Kabanata Kabanata 4 · THE DONKEY CABBAGE

. THE DONKEY CABBAGE

There was once a young Hunter who went boldly into the forest. He had a

merry and light heart, and as he went whistling along there came an ugly

old woman, who said to him, ‘Good-day, dear hunter! You are very merry

and contented, but I suffer hunger and thirst, so give me a trifle.’ The

Hunter was sorry for the poor old woman, and he felt in his pocket and

gave her all he could spare. He was going on then, but the old woman

stopped him and said, ‘Listen, dear hunter, to what I say. Because of

your kind heart I will make you a present. Go on your way, and in a

short time you will come to a tree on which sit nine birds who have a

cloak in their claws and are quarrelling over it. Then take aim with

your gun and shoot in the middle of them; they will let the cloak fall,

but one of the birds will be hit and will drop down dead. Take the cloak

with you; it is a wishing-cloak, and when you throw it on your shoulders

you have only to wish yourself at a certain place, and in the twinkling

of an eye you are there. Take the heart out of the dead bird and swallow

it whole, and early every morning when you get up you will find a gold

piece under your pillow.’

The Hunter thanked the wise woman, and thought to himself ‘These are

splendid things she has promised me, if only they come to pass!’ So

he walked on about a hundred yards, and then he heard above him in the

branches such a screaming and chirping that he looked up, and there

he saw a heap of birds tearing a cloth with their beaks and feet,

shrieking, tugging, and fighting, as if each wanted it for himself.

‘Well,’ said the Hunter, ‘this is wonderful! It is just as the old woman

said’; and he took his gun on his shoulder, pulled the trigger, and

shot into the midst of them, so that their feathers flew about. Then the

flock took flight with much screaming, but one fell dead, and the cloak

fluttered down. Then the Hunter did as the old woman had told him: he

cut open the bird, found its heart, swallowed it, and took the cloak

home with him. The next morning when he awoke he remembered the promise,

and wanted to see if it had come true. But when he lifted up his pillow,

there sparkled the gold piece, and the next morning he found another,

and so on every time he got up. He collected a heap of gold, but at

last he thought to himself, ‘What good is all my gold to me if I stay

at home? I will travel and look a bit about me in the world.’ So he took

leave of his parents, slung his hunting knapsack and his gun round him,

and journeyed into the world.

It happened that one day he went through a thick wood, and when he came

to the end of it there lay in the plain before him a large castle. At

one of the windows in it stood an old woman with a most beautiful maiden

by her side, looking out. But the old woman was a witch, and she said to

the girl, ‘There comes one out of the wood who has a wonderful treasure

in his body which we must manage to possess ourselves of, darling

daughter; we have more right to it than he. He has a bird’s heart in

him, and so every morning there lies a gold piece under his pillow.’

She told her how they could get hold of it, and how she was to coax it

from him, and at last threatened her angrily, saying, ‘And if you do not

obey me, you shall repent it!’

When the Hunter came nearer he saw the maiden, and said to himself, ‘I

have travelled so far now that I will rest, and turn into this beautiful

castle; money I have in plenty.’ But the real reason was that he had

caught sight of the lovely face.

He went into the house, and was kindly received and hospitably

entertained. It was not long before he was so much in love with the

witch-maiden that he thought of nothing else, and only looked in her

eyes, and whatever she wanted, that he gladly did. Then the old witch

said, ‘Now we must have the bird-heart; he will not feel when it is

gone.’ She prepared a drink, and when it was ready she poured it in a

goblet and gave it to the maiden, who had to hand it to the hunter.

‘Drink to me now, my dearest,’ she said. Then he took the goblet, and

when he had swallowed the drink the bird-heart came out of his mouth.

The maiden had to get hold of it secretly and then swallow it herself,

for the old witch wanted to have it. Thenceforward he found no more gold

under his pillow, and it lay under the maiden’s; but he was so much in

love and so much bewitched that he thought of nothing except spending

all his time with the maiden.

Then the old witch said, ‘We have the bird-heart, but we must also get

the wishing-cloak from him.’

The maiden answered, ‘We will leave him that; he has already lost his

wealth!’

The old witch grew angry, and said, ‘Such a cloak is a wonderful thing,

it is seldom to be had in the world, and have it I must and will.’ She

beat the maiden, and said that if she did not obey it would go ill with

her.

So she did her mother’s bidding, and, standing one day by the window,

she looked away into the far distance as if she were very sad.

‘Why are you standing there looking so sad?’ asked the Hunter.

‘Alas, my love,’ she replied, ‘over there lies the granite mountain

where the costly precious stones grow. I have a great longing to go

there, so that when I think of it I am very sad. For who can fetch them?

Only the birds who fly; a man, never.’

‘If you have no other trouble,’ said the Hunter, ‘that one I can easily

remove from your heart.’

So he wrapped her round in his cloak and wished themselves to the

granite mountain, and in an instant there they were, sitting on it! The

precious stones sparkled so brightly on all sides that it was a pleasure

to see them, and they collected the most beautiful and costly together.

But now the old witch had through her caused the Hunter’s eyes to become

heavy.

He said to the maiden, ‘We will sit down for a little while and rest; I

am so tired that I can hardly stand on my feet.’

So they sat down, and he laid his head on her lap and fell asleep. As

soon as he was sound asleep she unfastened the cloak from his shoulders,

threw it on her own, left the granite and stones, and wished herself

home again.

But when the Hunter had finished his sleep and awoke, he found that his

love had betrayed him and left him alone on the wild mountain. ‘Oh,’

said he, ‘why is faithlessness so great in the world?’ and he sat down

in sorrow and trouble, not knowing what to do.

But the mountain belonged to fierce and huge giants, who lived on it

and traded there, and he had not sat long before he saw three of them

striding towards him. So he lay down as if he had fallen into a deep

sleep.

The giants came up, and the first pushed him with his foot, and said,

‘What sort of an earthworm is that?’

The second said, ‘Crush him dead.’

But the third said contemptuously, ‘It is not worth the trouble! Let him

live; he cannot remain here, and if he goes higher up the mountain the

clouds will take him and carry him off.’

Talking thus they went away. But the Hunter had listened to their talk,

and as soon as they had gone he rose and climbed to the summit. When he

had sat there a little while a cloud swept by, and, seizing him, carried

him away. It travelled for a time in the sky, and then it sank down and

hovered over a large vegetable garden surrounded by walls, so that he

came safely to the ground amidst cabbages and vegetables. The Hunter

then looked about him, saying, ‘If only I had something to eat! I am so

hungry, and it will go badly with me in the future, for I see here

not an apple or pear or fruit of any kind--nothing but vegetables

everywhere.’ At last he thought, ‘At a pinch I can eat a salad; it does

not taste particularly nice, but it will refresh me.’ So he looked about

for a good head and ate it, but no sooner had he swallowed a couple

of mouthfuls than he felt very strange, and found himself wonderfully

changed. Four legs began to grow on him, a thick head, and two long

ears, and he saw with horror that he had changed into a donkey. But as

he was still very hungry and this juicy salad tasted very good to his

present nature, he went on eating with a still greater appetite. At last

he got hold of another kind of cabbage, but scarcely had swallowed it

when he felt another change, and he once more regained his human form.

