I- I a. 4 
 
LAST FAIRY TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 EDOUARD LABOULAYE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "FAIRY BOOK," "PARIS IN AMERICA," " PRINCE CANICHE" 
 '* HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES," ETC., ETC. 
 
 AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION 
 
 BY 
 
 MARY L. BOOTH 
 
 TRANSLATOR OF LABOULAYE's, MARTIN's, DE GASPARTn's, AND COCHIn's WORKS, ETC 
 AUTHcJr of the " HISTORY OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK " 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS 
 
Copyright, 1884, by Harper & Brothers. 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERIC/ 
 D-8 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE, 
 
 When we were children (which was somewhere about 
 1820), we were presented with fairy tales at New- Year 
 for our amusement. By whom they were written mattered 
 little; provided they kept us still for an hour without quar 
 relling or breaking things, the book was thought a good one, 
 and nothing more was asked of the author. 
 
 Since that time a great change has taken place. Fairy 
 tales now hold a prominent place in literature. Like great 
 noblemen, they have their pedigree and history. They treat 
 of geography, astronomy, and zoology, and will very soon 
 include philosophy and religion. Analysis has appeared ; 
 farewell to jollity. An ancient muse, of whom we must speak 
 no ill, because she is a lady, and of uncertain age, and also 
 because she is too often in the right — Science, since we must 
 call her by her name — with her long fingers, hooked nose, a»d 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE, 
 
 When we were children (which was somewhere about 
 1820), we were presented with fairy tales at New- Year 
 for our amusement. By whom they were written mattered 
 little; provided they kept us still for an hour without quar 
 relling or breaking things, the book was thought a good one, 
 and nothing more was asked of the author. 
 
 Since that time a great change has taken place. Fairy 
 tales now hold a prominent place in literature. Like great 
 noblemen, they have their pedigree and history. They treat 
 of geography, astronomy, and zoology, and will very soon 
 include philosophy and religion. Analysis has appeared ; 
 farewell to jollity. An ancient muse, of whom we must speak 
 no ill, because she is a lady, and of uncertain age, and also 
 because she is too often in the right — Science, since we must 
 call her by her name — with her long fingers, hooked nose, a»d 
 
vin 
 
 Author s Preface, 
 
 great round goggles, is 
 prying into everything. 
 We can no longer laugh 
 at an ogre without being 
 lacking in respect to the 
 god Orcus ; Riquet with 
 CY^f^^lTfii'^A'^y \ the Tuft is nothing but 
 i/^ \Wt^yW.C^Tv the Winter Solstice; and 
 
 the White Cat, in her 
 enchanted castle, is the 
 nymph Calisto, or, rath- 
 er, the Great Bear in per- 
 son. A plague on our 
 ^-^ ^. ^<Jf^ s "^""^ grandnephews; they are 
 
 <^ **'*'^ too wise for us old fel- 
 
 lows! 
 For my part, I, too, could invent theories as well as others, 
 if I saw fit. With the protection and support of a respect- 
 able political coterie I should stand a good chance of ad- 
 mission to the Academy of Mother Goose ; for I have her 
 blood in my veins. I know what fairy tales are. I have 
 tried to make them, and have thereby learned a great truth, 
 namely, that these tales are not manufactured to order. The 
 brightest man is put to his wit's end when he undertakes the 
 task. At most, he invents some allegory as innocent as it is 
 transparent ; he tells a story at which he himself is the first 
 to laugh, and which does not for an instant beguile his 
 readers, however young. I therefore hold it as a maxim 
 that the more sense a man has, the more insipid and tedious 
 are his fairy tales. 
 
Author s Preface, 
 
 IX 
 
 " But, grandpapa," says 
 my little grandson, "your 
 stories are very amusing." 
 
 '•'' Sanda simplicitas ! If 
 my stories are amusing, as 
 you say, it is because I did 
 not make them, my child." 
 
 "Then who did make 
 them, grandpapa?" 
 
 " My child, I have taken 
 them by piecemeal from all 
 parts, North, South, and 
 elsewhere." 
 
 " But who invented them 
 in the South ?" 
 
