mother. She sold well.'
'What do you mean?' he gasped.
'Oh, your mother complained one day that her head was aching, so
I got in two butchers and they agreed to take her. However, I
have got her lungs and liver hidden, till you came back, in a
safe place.'
'And my sister?'
'Well, while the people were chopping up your mother she ran
away, and I heard no more of her.'
'Give me my mother's liver and lungs,' said the young man. And
she gave them to him. Then he put them in his pocket, and went
away, saying: 'I can stay no longer in this horrible town. I go
to seek my sister.'
Now, one day, the little boy stretched out his finger and said to
his mother, 'My uncle is coming!'
'Where is he?' she asked.
'He is still two days' journey off: looking for us; but he will
soon be here.' And in two days, as the boy had foretold, the
uncle had found the hole in the earth, and arrived at the gate of
the city. All his money was spent, and not knowing where his
sister lived, he began to beg of all the people he saw.
'Here comes my uncle,' called out the little boy. 'Where?'
asked his mother. 'Here at the house door;' and the woman ran
out and embraced him, and wept over him. When they could both
speak, he said: 'My sister, were you by when they killed my
mother?'
'I was absent when they slew her,' replied she, 'and as I could
do nothing, I ran away. But you, my brother, how did you get
here?'
'By chance,' he said, 'after I had wandered far; but I did not
know I should find you!' 'My little boy told me you were
coming,' she explained, 'when you were yet two days distant; he
alone of all men has that great gift.'
But she did not tell him that her husband could change himself
into a serpent, a dog, or a monster, whenever he pleased. He was
a very rich man, and possessed large herds of camels, goats,
sheep, cattle, horses and asses; all the best of their kind. And
the next morning, the sister said: 'Dear brother, go and watch
our sheep, and when you are thirsty, drink their milk!'
'Very well,' answered he, and he went.
Soon after, she said again, 'Dear brother, go and watch our
goats.'
'But why? I like tending sheep better!'
'Oh, it is much nicer to be a goatherd,' she said; so he took the
goats out.
When he was gone, she said to her husband, 'You must kill my
brother, for I cannot have him living here with me.'
'But, my dear, why should I? He has done me no harm.'
'I wish you to kill him,' she answered, 'or if not I will leave.'
'Oh, all right, then,' said he; 'to-morrow I will change myself
into a serpent, and hide myself in the date barrel; and when he
comes to fetch dates I will sting him in the hand.'
'That will do very well,' said she.
When the sun was up next day, she called to her brother, 'Go and
mind the goats.'
'Yes, of course,' he replied; but the little boy called out:
'Uncle, I want to come with you.'
'Delighted,' said the uncle, and they started together.
After they had got out of sight of the house the boy said to him,
'Dear uncle, my father is going to kill you. He has changed
himself into a serpent, and has hidden himself in the date
barrel. My mother has told him to do it.'
'And what am I to do?' asked the uncle.
'I will tell you. When we bring the goats back to the house, and
my mother says to you, "I am sure you must be hungry: get a few
dates out of the cask," just say to me, "I am not feeling very
well, Mohammed, you go and get them for me."'
So, when they reached the house the sister came out to meet them,
saying, 'Dear brother, you must certainly be hungry: go and get a
few dates.'
But he answered, 'I am not feeling very well. Mohammed, you go
and get them for me.'
'Of course I will,' replied the little boy, and ran at once to
the cask.
'No, no,' his mother called after him; 'come here directly! Let
your uncle fetch them himself!'
But the boy would not listen, and crying out to her 'I would
rather get them,' thrust his hand into the date cask.
Instead of the fruit, it struck against something cold and slimy,
and he whispered softly, 'Keep still; it is I, your son!'
Then he picked up his dates and went away to his uncle.
'Here they are, dear uncle; eat as many as you want.'
And his uncle ate them.
When he saw that the uncle did not mean to come near the cask,
the serpent crawled out and regained his proper shape.
'I am thankful I did not kill him,' he said to his wife; 'for,
after all, he is my brother-in-law, and it would have been a
great sin!'
'Either you kill him or I leave you,' said she.
'Well, well!' sighed the man, 'to-morrow I will do it.'
The woman let that night go by without doing anything further,
but at daybreak she said to her brother, 'Get up, brother; it is
time to take the goats to pasture!'
'All right,' cried he.
'I will come with you, uncle,' called out the little boy.
'Yes, come along,' replied he.
But the mother ran up, saying, 'The child must not go out in this
cold or he will be ill;' to which he only answered, 'Nonsense! I
am going, so it is no use your talking! I am going! I am! I am!'
'Then go!' she said.
And so they started, driving the goats in front of them.
When they reached the pasture the boy said to his uncle: 'Dear
uncle, this night my father means to kill you. While we are away
he will creep into your room and hide in the straw. Directly we
get home my mother will say to you, "Take that straw and give it
to the sheep," and, if you do, he will bite you.'
'Then what am I to do?' asked the man.
'Oh, do not be afraid, dear uncle! I will kill my father myself.'
'All right,' replied the uncle.
As they drove back the goats towards the house, the sister cried:
'Be quick, dear brother, go and get me some straw for the sheep.'
'Let me go,' said the boy.
'You are not big enough; your uncle will get it,' replied she.
'We will both get it,' answered the boy; 'come, uncle, let us go
and fetch that straw!'
'All right,' replied the uncle, and they went to the door of the
room.
'It seems very dark,' said the boy; 'I must go and get a light;'
and when he came back with one, he set fire to the straw, and the
serpent was burnt.
Then the mother broke into sobs and tears. 'Oh, you wretched boy!
What have you done? Your father was in that straw, and you have
killed him!'
'Now, how was I to know that my father was lying in that straw,
instead of in the kitchen?' said the boy.
But his mother only wept the more, and sobbed out, 'From this day
you have no father. You must do without him as best you can!'
'Why did you marry a serpent?' asked the boy. 'I thought he was a
man! How did he learn those odd tricks?'
As the sun rose, she woke her brother, and said, 'Go and take the
goats to pasture!'
'I will come too,' said the little boy.
'Go then!' said his mother, and they went together.
On the way the boy began: 'Dear uncle, this night my mother means
to kill both of us, by poisoning us with the bones of the
serpent, which she will grind to powder and sprinkle in our
food.'
'And what are we to do?' asked the uncle.
'I will kill her, dear uncle. I do not want either a father or a
mother like that!'
When they came home in the evening they saw the woman preparing
supper, and secretly scattering the powdered bones of the serpent
on one side of the dish. On the other, where she meant to eat
herself, there was no poison.
And the boy whispered to his uncle, 'Dear uncle, be sure you eat
from the same side of the dish as I do!'
'All right,' said the uncle.
So they all three sat down to the table, but before they helped
themselves the boy said, 'I am thirsty, mother; will you get me
some milk?'
'Very well,' said she, 'but you had better begin your supper.'
And when she came back with the milk they were both eating
busily.
'Sit down and have something too,' said the boy, and she sat down
and helped herself from the dish, but at the very first moment
she sank dead upon the ground.
'She has got what she meant for us,' observed the boy; 'and now
we will sell all the sheep and cattle.'
So the sheep and cattle were sold, and the uncle and nephew took
the money and went to see the world.
For ten days they travelled through the desert, and then they
came to a place where the road parted in two.
'Uncle!' said the boy.
'Well, what is it?' replied he.
'You see these two roads? You must take one, and I the other; for
the time has come when we must part.'
But the uncle cried, 'No, no, my boy, we will keep together
always.'
'Alas! that cannot be,' said the boy; 'so tell me which way you
will go.'
'I will go to the west,' said the uncle.
'One word before I leave you,' continued the boy. 'Beware of any
man who has red hair and blue eyes. Take no service under him.'
'All right,' replied the uncle, and they parted.
For three days the man wandered on without any food, till he was
very hungry. Then, when he was almost fainting, a stranger met
him and said, 'Will you work for me?'
'By contract?' asked the man.
'Yes, by contract,' replied the stranger, 'and whichever of us
breaks it, shall have a strip of skin taken from his body.'
'All right,' replied the man; 'what shall I have to do?'
'Every day you must take the sheep out to pasture, and carry my
old mother on your shoulders, taking great care her feet shall
never touch the ground. And, besides that, you must catch, every
evening, seven singing birds for my seven sons.'
'That is easily done,' said the man.
Then they went back together, and the stranger said, 'Here are
your sheep; and now stoop down, and let my mother climb on your
back.'
'Very good,' answered Mohammed's uncle.
The new shepherd did as he was told, and returned in the evening
with the old woman on his back, and the seven singing birds in
his pocket, which he gave to the seven boys, when they came to
meet him. So the days passed, each one exactly like the other.
At last, one night, he began to weep, and cried: 'Oh, what have I
done, that I should have to perform such hateful tasks?'
And his nephew Mohammed saw him from afar, and thought to
himself, 'My uncle is in trouble--I must go and help him;' and
the next morning he went to his master and said: 'Dear master, I
must go to my uncle, and I wish to send him here instead of
myself, while I serve under his master. And that you may know it
is he and no other man, I will give him my staff, and put my
mantle on him.'
'All right,' said the master.
Mohammed set out on his journey, and in two days he arrived at
the place where his uncle was standing with the old woman on his
back trying to catch the birds as they flew past. And Mohammed
touched him on the arm, and spoke: 'Dear uncle, did I not warn
you never to take service under any blue-eyed red-haired man!
'But what could I do?' asked the uncle. 'I was hungry, and he
passed, and we signed a contract.'
'Give the contract to me!' said the young man.
'Here it is,' replied the uncle, holding it out.
'Now,' continued Mohammed, 'let the old woman get down from your
back.'
'Oh no, I mustn't do that!' cried he.
But the nephew paid no attention, and went on talking: 'Do not
worry yourself about the future. I see my way out of it all. And,
first, you must take my stick and my mantle, and leave this
place. After two days' journey, straight before you, you will
come to some tents which are inhabited by shepherds. Go in there,
and wait.'
'All right!' answered the uncle.
Then Mohammed with the Magic Finger picked up a stick and struck
the old woman with it, saying, 'Get down, and look after the
sheep; I want to go to sleep.'
'Oh, certainly!' replied she.
So Mohammed lay down comfortably under a tree and slept till
evening. Towards sunset he woke up and said to the old woman:
'Where are the singing birds which you have got to catch?'
'You never told me anything about that,' replied she.
'Oh, didn't I?' he answered. 'Well, it is part of your business,
and if you don't do it, I shall just kill you.'
'Of course I will catch them!' cried she in a hurry, and ran
about the bushes after the birds, till thorns pierced her foot,
and she shrieked from pain and exclaimed, 'Oh dear, how unlucky I
am! and how abominably this man is treating me!' However, at last
she managed to catch the seven birds, and brought them to
Mohammed, saying, 'Here they are!'
'Then now we will go back to the house,' said he.
When they had gone some way he turned to her sharply:
'Be quick and drive the sheep home, for I do not know where their
fold is.' And she drove them before her. By-and-by the young man
spoke:
'Look here, old hag; if you say anything to your son about my
having struck you, or about my not being the old shepherd, I'll
kill you!'
'Oh, no, of course I won't say anything!'
When they got back, the son said to his mother: 'That is a good
shepherd I've got, isn't he?'
'Oh, a splendid shepherd!' answered she. 'Why, look how fat the
sheep are, and how much milk they give!'
'Yes, indeed!' replied the son, as he rose to get supper for his
mother and the shepherd.
In the time of Mohammed's uncle, the shepherd had had nothing to
eat but the scraps left by the old woman; but the new shepherd
was not going to be content with that.
'You will not touch the food till I have had as much as I want,'
whispered he.
'Very good!' replied she. And when he had had enough, he said:
'Now, eat!' But she wept, and cried: 'That was not written in
your contract. You were only to have what I left!'
'If you say a word more, I will kill you!' said he.
The next day he took the old woman on his back, and drove the
sheep in front of him till he was some distance from the house,
when he let her fall, and said: 'Quick! go and mind the sheep!'
Then he took a ram, and killed it. He lit a fire and broiled some
of its flesh, and called to the old woman:
'Come and eat with me!' and she came. But instead of letting her
eat quietly, he took a large lump of the meat and rammed it down
her throat with his crook, so that she died. And when he saw she
was dead, he said: 'That is what you have got for tormenting my
uncle!' and left her lying where she was, while he went after the
singing birds. It took him a long time to catch them; but at
length he had the whole seven hidden in the pockets of his tunic,
and then he threw the old woman's body into some bushes, and
drove the sheep before him, back to their fold. And when they
drew near the house the seven boys came to meet him, and he gave
a bird to each.
'Why are you weeping?' asked the boys, as they took their birds.
'Because your grandmother is dead!' And they ran and told their
father. Then the man came up and said to Mohammed: 'What was the
matter? How did she die?'
And Mohammed answered: 'I was tending the sheep when she said to
me, "Kill me that ram; I am hungry!" So I killed it, and gave her
the meat. But she had no teeth, and it choked her.'
'But why did you kill the ram, instead of one of the sheep?'
asked the man.
'What was I to do?' said Mohammed. 'I had to obey orders!'
'Well, I must see to her burial!' said the man; and the next
morning Mohammed drove out the sheep as usual, thinking to
himself, 'Thank goodness I've got rid of the old woman! Now for
the boys!'
All day long he looked after the sheep, and towards evening he
began to dig some little holes in the ground, out of which he
took six scorpions. These he put in his pockets, together with
one bird which he caught. After this he drove his flock home.
When he approached the house the boys came out to meet him as
before, saying: 'Give me my bird!' and he put a scorpion into the
hand of each, and it stung him, and he died. But to the youngest
only he gave a bird.
As soon as he saw the boys lying dead on the ground, Mohammed
lifted up his voice and cried loudly: 'Help, help! the children
are dead!'
And the people came running fast, saying: 'What has happened? How
have they died?'
And Mohammed answered: 'It was your own fault! The boys had been
accustomed to birds, and in this bitter cold their fingers grew
stiff, and could hold nothing, so that the birds flew away, and
their spirits flew with them. Only the youngest, who managed to
keep tight hold of his bird, is still alive.'
And the father groaned, and said, 'I have borne enough! Bring no
more birds, lest I lose the youngest also!'
'All right,' said Mohammed.
As he was driving the sheep out to grass he said to his master:
'Out there is a splendid pasture, and I will keep the sheep there
for two or, perhaps, three days, so do not be surprised at our
absence.'
'Very good!' said the man; and Mohammed started. For two days he
drove them on and on, till he reached his uncle, and said to him,
'Dear uncle, take these sheep and look after them. I have killed
the old woman and the boys, and the flock I have brought to you!'
Then Mohammed returned to his master; and on the way he took a
stone and beat his own head with it till it bled, and bound his
hands tight, and began to scream. The master came running and
asked, 'What is the matter?'
And Mohammed answered: 'While the sheep were grazing, robbers
came and drove them away, and because I tried to prevent them,
they struck me on the head and bound my hands. See how bloody I
am!'
'What shall we do?' said the master; 'are the animals far off?'
'So far that you are not likely ever to see them again,' replied
Mohammed. 'This is the fourth day since the robbers came down.
How should you be able to overtake them?'
'Then go and herd the cows!' said the man.