The Hunter now lay down and slept off his weariness. When he awoke

the next morning he broke off a head of the bad and a head of the good

cabbage, thinking, ‘This will help me to regain my own, and to punish

faithlessness.’ Then he put the heads in his pockets, climbed the wall,

and started off to seek the castle of his love. When he had wandered

about for a couple of days he found it quite easily. He then browned his

face quickly, so that his own mother would not have known him, and went

into the castle, where he begged for a lodging.

‘I am so tired,’ he said, ‘I can go no farther.’

The witch asked, ‘Countryman, who are you, and what is your business?’

He answered, ‘I am a messenger of the King, and have been sent to seek

the finest salad that grows under the sun. I have been so lucky as to

find it, and am bringing it with me; but the heat of the sun is so great

that the tender cabbage threatens to grow soft, and I do not know if I

shall be able to bring it any farther.’

When the old witch heard of the fine salad she wanted to eat it, and

said, ‘Dear countryman, just let me taste the wonderful salad.’

‘Why not?’ he answered; ‘I have brought two heads with me, and will give

you one.’

So saying, he opened his sack and gave her the bad one. The witch

suspected no evil, and her mouth watered to taste the new dish, so that

she went into the kitchen to prepare it herself. When it was ready she

could not wait till it was served at the table, but she immediately took

a couple of leaves and put them in her mouth. No sooner, however, had

she swallowed them than she lost human form, and ran into the courtyard

in the shape of a donkey.

Now the servant came into the kitchen, and when she saw the salad

standing there ready cooked she was about to carry it up, but on the

way, according to her old habit, she tasted it and ate a couple of

leaves. Immediately the charm worked, and she became a donkey, and ran

out to join the old witch, and the dish with the salad in it fell to

the ground. In the meantime, the messenger was sitting with the lovely

maiden, and as no one came with the salad, and she wanted very much to

taste it, she said, ‘I don’t know where the salad is.’

Then thought the Hunter, ‘The cabbage must have already begun to work.’

And he said, ‘I will go to the kitchen and fetch it myself.’

When he came there he saw the two donkeys running about in the

courtyard, but the salad was lying on the ground.

‘That’s all right,’ said he; ‘two have had their share!’ And lifting the

remaining leaves up, he laid them on the dish and brought them to the

maiden.

‘I am bringing you the delicious food my own self,’ he said, ‘so that

you need not wait any longer.’

Then she ate, and, as the others had done, she at once lost her human

form, and ran as a donkey into the yard.

When the Hunter had washed his face, so that the changed ones might know

him, he went into the yard, saying, ‘Now you shall receive a reward for

your faithlessness.’

He tied them all three with a rope, and drove them away till he came to

a mill. He knocked at the window, and the miller put his head out and

asked what he wanted.

‘I have three tiresome animals,’ he answered, ‘which I don’t want to

keep any longer. If you will take them, give them food and stabling, and

do as I tell you with them, I will pay you as much as you want.’

The miller replied, ‘Why not? What shall I do with them?’

Then the Hunter said that to the old donkey, which was the witch, three

beatings and one meal; to the younger one, which was the servant, one

beating and three meals; and to the youngest one, which was the maiden,

no beating and three meals; for he could not find it in his heart to let

the maiden be beaten.

Then he went back into the castle, and he found there all that he

wanted. After a couple of days the miller came and said that he must

tell him that the old donkey which was to have three beatings and only

one meal had died. ‘The two others,’ he added, ‘are certainly not dead,

and get their three meals every day, but they are so sad that they

cannot last much longer.’

Then the Hunter took pity on them, laid aside his anger, and told the

miller to drive them back again. And when they came he gave them some

of the good cabbage to eat, so that they became human again. Then the

beautiful maiden fell on her knees before him, saying, ‘Oh, my dearest,

forgive me the ill I have done you! My mother compelled me to do it;

it was against my will, for I love you dearly. Your wishing-cloak is

hanging in a cupboard, and as for the bird-heart I will make a drink and

give it back to you.’

But he changed his mind, and said, ‘Keep it; it makes no difference, for

I will take you to be my own dear true wife.’

And the wedding was celebrated, and they lived happy together till

death.

THE LITTLE GREEN FROG(8)

(8) Cabinet des Fees.

In a part of the world whose name I forget lived once upon a time two

kings, called Peridor and Diamantino. They were cousins as well as

neighbours, and both were under the protection of the fairies; though it

is only fair to say that the fairies did not love them half so well as

their wives did.

Now it often happens that as princes can generally manage to get their

own way it is harder for them to be good than it is for common people.

So it was with Peridor and Diamantino; but of the two, the fairies

declared that Diamantino was much the worst; indeed, he behaved so badly

to his wife Aglantino, that the fairies would not allow him to live any

longer; and he died, leaving behind him a little daughter. As she was an

only child, of course this little girl was the heiress of the kingdom,

but, being still only a baby, her mother, the widow of Diamantino, was

proclaimed regent. The Queen-dowager was wise and good, and tried her

best to make her people happy. The only thing she had to vex her was

the absence of her daughter; for the fairies, for reasons of their own,

determined to bring up the little Princess Serpentine among themselves.

As to the other King, he was really fond of his wife, Queen Constance,

but he often grieved her by his thoughtless ways, and in order to punish

him for his carelessness, the fairies caused her to die quite suddenly.

When she was gone the King felt how much he had loved her, and his grief

was so great (though he never neglected his duties) that his subjects

called him Peridor the Sorrowful. It seems hardly possible that any

man should live like Peridor for fifteen years plunged in such depth of

grief, and most likely he would have died too if it had not been for the

fairies.

The one comfort the poor King had was his son, Prince Saphir, who was

only three years old at the time of his mother’s death, and great care

was given to his education. By the time he was fifteen Saphir had learnt

everything that a prince should know, and he was, besides, charming and

agreeable.

It was about this time that the fairies suddenly took fright lest his

love for his father should interfere with the plans they had made for

the young prince. So, to prevent this, they placed in a pretty little

room of which Saphir was very fond a little mirror in a black frame,

such as were often brought from Venice. The Prince did not notice

for some days that there was anything new in the room, but at last

he perceived it, and went up to look at it more closely. What was his

surprise to see reflected in the mirror, not his own face, but that of

a young girl as lovely as the morning! And, better still, every movement

of the girl, just growing out of childhood, was also reflected in the

wonderful glass.

As might have been expected, the young Prince lost his heart completely

to the beautiful image, and it was impossible to get him out of the

room, so busy was he in watching the lovely unknown. Certainly it was

very delightful to be able to see her whom he loved at any moment he

chose, but his spirits sometimes sank when he wondered what was to be

the end of this adventure.