 " Everybody and nobody, 
 my young critic. A fairy 
 tale is a story, a legend, or 
 an event that chances to be told of a winter's evening by 
 some soldier or sailor, who dresses it up to suit himself, re- 
 gardless of time or place. Then it is caught up by nurses 
 and sung to children to amuse them or to serve as a lullaby, 
 until at last some one with a poetic imagination gives it a 
 fantastic turn, when lo ! the fairy tale is brought forth. The 
 author is nameless and unknown ; the work is immortal. 
 Who would dare claim the paternity of Cinderella and Tom 
 Thumb ?" 
 
 Stranger still, the fairy-tale has no native land, any more 
 than it has an author. Every nation tells Little Red Riding 
 Hood in its own fashion, and it would take a sharp critic to 
 
 
Author s Preface. 
 
 
 
 discover the original text of all these versions. The canvas 
 is of no consequence, the embroidery is everything ; and this 
 embroidery changes with each century. 
 
 What is Puss in Boots, for example ? A good genius, in 
 the skin of an animal, that enriches his young master. The 
 idea might occur a hundred times in different countries, 
 trivial and insignificant as it is. Now, compare Perrault's 
 Puss in Boots with the version of the Pentameron, which 
 will be found in the present volume, with some other old 
 friends under new faces. Perrault was but a child when 
 Gianbattista Basilio died, and, in all probability, never heard 
 of *be Neapolitan tales. Yet here is the same story told in 
 
Author's Preface, 
 
 XI 
 
 two different countries. The idea is the same, and the de- 
 tails resemble each other ; but what a difference there is 
 between the two stories ! With Perrault the work is fan- 
 tastic, the result of a cat's caprice. With Basilio it is a moral 
 tale, designed as a lesson to ingrates. And now, where is 
 the primitive story to be found? Perchance it may yet be 
 discovered in India ; but we may be sure that it will have 
 been so often retold and transformed on its way that it can 
 only be discerned by the sharp eye of an expert in fairy lore. 
 
 Paris, 1883. 
 
 Edouard Labc^ulaye. 
 
TRANSLATORS PREFACE. 
 
 This compilation contains all the fairy tales written by 
 the lamented Edouard Laboulaye, that prince of story-tell- 
 ers and most eloquent of statesmen, from the publication of 
 his Fairy Book, several years ago, to the time of his death, 
 last year. The brilliant Professor of the Institute of France, 
 whose lively sympathy during the late civil war won him 
 <:)ur country's love and gratitude, found recreation from his 
 graver labors in narrating these fanciful stories, overflowing 
 with wit and humor, which delighted both old and young, 
 and this task he continued to his dying day, the preface to 
 the volume containing part of the tales found herein be- 
 ing his last work, and the touching dedication to his little 
 grandchildren bearing date only five days before his death. 
 
 M. Laboulaye always delighted in seeing his writings in 
 an English dress, and took keen pleasure in the interest and 
 appreciation of his American readers. This translation is 
 made with his authorization, and the subsequent kind ap- 
 proval of his family. Death alone prevented him from 
 
xiv Translators Preface, 
 
 furnishing to this volume, as he did to the last, a pref- 
 ace especially addressed to American children. It is sad 
 to think that these pages will never meet his kindly eye, 
 and that the pen which had such power to charm is laid 
 aside forever. 
 
 Those who remember the publication by Harper & Broth- 
 ers of that sparkling collection of stories, Laboulaye's Fai- 
 ry Book, know what 2l furore it created, not only among 
 the children, who were fascinated with its giants, fairies, and 
 hobgoblins, but still more among their elders, who were 
 charmed with the flashing wit and keen satire which leav- 
 ened every page, and which, to the writer^s personal knowl- 
 edge, beguiled the Vice-President of the United States, as 
 well as the president of one of our largest banking institu- 
 tions, into sitting up nearly all night to finish the volume. 
 
 The present collection is even richer, wittier, and more 
 varied than its predecessor. It is compiled from the differ- 
 ent works of M. Laboulaye, and contains all the children's 
 tales not included in the first Fairy Book. And what a 
 wealth is there of fantastic stories of enchantments that rival 
 the Arabian Nights, together with delightful apologues, and 
 old tales retold with a bewitching humor that gives them a 
 new charm, all narrated with a purity and high moral tone 
 that make them safe as well as amusing reading for the 
 young! Children will be enchanted with this new Fairy 
 Book, which is sure to hold a lasting place in their affections 
 for this and succeeding generations. But the truest appre- 
 ciation, after all, of this witty volume will come from the 
 adults, who, as they laugh at its diverting sallies, will breathe 
 a sigh in memory of the author, and rejoice at the opportu- 
 
Translator's Preface, 
 
 XV 
 
 nity to lay a leaf on the grave of one of the most ardent 
 friends of our Union in its hour of peril. 
 