'All right!' replied Mohammed, and for two days he went. But on
the third day he drove the cows to his uncle, first cutting off
their tails. Only one cow he left behind him.
'Take these cows, dear uncle,' said he. 'I am gider yourself a soothsayer or a magician?'
'I am neither a soothsayer nor a magician,' answered Bobino; 'but
my master taught me the language of all the animals.'
'Alas! for my good money!' exclaimed the merchant. 'The master
has certainly mistaken my intention. Of course I meant you to
learn the languages that human beings talk, and not the language
of animals.'
'Have patience,' answered the son. 'My master thought it best to
begin with the language of animals, and later to learn the
languages of human beings.'
On their way into the house the dog ran to meet them, barking
furiously.
'What can be the matter with the beast?' said the merchant. 'Why
should he bark at me like that, when he knows me quite well?'
'Shall I explain to you what he is saying?' said Bobino.
'Leave me in peace, and don't trouble me with your nonsense,'
said the merchant quite crossly. 'How my money has been wasted!'
A little later, as they sat down to supper, some frogs in a
neighbouring pond set up such a croaking as had never been heard.
The noise so irritated the merchant that he quite lost his temper
and exclaimed: 'This only was wanting to add the last drop to my
discomfort and disappointment.'
'Shall I explain to you?' began Bobino.
'Will you hold your tongue with your explanations?' shouted the
merchant. 'Go to bed, and don't let me see your face again!'
So Bobino went to bed and slept soundly. But his father, who
could not get over his disappointment at the waste of his money,
was so angry, that he sent for two servants, and gave them
orders, which they were to carry out on the following day.
Next morning one of the servants awakened Bobino early, and made
him get into a carriage that was waiting for him. The servant
placed himself on the seat beside him, while the other servant
rode alongside the carriage as an escort. Bobino could not
understand what they were going to do with him, or where he was
being taken; but he noticed that the servant beside him looked
very sad, and his eyes were all swollen with crying.
Curious to know the reason he said to him: 'Why are you so sad?
and where are you taking me?'
But the servant would say nothing. At last, moved by Bobino's
entreaties, he said: 'My poor boy, I am taking you to your death,
and, what is worse, I am doing so by the order of your father.'
'But why,' exclaimed Bobino, 'does he want me to die? What evil
have I done him, or what fault have I committed that he should
wish to bring about my death?'
'You have done him no evil,' answered the servant 'neither have
you committed any fault; but he is half mad with anger because,
in all these years of study, you have learnt nothing but the
language of animals. He expected something quite different from
you, that is why he is determined you shall die.'
'If that is the case, kill me at once,' said Bobino. 'What is the
use of waiting, if it must be done?'
'I have not the heart to do it,' answered the servant. 'I would
rather think of some way of saving your life, and at the same
time of protecting ourselves from your father's anger. By good
luck the dog has followed us. We will kill it, and cut out the
heart and take it back to your father. He will believe it is
yours, and you, in the meantime, will have made your escape.'
When they had reached the thickest part of the wood, Bobino got
out of the carriage, and having said good-bye to the servants set
out on his wanderings.
On and on he walked, till at last, late in the evening, he came
to a house where some herdsmen lived. He knocked at the door and
begged for shelter for the night. The herdsmen, seeing how gentle
a youth he seemed, made him welcome, and bade him sit down and
share their supper.
While they were eating it, the dog in the courtyard began to
bark. Bobino walked to the window, listened attentively for a
minute, and then turning to the herdsmen said: 'Send your wives
and daughters at once to bed, and arm yourselves as best you can,
because at midnight a band of robbers will attack this house.'
The herdsmen were quite taken aback, and thought that the youth
must have taken leave of his senses.
'How can you know,' they said, 'that a band of robbers mean to
attack us? Who told you so?'
'I know it from the dog's barking,' answered Bobino. 'I
understand his language, and if I had not been here, the poor
beast would have wasted his breath to no purpose. You had better
follow my advice, if you wish to save your lives and property.'
The herdsmen were more and more astonished, but they decided to
do as Bobino advised. They sent their wives and daughters
upstairs, then, having armed themselves, they took up their
position behind a hedge, waiting for midnight.
Just as the clock struck twelve they heard the sound of
approaching footsteps, and a band of robbers cautiously advanced
towards the house. But the herdsmen were on the look-out; they
sprang on the robbers from behind the hedge, and with blows from
their cudgels soon put them to flight.
You may believe how grateful they were to Bobino, to whose timely
warning they owed their safety. They begged him to stay and make
his home with them; but as he wanted to see more of the world, he
thanked them warmly for their hospitality, and set out once more
on his wanderings. All day he walked, and in the evening he came
to a peasant's house. While he was wondering whether he should
knock and demand shelter for the night, he heard a great croaking
of frogs in a ditch behind the house. Stepping to the back he saw
a very strange sight. Four frogs were throwing a small bottle
about from one to the other, making a great croaking as they did
so. Bobino listened for a few minutes, and then knocked at the
door of the house. It was opened by the peasant, who asked him to
come in and have some supper.
When the meal was over, his host told him that they were in great
trouble, as his eldest daughter was so ill, that they feared she
could not recover. A great doctor, who had been passing that way
some time before, had promised to send her some medicine that
would have cured her, but the servant to whom he had entrusted
the medicine had let it drop on the way back, and now there
seemed no hope for the girl.
Then Bobino told the father of the small bottle he had seen the
frogs play with, and that he knew that was the medicine which the
doctor had sent to the girl. The peasant asked him how he could
be sure of this, and Bobino explained to him that he understood
the language of animals, and had heard what the frogs said as
they tossed the bottle about. So the peasant fetched the bottle
from the ditch, and gave the medicine to his daughter. In the
morning she was much better, and the grateful father did not know
how to thank Bobino enough. But Bobino would accept nothing from
him, and having said good-bye, set out once more on his
wanderings.
One day, soon after this, he came upon two men resting under a
tree in the heat of the day. Being tired he stretched himself on
the ground at no great distance from them, and soon they all
three began to talk to one another. In the course of
conversation, Bobino asked the two men where they were going; and
they replied that they were on their way to a neighbouring town,
where, that day, a new ruler was to be chosen by the people.
While they were still talking, some sparrows settled on the tree
under which they were lying. Bobino was silent, and appeared to
be listening attentively. At the end of a few minutes he said to
his companions, 'Do you know what those sparrows are saying? They
are saying that to-day one of us will be chosen ruler of that
town.'
The men said nothing, but looked at each other. A few minutes
later, seeing that Bobino had fallen asleep, they stole away, and
made with all haste for the town, where the election of a new
ruler was to take place.
A great crowd was assembled in the market-place, waiting for the
hour when an eagle should be let loose from a cage, for it had
been settled that on whose-soever house the eagle alighted, the
owner of that house should become ruler of the town. At last the
hour arrived; the eagle was set free, and all eyes were strained
to see where it would alight. But circling over the heads of the
crowd, it flew straight in the direction of a young man, who was
at that moment entering the town. This was none other than
Bobino, who had awakened soon after his companions had left him,
and had followed in their footsteps. All the people shouted and
proclaimed that he was their future ruler, and he was conducted
by a great crowd to the Governor's house, which was for the
future to be his home. And here he lived happily, and ruled
wisely over the people.
The Dog and the Sparrow
There was once upon a time a sheep-dog whose master was so unkind
that he starved the poor beast, and ill- treated him in the
cruellest manner. At last the dog determined to stand this
ill-usage no longer, and, one day, he ran away from home. As he
was trotting along the road he met a sparrow, who stopped him and
said: 'Brother, why do you look so sad?'
The dog answered: 'I am sad because I am hungry, and have nothing
to eat.'
'If that's all, dear brother,' said the sparrow, 'come to the
town with me, and I'll soon get food for you.'
So they went together to the town, and when they came to a
butcher's shop, the sparrow said to the dog: 'You stand still and
I'll peck down a piece of meat for you.'
First she looked all round to see that no one was watching her,
and then she set to work to peck at a piece of meat that lay on
the edge of a shelf, till at last it fell down. The dog seized it
ravenously, and ran with it to a dark corner where he gobbled it
up in a very few minutes.
When he had finished it, the sparrow said: 'Now come with me to
another shop, and I will get you a second piece, so that your
hunger may be satisfied.' When the dog had finished the second
piece of meat, the sparrow asked him: 'Brother, have you had
enough now?'
'Yes,' replied the dog, 'I've had quite enough meat, but I
haven't had any bread yet.'
The sparrow said: 'You shall have as much bread as you like, only
come with me.' Then she led him to a baker's shop, and pecked so
long at two rolls on a shelf that at last they fell down, and the
dog ate them up.
But still his hunger was not appeased; so the sparrow took him to
another baker's shop, and got some more rolls for him. Then she
asked him: 'Well, brother, are you satisfied?'
'Yes,' he replied; 'and now let us go for a little walk outside
the town.'
So the two went for a stroll into the country; but the day was
very hot, and after they had gone a short distance the dog said:
'I am very tired, and would like to go to sleep.'
'Sleep, then,' said the sparrow, 'and I will keep watch meantime
on the branch of a tree.'
So the dog lay down in the middle of the road, and was soon fast
asleep. While he was sleeping a carter passed by, driving a
waggon drawn by three horses, and laden with two barrels of wine.
The sparrow noticed that the man was not going out of his way to
avoid the dog, but was driving right in the middle of the road
where the poor animal lay; so she called out: 'Carter, take care
what you are about, or I shall make you suffer for it.'
But the carter merely laughed at her words, and, cracking his
whip, he drove his waggon right over the dog, so that the heavy
wheels killed him.
Then the sparrow called out: 'You have caused my brother's death,
and your cruelty will cost you your waggon and horses.'
'Waggon and horses, indeed,' said the carter; 'I'd like to know
how you could rob me of them!'
The sparrow said nothing, but crept under the cover of the waggon
and pecked so long at the bunghole of one of the barrels that at
last she got the cork away, and all the wine ran out without the
carter's noticing it.
But at last he turned round and saw that the bottom of the cart
was wet, and when he examined it, he found that one of the
barrels was quite empty. 'Oh! what an unlucky fellow I am!' he
exclaimed.
'You'll have worse luck still,' said the sparrow, as she perched
on the head of one of the horses and pecked out its eyes.
When the carter saw what had happened, he seized an axe and tried
to hit the sparrow with it, but the little bird flew up into the
air, and the carter only hit the blind horse on the head, so that
it fell down dead. 'Oh! what an unlucky fellow I am!' he
exclaimed again.
'You'll have worse luck yet,' said the sparrow; and when the
carter drove on with his two horses she crept under the covering
again, and pecked away at the cork of the second barrel till she
got it away, and all the wine poured out on to the road.
When the carter perceived this fresh disaster he called out once
more: 'Oh! what an unlucky fellow I am!'
But the sparrow answered: 'Your bad luck is not over yet,' and
flying on to the head of the second horse she pecked out its
eyes.
The carter jumped out of the waggon and seized his axe, with
which he meant to kill the sparrow; but the little bird flew high
into the air, and the blow fell on the poor blind horse instead,
and killed it on the spot. Then the carter exclaimed: 'Oh! what
an unlucky fellow I am!'
'You've not got to the end of your bad luck yet,' sang the
sparrow; and, perching on the head of the third horse, she pecked
out its eyes.
The carter, blind with rage, let his axe fly at the bird; but
once more she escaped the blow, which fell on the only remaining
horse, and killed it. And again the carter called out: 'Oh! what
an unlucky fellow I am!'
'You'll have worse luck yet,' said the sparrow, 'for now I mean
to make your home desolate.'
The carter had to leave his waggon on the road, and he went home
in a towering passion. As soon as he saw his wife, he called out:
'Oh! what bad luck I have had! all my wine is spilt, and my
horses are all three dead.'
'My dear husband,' replied his wife, 'your bad luck pursues you,
for a wicked little sparrow has assembled all the other birds in
the world, and they are in our barn eating everything up.'
The carter went out to the barn where he kept his corn and found
it was just as his wife had said. Thousands and thousands of
birds were eating up the grain, and in the middle of them sat the
little sparrow. When he saw his old enemy, the carter cried out:
'Oh! what an unlucky fellow I am!'
'Not unlucky enough yet,' answered the sparrow; 'for, mark my
words, carter, your cruel conduct will cost you your life;' and
with these words she flew into the air.
The carter was much depressed by the loss of all his worldly
goods, and sat down at the fire plotting vengeance on the
sparrow, while the little bird sat on the window ledge and sang
in mocking tones: 'Yes, carter, your cruel conduct will cost you
your life.'
Then the carter seized his axe and threw it at the sparrow, but
he only broke the window panes, and did not do the bird a bit of
harm. She hopped in through the broken window and, perching on
the mantelpiece, she called out; 'Yes, carter, it will cost you
your life.'
The carter, quite beside himself with rage, flew at the sparrow
again with his axe, but the little creature always eluded his
blows, and he only succeeded in destroying all his furniture. At
last, however, he managed to catch the bird in his hands. Then
his wife called out: 'Shall I wring her neck?'
'Certainly not,' replied her husband, 'that would be far too easy
a death for her; she must die in a far crueller fashion than
that. I will eat her alive;' and he suited the action to his
words. But the sparrow fluttered and struggled inside him till
she got up into the man's mouth, and then she popped out her head
and said: 'Yes, carter, it will cost you your life.'
The carter handed his wife the axe, and said: 'Wife, kill the
bird in my mouth dead.'
The woman struck with all her might, but she missed the bird and
hit the carter right on the top of his head, so that he fell down
dead. But the sparrow escaped out of his mouth and flew away into
the air.
[From the German, Kletke.]
The Story of the Three Sons of Hali
Till his eighteenth birthday the young Neangir lived happily in a
village about forty miles from Constantinople, believing that
Mohammed and Zinebi his wife, who had brought him up, were his
real parents.
Neangir was quite content with his lot, though he was neither
rich nor great, and unlike most young men of his age had no
desire to leave his home. He was therefore completely taken by
surprise when one day Mohammed told him with many sighs that the
time had now come for him to go to Constantinople, and fix on a
profession for himself. The choice would be left to him, but he
would probably prefer either to be a soldier or one of the
doctors learned in the law, who explain the Koran to the ignorant
people. 'You know the holy book nearly by heart,' ended the old
man, 'so that in a very short time you would be fitted to teach
others. But write to us and tell us how you pass your life, and
we, on our side, will promise never to forget you.'
So saying, Mohammed gave Neangir four piastres to start him in
the great city, and obtained leave for him to join a caravan
which was about to set off for Constantinople.
The journey took some days, as caravans go very slowly, but at
last the walls and towers of the capital appeared in the
distance. When the caravan halted the travellers went their
different ways, and Neangir was left, feeling very strange and
rather lonely. He had plenty of courage and made friends very
easily; still, not only was it the first time he had left the
village where he had been brought up, but no one had ever spoken
to him of Constantinople, and he did not so much as know the name
of a single street or of a creature who lived in it.
Wondering what he was to do next, Neangir stood still for a
moment to look about him, when suddenly a pleasant-looking man
came up, and bowing politely, asked if the youth would do him the
honour of staying in his house till he had made some plans for
himself. Neangir, not seeing anything else he could do, accepted
the stranger's offer and followed him home.
They entered a large room, where a girl of about twelve years old
was laying three places at the table.