The magic mirror had been for about a year in the Prince’s possession,

when one day a new subject of disquiet seized upon him. As usual, he was

engaged in looking at the girl, when suddenly he thought he saw a second

mirror reflected in the first, exactly like his own, and with the same

power. And in this he was perfectly right. The young girl had only

possessed it for a short time, and neglected all her duties for the sake

of the mirror. Now it was not difficult for Saphir to guess the reason

of the change in her, nor why the new mirror was consulted so often;

but try as he would he could never see the face of the person who was

reflected in it, for the young girl’s figure always came between. All he

knew was that the face was that of a man, and this was quite enough to

make him madly jealous. This was the doing of the fairies, and we must

suppose that they had their reasons for acting as they did.

When these things happened Saphir was about eighteen years old, and

fifteen years had passed away since the death of his mother. King

Peridor had grown more and more unhappy as time went on, and at last he

fell so ill that it seemed as if his days were numbered. He was so much

beloved by his subjects that this sad news was heard with despair by the

nation, and more than all by the Prince.

During his whole illness the King never spoke of anything but the Queen,

his sorrow at having grieved her, and his hope of one day seeing her

again. All the doctors and all the water-cures in the kingdom had been

tried, and nothing would do him any good. At last he persuaded them to

let him lie quietly in his room, where no one came to trouble him.

Perhaps the worst pain he had to bear was a sort of weight on his chest,

which made it very hard for him to breathe. So he commanded his servants

to leave the windows open in order that he might get more air. One day,

when he had been left alone for a few minutes, a bird with brilliant

plumage came and fluttered round the window, and finally rested on the

sill. His feathers were sky-blue and gold, his feet and his beak of such

glittering rubies that no one could bear to look at them, his eyes made

the brightest diamonds look dull, and on his head he wore a crown. I

cannot tell you what the crown was made of, but I am quite certain that

it was still more splendid than all the rest. As to his voice I can

say nothing about that, for the bird never sang at all. In fact, he did

nothing but gaze steadily at the King, and as he gazed, the King felt

his strength come back to him. In a little while the bird flew into the

room, still with his eyes fixed on the King, and at every glance the

strength of the sick man became greater, till he was once more as well

as he used to be before the Queen died. Filled with joy at his cure,

he tried to seize the bird to whom he owed it all, but, swifter than a

swallow, it managed to avoid him. In vain he described the bird to

his attendants, who rushed at his first call; in vain they sought the

wonderful creature both on horse and foot, and summoned the fowlers to

their aid: the bird could nowhere be found. The love the people bore

King Peridor was so strong, and the reward he promised was so large,

that in the twinkling of an eye every man, woman, and child had fled

into the fields, and the towns were quite empty.

All this bustle, however, ended in nothing but confusion, and, what

was worse, the King soon fell back into the same condition as he was in

before. Prince Saphir, who loved his father very dearly, was so unhappy

at this that he persuaded himself that he might succeed where the others

had failed, and at once prepared himself for a more distant search.

In spite of the opposition he met with, he rode away, followed by his

household, trusting to chance to help him. He had formed no plan, and

there was no reason that he should choose one path more than another.

His only idea was to make straight for those spots which were the

favourite haunts of birds. But in vain he examined all the hedges and

all the thickets; in vain he questioned everyone he met along the road.

The more he sought the less he found.

At last he came to one of the largest forests in all the world, composed

entirely of cedars. But in spite of the deep shadows cast by the

wide-spreading branches of the trees, the grass underneath was soft and

green, and covered with the rarest flowers. It seemed to Saphir that

this was exactly the place where the birds would choose to live, and

he determined not to quit the wood until he had examined it from end to

end. And he did more. He ordered some nets to be prepared and painted of

the same colours as the bird’s plumage, thinking that we are all easily

caught by what is like ourselves. In this he had to help him not only

the fowlers by profession, but also his attendants, who excelled in this

art. For a man is not a courtier unless he can do everything.

After searching as usual for nearly a whole day Prince Saphir began

to feel overcome with thirst. He was too tired to go any farther,

when happily he discovered a little way off a bubbling fountain of the

clearest water. Being an experienced traveller, he drew from his pocket

a little cup (without which no one should ever take a journey), and was

just about to dip it in the water, when a lovely little green frog,

much prettier than frogs generally are, jumped into the cup. Far from

admiring its beauty, Saphir shook it impatiently off; but it was no

good, for quick as lightning the frog jumped back again. Saphir, who was

raging with thirst, was just about to shake it off anew, when the little

creature fixed upon him the most beautiful eyes in the world, and said,

‘I am a friend of the bird you are seeking, and when you have quenched

your thirst listen to me.’

So the Prince drank his fill, and then, by the command of the Little

Green Frog, he lay down on the grass to rest himself.

‘Now,’ she began, ‘be sure you do exactly in every respect what I tell

you. First you must call together your attendants, and order them to

remain in a little hamlet close by until you want them. Then go, quite

alone, down a road that you will find on your right hand, looking

southwards. This road is planted all the way with cedars of Lebanon; and

after going down it a long way you will come at last to a magnificent

castle. And now,’ she went on, ‘attend carefully to what I am going to

say. Take this tiny grain of sand, and put it into the ground as close

as you can to the gate of the castle. It has the virtue both of opening

the gate and also of sending to sleep all the inhabitants. Then go at

once to the stable, and pay no heed to anything except what I tell you.

Choose the handsomest of all the horses, leap quickly on its back, and

come to me as fast as you can. Farewell, Prince; I wish you good

luck,’ and with these words the Little Frog plunged into the water and

disappeared.

The Prince, who felt more hopeful than he had done since he left home,

did precisely as he had been ordered. He left his attendants in the

hamlet, found the road the frog had described to him, and followed it

all alone, and at last he arrived at the gate of the castle, which was

even more splendid than he had expected, for it was built of crystal,

and all its ornaments were of massive gold. However, he had no thoughts

to spare for its beauty, and quickly buried his grain of sand in the

earth. In one instant the gates flew open, and all the dwellers inside

fell sound asleep. Saphir flew straight to the stable, and already had

his hand on the finest horse it contained, when his eye was caught by

a suit of magnificent harness hanging up close by. It occurred to

him directly that the harness belonged to the horse, and without ever

thinking of harm (for indeed he who steals a horse can hardly be blamed

for taking his saddle), he hastily placed it on the animal’s back.

Suddenly the people in the castle became broad awake, and rushed to the

stable. They flung themselves on the Prince, seized him, and dragged him

before their lord; but, luckily for the Prince, who could only find very

lame excuses for his conduct, the lord of the castle took a fancy to his

face, and let him depart without further questions.

Very sad, and very much ashamed of himself poor Saphir crept back to the

fountain, where the Frog was awaiting him with a good scolding.

‘Whom do you take me for?’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘Do you really believe

that it was just for the pleasure of talking that I gave you the advice

you have neglected so abominably?’

But the Prince was so deeply grieved, and apologised so very humbly,

that after some time the heart of the good little Frog was softened, and

she gave him another tiny little grain, but instead of being sand it was

now a grain of gold. She directed him to do just as he had done before,

with only this difference, that instead of going to the stable which

had been the ruin of his hopes, he was to enter right into the castle

itself, and to glide as fast as he could down the passages till he came

to a room filled with perfume, where he would find a beautiful maiden

asleep on a bed. He was to wake the maiden instantly and carry her off,

and to be sure not to pay any heed to whatever resistance she might

make.