 Mention should be made of the very lavish manner in 
 which the volume is illustrated, which makes it a genuine 
 picture-book. It is literally crammed with nearly three 
 hundred spirited drawings by the brilliant French artists, 
 Henri Pill^, Henri Manesse, Yan' Dargent, and the lately 
 deceased Henri Scott, some of whose last designs are here 
 included. 
 
 Mary L. Booth. 
 
 New York, 1884. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE THREE WONDERS OF THE WORLD I 
 
 THE FAIRY CRAWFISH 39 
 
 FRAGOLETTE 65 
 
 THE THREE WISHES 88 
 
 THE GOLDEN FLEECE 94 
 
 POOR HANS 117 
 
 ZERBINO THE SAVAGE , I20 
 
 THE SHEPHERD PACHA . . . . » 155 
 
 BRIAM THE FOOL I78 
 
 THE LITTLE GRAY MAN I9I 
 
 GAGLIUSO; OR, THE GOOD CAT 209 
 
 THE WOLF AND THE GOAT 221 
 
 THE WICKED DAUGHTERS-IN-LAW 230 
 
 THE SPINNING QUEEN , . . . 236 
 
 THE KING OF THE SERPENTS 24O 
 
 POUCINET 247 
 
 THE PRUDENT FARMER 279 
 
 A FEMALE SOLOMON 284 
 
 DAME GUDBRAND 29O 
 
xviii Contents, 
 
 FAGB 
 
 GRIZZLED PETER 303 
 
 THE tailor's daughter -312 
 
 DAME WEASEL AND HER HUSBAND 314 
 
 THE sun's daughter 316 
 
 THE LITTLE MAN 325 
 
 FALSEHOOD AND TRUTH 33 1 
 
 THE MYSTIC GARDEN 338 
 
 THE EVE OF ST. MARK . 35 1 
 
'"^-^^ 
 
 THE THREE WONDERS 
 
 OF THE WORLD. 
 
 I. 
 
 NCE upon a time there was a 
 queen who had three sons. 
 The eldest was named Prince 
 Lofty ; the second, Prince 
 Reckless ; and the third, 
 Prince Prosper. All three 
 were as beautiful as the day ; 
 all three adored their mother; 
 and all three took the great- 
 est delight in forestalling her 
 wishes and doing her will. 
 The queen must have been 
 very happy, one would sup- 
 pose. She was, as a mother, 
 but not as a woman. She 
 was a prey to a malady which 
 none of us can escape, and 
 which is called old age. When she looked in the mirror, 
 the horrible grimness which years had stamped upon hei 
 1 
 
\I^f^i':Fci^y Tales, 
 
 
 face made her turn pale with dread. Her white hair, her 
 wrinkled forehead, her toothless gums, and her watery eyes 
 all told her that she must die. 
 
 The poor queen was terribly afraid of death. She could 
 not be resigned to quit her children, her throne, and her 
 people. Her sons sought in vain to comfort her ; the more 
 they loved her, the less courage she had to bid them an eter- 
 nal farewell. 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 3 
 
 One day they heard, I know not how, that the King of the 
 Bitter Waters had a wonderful bird, whose warbling renewed 
 the youth of those over whose heads it sung. The most 
 marvellous tales were told concerning this peerless songster. 
 One day, it was. said, a minister of state, ninety years old, 
 who chanced to pass under the tree where this marvel was 
 singing, instantly became rejuvenated to such a degree that 
 he had to be carried away in a nurse's arms. What would 
 not the good queen have given to hear these heavenly songs, 
 had she been made only twenty or thirty years younger 
 thereby ! 
 
 The three brothers consulted together. The eldest in- 
 sisted on being the first to go in search of this wonderful 
 bird. The queen refused her consent. " It is for you, my 
 children," she said, "that I wish to live. If one of you 
 should perish in this undertaking, nothing would be left me 
 but to die. Stay with me, and let God's will be done !" 
 