'Zelida,' said the stranger, 'was I not quite right when I told
you that I should bring back a friend to sup with us?'
'My father,' replied the girl, 'you are always right in what you
say, and what is better still, you never mislead others.' As she
spoke, an old slave placed on the table a dish called pillau,
made of rice and meat, which is a great favourite among people in
the East, and setting down glasses of sherbet before each person,
left the room quietly.
During the meal the host talked a great deal upon all sorts of
subjects; but Neangir did nothing but look at Zelida, as far as
he could without being positively rude.
The girl blushed and grew uncomfortable, and at last turned to
her father. 'The stranger's eyes never wander from me,' she said
in a low and hesitating voice. 'If Hassan should hear of it,
jealousy will make him mad.'
'No, no,' replied the father, 'you are certainly not for this
young man. Did I not tell you before that I intend him for your
sister Argentine. I will at once take measures to fix his heart
upon her,' and he rose and opened a cupboard, from which be took
some fruits and a jug of wine, which he put on the table,
together with a small silver and mother-of-pearl box.
'Taste this wine,' he said to the young man, pouring some into a
glass.
'Give me a little, too,' cried Zelida.
'Certainly not,' answered her father, 'you and Hassan both had as
much as was good for you the other day.'
'Then drink some yourself,' replied she, 'or this young man will
think we mean to poison him.'
'Well, if you wish, I will do so,' said the father; 'this elixir
is not dangerous at my age, as it is at yours.'
When Neangir had emptied his glass, his host opened the
mother-of-pearl box and held it out to him. Neangir was beside
himself with delight at the picture of a young maiden more
beautiful than anything he had ever dreamed of. He stood
speechless before it, while his breast swelled with a feeling
quite new to him.
His two companions watched him with amusement, until at last
Neangir roused himself. 'Explain to me, I pray you,' he said,
'the meaning of these mysteries. Why did you ask me here? Why did
you force me to drink this dangerous liquid which has set fire to
my blood? Why have you shown me this picture which has almost
deprived me of reason?'
'I will answer some of your questions,' replied his host, 'but
all, I may not. The picture that you hold in your hand is that of
Zelida's sister. It has filled your heart with love for her;
therefore, go and seek her. When you find her, you will find
yourself.'
'But where shall I find her?' cried Neangir, kissing the charming
miniature on which his eyes were fixed.
'I am unable to tell you more,' replied his host cautiously.
'But I can' interrupted Zelida eagerly. 'To-morrow you must go to
the Jewish bazaar, and buy a watch from the second shop on the
right hand. And at midnight--'
But what was to happen at midnight Neangir did not hear, for
Zelida's father hastily laid his hand over her mouth, crying:
'Oh, be silent, child! Would you draw down on you by imprudence
the fate of your unhappy sisters?' Hardly had he uttered the
words, when a thick black vapour rose about him, proceeding from
the precious bottle, which his rapid movement had overturned. The
old slave rushed in and shrieked loudly, while Neangir, upset by
this strange adventure, left the house.
He passed the rest of the night on the steps of a mosque, and
with the first streaks of dawn he took his picture out of the
folds of his turban. Then, remembering Zelida's words, he
inquired the way to the bazaar, and went straight to the shop she
had described.
In answer to Neangir's request to be shown some watches, the
merchant produced several and pointed out the one which he
considered the best. The price was three gold pieces, which
Neangir readily agreed to give him; but the man made a difficulty
about handing over the watch unless he knew where his customer
lived.
'That is more than I know myself,' replied Neangir. 'I only
arrived in the town yesterday and cannot find the way to the
house where I went first.'
'Well,' said the merchant, 'come with me, and I will take you to
a good Mussulman, where you will have everything you desire at a
small charge.'
Neangir consented, and the two walked together through several
streets till they reached the house recommended by the Jewish
merchant. By his advice the young man paid in advance the last
gold piece that remained to him for his food and lodging.
As soon as Neangir had dined he shut himself up in his room, and
thrusting his hand into the folds of his turban, drew out his
beloved portrait. As he did so, he touched a sealed letter which
had apparently been hidden there without his knowledge, and
seeing it was written by his foster-mother, Zinebi, he tore it
eagerly open. Judge of his surprise when he read these words:
'My dearest Child,--This letter, which you will some day find in
your turban, is to inform you that you are not really our son. We
believe your father to have been a great lord in some distant
land, and inside this packet is a letter from him, threatening to
be avenged on us if you are not restored to him at once. We shall
always love you, but do not seek us or even write to us. It will
be useless.'
In the same wrapper was a roll of paper with a few words as
follows, traced in a hand unknown to Neangir:
'Traitors, you are no doubt in league with those magicians who
have stolen the two daughters of the unfortunate Siroco, and have
taken from them the talisman given them by their father. You have
kept my son from me, but I have found out your hiding-place and
swear by the Holy Prophet to punish your crime. The stroke of my
scimitar is swifter than the lightning.'
The unhappy Neangir on reading these two letters-- of which he
understood absolutely nothing--felt sadder and more lonely than
ever. It soon dawned on him that he must be the son of the man
who had written to Mohammed and his wife, but he did not know
where to look for him, and indeed thought much more about the
people who had brought him up and whom he was never to see again.
To shake off these gloomy feelings, so as to be able to make some
plans for the future, Neangir left the house and walked briskly
about the city till darkness had fallen. He then retraced his
steps and was just crossing the threshold when he saw something
at his feet sparkling in the moonlight. He picked it up, and
discovered it to be a gold watch shining with precious stones. He
gazed up and down the street to see if there was anyone about to
whom it might belong, but there was not a creature visible. So he
put it in his sash, by the side of a silver watch which he had
bought from the Jew that morning.
The possession of this piece of good fortune cheered Neangir up a
little, 'for,' thought he, 'I can sell these jewels for at least
a thousand sequins, and that will certainly last me till I have
found my father.' And consoled by this reflection he laid both
watches beside him and prepared to sleep.
In the middle of the night he awoke suddenly and heard a soft
voice speaking, which seemed to come from one of the watches.
'Aurora, my sister,' it whispered gently. 'Did they remember to
wind you up at midnight?'
'No, dear Argentine,' was the reply. 'And you?'
'They forgot me, too,' answered the first voice, 'and it is now
one o'clock, so that we shall not be able to leave our prison
till to-morrow--if we are not forgotten again--then.'
'We have nothing now to do here,' said Aurora. 'We must resign
ourselves to our fate--let us go.'
Filled with astonishment Neangir sat up in bed, and beheld by the
light of the moon the two watches slide to the ground and roll
out of the room past the cats' quarters. He rushed towards the
door and on to the staircase, but the watches slipped downstairs
without his seeing them, and into the street. He tried to unlock
the door and follow them, but the key refused to turn, so he gave
up the chase and went back to bed.
The next day all his sorrows returned with tenfold force. He felt
himself lonelier and poorer than ever, and in a fit of despair he
thrust his turban on his head, stuck his sword in his belt, and
left the house determined to seek an explanation from the
merchant who had sold him the silver watch.
When Neangir reached the bazaar he found the man he sought was
absent from his shop, and his place filled by another Jew.
'It is my brother you want,' said he; 'we keep the shop in turn,
and in turn go into the city to do our business.'
'Ah! what business?' cried Neangir in a fury. 'You are the
brother of a scoundrel who sold me yesterday a watch that ran
away in the night. But I will find it somehow, or else you shall
pay for it, as you are his brother!'
'What is that you say?' asked the Jew, around whom a crowd had
rapidly gathered. 'A watch that ran away. If it had been a cask
of wine, your story might be true, but a watch--! That is hardly
possible!'
'The Cadi shall say whether it is possible or not,' replied
Neangir, who at that moment perceived the other Jew enter the
bazaar. Darting up, he seized him by the arm and dragged him to
the Cadi's house; but not before the man whom he had found in the
shop contrived to whisper to his brother, in a tone loud enough
for Neangir to hear, 'Confess nothing, or we shall both be lost.'
When the Cadi was informed of what had taken place he ordered the
crowd to be dispersed by blows, after the Turkish manner, and
then asked Neangir to state his complaint. After hearing the
young man's story, which seemed to him most extraordinary, he
turned to question the Jewish merchant, who instead of answering
raised his eyes to heaven and fell down in a dead faint.
The judge took no notice of the swooning man, but told Neangir
that his tale was so singular he really could not believe it, and
that he should have the merchant carried back to his own house.
This so enraged Neangir that he forgot the respect due to the
Cadi, and exclaimed at the top of his voice, 'Recover this fellow
from his fainting fit, and force him to confess the truth,'
giving the Jew as he spoke a blow with his sword which caused him
to utter a piercing scream.
'You see for yourself,' said the Jew to the Cadi, 'that this
young man is out of his mind. I forgive him his blow, but do not,
I pray you, leave me in his power.'
At that moment the Bassa chanced to pass the Cadi's house, and
hearing a great noise, entered to inquire the cause. When the
matter was explained he looked attentively at Neangir, and asked
him gently how all these marvels could possibly have happened.
'My lord,' replied Neangir, 'I swear I have spoken the truth, and
perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that I myself have
been the victim of spells wrought by people of this kind, who
should be rooted out from the earth. For three years I was
changed into a three- legged pot, and only returned to man's
shape when one day a turban was laid upon my lid.'
At these words the Bassa rent his robe for joy, and embracing
Neangir, he cried, 'Oh, my son, my son, have I found you at last?
Do you not come from the house of Mohammed and Zinebi?'
'Yes, my lord,' replied Neangir, 'it was they who took care of me
during my misfortune, and taught me by their example to be less
worthy of belonging to you.'
'Blessed be the Prophet,' said the Bassa, 'who has restored one
of my sons to me, at the time I least expected it! You know,' he
continued, addressing the Cadi, 'that during the first years of
my marriage I had three sons by the beautiful Zambac. When he was
three years old a holy dervish gave the eldest a string of the
finest coral, saying "Keep this treasure carefully, and be
faithful to the Prophet, and you will be happy." To the second,
who now stands before you, he presented a copper plate on which
the name of Mahomet was engraved in seven languages, telling him
never to part from his turban, which was the sign of a true
believer, and he would taste the greatest of all joys; while on
the right arm of the third the dervish clasped a bracelet with
the prayer that his right hand should be pure and the left
spotless, so that he might never know sorrow.
'My eldest son neglected the counsel of the dervish and terrible
troubles fell on him, as also on the youngest. To preserve the
second from similar misfortunes I brought him up in a lonely
place, under the care of a faithful servant named Gouloucou,
while I was fighting the enemies of our Holy Faith. On my return
from the wars I hastened to embrace my son, but both he and
Gouloucou had vanished, and it is only a few months since that I
learned that the boy was living with a man called Mohammed, whom
I suspected of having stolen him. Tell me, my son, how it came
about that you fell into his hands.'
'My lord,' replied Neangir, 'I can remember little of the early
years of my life, save that I dwelt in a castle by the seashore
with an old servant. I must have been about twelve years old when
one day as we were out walking we met a man whose face was like
that of this Jew, coming dancing towards us. Suddenly I felt
myself growing faint. I tried to raise my hands to my head, but
they had become stiff and hard. In a word, I had been changed
into a copper pot, and my arms formed the handle. What happened
to my companion I know not, but I was conscious that someone had
picked me up, and was carrying me quickly away.
'After some days, or so it seemed to me, I was placed on the
ground near a thick hedge, and when I heard my captor snoring
beside me I resolved to make my escape. So I pushed my way among
the thorns as well as I could, and walked on steadily for about
an hour.
'You cannot imagine, my lord, how awkward it is to walk with
three legs, especially when your knees are as stiff as mine were.
At length after much difficulty I reached a market-garden, and
hid myself deep down among the cabbages, where I passed a quiet
night.
'The next morning, at sunrise, I felt some one stooping over me
and examining me closely. "What have you got there, Zinebi?" said
the voice of a man a little way off.
'"The most beautiful pot in the whole world," answered the woman
beside me, "and who would have dreamed of finding it among my
cabbages!"
'Mohammed lifted me from the ground and looked at me with
admiration. That pleased me, for everyone likes to be admired,
even if he is only a pot! And I was taken into the house and
filled with water, and put on the fire to boil.
'For three years I led a quiet and useful life, being scrubbed
bright every day by Zinebi, then a young and beautiful woman.
'One morning Zinebi set me on the fire, with a fine fillet of
beef inside me to cook for dinner. Being afraid that some of the
steam would escape through the lid, and that the taste of her
stew would be spoilt, she looked about for something to put over
the cover, but could see nothing handy but her husband's turban.
She tied it firmly round the lid, and then left the room. For the
first time during three years I began to feel the fire burning
the soles of my feet, and moved away a little-- doing this with a
great deal more ease than I had felt when making my escape to
Mohammed's garden. I was somehow aware, too, that I was growing
taller; in fact in a few minutes I was a man again.
'After the third hour of prayer Mohammed and Zinebi both
returned, and you can guess their surprise at finding a young man
in the kitchen instead of a copper pot! I told them my story,
which at first they refused to believe, but in the end I
succeeded in persuading them that I was speaking the truth. For
two years more I lived with them, and was treated like their own
son, till the day when they sent me to this city to seek my
fortune. And now, my lords, here are the two letters which I
found in my turban. Perhaps they may be another proof in favour
of my story.'
Whilst Neangir was speaking, the blood from the Jew's wound had
gradually ceased to flow; and at this moment there appeared in
the doorway a lovely Jewess, about twenty-two years old, her hair
and her dress all disordered, as if she had been flying from some
great danger. In one hand she held two crutches of white wood,
and was followed by two men. The first man Neangir knew to be the
brother of the Jew he had struck with his sword, while in the
second the young man thought he recognised the person who was
standing by when he was changed into a pot. Both of these men had
a wide linen band round their thighs and held stout sticks.
The Jewess approached the wounded man and laid the two crutches
near him; then, fixing her eyes on him, she burst into tears.
'Unhappy Izouf,' she murmured, 'why do you suffer yourself to be
led into such dangerous adventures? Look at the consequences, not
only to yourself, but to your two brothers,' turning as she spoke
to the men who had come in with her, and who had sunk down on the
mat at the feet of the Jew.
The Bassa and his companions were struck both with the beauty of
the Jewess and also with her words, and begged her to give them
an explanation.
'My lords,' she said, 'my name is Sumi, and I am the daughter of
Moizes, one of our most famous rabbis. I am the victim of my love
for Izaf,' pointing to the man who had entered last, 'and in
spite of his ingratitude, I cannot tear him from my heart. Cruel
enemy of my life,' she continued turning to Izaf, 'tell these
gentlemen your story and that of your brothers, and try to gain
your pardon by repentance.'
'We all three were born at the same time,' said the Jew, obeying
the command of Sumi at a sign from the Cadi, 'and are the sons of
the famous Nathan Ben-Sadi, who gave us the names of Izif, Izouf,
and Izaf. From our earliest years we were taught the secrets of
magic, and as we were all born under the same stars we shared the
same happiness and the same troubles.