The Prince obeyed the Frog’s orders one by one, and all went well for

this second time also. The gate opened, the inhabitants fell sound

asleep, and he walked down the passage till he found the girl on her

bed, exactly as he had been told he would. He woke her, and begged her

firmly, but politely, to follow him quickly. After a little persuasion

the maiden consented, but only on condition that she was allowed first

to put on her dress. This sounded so reasonable and natural that it did

not enter the Prince’s head to refuse her request.

But the maiden’s hand had hardly touched the dress when the palace

suddenly awoke from its sleep, and the Prince was seized and bound. He

was so vexed with his own folly, and so taken aback at the disaster,

that he did not attempt to explain his conduct, and things would have

gone badly with him if his friends the fairies had not softened the

hearts of his captors, so that they once more allowed him to leave

quietly. However, what troubled him most was the idea of having to meet

the Frog who had been his benefactress. How was he ever to appear before

her with this tale? Still, after a long struggle with himself, he made

up his mind that there was nothing else to be done, and that he deserved

whatever she might say to him. And she said a great deal, for she had

worked herself into a terrible passion; but the Prince humbly implored

her pardon, and ventured to point out that it would have been very hard

to refuse the young lady’s reasonable request. ‘You must learn to do as

you are told,’ was all the Frog would reply.

But poor Saphir was so unhappy, and begged so hard for forgiveness, that

at last the Frog’s anger gave way, and she held up to him a tiny diamond

stone. ‘Go back,’ she said, ‘to the castle, and bury this little diamond

close to the door. But be careful not to return to the stable or to the

bedroom; they have proved too fatal to you. Walk straight to the garden

and enter through a portico, into a small green wood, in the midst of

which is a tree with a trunk of gold and leaves of emeralds. Perched on

this tree you will see the beautiful bird you have been seeking so long.

You must cut the branch on which it is sitting, and bring it back to

me without delay. But I warn you solemnly that if you disobey my

directions, as you have done twice before, you have nothing more to

expect either of me or anyone else.’

With these words she jumped into the water, and the Prince, who had

taken her threats much to heart, took his departure, firmly resolved not

to deserve them. He found it all just as he had been told: the portico,

the wood, the magnificent tree, and the beautiful bird, which was

sleeping soundly on one of the branches. He speedily lopped off the

branch, and though he noticed a splendid golden cage hanging close by,

which would have been very useful for the bird to travel in, he left it

alone, and came back to the fountain, holding his breath and walking on

tip-toe all the way, for fear lest he should awake his prize. But what

was his surprise, when instead of finding the fountain in the spot where

he had left it, he saw in its place a little rustic palace built in

the best taste, and standing in the doorway a charming maiden, at whose

sight his mind seemed to give way.

‘What! Madam!’ he cried, hardly knowing what he said. ‘What! Is it you?’

The maiden blushed and answered: ‘Ah, my lord, it is long since I first

beheld your face, but I did not think you had ever seen mine.’

‘Oh, madam,’ replied he, ‘you can never guess the days and the hours I

have passed lost in admiration of you.’ And after these words they each

related all the strange things that had happened, and the more they

talked the more they felt convinced of the truth of the images they

had seen in their mirrors. After some time spent in the most tender

conversation, the Prince could not restrain himself from asking the

lovely unknown by what lucky chance she was wandering in the forest;

where the fountain had gone; and if she knew anything of the Frog to

whom he owed all his happiness, and to whom he must give up the bird,

which, somehow or other, was still sound asleep.

‘Ah, my lord,’ she replied, with rather an awkward air, ‘as to the Frog,

she stands before you. Let me tell you my story; it is not a long one. I

know neither my country nor my parents, and the only thing I can say for

certain is that I am called Serpentine. The fairies, who have taken

care of me ever since I was born, wished me to be in ignorance as to my

family, but they have looked after my education, and have bestowed on me

endless kindness. I have always lived in seclusion, and for the last two

years I have wished for nothing better. I had a mirror’--here shyness

and embarrassment choked her words--but regaining her self-control,

she added, ‘You know that fairies insist on being obeyed without

questioning. It was they who changed the little house you saw before you

into the fountain for which you are now asking, and, having turned me

into a frog, they ordered me to say to the first person who came to the

fountain exactly what I repeated to you. But, my lord, when you stood

before me, it was agony to my heart, filled as it was with thoughts of

you, to appear to your eyes under so monstrous a form. However, there

was no help for it, and, painful as it was, I had to submit. I desired

your success with all my soul, not only for your own sake, but also for

my own, because I could not get back my proper shape till you had become

master of the beautiful bird, though I am quite ignorant as to your

reason for seeking it.’

On this Saphir explained about the state of his father’s health, and all

that has been told before.

On hearing this story Serpentine grew very sad, and her lovely eyes

filled with tears.

‘Ah, my lord,’ she said, ‘you know nothing of me but what you have seen

in the mirror; and I, who cannot even name my parents, learn that you

are a king’s son.’

In vain Saphir declared that love made them equal; Serpentine would only

reply: ‘I love you too much to allow you to marry beneath your rank. I

shall be very unhappy, of course, but I shall never alter my mind. If

I do not find from the fairies that my birth is worthy of you, then,

whatever be my feelings, I will never accept your hand.’

The conversation was at this point, and bid fair to last some time

longer, when one of the fairies appeared in her ivory car, accompanied

by a beautiful woman past her early youth. At this moment the bird

suddenly awakened, and, flying on to Saphir’s shoulder (which it never

afterwards left), began fondling him as well as a bird can do. The fairy

told Serpentine that she was quite satisfied with her conduct, and made

herself very agreeable to Saphir, whom she presented to the lady she had

brought with her, explaining that the lady was no other than his Aunt

Aglantine, widow of Diamantino.

Then they all fell into each other’s arms, till the fairy mounted her

chariot, placed Aglantine by her side, and Saphir and Serpentine on the

front seat. She also sent a message to the Prince’s attendants that

they might travel slowly back to the Court of King Peridor, and that

the beautiful bird had really been found. This matter being comfortably

arranged, she started off her chariot. But in spite of the swiftness

with which they flew through the air, the time passed even quicker for

Saphir and Serpentine, who had so much to think about.

They were still quite confused with the pleasure of seeing each other,

when the chariot arrived at King Peridor’s palace. He had had himself

carried to a room on the roof, where his nurses thought that he would

die at any moment. Directly the chariot drew within sight of the castle

the beautiful bird took flight, and, making straight for the dying King,

at once cured him of his sickness. Then she resumed her natural shape,

and he found that the bird was no other than the Queen Constance, whom

he had long believed to be dead. Peridor was rejoiced to embrace his

wife and his son once more, and with the help of the fairies began to

make preparations for the marriage of Saphir and Serpentine, who turned

out to be the daughter of Aglantine and Diamantino, and as much a

princess as he was a prince. The people of the kingdom were delighted,

and everybody lived happy and contented to the end of their lives.