 Prince Lofty, however, was not one to be dismayed. Tak- 
 ing a good horse, arms, and money, he told his brothers that 
 if he did not return within a year they might know that he 
 was dead or a prisoner, embraced his mother, and set out 
 on his way. He went straight onward till he reached the 
 city where dwelt the happy owner of the wonderful bird. 
 Here he found an inn, and inquired what truth there was in 
 the story. 
 
 "All you have heard is true," answered the host, "but the 
 whole truth has not been, told you. The King of the Bitter 
 Waters is a treacherous and cruel magician. No one who 
 has entered his palace has ever come out again. If you 
 have kindred and friends, handsome youth, do not attempt 
 a perilous enterprise, in which you will succeed no better 
 than those who have gone before you." 
 
 Lofty thanked the host, put his horse in the stable, supped 
 
4 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 heartily, went to bed, and had the most delightful dreams. 
 Early the next morning he repaired to the king's palace. 
 The door was wide open ; neither guards nor servants were 
 to be seen. Lofty mounted the staircase without meeting 
 any one, pushed open a door, and entered a vast hall, sur- 
 rounded with marble statues of helmeted knights of all 
 nations, vizors down and swords in hand. In the middle 
 of the hall were hundreds of cages with the most beautiful 
 birds imaginable. One of these, all of gold, especially struck 
 the prince's eye. "That must be the wonderful bird," 
 thought he. He called aloud, and knocked at all the doors, 
 but no one answered. Then, without thinking of harm, he 
 approached the golden cage and thrust his hand into it, upon 
 which a bell rang. One of the statues descended from 
 its pedestal, advanced slowly towards the young man, and 
 touched him with the point o^ his sword, when, lo ! Lofty 
 was turned into a statue. 
 
 IL 
 
 One month, two months, passed away, the year finished its 
 course, and the queen had no news of her son. Consumed 
 with grief, she wept without ceasing, saying over and over 
 she had sent her son to his death. The two brothers were 
 no less grieved than their mother. Reckless went to the 
 queen and said, " Do not weep, dear mother. I am going 
 in search of Lofty, who is doubtless a prisoner. You may 
 be sure that I shall soon bring him back to you, with the 
 wonderful bird into the bargain." 
 
 The unhappy queen vainly entreated her son to stay with 
 her ; the prince's honor forbade him to listen to counsels or 
 prayers. Furnished with a good horse and a well-filled 
 purse, he set out and went straight onward until he reached 
 the same inn where his elder brother had stopped. It was 
 
*' He entered a vast hall, surrounded with marble statues.' 
 
6 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 in vain that the host lavished advice upon him ; this was 
 not the time to think of prudence. Reckless hastened to 
 the deserted palace, mounted the staircase, entered the great 
 hall, and was about to lay hold of the bird, when the bell 
 rang, the statue descended from its pedestal and touched 
 him as it had his brother; and, lo ! he, too, was enchanted. 
 
 III. 
 
 One month, two months passed away, the year finished its 
 course, and the queen had no news of her two sons. She 
 was plunged in grief, and longed to die. Prosper fell on 
 his knees. " Do not despair, dear mother," he cried. " Let 
 me go and I will succeed. I am sure that I shall soon bring 
 back both my brothers and the wonderful bird." 
 
 " You shall not go, my child," said the poor queen, bathed 
 in tears; "you surely would not add to my sorrow and re~ 
 morse. If you forsake me, what will become of me, with no 
 one to close my eyes ?" 
 
 But Prosper kissed her hands so tenderly and made her 
 such fair promises that she was forced to let him go. He 
 equipped himself like his brothers, and took with him a 
 sword that had been left in his cradle by his fairy godmoth- 
 er, a friend of the family, whom he had never since seen. 
 
 He set out on his journey, followed the fatal road, reached 
 the city of the King of the Bitter Waters, stopped at the inn, 
 and at daybreak went to the deserted palace. On entering 
 the great hall, he saluted the green bird that was hopping 
 about behind its golden bars, then called aloud. No one 
 answered. He drew his sword and approached the cage. 
 The bell rang, and the statue descended from its pedestal, 
 sword in hand ; but the prince was beforehand with his 
 enemy, and dealt his weapon such a blow that the stone was 
 splintered in pieces. 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 7 
 
 The statue uttered a cry, and paused-. A second knight 
 descended from his pedestal and was received in the same 
 way. A third and fourth met the like fate. At this moment 
 a door opened, and a host of soldiers entered, in the midst 
 of which was the king in person. He was a fat, little old 
 man, with a huge turban on his head, and an enormous 
 scimitar in his hand, which he wielded with difficulty. In a 
 shrill voice, which he vainly tried to swell, he addressed the 
 young prince. " Who gave you permission to enter my royal 
 palace ? Were you not told that no one ever quits this hall 
 alive ?" 
 