'Our mother died before I can remember, and when we were fifteen
our father was seized with a dangerous illness which no spells
could cure. Feeling death draw near, he called us to his bedside
and took leave of us in these words:
'"My sons, I have no riches to bequeath to you; my only wealth
was those secrets of magic which you know. Some stones you
already have, engraved with mystic signs, and long ago I taught
you how to make others. But you still lack the most precious of
all talismans--the three rings belonging to the daughters of
Siroco. Try to get possession of them, but take heed on beholding
these young girls that you do not fall under the power of their
beauty. Their religion is different from yours, and further, they
are the betrothed brides of the sons of the Bassa of the Sea. And
to preserve you from a love which can bring you nothing but
sorrow, I counsel you in time of peril to seek out the daughter
of Moizes the Rabbi, who cherishes a hidden passion for Izaf, and
possesses the Book of Spells, which her father himself wrote with
the sacred ink that was used for the Talmud." So saying, our
father fell back on his cushions and died, leaving us burning
with desire for the three rings of the daughters of Siroco.
'No sooner were our sad duties finished than we began to make
inquiries where these young ladies were to be found, and we
learned after much trouble that Siroco, their father, had fought
in many wars, and that his daughters, whose beauty was famous
throughout all the land, were named Aurora, Argentine, and
Zelida.'
At the second of these names, both the Bassa and his son gave a
start of surprise, but they said nothing and Izaf went on with
his story.
'The first thing to be done was to put on a disguise, and it was
in the dress of foreign merchants that we at length approached
the young ladies, taking care to carry with us a collection of
fine stones which we had hired for the occasion. But alas! it was
to no purpose that Nathan Ben-Sadi had warned us to close our
hearts against their charms! The peerless Aurora was clothed in a
garment of golden hue, studded all over with flashing jewels; the
fair-haired Argentine wore a dress of silver, and the young
Zelida, loveliest of them all, the costume of a Persian lady.
'Among other curiosities that we had brought with us, was a flask
containing an elixir which had the quality of exciting love in
the breasts of any man or woman who drank of it. This had been
given me by the fair Sumi, who had used it herself and was full
of wrath because I refused to drink it likewise, and so return
her passion. I showed this liquid to the three maidens who were
engaged in examining the precious stones, and choosing those that
pleased them best; and I was in the act of pouring some in a
crystal cup, when Zelida's eyes fell on a paper wrapped round the
flask containing these words. "Beware lest you drink this water
with any other man than him who will one day be your husband."
"Ah, traitor!" she exclaimed, "what snare have you laid for me?"
and glancing where her finger pointed I recognised the writing of
Sumi.
'By this time my two brothers had already got possession of the
rings of Aurora and Argentine in exchange for some merchandise
which they coveted, and no sooner had the magic circles left
their hands than the two sisters vanished completely, and in
their place nothing was to be seen but a watch of gold and one of
silver. At this instant the old slave whom we had bribed to let
us enter the house, rushed into the room announcing the return of
Zelida's father. My brothers, trembling with fright, hid the
watches in their turbans, and while the slave was attending to
Zelida, who had sunk fainting to the ground, we managed to make
our escape.
'Fearing to be traced by the enraged Siroco, we did not dare to
go back to the house where we lodged, but took refuge with Sumi.
'"Unhappy wretches!" cried she, "is it thus that you have
followed the counsels of your father? This very morning I
consulted my magic books, and saw you in the act of abandoning
your hearts to the fatal passion which will one day be your ruin.
No, do not think I will tamely bear this insult! It was I who
wrote the letter which stopped Zelida in the act of drinking the
elixir of love! As for you," she went on, turning to my brothers,
"you do not yet know what those two watches will cost you! But
you can learn it now, and the knowledge of the truth will only
serve to render your lives still more miserable."
'As she spoke she held out the sacred book written by Moizes, and
pointed to the following lines:
'"If at midnight the watches are wound with the key of gold and
the key of silver, they will resume their proper shapes during
the first hour of the day. They will always remain under the care
of a woman, and will come back to her wherever they may be. And
the woman appointed to guard them is the daughter of Moizes."
'My brothers were full of rage when they saw themselves
outwitted, but there was no help for it. The watches were
delivered up to Sumi and they went their way, while I remained
behind curious to see what would happen.
'As night wore on Sumi wound up both watches, and when midnight
struck Aurora and her sister made their appearance. They knew
nothing of what had occurred and supposed they had just awakened
from sleep, but when Sumi's story made them understand their
terrible fate, they both sobbed with despair and were only
consoled when Sumi promised never to forsake them. Then one
o'clock sounded, and they became watches again.
'All night long I was a prey to vague fears, and I felt as if
something unseen was pushing me on--in what direction I did not
know. At dawn I rose and went out, meeting Izif in the street
suffering from the same dread as myself. We agreed that
Constantinople was no place for us any longer, and calling to
Izouf to accompany us, we left the city together, but soon
determined to travel separately, so that we might not be so
easily recognised by the spies of Siroco.
'A few days later I found myself at the door of an old castle
near the sea, before which a tall slave was pacing to and fro.
The gift of one or two worthless jewels loosened his tongue, and
he informed me that he was in the service of the son of the Bassa
of the Sea, at that time making war in distant countries. The
youth, he told me, had been destined from his boyhood to marry
the daughter of Siroco, whose sisters were to be the brides of
his brothers, and went on to speak of the talisman that his
charge possessed. But I could think of nothing but the beautiful
Zelida, and my passion, which I thought I had conquered, awoke in
full force.
'In order to remove this dangerous rival from my path, I resolved
to kidnap him, and to this end I began to act a madman, and to
sing and dance loudly, crying to the slave to fetch the boy and
let him see my tricks. He consented, and both were so diverted
with my antics that they laughed till the tears ran down their
cheeks, and even tried to imitate me. Then I declared I felt
thirsty and begged the slave to fetch me some water, and while he
was absent I advised the youth to take off his turban, so as to
cool his head. He complied gladly, and in the twinkling of an eye
was changed into a pot. A cry from the slave warned me that I had
no time to lose if I would save my life, so I snatched up the pot
and fled with it like the wind.
'You have heard, my lords, what became of the pot, so I will only
say now that when I awoke it had disappeared; but I was partly
consoled for its loss by finding my two brothers fast asleep not
far from me. "How did you get here?" I inquired, "and what has
happened to you since we parted?"
'"Alas!" replied Izouf, "we were passing a wayside inn from which
came sounds of songs and laughter, and fools that we were--we
entered and sat down. Circassian girls of great beauty were
dancing for the amusement of several men, who not only received
us politely, but placed us near the two loveliest maidens. Our
happiness was complete, and time flew unknown to us, when one of
the Circassians leaned forward and said to her sister, 'Their
brother danced, and they must dance too.' What they meant by
these words I know not, but perhaps you can tell us?"
'"I understand quite well," I replied. "They were thinking of the
day that I stole the son of the Bassa, and had danced before
him."
'"Perhaps you are right," continued Izouf, "for the two ladies
took our hands and danced with us till we were quite exhausted,
and when at last we sat down a second time to table we drank more
wine than was good for us. Indeed, our heads grew so confused,
that when the men jumped up and threatened to kill us, we could
make no resistance and suffered ourselves to be robbed of
everything we had about us, including the most precious
possession of all, the two talismans of the daughters of Siroco."
'Not knowing what else to do, we all three returned to
Constantinople to ask the advice of Sumi, and found that she was
already aware of our misfortunes, having read about them in the
book of Moizes. The kind-hearted creature wept bitterly at our
story, but, being poor herself, could give us little help. At
last I proposed that every morning we should sell the silver
watch into which Argentine was changed, as it would return to
Sumi every evening unless it was wound up with the silver key--
which was not at all likely. Sumi consented, but only on the
condition that we would never sell the watch without ascertaining
the house where it was to be found, so that she might also take
Aurora thither, and thus Argentine would not be alone if by any
chance she was wound up at the mystic hour. For some weeks now we
have lived by this means, and the two daughters of Siroco have
never failed to return to Sumi each night. Yesterday Izouf sold
the silver watch to this young man, and in the evening placed the
gold watch on the steps by order of Sumi, just before his
customer entered the house; from which both watches came back
early this morning.'
'If I had only known!' cried Neangir. 'If I had had more presence
of mind, I should have seen the lovely Argentine, and if her
portrait is so fair, what must the original be!'
'It was not your fault,' replied the Cadi, 'you are no magician;
and who could guess that the watch must be wound at such an hour?
But I shall give orders that the merchant is to hand it over to
you, and this evening you will certainly not forget.'
'It is impossible to let you have it to-day,' answered Izouf,
'for it is already sold.'
'If that is so,' said the Cadi, 'you must return the three gold
pieces which the young man paid.'
The Jew, delighted to get off so easily, put his hand in his
pocket, when Neangir stopped him.
'No, no,' he exclaimed, 'it is not money I want, but the adorable
Argentine; without her everything is valueless.'
'My dear Cadi,' said the Bassa, 'he is right. The treasure that
my son has lost is absolutely priceless.'
'My lord,' replied the Cadi, 'your wisdom is greater than mine.
Give judgment I pray you in the matter.'
So the Bassa desired them all to accompany him to his house, and
commanded his slaves not to lose sight of the three Jewish
brothers.
When they arrived at the door of his dwelling, he noticed two
women sitting on a bench close by, thickly veiled and beautifully
dressed. Their wide satin trousers were embroidered in silver,
and their muslin robes were of the finest texture. In the hand of
one was a bag of pink silk tied with green ribbons, containing
something that seemed to move.
At the approach of the Bassa both ladies rose, and came towards
him. Then the one who held the bag addressed him saying, 'Noble
lord, buy, I pray you, this bag, without asking to see what it
contains.'
'How much do you want for it?' asked the Bassa.
'Three hundred sequins,' replied the unknown.
At these words the Bassa laughed contemptuously, and passed on
without speaking.
'You will not repent of your bargain,' went on the woman.
'Perhaps if we come back to-morrow you will be glad to give us
the four hundred sequins we shall then ask. And the next day the
price will be five hundred.'
'Come away,' said her companion, taking hold of her sleeve. 'Do
not let us stay here any longer. It may cry, and then our secret
will be discovered.' And so saying, the two young women
disappeared.
The Jews were left in the front hall under the care of the
slaves, and Neangir and Sumi followed the Bassa inside the house,
which was magnificently furnished. At one end of a large,
brilliantly-lighted room a lady of about thirty-five years old
reclined on a couch, still beautiful in spite of the sad
expression of her face.
'Incomparable Zambac,' said the Bassa, going up to her, 'give me
your thanks, for here is the lost son for whom you have shed so
many tears,' but before his mother could clasp him in her arms
Neangir had flung himself at her feet.
'Let the whole house rejoice with me,' continued the Bassa, 'and
let my two sons Ibrahim and Hassan be told, that they may embrace
their brother.'
'Alas! my lord!' said Zambac, 'do you forget that this is the
hour when Hassan weeps on his hand, and Ibrahim gathers up his
coral beads?'
'Let the command of the Prophet be obeyed,' replied the Bassa;
'then we will wait till the evening.'
'Forgive me, noble lord,' interrupted Sumi, 'but what is this
mystery? With the help of the Book of Spells perhaps I may be of
some use in the matter.'
'Sumi,' answered the Bassa, 'I owe you already the happiness of
my life; come with me then, and the sight of my unhappy sons will
tell you of our trouble better than any words of mine.'
The Bassa rose from his divan and drew aside the hangings leading
to a large hall, closely followed by Neangir and Sumi. There they
saw two young men, one about seventeen, and the other nineteen
years of age. The younger was seated before a table, his forehead
resting on his right hand, which he was watering with his tears.
He raised his head for a moment when his father entered, and
Neangir and Sumi both saw that this hand was of ebony.
The other young man was occupied busily in collecting coral beads
which were scattered all over the floor of the room, and as he
picked them up he placed them on the same table where his brother
was sitting. He had already gathered together ninety-eight beads,
and thought they were all there, when they suddenly rolled off
the table and he had to begin his work over again.
'Do you see,' whispered the Bassa, 'for three hours daily one
collects these coral beads, and for the same space of time the
other laments over his hand which has become black, and I am
wholly ignorant what is the cause of either misfortune.'
'Do not let us stay here,' said Sumi, 'our presence must add to
their grief. But permit me to fetch the Book of Spells, which I
feel sure will tell us not only the cause of their malady but
also its cure.'
The Bassa readily agreed to Sumi's proposal, but Neangir objected
strongly. 'If Sumi leaves us,' he said to his father, 'I shall
not see my beloved Argentine when she returns to-night with the
fair Aurora. And life is an eternity till I behold her.'
'Be comforted,' replied Sumi. 'I will be back before sunset; and
I leave you my adored Izaf as a pledge.'
Scarcely had the Jewess left Neangir, when the old female slave
entered the hall where the three Jews still remained carefully
guarded, followed by a man whose splendid dress prevented Neangir
from recognising at first as the person in whose house he had
dined two days before. But the woman he knew at once to be the
nurse of Zelida.
He started eagerly forward, but before he had time to speak the
slave turned to the soldier she was conducting. 'My lord,' she
said, 'those are the men; I have tracked them from the house of
the Cadi to this palace. They are the same; I am not mistaken,
strike and avenge yourself.'
As he listened the face of the stranger grew scarlet with anger.
He drew his sword and in another moment would have rushed on the
Jews, when Neangir and the slaves of the Bassa seized hold of
him.
'What are you doing?' cried Neangir. 'How dare you attack those
whom the Bassa has taken under his protection?'
'Ah, my son,' replied the soldier, 'the Bassa would withdraw his
protection if he knew that these wretches have robbed me of all I
have dearest in the world. He knows them as little as he knows
you.'
'But he knows me very well,' replied Neangir, 'for he has
recognised me as his son. Come with me now into his presence.'
The stranger bowed and passed through the curtain held back by
Neangir, whose surprise was great at seeing his father spring
forward and clasp the soldier in his arms.
'What! is it you, my dear Siroco?' cried he. 'I believed you had
been slain in that awful battle when the followers of the Prophet
were put to flight. But why do your eyes kindle with the flames
they shot forth on that fearful day? Calm yourself and tell me
what I can do to help you. See, I have found my son, let that be
a good omen for your happiness also.'
'I did not guess,' answered Siroco, 'that the son you have so
long mourned had come back to you. Some days since the Prophet
appeared to me in a dream, floating in a circle of light, and he
said to me, "Go to-morrow at sunset to the Galata Gate, and there
you will find a young man whom you must bring home with you. He
is the second son of your old friend the Bassa of the Sea, and
that you may make no mistake, put your fingers in his turban and
you will feel the plaque on which my name is engraved in seven
different languages."'
'I did as I was bid,' went on Siroco, 'and so charmed was I with
his face and manner that I caused him to fall in love with
Argentine, whose portrait I gave him. But at the moment when I
was rejoicing in the happiness before me, and looking forward to
the pleasure of restoring you your son, some drops of the elixir
of love were spilt on the table, and caused a thick vapour to
arise, which hid everything. When it had cleared away he was
gone. This morning my old slave informed me that she had
discovered the traitors who had stolen my daughters from me, and
I hastened hither to avenge them. But I place myself in your
hands, and will follow your counsel.'
'Fate will favour us, I am sure,' said the Bassa, 'for this very
night I expect to secure both the silver and the gold watch. So
send at once and pray Zelida to join us.'