THE SEVEN-HEADED SERPENT(9)

(9) ‘Die Siebenkopfige Schlange,’ from Schmidt’s Griechische Mahrchen.

Once upon a time there was a king who determined to take a long voyage.

He assembled his fleet and all the seamen, and set out. They went

straight on night and day, until they came to an island which was

covered with large trees, and under every tree lay a lion. As soon as

the King had landed his men, the lions all rose up together and tried

to devour them. After a long battle they managed to overcome the

wild beasts, but the greater number of the men were killed. Those who

remained alive now went on through the forest and found on the other

side of it a beautiful garden, in which all the plants of the world

flourished together.

There were also in the garden three springs: the first flowed with

silver, the second with gold, and the third with pearls. The men

unbuckled their knapsacks and filled them with those precious things. In

the middle of the garden they found a large lake, and when they reached

the edge of it the Lake began to speak, and said to them, ‘What men are

you, and what brings you here? Are you come to visit our king?’ But they

were too much frightened to answer.

Then the Lake said, ‘You do well to be afraid, for it is at your peril

that you are come hither. Our king, who has seven heads, is now asleep,

but in a few minutes he will wake up and come to me to take his bath!

Woe to anyone who meets him in the garden, for it is impossible to

escape from him. This is what you must do if you wish to save your

lives. Take off your clothes and spread them on the path which leads

from here to the castle. The King will then glide over something soft,

which he likes very much, and he will be so pleased with that that he

will not devour you. He will give you some punishment, but then he will

let you go.’

The men did as the Lake advised them, and waited for a time. At noon the

earth began to quake, and opened in many places, and out of the openings

appeared lions, tigers, and other wild beasts, which surrounded the

castle, and thousands and thousands of beasts came out of the castle

following their king, the Seven-headed Serpent. The Serpent glided over

the clothes which were spread for him, came to the Lake, and asked it

who had strewed those soft things on the path? The Lake answered that

it had been done by people who had come to do him homage. The King

commanded that the men should be brought before him. They came humbly on

their knees, and in a few words told him their story. Then he spoke to

them with a mighty and terrible voice, and said, ‘Because you have dared

to come here, I lay upon you the punishment. Every year you must bring

me from among your people twelve youths and twelve maidens, that I may

devour them. If you do not do this, I will destroy your whole nation.’

Then he desired one of his beasts to show the men the way out of the

garden, and dismissed them. They then left the island and went back to

their own country, where they related what had happened to them. Soon

the time came round when the king of the beasts would expect the

youths and maidens to be brought to him. The King therefore issued

a proclamation inviting twelve youths and twelve maidens to offer

themselves up to save their country; and immediately many young people,

far more than enough, hastened to do so. A new ship was built, and set

with black sails, and in it the youths and maidens who were appointed

for the king of the beasts embarked and set out for his country. When

they arrived there they went at once to the Lake, and this time the

lions did not stir, nor did the springs flow, and neither did the Lake

speak. So they waited then, and it was not long before the earth quaked

even more terribly than the first time. The Seven-headed Serpent came

without his train of beasts, saw his prey waiting for him, and devoured

it at one mouthful. Then the ship’s crew returned home, and the same

thing happened yearly until many years had passed.

Now the King of this unhappy country was growing old, and so was the

Queen, and they had no children. One day the Queen was sitting at the

window weeping bitterly because she was childless, and knew that the

crown would therefore pass to strangers after the King’s death. Suddenly

a little old woman appeared before her, holding an apple in her hand,

and said, ‘Why do you weep, my Queen, and what makes you so unhappy?’

‘Alas, good mother,’ answered the Queen, ‘I am unhappy because I have no

children.’

‘Is that what vexes you?’ said the old woman. ‘Listen to me. I am a nun

from the Spinning Convent,(10) and my mother when she died left me this

apple. Whoever eats this apple shall have a child.’

(10) Convent Gnothi.

The Queen gave money to the old woman, and bought the apple from her.

Then she peeled it, ate it, and threw the rind out of the window, and it

so happened that a mare that was running loose in the court below ate up

the rind. After a time the Queen had a little boy, and the mare also had

a male foal. The boy and the foal grew up together and loved each other

like brothers. In course of time the King died, and so did the Queen,

and their son, who was now nineteen years old, was left alone. One day,

when he and his horse were talking together, the Horse said to him,

‘Listen to me, for I love you and wish for your good and that of the

country. If you go on every year sending twelve youths and twelve

maidens to the King of the Beasts, your country will very soon be

ruined. Mount upon my back: I will take you to a woman who can direct

you how to kill the Seven-headed Serpent.’

Then the youth mounted his horse, who carried him far away to a mountain

which was hollow, for in its side was a great underground cavern. In the

cavern sat an old woman spinning. This was the cloister of the nuns, and

the old woman was the Abbess. They all spent their time in spinning, and

that is why the convent has this name. All round the walls of the cavern

there were beds cut out of the solid rock, upon which the nuns slept,

and in the middle a light was burning. It was the duty of the nuns to

watch the light in turns, that it might never go out, and if anyone of

them let it go out the others put her to death.

As soon as the King’s son saw the old Abbess spinning he threw himself

at her feet and entreated her to tell him how he could kill the

Seven-headed Serpent.

She made the youth rise, embraced him, and said, ‘Know, my son, that it

is I who sent the nun to your mother and caused you to be born, and with

you the horse, with whose help you will be able to free the world from

the monster. I will tell you what you have to do. Load your horse with

cotton, and go by a secret passage which I will show you, which is

hidden from the wild beasts, to the Serpent’s palace. You will find the

King asleep upon his bed, which is all hung round with bells, and

over his bed you will see a sword hanging. With this sword only it is

possible to kill the Serpent, because even if its blade breaks a new one

will grow again for every head the monster has. Thus you will be able

to cut off all his seven heads. And this you must also do in order to

deceive the King: you must slip into his bed-chamber very softly, and

stop up all the bells which are round his bed with cotton. Then take

down the sword gently, and quickly give the monster a blow on his tail

with it. This will make him waken up, and if he catches sight of you he

will seize you. But you must quickly cut off his first head, and then

wait till the next one comes up. Then strike it off also, and so go on

till you have cut off all his seven heads.’

The old Abbess then gave the Prince her blessing, and he set out upon

his enterprise, arrived at the Serpent’s castle by following the secret

passage which she had shown him, and by carefully attending to all her

directions he happily succeeded in killing the monster. As soon as

the wild beasts heard of their king’s death, they all hastened to the

castle, but the youth had long since mounted his horse and was already

far out of their reach. They pursued him as fast as they could, but they

found it impossible to overtake him, and he reached home in safety. Thus

he freed his country from this terrible oppression.

THE GRATEFUL BEASTS(11)

(11) From the Hungarian. Kletke.

There was once upon a time a man and woman who had three fine-looking

sons, but they were so poor that they had hardly enough food for

themselves, let alone their children. So the sons determined to set out

into the world and to try their luck. Before starting their mother gave

them each a loaf of bread and her blessing, and having taken a tender

farewell of her and their father the three set forth on their travels.

