الفصل الفصل 120 · One-eye, Two-eyes, and Three-eyes

. One-eye, Two-eyes, and Three-eyes

There was once a woman who had three daughters, the eldest of whom was

called One-eye, because she had only one eye in the middle of her

forehead, and the second, Two-eyes, because she had two eyes like other

folks, and the youngest, Three-eyes, because she had three eyes; and

her third eye was also in the centre of her forehead. However, as

Two-eyes saw just as other human beings did, her sisters and her mother

could not endure her. They said to her, “Thou, with thy two eyes, art

no better than the common people; thou dost not belong to us!” They

pushed her about, and threw old clothes to her, and gave her nothing to

eat but what they left, and did everything that they could to make her

unhappy. It came to pass that Two-eyes had to go out into the fields

and tend the goat, but she was still quite hungry, because her sisters

had given her so little to eat. So she sat down on a ridge and began to

weep, and so bitterly that two streams ran down from her eyes. And once

when she looked up in her grief, a woman was standing beside her, who

said, “Why art thou weeping, little Two-eyes?” Two-Eyes answered, “Have

I not reason to weep, when I have two eyes like other people, and my

sisters and mother hate me for it, and push me from one corner to

another, throw old clothes at me, and give me nothing to eat but the

scraps they leave? To-day they have given me so little that I am still

quite hungry.” Then the wise woman said, “Wipe away thy tears,

Two-eyes, and I will tell thee something to stop thee ever suffering

from hunger again; just say to thy goat,

“Bleat, my little goat, bleat,

Cover the table with something to eat,”

and then a clean well-spread little table will stand before thee, with

the most delicious food upon it of which thou mayst eat as much as thou

art inclined for, and when thou hast had enough, and hast no more need

of the little table, just say,

“Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,

And take the table quite away,”

and then it will vanish again from thy sight.” Hereupon the wise woman

departed. But Two-eyes thought, “I must instantly make a trial, and see

if what she said is true, for I am far too hungry,” and she said,

“Bleat, my little goat, bleat,

Cover the table with something to eat,”

and scarcely had she spoken the words than a little table, covered with

a white cloth, was standing there, and on it was a plate with a knife

and fork, and a silver spoon; and the most delicious food was there

also, warm and smoking as if it had just come out of the kitchen. Then

Two-eyes said the shortest prayer she knew, “Lord God, be with us

always, Amen,” and helped herself to some food, and enjoyed it. And

when she was satisfied, she said, as the wise woman had taught her,

“Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,

And take the table quite away,”

and immediately the little table and everything on it was gone again.

“That is a delightful way of keeping house!” thought Two-eyes, and was

quite glad and happy.

In the evening, when she went home with her goat, she found a small

earthenware dish with some food, which her sisters had set ready for

her, but she did not touch it. Next day she again went out with her

goat, and left the few bits of broken bread which had been handed to

her, lying untouched. The first and second time that she did this, her

sisters did not remark it at all, but as it happened every time, they

did observe it, and said, “There is something wrong about Two-eyes, she

always leaves her food untasted, and she used to eat up everything that

was given her; she must have discovered other ways of getting food.” In

order that they might learn the truth, they resolved to send One-eye

with Two-eyes when she went to drive her goat to the pasture, to

observe what Two-eyes did when she was there, and whether any one

brought her anything to eat and drink. So when Two-eyes set out the

next time, One-eye went to her and said, “I will go with you to the

pasture, and see that the goat is well taken care of, and driven where

there is food.” But Two-eyes knew what was in One-eye’s mind, and drove

the goat into high grass and said, “Come, One-eye, we will sit down,

and I will sing something to you.” One-eye sat down and was tired with

the unaccustomed walk and the heat of the sun, and Two-eyes sang

constantly,

“One eye, wakest thou?

