Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 05

by The Pink Fairy Book

  'You could not have played properly,' said the shoemaker. 'It was your own fault.'

  'Well, we will forget all about it,' answered the robbers, 'if you will only sell us your dog.'

  'Oh, that is impossible! I should never get on without him.'

  But the robbers offered him forty gold pieces, and at last he agreed to let them have the dog.

  So they departed, taking the dog with them, and when they got back to their cave the captain declared that it was his right to have the first trial.

  He then called his daughter, and said to her, 'I am going to the inn; if anybody wants me, loose the dog, and send him to call me.'

  About an hour after some one arrived on business, and the girl untied the dog and said, 'Go to the inn and call my father!' The dog bounded off, but ran straight to the shoemaker.

  When the robber got home and found no dog he thought 'He must have gone back to his old master,' and, though night had already fallen, he went off after him.

  'Master Joseph, is the dog here?' asked he.

  'Ah! yes, the poor beast is so fond of me! You must give him time to get accustomed to new ways.'

  So the captain brought the dog back, and the following morning handed him over to another of the band, just saying that the animal really could do what the shoemaker had said.

  The second robber carefully kept his own counsel, and fetched the dog secretly back from the shoemaker, and so on through the whole band. At length, when everybody had suffered, they met and told the whole story, and next day they all marched off in fury to the man who had made game of them. After reproaching him with having deceived them, they tied him up in a sack, and told him they were going to throw him into the sea. The shoemaker lay quite still, and let them do as they would.

  They went on till they came to a church, and the robbers said, 'The sun is hot and the sack is heavy; let us leave it here and go in and rest.' So they put the sack down by the roadside, and went into the church.

  Now, on a hill near by there was a swineherd looking after a great herd of pigs and whistling merrily.

  When Master Joseph heard him he cried out as loud as he could, 'I won't; I won't, I say.'

  'What won't you do?' asked the swineherd.

  'Oh,' replied the shoemaker. 'They want me to marry the king's daughter, and I won't do it.'

  'How lucky you are!' sighed the swineherd. 'Now, if it were only me!'

  'Oh, if that's all!' replied the cunning shoemaker, 'get you into this sack, and let me out.'

  Then the swineherd opened the sack and took the place of the shoemaker, who went gaily off, driving the pigs before him.

  When the robbers were rested they came out of the church, took up the sack, and carried it to the sea, where they threw it in, and it sank directly. As they came back they met the shoemaker, and stared at him with open mouths.

  'Oh, if you only knew how many pigs live in the sea,' he cried. 'And the deeper you go the more there are. I have just brought up these, and mean to return for some more.'

  'There are still some left there?'

  'Oh, more than I could count,' replied the shoemaker. 'I will show you what you must do.' Then he led the robbers back to the shore. 'Now,' said he, 'you must each of you tie a stone to your necks, so that you may be sure to go deep enough, for I found the pigs that you saw very deep down indeed.'

  Then the robbers all tied stones round their necks, and jumped in, and were drowned, and Master Joseph drove his pigs home, and was a rich man to the end of his days.

  The King Who Would Have a Beautiful Wife

  *

  Sicilianische Mahrchen.

  Fifty years ago there lived a king who was very anxious to get married; but, as he was quite determined that his wife should be as beautiful as the sun, the thing was not so easy as it seemed, for no maiden came up to his standard. Then he commanded a trusty servant to search through the length and breadth of the land till he found a girl fair enough to be queen, and if he had the good luck to discover one he was to bring her back with him.

  The servant set out at once on his journey, and sought high and low-in castles and cottages; but though pretty maidens were plentiful as blackberries, he felt sure that none of them would please the king.

  One day he had wandered far and wide, and was feeling very tired and thirsty. By the roadside stood a tiny little house, and here he knocked and asked for a cup of water. Now in this house dwelt two sisters, and one was eighty and the other ninety years old. They were very poor, and earned their living by spinning. This had kept their hands very soft and white, like the hands of a girl, and when the water was passed through the lattice, and the servant saw the small, delicate fingers, he said to himself: 'A maiden must indeed be lovely if she has a hand like that.' And he made haste back, and told the king.