The youngest of the three brothers, whose name was Ferko, was a

beautiful youth, with a splendid figure, blue eyes, fair hair, and a

complexion like milk and roses. His two brothers were as jealous of him

as they could be, for they thought that with his good looks he would be

sure to be more fortunate than they would ever be.

One day all the three were sitting resting under a tree, for the sun

was hot and they were tired of walking. Ferko fell fast asleep, but the

other two remained awake, and the eldest said to the second brother,

‘What do you say to doing our brother Ferko some harm? He is so

beautiful that everyone takes a fancy to him, which is more than they do

to us. If we could only get him out of the way we might succeed better.’

‘I quite agree with you,’ answered the second brother, ‘and my advice

is to eat up his loaf of bread, and then to refuse to give him a bit

of ours until he has promised to let us put out his eyes or break his

legs.’

His eldest brother was delighted with this proposal, and the two wicked

wretches seized Ferko’s loaf and ate it all up, while the poor boy was

still asleep.

When he did awake he felt very hungry and turned to eat his bread, but

his brothers cried out, ‘You ate your loaf in your sleep, you glutton,

and you may starve as long as you like, but you won’t get a scrap of

ours.’

Ferko was at a loss to understand how he could have eaten in his sleep,

but he said nothing, and fasted all that day and the next night. But

on the following morning he was so hungry that he burst into tears, and

implored his brothers to give him a little bit of their bread. Then the

cruel creatures laughed, and repeated what they had said the day before;

but when Ferko continued to beg and beseech them, the eldest said at

last, ‘If you will let us put out one of your eyes and break one of your

legs, then we will give you a bit of our bread.’

At these words poor Ferko wept more bitterly than before, and bore the

torments of hunger till the sun was high in the heavens; then he could

stand it no longer, and he consented to allow his left eye to be put out

and his left leg to be broken. When this was done he stretched out his

hand eagerly for the piece of bread, but his brothers gave him such a

tiny scrap that the starving youth finished it in a moment and besought

them for a second bit.

But the more Ferko wept and told his brothers that he was dying of

hunger, the more they laughed and scolded him for his greed. So he

endured the pangs of starvation all that day, but when night came his

endurance gave way, and he let his right eye be put out and his right

leg broken for a second piece of bread.

After his brothers had thus successfully maimed and disfigured him for

life, they left him groaning on the ground and continued their journey

without him.

Poor Ferko ate up the scrap of bread they had left him and wept

bitterly, but no one heard him or came to his help. Night came on, and

the poor blind youth had no eyes to close, and could only crawl along

the ground, not knowing in the least where he was going. But when the

sun was once more high in the heavens, Ferko felt the blazing heat

scorch him, and sought for some cool shady place to rest his aching

limbs. He climbed to the top of a hill and lay down in the grass, and as

he thought under the shadow of a big tree. But it was no tree he leant

against, but a gallows on which two ravens were seated. The one was

saying to the other as the weary youth lay down, ‘Is there anything the

least wonderful or remarkable about this neighbourhood?’

‘I should just think there was,’ replied the other; ‘many things that

don’t exist anywhere else in the world. There is a lake down there below

us, and anyone who bathes in it, though he were at death’s door, becomes

sound and well on the spot, and those who wash their eyes with the dew

on this hill become as sharp-sighted as the eagle, even if they have

been blind from their youth.’

‘Well,’ answered the first raven, ‘my eyes are in no want of this

healing bath, for, Heaven be praised, they are as good as ever they

were; but my wing has been very feeble and weak ever since it was shot

by an arrow many years ago, so let us fly at once to the lake that I may

be restored to health and strength again.’ And so they flew away.

Their words rejoiced Ferko’s heart, and he waited impatiently till

evening should come and he could rub the precious dew on his sightless

eyes.

At last it began to grow dusk, and the sun sank behind the mountains;

gradually it became cooler on the hill, and the grass grew wet with dew.

Then Ferko buried his face in the ground till his eyes were damp with

dewdrops, and in a moment he saw clearer than he had ever done in his

life before. The moon was shining brightly, and lighted him to the lake

where he could bathe his poor broken legs.

Then Ferko crawled to the edge of the lake and dipped his limbs in the

water. No sooner had he done so than his legs felt as sound and strong

as they had been before, and Ferko thanked the kind fate that had led

him to the hill where he had overheard the ravens’ conversation. He

filled a bottle with the healing water, and then continued his journey

in the best of spirits.

He had not gone far before he met a wolf, who was limping disconsolately

along on three legs, and who on perceiving Ferko began to howl dismally.

‘My good friend,’ said the youth, ‘be of good cheer, for I can soon heal

your leg,’ and with these words he poured some of the precious water

over the wolf’s paw, and in a minute the animal was springing about

sound and well on all fours. The grateful creature thanked his

benefactor warmly, and promised Ferko to do him a good turn if he should

ever need it.

Ferko continued his way till he came to a ploughed field. Here he

noticed a little mouse creeping wearily along on its hind paws, for its

front paws had both been broken in a trap.

Ferko felt so sorry for the little beast that he spoke to it in the most

friendly manner, and washed its small paws with the healing water. In

a moment the mouse was sound and whole, and after thanking the kind

physician it scampered away over the ploughed furrows.

Ferko again proceeded on his journey, but he hadn’t gone far before a

queen bee flew against him, trailing one wing behind her, which had been

cruelly torn in two by a big bird. Ferko was no less willing to help

her than he had been to help the wolf and the mouse, so he poured some

healing drops over the wounded wing. On the spot the queen bee was

cured, and turning to Ferko she said, ‘I am most grateful for your

kindness, and shall reward you some day.’ And with these words she flew

away humming, gaily.

Then Ferko wandered on for many a long day, and at length reached

a strange kingdom. Here, he thought to himself, he might as well

go straight to the palace and offer his services to the King of the

country, for he had heard that the King’s daughter was as beautiful as

the day.

So he went to the royal palace, and as he entered the door the first

people he saw were his two brothers who had so shamefully ill-treated

him. They had managed to obtain places in the King’s service, and when

they recognised Ferko with his eyes and legs sound and well they were

frightened to death, for they feared he would tell the King of their

conduct, and that they would be hung.

No sooner had Ferko entered the palace than all eyes were turned on the

handsome youth, and the King’s daughter herself was lost in admiration,

for she had never seen anyone so handsome in her life before. His

brothers noticed this, and envy and jealousy were added to their fear,

so much so that they determined once more to destroy him. They went to

the King and told him that Ferko was a wicked magician, who had come to

the palace with the intention of carrying off the Princess.

Then the King had Ferko brought before him, and said, ‘You are accused

of being a magician who wishes to rob me of my daughter, and I condemn

you to death; but if you can fulfil three tasks which I shall set you to

do your life shall be spared, on condition you leave the country; but if

you cannot perform what I demand you shall be hung on the nearest tree.’

And turning to the two wicked brothers he said, ‘Suggest something for

him to do; no matter how difficult, he must succeed in it or die.’

They did not think long, but replied, ‘Let him build your Majesty in one

day a more beautiful palace than this, and if he fails in the attempt

let him be hung.’