A rustling of silken stuffs drew their eyes to the door, and
Ibrahim and Hassan, whose daily penance had by this time been
performed, entered to embrace their brother. Neangir and Hassan,
who had also drunk of the elixir of love, could think of nothing
but the beautiful ladies who had captured their hearts, while the
spirits of Ibrahim had been cheered by the news that the daughter
of Moizes hoped to find in the Book of Spells some charm to
deliver him from collecting the magic beads.
It was some hours later that Sumi returned, bringing with her the
sacred book.
'See,' she said, beckoning to Hassan, 'your destiny is written
here.' And Hassan stooped and read these words in Hebrew. 'His
right hand has become black as ebony from touching the fat of an
impure animal, and will remain so till the last of its race is
drowned in the sea.'
'Alas!' sighed the unfortunate youth. 'It now comes back to my
memory. One day the slave of Zambac was making a cake. She warned
me not to touch, as the cake was mixed with lard, but I did not
heed her, and in an instant my hand became the ebony that it now
is.'
'Holy dervish!' exclaimed the Bassa, 'how true were your words!
My son has neglected the advice you gave him on presenting him
the bracelet, and he has been severely punished. But tell me, O
wise Sumi, where I can find the last of the accursed race who has
brought this doom on my son?'
'It is written here,' replied Sumi, turning over some leaves.
'The little black pig is in the pink bag carried by the two
Circassians.'
When he read this the Bassa sank on his cushions in despair.
'Ah,' he said, 'that is the bag that was offered me this morning
for three hundred sequins. Those must be the women who caused
Izif and Izouf to dance, and took from them the two talismans of
the daughters of Siroco. They only can break the spell that has
been cast on us. Let them be found and I will gladly give them
the half of my possessions. Idiot that I was to send them away!'
While the Bassa was bewailing his folly, Ibrahim in his turn had
opened the book, and blushed deeply as he read the words: 'The
chaplet of beads has been defiled by the game of "Odd and Even."
Its owner has tried to cheat by concealing one of the numbers.
Let the faithless Moslem seek for ever the missing bead.'
'O heaven,' cried Ibrahim, 'that unhappy day rises up before me.
I had cut the thread of the chaplet, while playing with Aurora.
Holding the ninety-nine beads in my hand she guessed "Odd," and
in order that she might lose I let one bead fall from my hand.
Since then I have sought it daily, but it never has been found.'
'Holy dervish!' cried the Bassa, 'how true were your words! From
the time that the sacred chaplet was no longer complete, my son
has borne the penalty. But may not the Book of Spells teach us
how to deliver Ibrahim also?'
'Listen,' said Sumi, 'this is what I find: "The coral bead lies
in the fifth fold of the dress of yellow brocade."' 'Ah, what
good fortune!' exclaimed the Bassa; 'we shall shortly see the
beautiful Aurora, and Ibrahim shall at once search in the fifth
fold of her yellow brocade. For it is she no doubt of whom the
book speaks.'
As the Jewess closed the Book of Moizes, Zelida appeared,
accompanied by a whole train of slaves and her old nurse. At her
entrance Hassan, beside himself with joy, flung himself on his
knees and kissed her hand.
'My lord,' he said to the Bassa, 'pardon me these transports. No
elixir of love was needed to inflame my heart! Let the marriage
rite make us speedily one.'
'My son, are you mad?' asked the Bassa. 'As long as the
misfortunes of your brothers last, shall you alone be happy? And
whoever heard of a bridegroom with a black hand? Wait yet a
little longer, till the black pig is drowned in the sea.'
'Yes! dear Hassan,' said Zelida, 'our happiness will be increased
tenfold when my sisters have regained their proper shapes. And
here is the elixir which I have brought with me, so that their
joy may equal ours.' And she held out the flask to the Bassa, who
had it closed in his presence.
Zambac was filled with joy at the sight of Zelida, and embraced
her with delight. Then she led the way into the garden, and
invited all her friends to seat themselves under the thick
overhanging branches of a splendid jessamine tree. No sooner,
however, were they comfortably settled, than they were astonished
to hear a man's voice, speaking angrily on the other side of the
wall.
'Ungrateful girls!' it said, 'is this the way you treat me? Let
me hide myself for ever! This cave is no longer dark enough or
deep enough for me.'
A burst of laughter was the only answer, and the voice continued,
'What have I done to earn such contempt? Was this what you
promised me when I managed to get for you the talismans of
beauty? Is this the reward I have a right to expect when I have
bestowed on you the little black pig, who is certain to bring you
good luck?'
At these words the curiosity of the listeners passed all bounds,
and the Bassa commanded his slaves instantly to tear down the
wall. It was done, but the man was nowhere to be seen, and there
were only two girls of extraordinary beauty, who seemed quite at
their ease, and came dancing gaily on to the terrace. With them
was an old slave in whom the Bassa recognised Gouloucou, the
former guardian of Neangir.
Gouloucou shrank with fear when he saw the Bassa, as he expected
nothing less than death at his hands for allowing Neangir to be
snatched away. But the Bassa made him signs of forgiveness, and
asked him how he had escaped death when he had thrown himself
from the cliff. Gouloucou explained that he had been picked up by
a dervish who had cured his wounds, and had then given him as
slave to the two young ladies now before the company, and in
their service he had remained ever since.
'But,' said the Bassa, 'where is the little black pig of which
the voice spoke just now?'
'My lord,' answered one of the ladies, 'when at your command the
wall was thrown down, the man whom you heard speaking was so
frightened at the noise that he caught up the pig and ran away.'
'Let him be pursued instantly,' cried the Bassa; but the ladies
smiled.
'Do not be alarmed, my lord,' said one, 'he is sure to return.
Only give orders that the entrance to the cave shall be guarded,
so that when he is once in he shall not get out again.'
By this time night was falling and they all went back to the
palace, where coffee and fruits were served in a splendid
gallery, near the women's apartments. The Bassa then ordered the
three Jews to be brought before him, so that he might see whether
these were the two damsels who had forced them to dance at the
inn, but to his great vexation it was found that when their
guards had gone to knock down the wall the Jews had escaped.
At this news the Jewess Sumi turned pale, but glancing at the
Book of Spells her face brightened, and she said half aloud,
'There is no cause for disquiet; they will capture the dervish,'
while Hassan lamented loudly that as soon as fortune appeared on
one side she fled on the other!
On hearing this reflection one of the Bassa's pages broke into a
laugh. 'This fortune comes to us dancing my lord,' said he, 'and
the other leaves us on crutches. Do not be afraid. She will not
go very far.'
The Bassa, shocked at his impertinent interference, desired him
to leave the room and not to come back till he was sent for.
'My lord shall be obeyed,' said the page, 'but when I return, it
shall be in such good company that you will welcome me gladly.'
So saying, he went out.
When they were alone, Neangir turned to the fair strangers and
implored their help. 'My brothers and myself,' he cried, 'are
filled with love for three peerless maidens, two of whom are
under a cruel spell. If their fate happened to be in your hands,
would you not do all in your power to restore them to happiness
and liberty?'
But the young man's appeal only stirred the two ladies to anger.
'What,' exclaimed one, 'are the sorrows of lovers to us? Fate has
deprived us of our lovers, and if it depends on us the whole
world shall suffer as much as we do!'
This unexpected reply was heard with amazement by all present,
and the Bassa entreated the speaker to tell them her story.
Having obtained permission of her sister, she began:
The Story of the Fair Circassians
'We were born in Circassia of poor people, and my sister's name
is Tezila and mine Dely. Having nothing but our beauty to help us
in life, we were carefully trained in all the accomplishments
that give pleasure. We were both quick to learn, and from our
childhood could play all sorts of instruments, could sing, and
above all could dance. We were besides, lively and merry, as in
spite of our misfortunes we are to this day.
'We were easily pleased and quite content with our lives at home,
when one morning the officials who had been sent to find wives
for the Sultan saw us, and were struck with our beauty. We had
always expected something of the sort, and were resigned to our
lot, when we chanced to see two young men enter our house. The
elder, who was about twenty years of age, had black hair and very
bright eyes. The other could not have been more than fifteen, and
was so fair that he might easily have passed for a girl.
'They knocked at the door with a timid air and begged our parents
to give them shelter, as they had lost their way. After some
hesitation their request was granted, and they were invited into
the room in which we were. And if our parents' hearts were
touched by their beauty, our own were not any harder, so that our
departure for the palace, which had been arranged for the next
day, suddenly became intolerable to us.
'Night came, and I awoke from my sleep to find the younger of the
two strangers sitting at my bedside and felt him take my hand.
'"Fear nothing, lovely Dely," he whispered, "from one who never
knew love till he saw you. My name," he went on, "is Prince
Delicate, and I am the son of the king of the Isle of Black
Marble. My friend, who travels with me, is one of the richest
nobles of my country, and the secrets which he knows are the envy
of the Sultan himself. And we left our native country because my
father wished me to marry a lady of great beauty, but with one
eye a trifle smaller than the other."
'My vanity was flattered at so speedy a conquest, and I was
charmed with the way the young man had declared his passion. I
turned my eyes slowly on him, and the look I gave him caused him
almost to lose his senses. He fell fainting forward, and I was
unable to move till Tezila, who had hastily put on a dress, ran
to my assistance together with Thelamis, the young noble of whom
the Prince had spoken.
'As soon as we were all ourselves again we began to bewail our
fate, and the journey that we were to take that very day to
Constantinople. But we felt a little comforted when Thelamis
assured us that he and the prince would follow in our steps, and
would somehow contrive to speak to us. Then they kissed our
hands, and left the house by a side-way.
'A few moments later our parents came to tell us that the escort
had arrived, and having taken farewell of them we mounted the
camels, and took our seats in a kind of box that was fixed to the
side of the animal. These boxes were large enough for us to sleep
in comfortably, and as there was a window in the upper part, we
were able to see the country through which we passed.
'For several days we journeyed on, feeling sad and anxious as to
what might become of us, when one day as I was looking out of the
window of our room, I heard my name called, and beheld a
beautifully dressed girl jumping out of the box on the other side
of our camel. One glance told me that it was the prince, and my
heart bounded with joy. It was, he said, Thelamis's idea to
disguise him like this, and that he himself had assumed the
character of a slave-dealer who was taking this peerless maiden
as a present to the Sultan. Thelamis had also persuaded the
officer in charge of the caravan to let him hire the vacant box,
so it was easy for the prince to scramble out of his own window
and approach ours.
This ingenious trick enchanted us, but our agreeable conversation
was soon interrupted by the attendants, who perceived that the
camel was walking in a crooked manner and came to find out what
was wrong. Luckily they were slow in their movements, and the
prince had just time to get back to his own box and restore the
balance, before the trick was discovered.
'But neither the prince nor his friend had any intention of
allowing us to enter the Sultan's palace, though it was difficult
to know how we were to escape, and what was to become of us when
once we had escaped. At length, one day as we were drawing near
Constantinople, we learned from the prince that Thelamis had made
acquaintance with a holy dervish whom he had met on the road, and
had informed him that we were his sisters, who were being sold as
slaves against his will. The good man was interested in the
story, and readily agreed to find us shelter if we could manage
to elude the watchfulness of our guards. The risk was great, but
it was our only chance.
'That night, when the whole caravan was fast asleep, we raised
the upper part of our boxes and by the help of Thelamis climbed
silently out. We next went back some distance along the way we
had come, then, striking into another road, reached at last the
retreat prepared for us by the dervish. Here we found food and
rest, and I need not say what happiness it was to be free once
more.
'The dervish soon became a slave to our beauty, and the day after
our escape he proposed that we should allow him to conduct us to
an inn situated at a short distance, where we should find two
Jews, owners of precious talismans which did not really belong to
them. "Try," said the dervish, "by some means to get possession
of them."
'The inn, though not on the direct road to Constantinople, was a
favourite one with merchants, owing to the excellence of the
food, and on our arrival we discovered at least six or eight
other people who had stopped for refreshment. They greeted us
politely, and we sat down to table together.
'In a short time the two men described by the dervish entered the
room, and at a sign from him my sister made room at her side for
one, while I did the same for the other.
'Now the dervish had happened to mention that "their brother had
danced." At the moment we paid no attention to this remark, but
it came back to our minds now, and we determined that they should
dance also. To accomplish this we used all our arts and very soon
bent them to our wills, so that they could refuse us nothing. At
the end of the day we remained possessors of the talismans and
had left them to their fate, while the prince and Thelamis fell
more in love with us than ever, and declared that we were more
lovely than any women in the world.
'The sun had set before we quitted the inn, and we had made no
plans as to where we should go next, so we readily consented to
the prince's proposal that we should embark without delay for the
Isle of Black Marble. What a place it was! Rocks blacker than jet
towered above its shores and shed thick darkness over the
country. Our sailors had not been there before and were nearly as
frightened as ourselves, but thanks to Thelamis, who undertook to
be our pilot, we landed safely on the beach.
'When we had left the coast behind us, with its walls of jet, we
entered a lovely country where the fields were greener, the
streams clearer, and the sun brighter than anywhere else. The
people crowded round to welcome their prince, whom they loved
dearly, but they told him that the king was still full of rage at
his son's refusal to marry his cousin the Princess Okimpare, and
also at his flight. Indeed, they all begged him not to visit the
capital, as his life would hardly be safe. So, much as I should
have enjoyed seeing the home of my beloved prince, I implored him
to listen to this wise advice and to let us all go to Thelamis's
palace in the middle of a vast forest.
'To my sister and myself, who had been brought up in a cottage,
this house of Thelamis's seemed like fairyland. It was built of
pink marble, so highly polished that the flowers and streams
surrounding it were reflected as in a mirror. One set of rooms
was furnished especially for me in yellow silk and silver, to
suit my black hair. Fresh dresses were provided for us every day,
and we had slaves to wait on us. Ah, why could not this happiness
have lasted for ever!
'The peace of our lives was troubled by Thelamis's jealousy of my
sister, as he could not endure to see her on friendly terms with
the prince, though knowing full well that his heart was mine.
Every day we had scenes of tender reproaches and of explanations,
but Tezila's tears never failed to bring Thelamis to his knees,
with prayers for forgiveness.
'We had been living in this way for some months when one day the
news came that the king had fallen dangerously ill. I begged the
prince to hurry at once to the Court, both to see his father and
also to show himself to the senators and nobles, but as his love
for me was greater than his desire of a crown, he hesitated as if
foreseeing all that afterwards happened. At last Tezila spoke to
him so seriously in Thelamis's presence, that he determined to
go, but promised that he would return before night.
'Night came but no prince, and Tezila, who had been the cause of
his departure, showed such signs of uneasiness that Thelamis's
jealousy was at once awakened. As for me, I cannot tell what I
suffered. Not being able to sleep I rose from my bed and wandered
into the forest, along the road which he had taken so many hours
before. Suddenly I heard in the distance the sound of a horse's
hoofs, and in a few moments the prince had flung himself down and
was by my side. "Ah, how I adore you!" he exclaimed; "Thelamis's
love will never equal mine." The words were hardly out of his
mouth when I heard a slight noise behind, and before we could
turn round both our heads were rolling in front of us, while the
voice of Thelamis cried:
'"Perjured wretches, answer me; and you, faithless Tezila, tell
me why you have betrayed me like this?"
'Then I understood what had happened, and that, in his rage, he
had mistaken me for my sister.