 " I knew it well," answered Prosper. "If I have confronted 
 death, great prince, it was not to brave your power. It was 
 through love of my mother. She is old, and yonder bird 
 can restore her youth. Before touching its cage I knocked 
 at all the doors ; I am not a robber, and respect the prop- 
 erty of others. I wished to offer a large sum for this wonder 
 of the world, but could obtain no answer. How then am I 
 to blame ? O king, if you have a mother whom you love, 
 be indulgent to me for her sake. Fix the price of this bird 
 yourself, and all that I have, my life even, is yours." 
 
 The king burst out laughing. "Young man," he said, 
 "you are a simpleton. Do you take me for a bird-seller? 
 I might put you to death, but I pity you. I like courage, 
 and your filial love touches my heart. If you wish for the 
 bird, I will put you in the way of obtaining it. Two days' 
 journey from here dwells my rival, the King of the Green 
 Isles, who has a daughter whose beauty eclipses any ever 
 beheld, whence she is called The Fairest of the Fair. This 
 treasure the King of the Green Isles guards with jealous 
 care. Find her, carry her off, and bring her here, and I 
 will give you the green bird in exchange for your conquest. 
 If you are satisfied with the bargain, set out instantly. You 
 
" He was a fat, little old man, with a huge turban on his head. 
 
The Three Wonders of the World. 9 
 
 may leave the castle ; but remember that if you dare to re- 
 turn empty-handed you will perish, like all before you." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Prosper, with his heart full of hope, accepted the king's 
 conditions, and immediately set out on his way. After two 
 days' journey he reached the shore of a sea as blue as the 
 heavens, interspersed with islands planted with tall green 
 trees, which rose from the waters like great clumps of verd- 
 ure. At the west was the royal island, the residence of the 
 princess. Prosper hastened thither, already promising him- 
 self the victory, but his joy was of short duration. 
 
 In a meadow, surrounded with poplars which trembled at 
 the lightest breeze, was a lake as smooth as a mirror. From 
 the midst of this lake rose a tower a hundred feet high, with- 
 out doors or windows, made of a single sheet of glass. In 
 this tower was imprisoned the Fairest of the Fair. How it 
 was approached, or in what way it was entered, no one had 
 ever known. It was vaguely fancied that a subterranean 
 passage, built under the lake, connected the tower with the 
 royal palace, more than a mile distant. But no one had 
 ever seen such a passage, and, when it was talked of, the 
 good people in the neighborhood shook their heads. Ac- 
 cording to them, the tower was enchanted, and opened at 
 night at the sound of a magical word which was known to 
 the king alone. And this secret was well guarded, for the 
 prince knew to a certainty that the fate of his kingdom was 
 bound up with that of this crystal donjon. An oracle had 
 foretold that on the day his daughter quitted the prison 
 the tower would sink beneath the waters, carrying with it 
 the beautiful kingdom of the Green Isles, with all its inhabi- 
 tants. 
 
 Prosper skirted the lake slowly, carefully noting the tower 
 
lo Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 which glistened in the midday light like a topaz in the sun's 
 rays. The walk was a long one ; it took the prince more 
 than five hours to return to the place from which he started. 
 The day was closing ; the tower, colored by the setting sun, 
 changed to a ruby tint. Weary with the journey and worn 
 with anxiety, the prince alighted from his horse, seated him- 
 self on a hillock, and fell into a reverie. A distant clock 
 struck six. Prosper raised his head, and spied a figure in 
 white between the battlements of the tower. It was the Fair- 
 est of the Fair. The last rays of the sun gilded the fair hair 
 of the prisoner. She leaned forward to look over the plain, 
 and at the same moment there was heard a loud sound of 
 men and horses. It was the princess's suitors, who were ac- 
 customed to march past at the hour she took her airing, all 
 striving which should win a glance of her beautiful eyes. 
 