  'Go back at once,' said his majesty, 'and try to get a sight of her.'

  The faithful servant departed on his errand without losing any time, and again he knocked at the door of the little house and begged for some water. As before, the old woman did not open the door, but passed the water through the lattice.

  'Do you live here alone?' asked the man.

  'No,' replied she, 'my sister lives with me. We are poor girls, and have to work for our bread.'

  'How old are you?'

  'I am fifteen, and she is twenty.'

  Then the servant went back to the king, and told him all he knew. And his majesty answered: 'I will have the fifteen-year-old one. Go and bring her here.'

  The servant returned a third time to the little house and knocked at the door. In reply to his knock the lattice window was pushed open, and a voice inquired what it was he wanted.

  'The king has desired me to bring back the youngest of you to become his queen,' he replied.

  'Tell his majesty I am ready to do his bidding, but since my birth no ray of light has fallen upon my face. If it should ever do so I shall instantly grow black. Therefore beg, I pray you, his most gracious majesty to send this evening a shut carriage, and I will return in it to the castle.

  When the king heard this he ordered his great golden carriage to be prepared, and in it to be placed some magnificent robes; and the old woman wrapped herself in a thick veil, and was driven to the castle.

  The king was eagerly awaiting her, and when she arrived he begged her politely to raise her veil and let him see her face.

  But she answered: 'Here the tapers are too bright and the light too strong. Would you have me turn black under your very eyes?'

  And the king believed her words, and the marriage took place without the veil being once lifted. Afterwards, when they were alone, he raised the corner, and knew for the first time that he had wedded a wrinkled old woman. And, in a furious burst of anger, he dashed open the window and flung her out. But, luckily for her, her clothes caught on a nail in the wall, and kept her hanging between heaven and earth.

  While she was thus suspended, expecting every moment to be dashed to the ground, four fairies happened to pass by.

  'Look, sisters,' cried one, 'surely that is the old woman that the king sent for. Shall we wish that her clothes may give way, and that she should be dashed to the ground?'

  'Oh no! no!' exclaimed another. 'Let us wish her something good. I myself will wish her youth.'

  'And I beauty.'

  'And I wisdom.'

  'And I a tender heart.'

  So spake the fairies, and went their way, leaving the most beautiful maiden in the world behind them.

  The next morning when the king looked from his window he saw this lovely creature hanging on the nail. 'Ah! what have I done? Surely I must have been blind last night!'

  And he ordered long ladders to be brought and the maiden to be rescued. Then he fell on his knees before her, and prayed her to forgive him, and a great feast was made in her honour.

  Some days after came the ninety-year-old sister to the palace and asked for the queen.

  'Who is that hideous old witch?' said the kin
g.

  'Oh, an old neighbour of mine, who is half silly,' she replied.

  But the old woman looked at her steadily, and knew her again, and said: 'How have you managed to grow so young and beautiful? I should like to be young and beautiful too.'

  This question she repeated the whole day long, till at length the queen lost patience and said: 'I had my old head cut off, and this new head grew in its place.'

  Then the old woman went to a barber, and spoke to him, saying, 'I will give you all you ask if you will only cut off my head, so that I may become young and lovely.'

  'But, my good woman, if I do that you will die!'

  But the old woman would listen to nothing; and at last the barber took out his knife and struck the first blow at her neck.

  'Ah!' she shrieked as she felt the pain.

  'Il faut souffrir pour etre belle,' said the barber, who had been in France.

  And at the second blow her head rolled off, and the old woman was dead for good and all.

  Catherine and Her Destiny

  *

  Sicilianische Mahrchen von Laura Gonzenbach. Leipzig, Engelmann, 1870.