'"Alas," replied my head in weak tones, "I am not Tezila, but
Dely, whose life you have destroyed, as well as that of your
friend." At this Thelamis paused and seemed to reflect for an
instant.
'"Be not frightened," he said more quietly, "I can make you whole
again," and laying a magic powder on our tongues he placed our
heads on our necks. In the twinkling of an eye our heads were
joined to our bodies without leaving so much as a scar; only
that, blinded with rage as he still was, Thelamis had placed my
head on the prince's body, and his on mine!
'I cannot describe to you how odd we both felt at this strange
transformation. We both instinctively put up our hands--he to
feel his hair, which was, of course, dressed like a woman's, and
I to raise the turban which pressed heavily on my forehead. But
we did not know what had happened to us, for the night was still
dark.
'At this point Tezila appeared, followed by a troop of slaves
bearing flowers. It was only by the light of their torches that
we understood what had occurred. Indeed the first thought of both
of us was that we must have changed clothes.
'Now in spite of what we may say, we all prefer our own bodies to
those of anybody else, so notwithstanding our love for each
other, at first we could not help feeling a little cross with
Thelamis. However, so deep was the prince's passion for me, that
very soon he began to congratulate himself on the change. " My
happiness is perfect," he said; "my heart, beautiful Dely, has
always been yours, and now I have your head also."
'But though the prince made the best of it, Thelamis was much
ashamed of his stupidity. "I have," he said hesitatingly, "two
other pastilles which have the same magic properties as those I
used before. Let me cut off your heads again, and that will put
matters straight." The proposal sounded tempting, but was a
little risky, and after consulting together we decided to let
things remain as they were. "Do not blame me then," continued
Thelamis, "if you will not accept my offer. But take the two
pastilles, and if it ever happens that you are decapitated a
second time, make use of them in the way I have shown you, and
each will get back his own head." So saying he presented us with
the pastilles, and we all returned to the castle.
'However, the troubles caused by the unfortunate exchange were
only just beginning. My head, without thinking what it was doing,
led the prince's body to my apartments. But my women, only
looking at the dress, declared I had mistaken the corridor, and
called some slaves to conduct me to his highness's rooms. This
was bad enough, but when--as it was still night my servants began
to undress me, I nearly fainted from surprise and confusion, and
no doubt the prince's head was suffering in the same manner at
the other end of the castle!
'By the next morning--you will easily guess that we slept but
little--we had grown partly accustomed to our strange situation,
and when we looked in the mirror, the prince had become
brown-skinned and black-haired, while my head was covered with
his curly golden locks. And after that first day, everyone in the
palace had become so accustomed to the change that they thought
no more about it.
'Some weeks after this, we heard that the king of the Isle of
Black Marble was dead. The prince's head, which once was mine,
was full of ambitious desires, and he longed to ride straight to
the capital and proclaim himself king. But then came the question
as to whether the nobles would recognise the prince with a girl's
body, and indeed, when we came to think of it, which was prince
and which was girl?
'At last, after much argument, my head carried the day and we set
out; but only to find that the king had declared the Princess
Okimpare his successor. The greater part of the senators and
nobles openly professed that they would much have preferred the
rightful heir, but as they could not recognise him either in the
prince or me, they chose to consider us as impostors and threw us
into prison.
'A few days later Tezila and Thelamis, who had followed us to the
capital, came to tell us that the new queen had accused us of
high treason, and had herself been present at our trial--which
was conducted without us. They had been in mortal terror as to
what would be our sentence, but by a piece of extraordinary luck
we had been condemned to be beheaded.
'I told my sister that I did not see exactly where the luck came
in, but Thelamis interrupted me rudely:
'"What!" he cried, "of course I shall make use of the pastilles,
and--" but here the officers arrived to lead us to the great
square where the execution was to take place--for Okimpare was
determined there should be no delay.
'The square was crowded with people of all ages and all ranks,
and in the middle a platform had been erected on which was the
scaffold, with the executioner, in a black mask, standing by. At
a sign from him I mounted first, and in a moment my head was
rolling at his feet. With a bound my sister and Thelamis were
beside me, and like lightning Thelamis seized the sabre from the
headsman, and cut off the head of the prince. And before the
multitude had recovered from their astonishment at these strange
proceedings, our bodies were joined to our right heads, and the
pastilles placed on our tongues. Then Thelamis led the prince to
the edge of the platform and presented him to the people, saying,
"Behold your lawful king."
'Shouts of joy rent the air at the sound of Thelamis's words, and
the noise reached Okimpare in the palace. Smitten with despair at
the news, she fell down unconscious on her balcony, and was
lifted up by the slaves and taken back to her own house.
'Meanwhile our happiness was all turned to sorrow. I had rushed
up to the prince to embrace him fondly, when he suddenly grew
pale and staggered.
'"I die faithful to you," he murmured, turning his eyes towards
me, "and I die a king!" and leaning his head on my shoulder he
expired quietly, for one of the arteries in his neck had been cut
through.
'Not knowing what I did I staggered towards the sabre which was
lying near me, with the intention of following my beloved prince
as speedily as possible. And when Thelamis seized my hand (but
only just in time), in my madness I turned the sabre upon him,
and he fell struck through the heart at my feet.'
The whole company were listening to the story with breathless
attention, when it became plain that Dely could go no further,
while Tezila had flung herself on a heap of cushions and hidden
her face. Zambac ordered her women to give them all the attention
possible, and desired they should be carried into her own rooms.
When the two sisters were in this condition, Ibrahim, who was a
very prudent young man, suggested to his parents that, as the two
Circassians were both unconscious, it would be an excellent
opportunity to search them and see if the talismans belonging to
the daughters of Siroco were concealed about their persons. But
the Bassa, shocked at the notion of treating his guests in so
inhospitable a manner, refused to do anything of the kind, adding
that the next day he hoped to persuade them to give the talismans
up of their own free will.
By this time it was nearly midnight and Neangir, who was standing
near the Jewess Sumi, drew out the portrait of Argentine, and
heard with delight that she was even more beautiful than her
picture. Everyone was waiting on tip-toe for the appearance of
the two watches, who were expected when the clock struck twelve
to come in search of Sumi, and that there might be no delay the
Bassa ordered all the doors to be flung wide open. It was done,
and there entered not the longed-for watches, but the page who
had been sent away in disgrace.
Then the Bassa arose in wrath. 'Azemi,' he said, 'did I not order
you to stand no more in my presence?'
'My lord,' replied Azemi, modestly, 'I was hidden outside the
door, listening to the tale of the two Circassians. And as I know
you are fond of stories, give me also leave to tell you one. I
promise you it shall not be long.'
'Speak on,' replied the Bassa, 'but take heed what you say.'
'My lord,' began Azemi, 'this morning I was walking in the town
when I noticed a man going in the same direction followed by a
slave. He entered a baker's shop, where he bought some bread
which he gave to the slave to carry. I watched him and saw that
he purchased many other kinds of provisions at other places, and
when the slave could carry no more his master commanded him to
return home and have supper ready at midnight.
'When left alone the man went up the street, and turning into a
jeweller's shop, brought out a watch that as far as I could see
was made of silver. He walked on a few steps, then stooped and
picked up a gold watch which lay at his feet. At this point I ran
up and told him that if he did not give me half its price I would
report him to the Cadi; he agreed, and conducting me to his house
produced four hundred sequins, which he said was my share, and
having got what I wanted I went away.
'As it was the hour for attending on my lord I returned home and
accompanied you to the Cadi, where I heard the story of the three
Jews and learned the importance of the two watches I had left at
the stranger's. I hastened to his house, but he had gone out, and
I could only find the slave, whom I told that I was the bearer of
important news for his master. Believing me to be one of his
friends, he begged me to wait, and showed me into a room where I
saw the two watches lying on the table. I put them in my pocket,
leaving the four hundred sequins in place of the gold watch and
three gold pieces which I knew to be the price of the other. As
you know the watches never remain with the person who buys them,
this man may think himself very lucky to get back his money. I
have wound them both up, and at this instant Aurora and Argentine
are locked safely into my own room.'
Everybody was so delighted to hear this news that Azemi was
nearly stifled with their embraces, and Neangir could hardly be
prevented from running to break in the door, though he did not
even know where the page slept.
But the page begged to have the honour of fetching the ladies
himself, and soon returned leading them by the hand.
For some minutes all was a happy confusion, and Ibrahim took
advantage of it to fall on his knees before Aurora, and search in
the fifth fold of her dress for the missing coral bead. The Book
of Spells had told the truth; there it was, and as the chaplet
was now complete the young man's days of seeking were over.
In the midst of the general rejoicing Hassan alone bore a gloomy
face.
'Alas!' he said, 'everyone is happy but the miserable being you
see before you. I have lost the only consolation in my grief,
which was to feel that I had a brother in misfortune!'
'Be comforted,' replied the Bassa; 'sooner or later the dervish
who stole the pink bag is sure to be found.'
Supper was then served, and after they had all eaten of rare
fruits which seemed to them the most delicious in the whole
world, the Bassa ordered the flask containing the elixir of love
to be brought and the young people to drink of it. Then their
eyes shone with a new fire, and they swore to be true to each
other till death.
This ceremony was scarcely over when the clock struck one, and in
an instant Aurora and Argentine had vanished, and in the place
where they stood lay two watches. Silence fell upon all the
company--they had forgotten the enchantment; then the voice of
Azemi was heard asking if he might be allowed to take charge of
the watches till the next day, pledging his head to end their
enchantment. With the consent of Sumi, this was granted, and the
Bassa gave Azemi a purse containing a thousand sequins, as a
reward for the services he had already rendered to them. After
this everybody went to his own apartment.
Azemi had never possessed so much money before, and never closed
his eyes for joy the whole night long. Very early he got up and
went into the garden, thinking how he could break the enchantment
of the daughters of Siroco. Suddenly the soft tones of a woman
fell on his ear, and peeping through the bushes he saw Tezila,
who was arranging flowers in her sister's hair. The rustling of
the leaves caused Dely to start; she jumped up as if to fly, but
Azemi implored her to remain and begged her to tell him what
happened to them after the death of their lovers, and how they
had come to find the dervish.
'The punishment decreed to us by the Queen Okimpare,' answered
Dely, 'was that we were to dance and sing in the midst of our
sorrow, at a great fete which was to be held that very day for
all her people. This cruel command nearly turned our brains, and
we swore a solemn oath to make all lovers as wretched as we were
ourselves. In this design we succeeded so well that in a short
time the ladies of the capital came in a body to Okimpare, and
prayed her to banish us from the kingdom, before their lives were
made miserable for ever. She consented, and commanded us to be
placed on board a ship, with our slave Gouloucou.
'On the shore we saw an old man who was busily engaged in
drowning some little black pigs, talking to them all the while,
as if they could understand him.
'"Accursed race," said he, "it is you who have caused all the
misfortunes of him to whom I gave the magic bracelet. Perish all
of you!"
'We drew near from curiosity, and recognised in him the dervish
who had sheltered us on our first escape from the caravan.
'When the old man discovered who we were he was beside himself
with pleasure, and offered us a refuge in the cave where he
lived. We gladly accepted his offer, and to the cave we all went,
taking with us the last little pig, which he gave us as a
present.
'"The Bassa of the Sea," he added, "will pay you anything you
like to ask for it."
'Without asking why it was so precious I took the pig and placed
it in my work bag, where it has been ever since. Only yesterday
we offered it to the Bassa, who laughed at us, and this so
enraged us against the dervish that we cut off his beard when he
was asleep, and now he dare not show himself.'
'Ah,' exclaimed the page, 'it is not fitting that such beauty
should waste itself in making other people miserable. Forget the
unhappy past and think only of the future. And accept, I pray
you, this watch, to mark the brighter hours in store.' So saying
he laid the watch upon her knee. Then he turned to Tezila. 'And
you fair maiden, permit me to offer you this other watch. True it
is only of silver, but it is all I have left to give. And I feel
quite sure that you must have somewhere a silver seal, that will
be exactly the thing to go with it.'
'Why, so you have,' cried Dely; 'fasten your silver seal to your
watch, and I will hang my gold one on to mine.'
The seals were produced, and, as Azemi had guessed, they were the
talismans which the two Circassians had taken from Izif and
Izouf, mounted in gold and silver. As quick as lightning the
watches slid from the hands of Tezila and her sister, and Aurora
and Argentine stood before them, each with her talisman on her
finger.
At first they seemed rather confused themselves at the change
which had taken place, and the sunlight which they had not seen
for so long, but when gradually they understood that their
enchantment had come to an end, they could find no words to
express their happiness.
The Circassians could with difficulty be comforted for the loss
of the talismans, but Aurora and Argentine entreated them to dry
their tears, as their father, Siroco, who was governor of
Alexandria, would not fail to reward them in any manner they
wished. This promise was soon confirmed by Siroco himself, who
came into the garden with the Bassa and his two sons, and was
speedily joined by the ladies of the family. Only Hassan was
absent. It was the hour in which he was condemned to bewail his
ebony hand.
To the surprise of all a noise was at this moment heard in a
corner of the terrace, and Hassan himself appeared surrounded by
slaves, clapping his hands and shouting with joy. 'I was weeping
as usual,' cried he, 'when all at once the tears refused to come
to my eyes, and on looking down at my hand I saw that its
blackness had vanished. And now, lovely Zelida, nothing prevents
me any longer from offering you the hand, when the heart has been
yours always.'
But though Hassan never thought of asking or caring what had
caused his cure, the others were by no means so indifferent. It
was quite clear that the little black pig must be dead--but how,
and when? To this the slaves answered that they had seen that
morning a man pursued by three others, and that he had taken
refuge in the cavern which they had been left to guard. Then, in
obedience to orders, they had rolled a stone over the entrance.
Piercing shrieks interrupted their story, and a man, whom the
Circassians saw to be the old dervish, rushed round the corner of
the terrace with the three Jews behind him. When the fugitive
beheld so many people collected together, he turned down another
path, but the slaves captured all four and brought them before
their master.
What was the surprise of the Bassa when he beheld in the old
dervish the man who had given the chaplet, the copper plaque, and
the bracelet to his three sons. 'Fear nothing, holy father,' he
said, 'you are safe with me. But tell us, how came you here?'
'My lord,' explained the dervish, 'when my beard was cut off
during my sleep by the two Circassians, I was ashamed to appear
before the eyes of men, and fled, bearing with me the pink silk
bag. In the night these three men fell in with me, and we passed
some time in conversation, but at dawn, when it was light enough
to see each other's faces, one of them exclaimed that I was the
dervish travelling with the two Circassians who had stolen the
talismans from the Jews. I jumped up and tried to fly to my cave,
but they were too quick for me, and just as we reached your
garden they snatched the bag which contained the little black pig
and flung it into the sea. By this act, which delivers your son,
I would pray you to forgive them for any wrongs they may have
done you--nay more, that you will recompense them for it.' The
Bassa granted the holy man's request, and seeing that the two
Jews had fallen victims to the charms of the Circassian ladies,
gave his consent to their union, which was fixed to take place at
the same time as that of Izaf with the wise Sumi. The Cadi was
sent for, and the Jews exchanged the hats of their race for the
turbans of the followers of the Prophet. Then, after so many
misfortunes, the Bassa's three sons entreated their father to
delay their happiness no longer, and the six marriages were
performed by the Cadi at the hour of noon.