One eye, sleepest thou?”

until One-eye shut her one eye, and fell asleep, and as soon as

Two-eyes saw that One-eye was fast asleep, and could discover nothing,

she said,

“Bleat, my little goat, bleat,

Cover the table with something to eat,”

and seated herself at her table, and ate and drank until she was

satisfied, and then she again cried,

“Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,

And take the table quite away,”

and in an instant all was gone. Two-eyes now awakened One-eye, and

said, “One-eye, you want to take care of the goat, and go to sleep

while you are doing it, and in the meantime the goat might run all over

the world. Come, let us go home again.” So they went home, and again

Two-eyes let her little dish stand untouched, and One-eye could not

tell her mother why she would not eat it, and to excuse herself said,

“I fell asleep when I was out.”

Next day the mother said to Three-eyes, “This time thou shalt go and

observe if Two-eyes eats anything when she is out, and if any one

fetches her food and drink, for she must eat and drink in secret.” So

Three-eyes went to Two-eyes, and said, “I will go with you and see if

the goat is taken proper care of, and driven where there is food.” But

Two-eyes knew what was in Three-eyes’ mind, and drove the goat into

high grass and said, “We will sit down, and I will sing something to

you, Three-eyes.” Three-eyes sat down and was tired with the walk and

with the heat of the sun, and Two-eyes began the same song as before,

and sang,

“Three eyes, are you waking?”

but then, instead of singing,

“Three eyes, are you sleeping?”

as she ought to have done, she thoughtlessly sang,

“Two eyes, are you sleeping?”

and sang all the time,

“Three eyes, are you waking?

Two eyes, are you sleeping?”

Then two of the eyes which Three-eyes had, shut and fell asleep, but

the third, as it had not been named in the song, did not sleep. It is

true that Three-eyes shut it, but only in her cunning, to pretend it

was asleep too, but it blinked, and could see everything very well. And

when Two-eyes thought that Three-eyes was fast asleep, she used her

little charm,

“Bleat, my little goat, bleat,

Cover the table with something to eat,”

and ate and drank as much as her heart desired, and then ordered the

table to go away again,

“Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,

And take the table quite away,”

and Three-eyes had seen everything. Then Two-eyes came to her, waked

her and said, “Have you been asleep, Three-eyes? You are a good

care-taker! Come, we will go home.” And when they got home, Two-eyes

again did not eat, and Three-eyes said to the mother, “Now, I know why

that high-minded thing there does not eat. When she is out, she says to

the goat,

“Bleat, my little goat, bleat,

Cover the table with something to eat,”

and then a little table appears before her covered with the best of

food, much better than any we have here, and when she has eaten all she

wants, she says,

“Bleat, bleat, my little goat, I pray,

And take the table quite away,”

and all disappears. I watched everything closely. She put two of my

eyes to sleep by using a certain form of words, but luckily the one in

my forehead kept awake.” Then the envious mother cried, “Dost thou want

to fare better than we do? The desire shall pass away,” and she fetched

a butcher’s knife, and thrust it into the heart of the goat, which fell

down dead.

When Two-eyes saw that, she went out full of trouble, seated herself on

the ridge of grass at the edge of the field, and wept bitter tears.

Suddenly the wise woman once more stood by her side, and said,

“Two-eyes, why art thou weeping?” “Have I not reason to weep?” she

answered. “The goat which covered the table for me every day when I

spoke your charm, has been killed by my mother, and now I shall again

have to bear hunger and want.” The wise woman said, “Two-eyes, I will

give thee a piece of good advice; ask thy sisters to give thee the

entrails of the slaughtered goat, and bury them in the ground in front

of the house, and thy fortune will be made.” Then she vanished, and

Two-eyes went home and said to her sisters, “Dear sisters, do give me

some part of my goat; I don’t wish for what is good, but give me the

entrails.” Then they laughed and said, “If that’s all you want, you can

have it.” So Two-eyes took the entrails and buried them quietly in the

evening, in front of the house-door, as the wise woman had counselled

her to do.

Next morning, when they all awoke, and went to the house-door, there

stood a strangely magnificent tree with leaves of silver, and fruit of

gold hanging among them, so that in all the wide world there was

nothing more beautiful or precious. They did not know how the tree

could have come there during the night, but Two-eyes saw that it had

grown up out of the entrails of the goat, for it was standing on the

exact spot where she had buried them. Then the mother said to One-eye,

“Climb up, my child, and gather some of the fruit of the tree for us.”

