Master Cat orders the labourers to acknowledge the Marquis of Carabas to the King
The cat, delighted to see that his plan was beginning to succeed, went on ahead, and having met some labourers with scythes cutting grass in a meadow he said to them: ‘Good people mowing the grass: unless you tell the King that His Lordship, the Marquis of Carabas, is the owner of this meadow you are mowing, you will all be chopped up, as fine as sausagemeat.’
The King did not fail to ask the peasants who owned the meadow they were cutting. ‘It belongs to His Lordship the Marquis of Carabas,’ they said with one voice, for they were scared by the threat that the cat had made.
‘It’s a fine estate you have here,’ said the King to the Marquis of Carabas. ‘Indeed, Sire,’ answered the Marquis, ‘and that meadow produces an abundant crop every year.’
Master Cat, still going on ahead, met some labourers harvesting, and said to them: ‘Good people harvesting the corn: unless you tell the King that His Lordship, the Marquis of Carabas, is the owner of all these cornfields, you will all be chopped up, as fine as sausagemeat.’
The King came past a moment later, and asked who owned all the cornfields he could see. ‘His Lordship the Marquis of Carabas,’ replied the harvesters, and the King again congratulated the Marquis. Master Cat, still going ahead of the coach, said the same thing to everyone he met, and the King was astonished to see how much land was owned by His Lordship the Marquis of Carabas.
Eventually, Master Cat arrived at a fine castle owned by an ogre, who was as rich as could be, because all the lands that the King had passed through were part of the castle estate. The cat, who had taken care to find out who this ogre was, and what he had the power to do, asked to speak to him, saying that he did not like to pass so near his castle without having the honour of paying his respects. The Ogre received him as politely as an ogre is able to, asking him if he would like to rest a while.
‘I have been told,’ said the cat, ‘that you have the gift of turning yourself into all kinds of animals, for instance, that you could change into a lion or an elephant.’
‘That’s quite true,’ replied the Ogre roughly, ‘and to prove it, watch me turn into a lion.’ The cat was so scared to see a lion standing before him that immediately he sprang up on the roof, which was quite difficult and dangerous because of his boots, which were no good for climbing over tiles. Some time later, seeing that the Ogre had gone back to his original shape, the cat came down, admitting that he had been really frightened. ‘I have also been told,’ he said, ‘but I can scarcely believe it, that you also have the power of taking the shape of tiny little animals, for instance of turning into a rat or a mouse, but I must confess that I think it quite impossible.’
‘Impossible?’ retorted the Ogre; ‘just wait and see’; and in a moment he changed himself into a mouse, which began to run about the floor. No sooner had the cat seen it than he jumped on it and ate it up.
Meanwhile the King had seen the Ogre’s fine castle as he went by, and thought that he would like to go inside. The cat, hearing the noise made by the coach as it passed over the drawbridge, ran to meet it, and said to the King: ‘Welcome, Your Majesty, to the castle of His Lordship the Marquis of Carabas.’
The Ogre receives Master Cat politely
‘My goodness, Marquis!’ exclaimed the King, ‘is this castle yours as well?—I can’t imagine anything finer than this courtyard with all its buildings around it. Let us see what is inside, please.’
The Marquis offered his hand to the young Princess, and following the King, who went first, they entered a great hall, where they found a magnificent banquet. The Ogre had had it set out for his friends, who should have been coming to see him on that very day, but, because they knew the King was there, dared not come in.
The King, delighted by the good qualities of His Lordship the Marquis of Carabas, just like his daughter, who loved him to distraction, said to the Marquis, seeing the great riches that he possessed, and after he had drunk five or six glasses of wine: ‘If you want to be my son-in-law, my Lord Marquis, you have only to say the word.’ The Marquis bowed deeply, and accepted the honour that the King had done him; and that very day he married the Princess. The cat became a great lord, and never chased a mouse again, except to please himself.
THE MORAL OF THIS TALE
Although the benefits are great
For one who owns a large estate
Because he is his father’s son,
Young men, when all is said and done,
Will find sharp wits and commonsense
Worth more than an inheritance.
ANOTHER MORAL
If the son of a miller, in ten minutes or less,
Can take a girl’s fancy, and make a princess
Look longingly at him, it proves an old truth:
That elegant clothes on a good-looking youth
Can play a distinctly significant part
yIn winning the love of a feminine heart.
A poor woman asks for something to drink
The Fairies*
ONCE upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters.* She and her elder daughter resembled each other so closely, in appearance and character, that when you saw the daughter you would have said that it was the mother. They were both so disagreeable and proud that they were impossible to live with. The younger of the daughters, who for gentleness and good manners was the image of her father, was also as beautiful a girl as you could wish to see. Since like attracts like, the mother was excessively fond of the elder daughter, and had a terrible aversion for the younger. She made her eat in the kitchen and work all the time.
Among other things, the poor child was obliged to go a good half-league from the house twice a day to fetch water, and bring back a great big ewer filled to the top. One day, when she was at the spring,* a poor woman came up to her, and asked if she could have a drink.