[Cabinet des Fees.]
The Jackal and the Spring
Once upon a time all the streams and rivers ran so dry that the
animals did not know how to get water. After a very long search,
which had been quite in vain, they found a tiny spring, which
only wanted to be dug deeper so as to yield plenty of water. So
the beasts said to each other, 'Let us dig a well, and then we
shall not fear to die of thirst;' and they all consented except
the jackal, who hated work of any kind, and generally got
somebody to do it for him.
When they had finished their well, they held a council as to who
should be made the guardian of the well, so that the jackal might
not come near it, for, they said, 'he would not work, therefore
he shall not drink.'
After some talk it was decided that the rabbit should be left in
charge; then all the other beasts went back to their homes.
When they were out of sight the jackal arrived. 'Good morning!
Good morning, rabbit!' and the rabbit politely said, 'Good
morning!' Then the jackal unfastened the little bag that hung at
his side, and pulled out of it a piece of honeycomb which he
began to eat, and turning to the rabbit he remarked:
'As you see, rabbit, I am not thirsty in the least, and this is
nicer than any water.'
'Give me a bit,' asked the rabbit. So the jackal handed him a
very little morsel.
'Oh, how good it is!' cried the rabbit; 'give me a little more,
dear friend!'
But the jackal answered, 'If you really want me to give you some
more, you must have your paws tied behind you, and lie on your
back, so that I can pour it into your mouth.'
The rabbit did as he was bid, and when he was tied tight and
popped on his back, the jackal ran to the spring and drank as
much as he wanted. When he had quite finished he returned to his
den.
In the evening the animals all came back, and when they saw the
rabbit lying with his paws tied, they said to him: 'Rabbit, how
did you let yourself be taken in like this?'
'It was all the fault of the jackal,' replied the rabbit; 'he
tied me up like this, and told me he would give me something nice
to eat. It was all a trick just to get at our water.'
'Rabbit, you are no better than an idiot to have let the jackal
drink our water when he would not help to find it. Who shall be
our next watchman? We must have somebody a little sharper than
you!' and the little hare called out, 'I will be the watchman.'
The following morning the animals all went their various ways,
leaving the little hare to guard the spring. When they were out
of sight the jackal came back. 'Good morning! good morning,
little hare,' and the little hare politely said, 'Good morning.'
'Can you give me a pinch of snuff?' said the jackal.
'I am so sorry, but I have none,' answered the little hare.
The jackal then came and sat down by the little hare, and
unfastened his little bag, pulling out of it a piece of
honeycomb. He licked his lips and exclaimed, 'Oh, little hare, if
you only knew how good it is!'
'What is it?' asked the little hare.
'It is something that moistens my throat so deliciously,'
answered the jackal, 'that after I have eaten it I don't feel
thirsty any more, while I am sure that all you other beasts are
for ever wanting water.'
'Give me a bit, dear friend,' asked the little hare.
'Not so fast,' replied the jackal. 'If you really wish to enjoy
what you are eating, you must have your paws tied behind you, and
lie on your back, so that I can pour it into your mouth.'
'You can tie them, only be quick,' said the little hare, and when
he was tied tight and popped on his back, the jackal went quietly
down to the well, and drank as much as he wanted. When he had
quite finished he returned to his den.
In the evening the animals all came back; and when they saw the
little hare with his paws tied, they said to him: 'Little hare,
how did you let yourself be taken in like this? Didn't you boast
you were very sharp? You undertook to guard our water; now show
us how much is left for us to drink!'
'It is all the fault of the jackal,' replied the little hare. 'He
told me he would give me something nice to eat if I would just
let him tie my hands behind my back.'
Then the animals said, 'Who can we trust to mount guard now?' And
the panther answered, 'Let it be the tortoise.'
The following morning the animals all went their various ways,
leaving the tortoise to guard the spring. When they were out of
sight the jackal came back. 'Good morning, tortoise; good
morning.'
But the tortoise took no notice.
'Good morning, tortoise; good morning.' But still the tortoise
pretended not to hear.
Then the jackal said to himself, 'Well, to-day I have only got to
manage a bigger idiot than before. I shall just kick him on one
side, and then go and have a drink.' So he went up to the
tortoise and said to him in a soft voice, 'Tortoise! tortoise!'
but the tortoise took no notice. Then the jackal kicked him out
of the way, and went to the well and began to drink, but scarcely
had he touched the water, than the tortoise seized him by the
leg. The jackal shrieked out: 'Oh, you will break my leg!' but
the tortoise only held on the tighter. The jackal then took his
bag and tried to make the tortoise smell the honeycomb he had
inside; but the tortoise turned away his head and smelt nothing.
At last the jackal said to the tortoise, 'I should like to give
you my bag and everything in it,' but the only answer the
tortoise made was to grasp the jackal's leg tighter still.
So matters stood when the other animals came back. The moment he
saw them, the jackal gave a violent tug, and managed to free his
leg, and then took to his heels as fast as he could. And the
animals all said to the tortoise:
'Well done, tortoise, you have proved your courage; now we can
drink from our well in peace, as you have got the better of that
thieving jackal!'
[Contes Populaires des Bassoutos, recueillis et traduits par E.
Jacottet. Paris: Leroux, editeur.]
The Bear
Once on a time there was a king who had an only daughter. He was
so proud and so fond of her, that he was in constant terror that
something would happen to her if she went outside the palace, and
thus, owing to his great love for her, he forced her to lead the
life of a prisoner, shut up within her own rooms.
The princess did not like this at all, and one day she complained
about it very bitterly to her nurse. Now, the nurse was a witch,
though the king did not know it. For some time she listened and
tried to soothe the princess; but when she saw that she would not
be comforted, she said to her: 'Your father loves you very
dearly, as you know. Whatever you were to ask from him he would
give you. The one thing he will not grant you is permission to
leave the palace. Now, do as I tell you. Go to your father and
ask him to give you a wooden wheel-barrow, and a bear's skin.
When you have got them bring them to me, and I will touch them
with my magic wand. The wheel-barrow will then move of itself,
and will take you at full speed wherever you want to go, and the
bear's skin will make such a covering for you, that no one will
recognise you.'
So the princess did as the witch advised her. The king, when he
heard her strange request, was greatly astonished, and asked her
what she meant to do with a wheel-barrow and a bear's skin. And
the princess answered, 'You never let me leave the house--at
least you might grant me this request' So the king granted it,
and the princess went back to her nurse, taking the barrow and
the bear's skin with her.
As soon as the witch saw them, she touched them with her magic
wand, and in a moment the barrow began to move about in all
directions. The princess next put on the bear's skin, which so
completely changed her appearance, that no one could have known
that she was a girl and not a bear. In this strange attire she
seated herself on the barrow, and in a few minutes she found
herself far away from the palace, and moving rapidly through a
great forest. Here she stopped the barrow with a sign that the
witch had shown her, and hid herself and it in a thick grove of
flowering shrubs.
Now it happened that the prince of that country was hunting with
his dogs in the forest. Suddenly he caught sight of the bear
hiding among the shrubs, and calling his dogs, hounded them on to
attack it. But the girl, seeing what peril she was in, cried,
'Call off your dogs, or they will kill me. What harm have I ever
done to you?' At these words, coming from a bear, the prince was
so startled that for a moment he stood stock-still, then he said
quite gently, 'Will you come with me? I will take you to my
home.'
'I will come gladly,' replied the bear; and seating herself on
the barrow it at once began to move in the direction of the
prince's palace. You may imagine the surprise of the prince's
mother when she saw her son return accompanied by a bear, who at
once set about doing the house-work better than any servant that
the queen had ever seen.
Now it happened that there were great festivities going on in the
palace of a neighbouring prince, and at dinner, one day, the
prince said to his mother: 'This evening there is to be a great
ball, to which I must go.'
And his mother answered, 'Go and dance, and enjoy yourself.'
Suddenly a voice came from under the table, where the bear had
rolled itself, as was its wont: 'Let me come to the ball; I, too,
would like to dance.'
But the only answer the prince made was to give the bear a kick,
and to drive it out of the room.
In the evening the prince set off for the ball. As soon as he had
started, the bear came to the queen and implored to be allowed to
go to the ball, saying that she would hide herself so well that
no one would know she was there. The kind-hearted queen could not
refuse her.
Then the bear ran to her barrow, threw off her bear's skin, and
touched it with the magic wand that the witch had given her. In a
moment the skin was changed into an exquisite ball dress woven
out of moon-beams, and the wheel-barrow was changed into a
carriage drawn by two prancing steeds. Stepping into the carriage
the princess drove to the grand entrance of the palace. When she
entered the ball-room, in her wondrous dress of moon-beams, she
looked so lovely, so different from all the other guests, that
everyone wondered who she was, and no one could tell where she
had come from.
From the moment he saw her, the prince fell desperately in love
with her, and all the evening he would dance with no one else but
the beautiful stranger.
When the ball was over, the princess drove away in her carriage
at full speed, for she wished to get home in time to change her
ball dress into the bear's skin, and the carriage into the
wheel-barrow, before anyone discovered who she was.
The prince, putting spurs into his horse, rode after her, for he
was determined not to let her out of his sight. But suddenly a
thick mist arose and hid her from him. When he reached his home
he could talk to his mother of nothing else but the beautiful
stranger with whom he had danced so often, and with whom he was
so much in love. And the bear beneath the table smiled to itself,
and muttered: 'I am the beautiful stranger; oh, how I have taken
you in!'
The next evening there was a second ball, and, as you may
believe, the prince was determined not to miss it, for he thought
he would once more see the lovely girl, and dance with her and
talk to her, and make her talk to him, for at the first ball she
had never opened her lips.
And, sure enough, as the music struck up the first dance, the
beautiful stranger entered the room, looking even more radiant
than the night before, for this time her dress was woven out of
the rays of the sun. All evening the prince danced with her, but
she never spoke a word.
When the ball was over he tried once more to follow her carriage,
that he might know whence she came, but suddenly a great
waterspout fell from the sky, and the blinding sheets of rain hid
her from his sight.
When he reached his home he told his mother that he had again
seen the lovely girl, and that this time she had been even more
beautiful than the night before. And again the bear smiled
beneath the table, and muttered: 'I have taken him in a second
time, and he has no idea that I am the beautiful girl with whom
he is so much in love.'
On the next evening, the prince returned to the palace for the
third ball. And the princess went too, and this time she had
changed her bear's skin into a dress woven out of the star-light,
studded all over with gems, and she looked so dazzling and so
beautiful, that everyone wondered at her, and said that no one so
beautiful had ever been seen before. And the prince danced with
her, and, though he could not induce her to speak, he succeeded
in slipping a ring on her finger.
When the ball was over, he followed her carriage, and rode at
such a pace that for long he kept it in sight. Then suddenly a
terrible wind arose between him and the carriage, and he could
not overtake it.
When he reached his home he said to his mother, 'I do not know
what is to become of me; I think I shall go mad, I am so much in
love with that girl, and I have no means of finding out who she
is. I danced with her and I gave her a ring, and yet I do not
know her name, nor where I am to find her.'
Then the bear laughed beneath the table and muttered to itself.
And the prince continued: 'I am tired to death. Order some soup
to be made for me, but I don't want that bear to meddle with it.
Every time I speak of my love the brute mutters and laughs, and
seems to mock at me. I hate the sight of the creature!'
When the soup was ready, the bear brought it to the prince; but
before handing it to him, she dropped into the plate the ring the
prince had given her the night before at the ball. The prince
began to eat his soup very slowly and languidly, for he was sad
at heart, and all his thoughts were busy, wondering how and where
he could see the lovely stranger again. Suddenly he noticed the
ring at the bottom of the plate. In a moment he recognised it,
and was dumb with surprise.
Then he saw the bear standing beside him, looking at him with
gentle, beseeching eyes, and something in the eyes of the bear
made him say: 'Take off that skin, some mystery is hidden beneath
it.'
And the bear's skin dropped off, and the beautiful girl stood
before him, in the dress woven out of the star-light, and he saw
that she was the stranger with whom he had fallen so deeply in
love. And now she appeared to him a thousand times more beautiful
than ever, and he led her to his mother. And the princess told
them her story, and how she had been kept shut up by her father
in his palace, and how she had wearied of her imprisonment. And
the prince's mother loved her, and rejoiced that her son should
have so good and beautiful a wife.
So they were married, and lived happily for many years, and
reigned wisely over their kingdom.
The Sunchild
Once there was a woman who had no children, and this made her
very unhappy. So she spoke one day to the Sunball, saying: 'Dear
Sunball, send me only a little girl now, and when she is twelve
years old you may take her back again.'
So soon after this the Sunball sent her a little girl, whom the
woman called Letiko, and watched over with great care till she
was twelve years old. Soon after that, while Letiko was away one
day gathering herbs, the Sunball came to her, and said: 'Letiko,
when you go home, tell your mother that she must bethink herself
of what she promised me.'
Then Letiko went straight home, and said to her mother: 'While I
was gathering herbs a fine tall gentleman came to me and charged
me to tell you that you should remember what you promised him.'
When the woman heard that she was sore afraid, and immediately
shut all the doors and windows of the house, stopped up all the
chinks and holes, and kept Letiko hidden away, that the Sunball
should not come and take her away. But she forgot to close up the
keyhole, and through it the Sunball sent a ray into the house,
which took hold of the little girl and carried her away to him.
One day, the Sunball having sent her to the straw shed to fetch
straw, the girl sat down on the piles of straw and bemoaned
herself, saying: 'As sighs this straw under my feet so sighs my
heart after my mother.'
And this caused her to be so long away that the Sunball asked
her, when she came back: 'Eh, Letiko, where have you been so
long?'
She answered: 'My slippers are too big, and I could not go
faster.'
Then the Sunball made the slippers shorter.
Another time he sent her to fetch water, and when she came to the
spring, she sat down and lamented, saying: 'As flows the water
even so flows my heart with longing for my mother.'
Thus she again remained so long away that the Sunball asked her:
'Eh, Letiko, why have you remained so long away?'
And she answered: 'My petticoat is too long and hinders me in
walking.'
Then the Sunball cut her petticoat to make it shorter.
Another time the Sunball sent her to bring him a pair of sandals,
and as the girl carried these in her hand she began to lament,
saying: 'As creaks the leather so creaks my heart after my little
mother.'
When she came home the Sunball asked her again: 'Eh, Letiko, why
do you come home so late?'
'My red hood is too wide, and falls over my eyes, therefore I
could not go fast.'
Then he made the hood narrower.
At last, however, the Sunball became aware how sad Letiko was. He
sent her a second time to bring straw, and, slipping in after
her, he heard how she lamented for her mother. Then he went home,
called two foxes to him, and said: 'Will you take Letiko home?'
'Yes, why not?'
'But what will you eat and drink if you should become hungry and
thirsty by the way?'
'We will eat her flesh and drink her blood.'
When the Sunball heard that, he said: 'You are not suited for
this affair.'
Then he sent them away, and called two hares to him, and said:
'Will you take Letiko home to her mother?'
'Yes, why not?'
'What will you eat and drink if you should become hungry and
thirsty by the way?'
'We will eat grass and drink from streamlets.'
'Then take her, and bring her home.'