  Long ago there lived a rich merchant who, besides possessing more treasures than any king in the world, had in his great hall three chairs, one of silver, one of gold, and one of diamonds. But his greatest treasure of all was his only daughter, who was called Catherine.

  One day Catherine was sitting in her own room when suddenly the door flew open, and in came a tall and beautiful woman holding in her hands a little wheel.

  'Catherine,' she said, going up to the girl, 'which would you rather have-a happy youth or a happy old age?'

  Catherine was so taken by surprise that she did not know what to answer, and the lady repeated again, 'Which would you rather have-a happy youth or a happy old age?'

  Then Catherine thought to herself, 'If I say a happy youth, then I shall have to suffer all the rest of my life. No, I would bear trouble now, and have something better to look forward to.' So she looked up and replied, 'Give me a happy old age.'

  'So be it,' said the lady, and turned her wheel as she spoke, vanishing the next moment as suddenly as she had come.

  Now this beautiful lady was the Destiny of poor Catherine.

  Only a few days after this the merchant heard the news that all his finest ships, laden with the richest merchandise, had been sunk in a storm, and he was left a beggar. The shock was too much for him. He took to his bed, and in a short time he was dead of his disappointment.

  So poor Catherine was left alone in the world without a penny or a creature to help her. But she was a brave girl and full of spirit, and soon made up her mind that the best thing she could do was to go to the nearest town and become a servant. She lost no time in getting herself ready, and did not take long over her journey; and as she was passing down the chief street of the town a noble lady saw her out of the window, and, struck by her sad face, said to her: 'Where are you going all alone, my pretty girl?'

  'Ah, my lady, I am very poor, and must go to service to earn my bread.'

  'I will take you into my service,' said she; and Catherine served her well.

  Some time after her mistress said to Catherine, 'I am obliged to go out for a long while, and must lock the house door, so that no thieves shall get in.'

  So she went away, and Catherine took her work and sat down at the window. Suddenly the door burst open, and in came her Destiny.

  'Oh! so here you are, Catherine! Did you really think I was going to leave you in peace?' And as she spoke she walked to the linen press where Catherine's mistress kept all her finest sheets and underclothes, tore everything in pieces, and flung them on the floor. Poor Catherine wrung her hands and wept, for she thought to herself, 'When my lady comes back and sees all this ruin she will think it is my fault,' and starting up, she fled through the open door. Then Destiny took all the pieces and made them whole again, and put them back in the press, and when everything was tidy she too left the house.

  When the mistress reached home she called Catherine, but no Catherine was there. 'Can she have robbed me?' thought the old lady, and looked hastily round the house; but nothing was missing. She wondered why Catherine should have disappeared like this, but she heard no more of her, and in a few days she filled her place.

  Meanwhile Catherine wandered on and on, without knowing very well where she was going, till at last she came to another town. Just as before, a noble lady happened to see her passing her window, and called out to her, 'Where are you going all alone, my pretty girl?'

  And Catherine answered, 'Ah, my lady, I am very poor, and must go to service to earn my bread.'

  'I will take you into my service,' said the lady; and Catherine served her well, and hoped she might now be left in peace. But, exactly as before, one day that Catherine was left in the house alone her Destiny came again and spoke to her with hard words: 'What! are you here now?' And in a passion she tore up everything she saw, till in sheer misery poor Catherine rushed out of the house. And so it befell for seven years, and directly Catherine found a fresh place her Destiny came and forced her to leave it.

  After seven years, however, Destiny seemed to get tired of persecuting her, and a time of peace set in for Catherine. When she had been chased away from her last house by Destiny's wicked pranks she had taken service with another lady, who told her that it would be part of her daily work to walk to a mountain that overshadowed the town, and, climbing up to the top, she was to lay on the ground some loaves of freshly baked bread, and cry with a loud voice, 'O Destiny, my mistress,' three times. Then her lady's Destiny would come and take away the offering. 'That will I gladly do,' said Catherine.