One-eye climbed up, but when she was about to get hold of one of the

golden apples, the branch escaped from her hands, and that happened

each time, so that she could not pluck a single apple, let her do what

she might. Then said the mother, “Three-eyes, do you climb up; you with

your three eyes can look about you better than One-eye.” One-eye

slipped down, and Three-eyes climbed up. Three-eyes was not more

skilful, and might search as she liked, but the golden apples always

escaped her. At length the mother grew impatient, and climbed up

herself, but could get hold of the fruit no better than One-eye and

Three-eyes, for she always clutched empty air. Then said Two-eyes, “I

will just go up, perhaps I may succeed better.” The sisters cried, “You

indeed, with your two eyes, what can you do?” But Two-eyes climbed up,

and the golden apples did get out of her way, but came into her hand of

their own accord, so that she could pluck them one after the other, and

brought a whole apronful down with her. The mother took them away from

her, and instead of treating poor Two-eyes any better for this, she and

One-eye and Three-eyes were only envious, because Two-eyes alone had

been able to get the fruit, and they treated her still more cruelly.

It so befell that once when they were all standing together by the

tree, a young knight came up. “Quick, Two-eyes,” cried the two sisters,

“creep under this, and don’t disgrace us!” and with all speed they

turned an empty barrel which was standing close by the tree over poor

Two-eyes, and they pushed the golden apples which she had been

gathering, under it too. When the knight came nearer he was a handsome

lord, who stopped and admired the magnificent gold and silver tree, and

said to the two sisters, “To whom does this fine tree belong? Any one

who would bestow one branch of it on me might in return for it ask

whatsoever he desired.” Then One-eye and Three-eyes replied that the

tree belonged to them, and that they would give him a branch. They both

took great trouble, but they were not able to do it, for the branches

and fruit both moved away from them every time. Then said the knight,

“It is very strange that the tree should belong to you, and that you

should still not be able to break a piece off.” They again asserted

that the tree was their property. Whilst they were saying so, Two-eyes

rolled out a couple of golden apples from under the barrel to the feet

of the knight, for she was vexed with One-eye and Three-eyes, for not

speaking the truth. When the knight saw the apples he was astonished,

and asked where they came from. One-eye and Three-eyes answered that

they had another sister, who was not allowed to show herself, for she

had only two eyes like any common person. The knight, however, desired

to see her, and cried, “Two-eyes, come forth.” Then Two-eyes, quite

comforted, came from beneath the barrel, and the knight was surprised

at her great beauty, and said, “Thou, Two-eyes, canst certainly break

off a branch from the tree for me.” “Yes,” replied Two-eyes, “that I

certainly shall be able to do, for the tree belongs to me.” And she

climbed up, and with the greatest ease broke off a branch with

beautiful silver leaves and golden fruit, and gave it to the knight.

Then said the knight, “Two-eyes, what shall I give thee for it?”

“Alas!” answered Two-eyes, “I suffer from hunger and thirst, grief and

want, from early morning till late night; if you would take me with

you, and deliver me from these things, I should be happy.” So the

knight lifted Two-eyes on to his horse, and took her home with him to

his father’s castle, and there he gave her beautiful clothes, and meat

and drink to her heart’s content, and as he loved her so much he

married her, and the wedding was solemnized with great rejoicing. When

Two-eyes was thus carried away by the handsome knight, her two sisters

grudged her good fortune in downright earnest. “The wonderful tree,

however, still remains with us,” thought they, “and even if we can

gather no fruit from it, still every one will stand still and look at

it, and come to us and admire it. Who knows what good things may be in

store for us?” But next morning, the tree had vanished, and all their

hopes were at an end. And when Two-eyes looked out of the window of her

own little room, to her great delight it was standing in front of it,

and so it had followed her.

Two-eyes lived a long time in happiness. Once two poor women came to

her in her castle, and begged for alms. She looked in their faces, and

recognized her sisters, One-eye, and Three-eyes, who had fallen into

such poverty that they had to wander about and beg their bread from

door to door. Two-eyes, however, made them welcome, and was kind to

them, and took care of them, so that they both with all their hearts

repented the evil that they had done their sister in their youth.