‘Of course you can, good mother,’ said this pretty girl, and she rinsed out the ewer, went to fill it at the best spot along the stream, and offered it to the old woman, holding it so that she could drink more easily. When she had had her drink the good woman said to her: ‘You are so fair of face, so good-natured, and so considerate, that I cannot do otherwise than give you a gift’ (for she was a fairy, who had put on the shape of a poor village woman, in order to see how far the young girl’s kindness and politeness would go).
The fairy continued: ‘The gift that I give you is this:* at every word you speak, from your mouth a flower will come, or else a precious stone.’
When the beautiful daughter arrived home, her mother scolded her for coming back so late from the spring. ‘I beg your pardon, mother, for having taken so long,’ said the poor girl; and as she spoke, from her mouth came two roses, two pearls, and two great diamonds.
‘What’s this?’ exclaimed her mother in astonishment; ‘I do believe that those are pearls and diamonds coming from her mouth; how can that be, daughter?’ (which was the first time she had ever called the girl daughter). The poor child told her exactly what had happened, producing huge quantities of diamonds as she did so.
‘Really, I must send the other daughter,’ said the mother, ‘come along, Florrie, look at what has come from your sister’s mouth when she speaks. Wouldn’t you like to have the same gift? All you have to do is to go and get some water from the spring, and when a poor woman asks for some water to drink, give her some nicely.’
‘Not likely,’ said the bad-mannered girl, ‘that would be a fine sight, me going to that spring.’
‘You’ll go at once,’ said the mother, ‘and that’s an order.’ So she went, but grumbling all the time. She took the finest silver jug that there was in the house. As soon as she had arrived at the spring, she saw a lady, magnificently dressed, approaching from the wood, who came up and asked for a drink. She was the fairy who had appeared to her sister, but she had made herself look and dress like a princess, so as to see how far this daughter’s rudeness would go. ‘Do you
think I’ve come here just to give you a drink?’ said this proud, rude girl. ‘I’m supposed to have brought a silver jug on purpose, am I, for Madam to drink from? As far as I’m concerned you can drink straight out of the stream, if you want.’
‘That is not very polite,’ said the fairy, without getting angry. ‘Very well, then; since you are so disobliging, the gift that I give you is this: at every word you say, a toad or a viper will come out of your mouth.’
As soon as her mother saw her, she cried out: ‘Well, daughter?’
‘Well, mother?’ replied the rude girl, and spat out two vipers and two toads.
‘Oh Heavens!’ exclaimed the mother, ‘what’s happened? This is all because of her sister; I’ll see she pays for it.’ And she rushed off at once to give her a beating. The poor child ran away and escaped into the forest nearby.
The King’s son, who was on his way back from hunting, met her there, and seeing how beautiful she was, he asked her what she was doing all alone, and what had made her cry. ‘Alas, sir! it was my mother, who chased me out of the house.’ The King’s son, seeing five or six pearls and as many diamonds coming from her mouth, asked her to explain how this could be. She told him the whole story. The King’s son fell in love with her, and, considering that the gift she had was worth more than any dowry that another girl could have, he took her back to his father’s palace, where he married her.
As for her sister, she made herself so hateful that her own mother chased her out of the house, and the wretched girl, after a long time going from place to place without finding anyone to take her in, went off to die at the edge of a wood.
THE MORAL OF THIS TALE
If you have gold and jewels galore
You’ll make a great effect, of course;
But gentle words are worth much more,
And move us with much greater force.
ANOTHER MORAL
To be polite and kind, and show respect
Is difficult: some effort must be made;
Sooner or later, though, you’ll be repaid,
And often in a way you don’t expect.
Cinderella,
or The Little Slipper Made of Glass*
THERE was once a gentleman who was widowed, and married again. His second wife was the proudest and haughtiest woman who had ever been seen. She had two daughters, and they were just the same; they resembled her in everything. For his part, the husband had a young daughter, who was amazingly sweet-natured and kind, which gifts she got from her mother, who had been the most charming person you could imagine.
No sooner was the wedding over than the stepmother gave free rein to her bad temper. She could not endure the child’s good nature, which made her own daughters appear even more detestable. The worst of the household chores were given to her stepdaughter: it was she who washed the dishes and scrubbed the stairs, she who cleaned out the mistress’s bedroom, and the bedrooms of the young ladies her daughters. She slept right at the top of the house, in an attic, on a dirty mattress, while her sisters in their bedrooms had parquet flooring, beds of the most fashionable design, and looking-glasses in which they could see themselves from head to foot.* The poor girl put up with it all patiently, not daring to complain to her father, who would have scolded her, because he was completely under the thumb of his wife.
When she had done all her work, she would go to a corner of the fireplace, and sit among the cinders on the hearth, so that she was commonly known, in the household, as Cinderbum. The younger stepsister, though, who was not as rude as the elder one, called her Cinderella. Even in her ragged clothes, she looked a hundred times more beautiful than either of her sisters, despite their splendid dresses.