The King was pleased with this proposal, and commanded Ferko to set to

work on the following day. The two brothers were delighted, for they

thought they had now got rid of Ferko for ever. The poor youth himself

was heart-broken, and cursed the hour he had crossed the boundary of

the King’s domain. As he was wandering disconsolately about the meadows

round the palace, wondering how he could escape being put to death, a

little bee flew past, and settling on his shoulder whispered in his ear,

‘What is troubling you, my kind benefactor? Can I be of any help to you?

I am the bee whose wing you healed, and would like to show my gratitude

in some way.’

Ferko recognised the queen bee, and said, ‘Alas! how could you help me?

for I have been set to do a task which no one in the whole world could

do, let him be ever such a genius! To-morrow I must build a palace more

beautiful than the King’s, and it must be finished before evening.’

‘Is that all?’ answered the bee, ‘then you may comfort yourself; for

before the sun goes down to-morrow night a palace shall be built unlike

any that King has dwelt in before. Just stay here till I come again and

tell you that it is finished.’ Having said this she flew merrily away,

and Ferko, reassured by her words, lay down on the grass and slept

peacefully till the next morning.

Early on the following day the whole town was on its feet, and everyone

wondered how and where the stranger would build the wonderful palace.

The Princess alone was silent and sorrowful, and had cried all night

till her pillow was wet, so much did she take the fate of the beautiful

youth to heart.

Ferko spent the whole day in the meadows waiting the return of the bee.

And when evening was come the queen bee flew by, and perching on his

shoulder she said, ‘The wonderful palace is ready. Be of good cheer,

and lead the King to the hill just outside the city walls.’ And humming

gaily she flew away again.

Ferko went at once to the King and told him the palace was finished. The

whole court went out to see the wonder, and their astonishment was great

at the sight which met their eyes. A splendid palace reared itself on

the hill just outside the walls of the city, made of the most exquisite

flowers that ever grew in mortal garden. The roof was all of crimson

roses, the windows of lilies, the walls of white carnations, the floors

of glowing auriculas and violets, the doors of gorgeous tulips and

narcissi with sunflowers for knockers, and all round hyacinths and other

sweet-smelling flowers bloomed in masses, so that the air was perfumed

far and near and enchanted all who were present.

This splendid palace had been built by the grateful queen bee, who had

summoned all the other bees in the kingdom to help her.

The King’s amazement knew no bounds, and the Princess’s eyes beamed with

delight as she turned them from the wonderful building on the delighted

Ferko. But the two brothers had grown quite green with envy, and only

declared the more that Ferko was nothing but a wicked magician.

The King, although he had been surprised and astonished at the way his

commands had been carried out, was very vexed that the stranger should

escape with his life, and turning to the two brothers he said, ‘He has

certainly accomplished the first task, with the aid no doubt of his

diabolical magic; but what shall we give him to do now? Let us make it

as difficult as possible, and if he fails he shall die.’

Then the eldest brother replied, ‘The corn has all been cut, but it has

not yet been put into barns; let the knave collect all the grain in the

kingdom into one big heap before to-morrow night, and if as much as a

stalk of corn is left let him be put to death.

The Princess grew white with terror when she heard these words; but

Ferko felt much more cheerful than he had done the first time, and

wandered out into the meadows again, wondering how he was to get out of

the difficulty. But he could think of no way of escape. The sun sank to

rest and night came on, when a little mouse started out of the grass

at Ferko’s feet, and said to him, ‘I’m delighted to see you, my kind

benefactor; but why are you looking so sad? Can I be of any help to you,

and thus repay your great kindness to me?’

Then Ferko recognised the mouse whose front paws he had healed, and

replied, ‘Alas I how can you help me in a matter that is beyond any

human power! Before to-morrow night all the grain in the kingdom has

to be gathered into one big heap, and if as much as a stalk of corn is

wanting I must pay for it with my life.’

‘Is that all?’ answered the mouse; ‘that needn’t distress you much. Just

trust in me, and before the sun sets again you shall hear that your task

is done.’ And with these words the little creature scampered away into

the fields.

Ferko, who never doubted that the mouse would be as good as its word,

lay down comforted on the soft grass and slept soundly till next

morning. The day passed slowly, and with the evening came the little

mouse and said, ‘Now there is not a single stalk of corn left in any

field; they are all collected in one big heap on the hill out there.’

Then Ferko went joyfully to the King and told him that all he demanded

had been done. And the whole Court went out to see the wonder, and were

no less astonished than they had been the first time. For in a heap

higher than the King’s palace lay all the grain of the country, and not

a single stalk of corn had been left behind in any of the fields. And

how had all this been done? The little mouse had summoned every other

mouse in the land to its help, and together they had collected all the

grain in the kingdom.

The King could not hide his amazement, but at the same time his wrath

increased, and he was more ready than ever to believe the two brothers,

who kept on repeating that Ferko was nothing more nor less than a wicked

magician. Only the beautiful Princess rejoiced over Ferko’s success, and

looked on him with friendly glances, which the youth returned.

The more the cruel King gazed on the wonder before him, the more

angry he became, for he could not, in the face of his promise, put the

stranger to death. He turned once more to the two brothers and said,

‘His diabolical magic has helped him again, but now what third task

shall we set him to do? No matter how impossible it is, he must do it or

die.’

The eldest answered quickly, ‘Let him drive all the wolves of the

kingdom on to this hill before to-morrow night. If he does this he may

go free; if not he shall be hung as you have said.’

At these words the Princess burst into tears, and when the King saw this

he ordered her to be shut up in a high tower and carefully guarded till

the dangerous magician should either have left the kingdom or been hung

on the nearest tree.

Ferko wandered out into the fields again, and sat down on the stump of

a tree wondering what he should do next. Suddenly a big wolf ran up to

him, and standing still said, ‘I’m very glad to see you again, my kind

benefactor. What are you thinking about all alone by yourself? If I can

help you in any way only say the word, for I would like to give you a

proof of my gratitude.’

Ferko at once recognised the wolf whose broken leg he had healed, and

told him what he had to do the following day if he wished to escape with

his life. ‘But how in the world,’ he added, ‘am I to collect all the

wolves of the kingdom on to that hill over there?’

‘If that’s all you want done,’ answered the wolf, ‘you needn’t worry

yourself. I’ll undertake the task, and you’ll hear from me again before

sunset to-morrow. Keep your spirits up.’ And with these words he trotted

quickly away.

Then the youth rejoiced greatly, for now he felt that his life was safe;

but he grew very sad when he thought of the beautiful Princess, and that

he would never see her again if he left the country. He lay down once

more on the grass and soon fell fast asleep.

All the next day he spent wandering about the fields, and toward

evening the wolf came running to him in a great hurry and said, ‘I have

collected together all the wolves in the kingdom, and they are waiting

for you in the wood. Go quickly to the King, and tell him to go to the

hill that he may see the wonder you have done with his own eyes. Then

return at once to me and get on my back, and I will help you to drive

all the wolves together.’