 They came from all countries. First in the procession 
 was an Indian rajah, clad in silk and gold, with a neck- 
 lace and bracelets of pearls. He half reclined in a how- 
 dah, borne by a huge elephant, buried beneath housings 
 embroidered with precious stones. A numerous train of 
 musicians, jugglers, and dancing-girls surrounded him on all 
 sides, singing and dancing as they marched along. They 
 paused before the tower, and a body of archers, armed with 
 golden bows, let fly a shower of arrows, bearing on their 
 points wreaths of flowers, gallant mottoes, and fireworks that 
 blazed in the air. It was labor lost; the arrows struck the 
 walls of glass with a dull thud, without attracting the least 
 notice from the princess. 
 
 Then followed a second caravan, headed by a Mantchoo 
 prince, who came, it was said, to ask the Fairest of the Fair 
 in marriage in behalf of the Emperor of China. The Tartar 
 envoy, whose mustache fell to his knees, was mounted on a 
 superb black horse, whose nostrils snorted fire. He was 
 
■M-") 
 
 He half reclined in a howdah, borne by a huge elephant,'* 
 
1 2 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 followed by a troop of soldiers dressed in tiger - skins, that 
 marched proudly to the sound of trumpets ; but what at- 
 tracted most attention, and what certainly had never been 
 seen in our western armies, was a new kind of company, 
 each soldier of which carried, instead of a shield, an immense 
 kite, in the shape of a dragon. On the belly of the animal 
 was fastened a placard, upon which a skilful pencil had 
 traced, in huge red letters, verses that might have softened 
 the princess's heart, supposing her to have understood Chi- 
 nese. It was labor lost ; they did not attract the least notice 
 from the princess. 
 
 After the Chinese came a troop of barbarians ; a genu- 
 ine horde of Attila. Dressed in wolf-skins, they resembled 
 wolves, with their howls, gaunt forms, and savage gestures. 
 At a signal from the chief they opened their ranks, to 
 make way for a band of four hundred drummers, who in- 
 stantly unchained the most formidable tempest of harmony 
 that the world had ever heard. This was the serenade 
 devised by a general as musical as he was gallant, to make 
 a striking impression on the Fairest of the Fair. He suc- 
 ceeded beyond his hopes, for, at the first burst of thunder, 
 the princess raised her hands to heaven, stopped her ears, 
 and ran away. 
 
 V. 
 
 The crowd had vanished, night had fallen, and the moon 
 shed her silver light on the tremulous waters of the lake, 
 giving it by turns the whiteness and changing tints of 
 the opal. Yielding to the neighing of his horse, that was 
 tired of being alone. Prosper repaired to the inn. A fire of 
 great logs was blazing in a huge chimney-place in which one 
 might stand upright. Chilled by the night air, he drew near 
 to warm himself, when he spied a strange object, looking like 
 
"He was followed by a group of soldiers dressed in tiger-skins," 
 
14 
 
 Last Fairy Talcs. 
 
 a bundle of rags that had been flung into the corner of the 
 hearth. As he gazed, from the bundle emerged a copper- 
 colored face, round eyes with red eyelids, a nose hooked like 
 a parrot's beak, a chin whose turned -up point seemed to 
 
 threaten the nose, and a toothless mouth that stretched from 
 ear to ear. The prince recoiled with dismay, when this 
 shapeless mass rushed towards him, stretching out a pair of 
 fleshless arms, and the witch — for witch it surely was — seized 
 bis hand and covered it with kisses. 
 
*' He spied a strange object, looking like a bundle of rags.'* 
 
1 6 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 " My good lord," said she, in a plaintive voice, " do not 
 drive me away. I am cold and hungry ; if you have a moth- 
 er, take pity on the wretchedest of women for her sake." 
 
 "Be easy, my good woman," answered the kind-hearted 
 Prosper, touched by his mother's name. "You have nothing 
 to fear from me. If you are suffering, I can at least relieve 
 your want." And he opened his pouch, and flung a handful 
 of gold into the lap of the witch, who clutched it greedily. 
 " Yes," he added, " be happy, good dame. It is enough to 
 have one unhappy creature in the house." His eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 " My lord," said the old woman, rising, " you are sorrow- 
 ful. What causes your sorrow — the Fairest of the Fair? 
 You love her, you wish to carry her off, and you are in de- 
 spair because you are unable to do so. It is the disease of 
 the country. Tell me your troubles ; I have friends every- 
 where ; among the small and the great. Perhaps I can 
 help you. She whom you have befriended is not ungrate- 
 ful." 
 