One day it happened that the Prince gave a ball, and he invited everyone who was of good family. Our two fine young ladies were included, because they were very important people in those parts. They felt extremely pleased with themselves, and kept themselves busy choosing dresses and hairstyles to suit them, which meant more trouble for Cinderella: for it was she who ironed her sisters’ clothes and pleated their cuffs. They could talk of nothing but what they were going to wear. The elder one said: ‘I shall put on my red velvet dress and my English lace.’ The younger one said: ‘I shall put on the skirt I always wear, but to make up for it I shall have my cape with golden flowers and my diamond hairpin, which is something you won’t see every day.’
They sent for the best hairdresser in town, to put their hair into double rows of curls,* and went to the best supplier of beauty spots.* They summoned Cinderella to advise them because she had good taste; the advice she gave was perfect. She even offered to do their hair, which they gladly accepted.
While she was doing it, they said: ‘Cinderella, wouldn’t you like to go to the ball?’
‘For pity, sisters—you are making fun; that kind of thing is not for me.’
‘Quite right—how everyone would laugh, to see Cinderbum going to the ball!’
Anyone but Cinderella would have done their hair all askew, but she was good by nature and did it very nicely. They were in such transports of happiness that they ate nothing for almost two days, and more than a dozen laces got broken while they were being laced into their corsets to make their waists look thinner.
At last the happy day arrived; they set off, and Cinderella watched them on their way for as long as she could; seeing them no longer, she began to cry.
Her godmother saw that she was all in tears, and asked what the matter was.
‘I wish... I wish...’; but she was crying so much that she could not finish. Her godmother, who was a fairy, said: ‘You wish you could go to the ball—is that it?’
‘Alas!—yes,’ said Cinderella with a sigh.
‘Very well; will you be a good girl?’ said her godmother; ‘then I shall see that you go.’
She took Cinderella to her room, and said: ‘Go into the garden and fetch me a pumpkin.’
Cinderella went at once to pick the best one she could find, and took it to her godmother, but could not guess how the pumpkin would get her to the ball. Her godmother scooped out the inside, and when only the skin was left, she tapped it with her wand, and suddenly the pumpkin was transformed into a beautiful golden coach. Then she went to look in the mousetrap, and found six mice all alive. She told Cinderella to lift the trap-door a tiny bit, and as each of the mice ran out, she touched it with her wand, and the mouse changed instantly into a beautiful horse, which made a fine team of six horses, with prettily dappled mouse-grey coats.
As she was puzzled about what to turn into a coachman, Cinderella said: ‘I’ll go and see if there is a rat in the rat-trap— then we could make a coachman out of him.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ said her godmother; ‘go and see.’
Cinderella brought her the trap; there were three big rats in it. The fairy chose the one with the longest whiskers, and when she touched him he turned into a great fat coachman, with one of the finest moustaches that had ever been seen.
Then she said: ‘Go out into the garden, and behind the watering-can you will find six lizards; bring them here.’ No sooner had she brought them in than her godmother changed them into six footmen, their uniforms covered in gold braid, and they immediately got up behind the coach and held on, as if they had never done anything else all their lives.
Then the fairy said to Cinderella: ‘Well, that is what you need to get you to the ball; aren’t you pleased?’
Cinderella’s godmother scoops out the pumpkin
‘Yes I am; but must I go like this, in these horrid clothes?’
Her godmother just touched her with her wand, and her clothes were changed at once into a dress made from cloth of gold and silver, gleaming with jewels. Next she gave her a pair of slippers made of glass, as pretty as could be. When she was all dressed up, Cinderella stepped into her coach. Her godmother told her that she must take care, above all else, not to be out later than midnight, and warned her that if she stayed at the ball even a moment longer,
her coach would change back into a pumpkin, her horses into mice, her footmen into lizards, and her dress into dirty old rags. She promised her godmother faithfully that she would leave the ball before midnight, and set off hardly able to contain herself for joy.
When the King’s son was told that a great princess whom nobody knew had arrived, he hurried to welcome her. He offered her his hand to help her out of her coach, and took her into the ballroom where all the guests were. A great silence fell; the dancers stopped their dancing, the musicians stopped their music, so eagerly were they gazing at the great beauty of the unknown girl. The only thing that could be heard was a murmur of voices exclaiming: ‘How beautiful she is!’ Even the King, old though he was, could not stop looking at her, and said quietly to the Queen that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful and charming a girl. All the women were studying her hair and her dress, so that next day they could look the same themselves, provided they could find cloth sufficiently fine and dressmakers sufficiently skilled.
The King’s son saw her to a place of honour; then he asked her to dance. She danced so gracefully that she was admired even more. A splendid supper was brought in, but the young Prince ate nothing, because he was so busy looking at her. She went to sit next to her two sisters, and paid them all sorts of attentions; she gave them a share of the oranges and sweet citrons* that she had been given by the Prince, which surprised them very much, since they did not know who she was. While they were talking, Cinderella heard the clock strike a quarter to midnight: at once she made a deep curtsey to all the guests, and went away as quickly as she could.
As soon as she was back home, Cinderella went to find her godmother, and when she had thanked her, she said that what she really wanted was to go to the ball again, on the next evening, because the Prince had asked her. While she was busy telling her godmother about everything that had happened at the ball, her two sisters knocked on the door. Cinderella went to open it.
Complete Fairy Tales Page 14