  So the years went by, and Catherine was still there, and every day she climbed the mountain with her basket of bread on her arm. She was happier than she had been, but sometimes, when no one saw her, she would weep as she thought over her old life, and how different it was to the one she was now leading. One day her lady saw her, and said, 'Catherine, what is it? Why are you always weeping?' And then Catherine told her story.

  'I have got an idea,' exclaimed the lady. 'To-morrow, when you take the bread to the mountain, you shall pray my Destiny to speak to yours, and entreat her to leave you in peace. Perhaps something may come of it!'

  At these words Catherine dried her eyes, and next morning, when she climbed the mountain, she told all she had suffered, and cried, 'O Destiny, my mistress, pray, I entreat you, of my Destiny that she may leave me in peace.'

  And Destiny answered, 'Oh, my poor girl, know you not your Destiny lies buried under seven coverlids, and can hear nothing? But if you will come to-morrow I will bring her with me.'

  And after Catherine had gone her way her lady's Destiny went to find her sister, and said to her, 'Dear sister, has not Catherine suffered enough? It is surely time for her good days to begin?'

  And the sister answered, 'To-morrow you shall bring her to me, and I will give her something that may help her out of her need.'

  The next morning Catherine set out earlier than usual for the mountain, and her lady's Destiny took the girl by the hand and led her to her sister, who lay under the seven coverlids. And her Destiny held out to Catherine a ball of silk, saying, 'Keep this—it may be useful some day;' then pulled the coverings over her head again.

  But Catherine walked sadly down the hill, and went straight to her lady and showed her the silken ball, which was the end of all her high hopes.

  'What shall I do with it?' she asked. 'It is not worth sixpence, and it is no good to me!'

  'Take care of it,' replied her mistress. 'Who can tell how useful it may be?'

  A little while after this grand preparations were made for the king's marriage, and all the tailors in the town were busy embroidering fine clothes. The wedding garment was so beautiful nothing like it had ever been seen before, but when it was almost finished the tailor found that he had no more silk. The colour was very rare, and none could be found like it, and the king m
ade a proclamation that if anyone happened to possess any they should bring it to the court, and he would give them a large sum.

  'Catherine!' exclaimed the lady, who had been to the tailors and seen the wedding garment, 'your ball of silk is exactly the right colour. Bring it to the king, and you can ask what you like for it.'

  Then Catherine put on her best clothes and went to the court, and looked more beautiful than any woman there.

  'May it please your majesty,' she said, 'I have brought you a ball of silk of the colour you asked for, as no one else has any in the town.'

  'Your majesty,' asked one of the courtiers, 'shall I give the maiden its weight in gold?'

  The king agreed, and a pair of scales were brought; and a handful of gold was placed in one scale and the silken ball in the other. But lo! let the king lay in the scales as many gold pieces as he would, the silk was always heavier still. Then the king took some larger scales, and heaped up all his treasures on one side, but the silk on the other outweighed them all. At last there was only one thing left that had not been put in, and that was his golden crown. And he took it from his head and set it on top of all, and at last the scale moved and the ball had founds its balance.

  'Where got you this silk?' asked the king.

  'It was given me, royal majesty, by my mistress,' replied Catherine.

  'That is not true,' said the king, 'and if you do not tell me the truth I will have your head cut off this instant.'

  So Catherine told him the whole story, and how she had once been as rich as he.

  Now there lived at the court a wise woman, and she said to Catherine, 'You have suffered much, my poor girl, but at length your luck has turned, and I know by the weighing of the scales through the crown that you will die a queen.'

  'So she shall,' cried the king, who overheard these words; 'she shall die my queen, for she is more beautiful than all the ladies of the court, and I will marry no one else.'

  And so it fell out. The king sent back the bride he had promised to wed to her own country, and the same Catherine was queen at the marriage feast instead, and lived happy and contented to the end of her life.