 Prosper sat down by the table where his supper was laid, 
 and told her his story. The old woman took a seat, with- 
 out ceremony, opposite him, and listened with attention. 
 "Very well," said she, when he had finished; "you are a 
 good son, and it is a pleasure to be of use to you. Let me 
 drink a drop, just one drop, of this Canary, to refresh my 
 memory. It will give me ideas." 
 
 Upon which she seized the bottle, emptied it into a large 
 goblet, and gulped it down at one draught, smacking her 
 lips when she had finished. 
 
 "Confess," she said, "that all you suitors — Indian, Chi- 
 nese, Tartar, and the rest — have very little imagination. 
 There is but one way of entering the tower, and that is the 
 only one you have never thought of." 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 1 7 
 
 " What is that ?" asked the prince. 
 
 " Guess !" answered she ; " and meanwhile, to refresh my 
 poor memory, let me drink another drop, just a drop, of this 
 Canary." 
 
 Upon which she seized another bottle, emptied it all into 
 
 the great goblet, and gulped it down at one draught, smack- 
 ing her lips when she had finished. Then she turned towards 
 the prince, who stood aghast at this conduct, and laughed in 
 his face. 
 
 " Who has been in the tower ? No one, you tell me. You 
 are wrong. I see the swallows go in there every moment, 
 
1 8 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 and if the princess does not take care, she will have a whole 
 garrison of crows on her hands." 
 
 " Do you think, then," exclaimed the prince, angrily, 
 "that some crow will take me on its wings and fly up 
 there, and then carry me off with my booty ? You are mak- 
 ing a laughing-stock of me, old dame." 
 
 "My lord," returned the witch, coldly, "people do not 
 make a laughing-stock of princes before their faces. I am 
 in earnest ; I mean that you should go up there on horse- 
 back, as befits a noble personage like yourself." 
 
 " On horseback ! My good woman, the Canary has sharp- 
 ened your imagination altogether too much ; you had better 
 hold your tongue, and sleep it off." 
 
 " Yes, on horseback," continued the old woman. " Have 
 you never heard of Pegasus, and of the hippogriff? Are 
 you ignorant of history ? And Bellerophon, and Perseus ; 
 have you forgotten them ? Cannot you, too, deliver the new 
 Andromeda?" 
 
 And, as the prince shook his head, 
 
 " Know," she said, " that ten leagues from here, in the 
 stables of the Marquis of Lindas Piernas, is a flying horse 
 named Griffon, that would make nothing of carrying you to 
 the Fairest of the Fair. The whole secret is to know his 
 language, and to make him fly. I will teach you his lan- 
 guage if you will kiss me on both cheeks. As to making 
 him fly, that is another matter ; for this, you must have some- 
 thing which I have in my pocket, and which I will give you 
 on the same terms." 
 
 She thrust her hand among her rags, and drew out a mass 
 of chicken bones, frogs' legs, little wax figures, long needles, 
 and finally a broken bit, held by two silken cords. " Here 
 it is," said she ; " the noble courser can only endure this light 
 rein." 
 
The Three Wonders of the World. 1 9 
 
 " And now," she added, simpering, " be good-natured, and 
 give me a kiss." 
 
 The prince made a frightful grimace, which he tried to 
 hide by biting his lips ; then, shutting his eyes, he kissed the 
 old woman on both her cheeks, which were like parchment. 
 
 " One good turn deserves another," said the witch, and, 
 approaching him, she blew into his mouth, and exclaimed : 
 
 "Nun kannst du die pferdische, eselische, burschikosiche, katzenjarri" 
 merische Sprache, sprechen und verstehen." 
 
 " A miracle 1" cried the prince ; " I hear an ass braying in 
 
20 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 the yard, and this is what he says, ^ Hi! han! men are even 
 more stupid than they are wicked. Hi! hanT An excel- 
 lent thought, and well worthy of an ass !" 
 
 " Or of a philosopher. The two are well matched. And 
 now, my dear prince, do you want the bridle ?" 
 
 For his sole answer. Prosper clasped in his arms the old 
 woman, who struggled against him. " Oh ! these men !" she 
 cried; "how beautiful they always think us when we do 
 as they wish !" 
 