Then Ferko went straight to the palace and told the King that he was

ready to perform the third task if he would come to the hill and see it

done. Ferko himself returned to the fields, and mounting on the wolf’s

back he rode to the wood close by.

Quick as lightning the wolf flew round the wood, and in a minute many

hundred wolves rose up before him, increasing in number every moment,

till they could be counted by thousands. He drove them all before him on

to the hill, where the King and his whole Court and Ferko’s two brothers

were standing. Only the lovely Princess was not present, for she was

shut up in her tower weeping bitterly.

The wicked brothers stamped and foamed with rage when they saw the

failure of their wicked designs. But the King was overcome by a sudden

terror when he saw the enormous pack of wolves approaching nearer and

nearer, and calling out to Ferko he said, ‘Enough, enough, we don’t want

any more.’

But the wolf on whose back Ferko sat, said to its rider, ‘Go on! go

on!’ and at the same moment many more wolves ran up the hill, howling

horribly and showing their white teeth.

The King in his terror called out, ‘Stop a moment; I will give you half

my kingdom if you will drive all the wolves away.’ But Ferko pretended

not to hear, and drove some more thousands before him, so that everyone

quaked with horror and fear.

Then the King raised his voice again and called out, ‘Stop! you shall

have my whole kingdom, if you will only drive these wolves back to the

places they came from.’

But the wolf kept on encouraging Ferko, and said, ‘Go on! go on!’ So he

led the wolves on, till at last they fell on the King and on the wicked

brothers, and ate them and the whole Court up in a moment.

Then Ferko went straight to the palace and set the Princess free, and on

the same day he married her and was crowned King of the country. And the

wolves all went peacefully back to their own homes, and Ferko and his

bride lived for many years in peace and happiness together, and were

much beloved by great and small in the land.

THE GIANTS AND THE HERD-BOY(12)

(12) From the Bukowniaer. Von Wliolocki.

There was once upon a time a poor boy who had neither father nor mother.

In order to gain a living he looked after the sheep of a great Lord. Day

and night he spent out in the open fields, and only when it was very

wet and stormy did he take refuge in a little hut on the edge of a

big forest. Now one night, when he was sitting on the grass beside his

flocks, he heard not very far from him the sound as of some one crying.

He rose up and followed the direction of the noise. To his dismay and

astonishment he found a Giant lying at the entrance of the wood; he was

about to run off as fast as his legs could carry him, when the Giant

called out: ‘Don’t be afraid, I won’t harm you. On the contrary, I will

reward you handsomely if you will bind up my foot. I hurt it when I was

trying to root up an oak-tree.’ The Herd-boy took off his shirt, and

bound up the Giant’s wounded foot with it. Then the Giant rose up and

said, ‘Now come and I will reward you. We are going to celebrate a

marriage to-day, and I promise you we shall have plenty of fun. Come and

enjoy yourself, but in order that my brothers mayn’t see you, put this

band round your waist and then you’ll be invisible.’ With these words

he handed the Herd-boy a belt, and walking on in front he led him to

a fountain where hundreds of Giants and Giantesses were assembled

preparing to hold a wedding. They danced and played different games till

midnight; then one of the Giants tore up a plant by its roots, and all

the Giants and Giantesses made themselves so thin that they disappeared

into the earth through the hole made by the uprooting of the plant. The

wounded Giant remained behind to the last and called out, ‘Herd-boy,

where are you?’ ‘Here I am, close to you,’ was the reply. ‘Touch me,’

said the Giant, ‘so that you too may come with us under ground.’ The

Herd-boy did as he was told, and before he could have believed it

possible he found himself in a big hall, where even the walls were

made of pure gold. Then to his astonishment he saw that the hall was

furnished with the tables and chairs that belonged to his master. In a

few minutes the company began to eat and drink.

The banquet was a very gorgeous one, and the poor youth fell to and ate

and drank lustily. When he had eaten and drunk as much as he could he

thought to himself, ‘Why shouldn’t I put a loaf of bread in my pocket?

I shall be glad of it to-morrow.’ So he seized a loaf when no one was

looking and stowed it away under his tunic. No sooner had he done so

than the wounded Giant limped up to him and whispered softly, ‘Herd-boy,

where are you?’ ‘Here I am,’ replied the youth. ‘Then hold on to me,’

said the Giant, ‘so that I may lead you up above again.’ So the Herd-boy

held on to the Giant, and in a few moments he found himself on the earth

once more, but the Giant had vanished. The Herd-boy returned to his

sheep, and took off the invisible belt which he hid carefully in his

bag.

The next morning the lad felt hungry, and thought he would cut off a

piece of the loaf he had carried away from the Giants’ wedding feast,

and eat it. But although he tried with all his might, he couldn’t cut

off the smallest piece. Then in despair he bit the loaf, and what was

his astonishment when a piece of gold fell out of his mouth and rolled

at his feet. He bit the bread a second and third time, and each time a

piece of gold fell out of his mouth; but the bread remained untouched.

The Herd-boy was very much delighted over his stroke of good fortune,

and, hiding the magic loaf in his bag, he hurried off to the nearest

village to buy himself something to eat, and then returned to his sheep.

Now the Lord whose sheep the Herd-boy looked after had a very lovely

daughter, who always smiled and nodded to the youth when she walked with

her father in his fields. For a long time the Herd-boy had made up his

mind to prepare a surprise for this beautiful creature on her birthday.

So when the day approached he put on his invisible belt, took a sack of

gold pieces with him, and slipping into her room in the middle of the

night, he placed the bag of gold beside her bed and returned to his

sheep. The girl’s joy was great, and so was her parents’ next day when

they found the sack full of gold pieces. The Herd-boy was so pleased to

think what pleasure he had given that the next night he placed another

bag of gold beside the girl’s bed. And this he continued to do for seven

nights, and the girl and her parents made up their minds that it must

be a good Fairy who brought the gold every night. But one night they

determined to watch, and see from their hiding place who the bringer of

the sack of gold really was.

On the eighth night a fearful storm of wind and rain came on while the

Herd-boy was on his way to bring the beautiful girl another bag of gold.

Then for the first time he noticed, just as he reached his master’s

house, that he had forgotten the belt which made him invisible. He

didn’t like the idea of going back to his hut in the wind and wet, so

he just stepped as he was into the girl’s room, laid the sack of

gold beside her, and was turning to leave the room, when his master

confronted him and said, ‘You young rogue, so you were going to steal

the gold that a good Fairy brings every night, were you?’ The Herd-boy

was so taken aback by his words, that he stood trembling before him,

and did not dare to explain his presence. Then his master spoke. ‘As you

have hitherto always behaved well in my service I will not send you to

prison; but leave your place instantly and never let me see your face

again.’ So the Herd-boy went back to his hut, and taking his loaf and

belt with him, he went to the nearest town. There he bought himself

some fine clothes, and a beautiful coach with four horses, hired two

servants, and drove back to his master. You may imagine how astonished

he was to see his Herd-boy returning to him in this manner! Then the

youth told him of the piece of good luck that had befallen him, and

asked him for the hand of his beautiful daughter. This was readily

granted, and the two lived in peace and happiness to the end of their

lives.