Then the hares set out, taking Letiko with them, and because it
was a long way to her home they became hungry by the way. Then
they said to the little girl: 'Climb this tree, dear Letiko, and
remain there till we have finished eating.'
So Letiko climbed the tree, and the hares went grazing.
It was not very long, however, before a lamia came under the tree
and called out: 'Letiko, Letiko, come down and see what beautiful
shoes I have on.'
'Oh! my shoes are much finer than yours.'
'Come down. I am in a hurry, for my house is not yet swept.'
'Go home and sweep it then, and come back when you are ready.'
Then the lamia went away and swept her house, and when she was
ready she came back and called out: 'Letiko, Letiko, come down
and see what a beautiful apron I have.'
'Oh! my apron is much finer than yours.'
'If you will not come down I will cut down the tree and eat you.'
'Do so, and then eat me.'
Then the lamia hewed with all her strength at the tree, but could
not cut it down. And when she saw that, she called out: 'Letiko,
Letiko, come down, for I must feed my children.'
'Go home then and feed them, and come back when you are ready.'
When the lamia was gone away, Letiko called out: 'Little hares!
little hares!'
Then said one hare to the other: 'Listen, Letiko is calling;' and
they both ran back to her as fast as they could go. Then Letiko
came down from the tree, and they went on their way.
The lamia ran as fast as she could after them, to catch them up,
and when she came to a field where people were working she asked
them: 'Have you seen anyone pass this way?'
They answered: 'We are planting beans.'
'Oh! I did not ask about that; but if anyone had passed this
way.'
But the people only answered the louder: 'Are you deaf? It is
beans, beans, beans we are planting.'
When Letiko had nearly reached her home the dog knew her, and
called out, 'Bow wow! see here comes Letiko!'
And the mother said, 'Hush! thou beast of ill-omen! wilt thou
make me burst with misery?'
Next the cat on the roof saw her, and called out 'Miaouw! miaouw!
see here comes Letiko!'
And the mother said, 'Keep silence! thou beast of ill-omen! wilt
thou make me burst with misery?'
Then the cock spied, and called out: 'Cock-a-doodle-do! see here
comes Letiko!'
And the mother said again: 'Be quiet! thou bird of ill-omen! wilt
thou make me burst with misery?'
The nearer Letiko and the two hares came to the house the nearer
also came the lamia, and when the hare was about to slip in by
the house door she caught it by its little tail and tore it out.
When the hare came in the mother stood up and said to it:
'Welcome, dear little hare; because you have brought me back
Letiko I will silver your little tail.'
And she did so; and lived ever after with her daughter in
happiness and content.
The Daughter 0f Buk Ettemsuch
Once upon a time there lived a man who had seven daughters. For a
long time they dwelt quite happily at home together, then one
morning the father called them all before him and said:
'Your mother and I are going on a journey, and as we do not know
how long we may be away, you will find enough provisions in the
house to last you three years. But see you do not open the door
to anyone till we come home again.'
'Very well, dear father,' replied the girls.
For two years they never left the house or unlocked the door; but
one day, when they had washed their clothes, and were spreading
them out on the roof to dry, the girls looked down into the
street where people were walking to and fro, and across to the
market, with its stalls of fresh meat, vegetables, and other nice
things.
'Come here,' cried one. 'It makes me quite hungry! Why should not
we have our share? Let one of us go to the market, and buy meat
and vegetables.'
'Oh, we mustn't do that!' said the youngest. 'You know our father
forbade us to open the door till he came home again.'
Then the eldest sister sprang at her and struck her, the second
spit at her, the third abused her, the fourth pushed her, the
fifth flung her to the ground, and the sixth tore her clothes.
Then they left her lying on the floor, and went out with a
basket.
In about an hour they came back with the basket full of meat and
vegetables, which they put in a pot, and set on the fire, quite
forgetting that the house door stood wide open. The youngest
sister, however, took no part in all this, and when dinner was
ready and the table laid, she stole softly out to the entrance
hall, and hid herself behind a great cask which stood in one
corner.
Now, while the other sisters were enjoying their feast, a witch
passed by, and catching sight of the open door, she walked in.
She went up to the eldest girl, and said: 'Where shall I begin on
you, you fat bolster?'
'You must begin,' answered she, 'with the hand which struck my
little sister.'
So the witch gobbled her up, and when the last scrap had
disappeared, she came to the second and asked: 'Where shall I
begin on you, my fat bolster?'
And the second answered, 'You must begin on my mouth, which spat
on my sister.'
And so on to the rest; and very soon the whole six had
disappeared. And as the witch was eating the last mouthful of the
last sister, the youngest, who had been crouching, frozen with
horror, behind the barrel, ran out through the open door into the
street. Without looking behind her, she hastened on and on, as
fast as her feet would carry her, till she saw an ogre's castle
standing in front of her. In a corner near the door she spied a
large pot, and she crept softly up to it and pulled the cover
over it, and went to sleep.
By-and-by the ogre came home. 'Fee, Fo, Fum,' cried he, 'I smell
the smell of a man. What ill fate has brought him here?' And he
looked through all the rooms, and found nobody. 'Where are you?'
he called. 'Do not be afraid, I will do you no harm.'
But the girl was still silent.
'Come out, I tell you,' repeated the ogre. 'Your life is quite
safe. If you are an old man, you shall be my father. If you are a
boy, you shall be my son. If your years are as many as mine, you
shall be my brother. If you are an old woman, you shall be my
mother. If you are a young one, you shall be my daughter. If you
are middle-aged, you shall be my wife. So come out, and fear
nothing.'
Then the maiden came out of her hiding-place, and stood before
him.
'Fear nothing,' said the ogre again; and when he went away to
hunt he left her to look after the house. In the evening he
returned, bringing with him hares, partridges, and gazelles, for
the girl's supper; for himself he only cared for the flesh of
men, which she cooked for him. He also gave into her charge the
keys of six rooms, but the key of the seventh he kept himself.
And time passed on, and the girl and the ogre still lived
together.
She called him 'Father,' and he called her 'Daughter,' and never
once did he speak roughly to her.
One day the maiden said to him, 'Father, give me the key of the
upper chamber.'
'No, my daughter,' replied the ogre. 'There is nothing there that
is any use to you.'
'But I want the key,' she repeated again.
However the ogre took no notice, and pretended not to hear. The
girl began to cry, and said to herself: 'To-night, when he thinks
I am asleep, I will watch and see where he hides it;' and after
she and the ogre had supped, she bade him good-night, and left
the room. In a few minutes she stole quietly back, and watched
from behind a curtain. In a little while she saw the ogre take
the key from his pocket, and hide it in a hole in the ground
before he went to bed. And when all was still she took out the
key, and went back to the house.
The next morning the ogre awoke with the first ray of light, and
the first thing he did was to look for the key. It was gone, and
he guessed at once what had become of it.
But instead of getting into a great rage, as most ogres would
have done, he said to himself, 'If I wake the maiden up I shall
only frighten her. For to-day she shall keep the key, and when I
return to-night it will be time enough to take it from her.' So
he went off to hunt.
The moment he was safe out of the way, the girl ran upstairs and
opened the door of the room, which was quite bare. The one window
was closed, and she threw back the lattice and looked out.
Beneath lay a garden which belonged to the prince, and in the
garden was an ox, who was drawing up water from the well all by
himself --for there was nobody to be seen anywhere. The ox raised
his head at the noise the girl made in opening the lattice, and
said to her, 'Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch! Your
father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he
will put you on a spit and cook you.'
These words so frightened the maiden that she burst into tears
and ran out of the room. All day she wept, and when the ogre came
home at night, no supper was ready for him.
'What are you crying for?' said he. 'Where is my supper, and is
it you who have opened the upper chamber?'
'Yes, I opened it,' answered she.
'And what did the ox say to you?'
'He said, "Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch. Your father
is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he will put
you on a spit and cook you."'
'Well, to-morrow you can go to the window and say, "My father is
feeding me up till I am nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat
me. If I had one of your eyes I would use it for a mirror, and
look at myself before and behind; and your girths should be
loosened, and you should be blind--seven days and seven nights."'
'All right,' replied the girl, and the next morning, when the ox
spoke to her, she answered him as she had been told, and he fell
down straight upon the ground, and lay there seven days and seven
nights. But the flowers in the garden withered, for there was no
one to water them.
When the prince came into his garden he found nothing but yellow
stalks; in the midst of them the ox was lying. With a blow from
his sword he killed the animal, and, turning to his attendants,
he said, 'Go and fetch another ox!' And they brought in a great
beast, and he drew the water out of the well, and the flowers
revived, and the grass grew green again. Then the prince called
his attendants and went away.
The next morning the girl heard the noise of the waterwheel, and
she opened the lattice and looked out of the window.
'Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch!' said the new ox.
'Your father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and
then he will put you on a spit and cook you.'
And the maiden answered: 'My father is feeding me up till I am
nice and fat, but he does not mean to eat me. If I had one of
your eyes I would use it for a mirror, and look at myself before
and behind; and your girths should be loosened, and you should be
blind--seven days and seven nights.'
Directly she uttered these words the ox fell to the ground and
lay there, seven days and seven nights. Then he arose and began
to draw the water from the well. He had only turned the wheel
once or twice, when the prince took it into his head to visit his
garden and see how the new ox was getting on. When he entered the
ox was working busily; but in spite of that the flowers and grass
were dried up. And the prince drew his sword, and rushed at the
ox to slay him, as he had done the other. But the ox fell on his
knees and said:
'My lord, only spare my life, and let me tell you how it
happened.'
'How what happened?' asked the prince.
'My lord, a girl looked out of that window and spoke a few words
to me, and I fell to the ground. For seven days and seven nights
I lay there, unable to move. But, O my lord, it is not given to
us twice to behold beauty such as hers.'
'It is a lie,' said the prince. 'An ogre dwells there. Is it
likely that he keeps a maiden in his upper chamber?'
'Why not?' replied the ox. 'But if you come here at dawn
to-morrow, and hide behind that tree, you will see for yourself.'
'So I will,' said the prince; 'and if I find that you have not
spoken truth, I will kill you.'
The prince left the garden, and the ox went on with his work.
Next morning the prince came early to the garden, and found the
ox busy with the waterwheel.
'Has the girl appeared yet?' he asked.
'Not yet; but she will not be long. Hide yourself in the branches
of that tree, and you will soon see her.'
The prince did as he was told, and scarcely was he seated when
the maiden threw open the lattice.
'Good morning, O daughter of Buk Ettemsuch!' said the ox. 'Your
father is feeding you up till you are nice and fat, and then he
will put you on a spit and cook you.'
'My father is feeding me up till I am nice and fat, but he does
not mean to eat me. If I had one of your eyes I would use it for
a mirror, and look at myself before and behind; and your girths
should be loosened, and you should be blind--seven days and seven
nights.' And hardly had she spoken when the ox fell on the
ground, and the maiden shut the lattice and went away. But the
prince knew that what the ox had said was true, and that she had
not her equal in the whole world. And he came down from the tree,
his heart burning with love.
'Why has the ogre not eaten her?' thought he. 'This night I will
invite him to supper in my palace and question him about the
maiden, and find out if she is his wife.'
So the prince ordered a great ox to be slain and roasted whole,
and two huge tanks to be made, one filled with water and the
other with wine. And towards evening he called his attendants and
went to the ogre's house to wait in the courtyard till he came
back from hunting. The ogre was surprised to see so many people
assembled in front of his house; but he bowed politely and said,
'Good morning, dear neighbours! To what do I owe the pleasure of
this visit? I have not offended you, I hope?'
'Oh, certainly not!' answered the prince.
'Then,' continued the ogre, 'What has brought you to my house
to-day for the first time?'
'We should like to have supper with you,' said the prince.
'Well, supper is ready, and you are welcome,' replied the ogre,
leading the way into the house, for he had had a good day, and
there was plenty of game in the bag over his shoulder.
A table was quickly prepared, and the prince had already taken
his place, when he suddenly exclaimed, 'After all, Buk Ettemsuch,
suppose you come to supper with me?'
'Where?' asked the ogre.
'In my house. I know it is all ready.'
'But it is so far off--why not stay here?'
'Oh, I will come another day; but this evening I must be your
host.'
So the ogre accompanied the prince and his attendants back to the
palace. After a while the prince turned to the ogre and said:
'It is as a wooer that I appear before you. I seek a wife from an
honourable family.'
'But I have no daughter,' replied the ogre.
'Oh, yes you have, I saw her at the window.'
'Well, you can marry her if you wish,' said he.
So the prince's heart was glad as he and his attendants rode back
with the ogre to his house. And as they parted, the prince said
to his guest, 'You will not forget the bargain we have made?'
'I am not a young man, and never break my promises,' said the
ogre, and went in and shut the door.
Upstairs he found the maiden, waiting till he returned to have
her supper, for she did not like eating by herself.
'I have had my supper,' said the ogre, 'for I have been spending
the evening with the prince.'
'Where did you meet him?' asked the girl.
'Oh, we are neighbours, and grew up together, and to-night I
promised that you should be his wife.'
'I don't want to be any man's wife,' answered she; but this was
only pretence, for her heart too was glad.
Next morning early came the prince, bringing with him bridal
gifts, and splendid wedding garments, to carry the maiden back to
his palace.
But before he let her go the ogre called her to him, and said,
'Be careful, girl, never to speak to the prince; and when he
speaks to you, you must be dumb, unless he swears "by the head of
Buk Ettemsuch." Then you may speak.'
'Very well,' answered the girl.
They set out; and when they reached the palace, the prince led
his bride to the room he had prepared for her, and said 'Speak to
me, my wife,' but she was silent; and by-and-by he left her,
thinking that perhaps she was shy. The next day the same thing
happened, and the next.
At last he said, 'Well, if you won't speak, I shall go and get
another wife who will.' And he did.
Now when the new wife was brought to the palace the daughter of
Buk Ettemsuch rose, and spoke to the ladies who had come to
attend on the second bride. 'Go and sit down. I will make ready
the feast.' And the ladies sat down as they were told, and
waited.
The maiden sat down too, and called out, 'Come here, firewood,'
and the g to consult one single other fairy, who might
have given her good advice, off rushed Dindonette, to cast her
spell over the fountain.
It was the only spring of fresh water in the island, and at dawn
was crowded with people of all ages, come to drink at its source.
Delighted at her plan for making them all happy, the fairy hid
herself behind a thicket of roses, and peeped out whenever
footsteps came that way. It was not long before she had ample
proof of the success of her enchantments. Almost before her eyes
the children put on the size and strength of adults, while the
old men and women instantly became helpless, tiny babies. Indeed,
so pleased was she with the result of her work, that she could no
longer remain hidden, and went about telling everybody what she
had done, and enjoying their gratitude and thanks.
But after the first outburst of delight at their wishes being
granted, people began to be a little frightened at the rapid
effects of the magic water. It was delicious to feel yourself at
the height of your power and beauty, but you would wish to keep
so always! Now this was exactly what the fairy had been in too
much of a hurry to arrange, and no sooner had the children become
grown up, and the men and women become babies, than they all
rushed on to old age at an appalling rate! The fairy only found
out her mistake when it was too late to set it right.
When the inhabitants of the island the person
you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.
To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word
processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to
let us know your plans and to work out the details.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.
The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
hart@pobox.com
[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
they hardware or software or any other related product without
express permission.]
*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*