 But the prince did not listen ; he was so happy that he 
 kissed her frantically, with his eyes shut, and thought her 
 cheeks as fresh as at twenty. He was not far from right, for 
 on opening his eyes he saw before him, instead of the witch, 
 a charming woman, whose smile disclosed teeth of dazzling 
 whiteness. He attempted to thank her again, but she gently 
 retreated. "That is enough," she said, "more would be 
 showing too much gratitude. Adieu, prince ; it is well to 
 have a godmother who does not forget you. Have courage 
 and hope I" 
 
 Like a gallant knight, the prince bent his knee to the 
 ground ; but as he laid his hand on his heart and was about 
 to protest his eternal gratitude, the fairy disappeared, laugh- 
 ing in his face. It appears that there is no Academy in Fairy 
 Land, and that no one ever speaks there when he has noth- 
 ing to say. 
 
 VI. 
 
 At daybreak the next morning Prosper set out in search 
 of the famous Griffon. On the way he learned that the 
 Marquis of Lindas Piernas would allow no one to enter his 
 stables. He disguised himself as a groom, and applied for 
 employment to the chief equerry of the marquis. This per- 
 sonage, a fat, bow-legged, red-nosed man, dressed in the Span- 
 ish fashion, listened contemptuously, with both hands thrust 
 
The Three Wonders of the World. 2 1 
 
 in his girdle, and answered that raw louts were not wanted 
 in the marquis's stables. 
 
 " Give me a horse," cried the prince, angrily, " and see 
 if I do not know how to manage him better than all your 
 bearded clowns." 
 
 For his sole answer the fat man turned his back on him. 
 At this moment a groom came running up, out of breath, 
 and, raising his hands to heaven, cried, " Oh ! my lord, there 
 is another accident, the tenth within a month ! Joseph has 
 had his leg broken by that fiend of a horse that no one can 
 tame. He will be the death of all of us." 
 
 "Bah!" said the equerry, "you don't know what you are 
 talking about. Here is a fellow from I know not where, who 
 thinks he can teach you all. Give him Joseph's place, and 
 put up another bed in the hospital." 
 
 Prosper followed the frightened groom. On entering the 
 stable he saw a coal-black horse with a large head, full, 
 prominent eye, powerful chest, and thin flanks, that stood 
 drawn up, with arched neck, casting sidelong glances that 
 boded no good. 
 
 "There is the famous Griffon," said the groom; "the 
 wretch is plotting a kick for us or some new trick. Any one 
 may go near him that will ; I shall take care to keep out of 
 his way." 
 
 The prince picked up a large whip and snapped it five or 
 six times ; then sang the following song at the top of his 
 voice : 
 
 " He ! juchhe ! he juchhe ! juch heisa ! heisa he ! he juchhe ! juchhe ! 
 heisa he ! 
 Liebst du mich, ich Hebe dich ; Liebst du mich nicht, ich Hebe dich 
 
 nicht. 
 Juvallera, juvallera, juvaHevallera !" 
 
 Oh, power of harmony ! At these melodious words, Grif- 
 
2 2 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 fon relaxed his neck, raised his head, and answered, in his 
 language, by a prolonged neigh, of which Prosper did not 
 lose a word : 
 
 " Kommcn sie her, Schelm. . . ., und kiissen sie mich Laridsmann." 
 
 The prince did not wait to be bidden twice, but went straight 
 to the horse and began to stroke him. 
 
 "Who are you," said Griffon, "and why have you come 
 here? Are you going to free me from the hands of these 
 fools, who want to make a circus-horse of a grandson of 
 Pegasus ?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear Griffon, I bring you your liberty; but one 
 good turn deserves another. Listen to what 1 expect you to 
 do ;" and, as if he were afraid that some one might hear, he 
 whispered his project in the horse's ear. 
 
 "All right," said Griffon ; "we will carry off the princess, 
 but on one condition ; living or dead, you must always keep 
 me with you. I have had enough of menageries." 
 
 " Done," answered the prince ; and he caressed Griffon. 
 
 While they talked together like old friends, all the stable- 
 men gathered around in amazement ; and the equerry, who 
 had been sent for, hastened to the spot. 
 
 "Well! well! young man," said he, "I see you and the 
 horse are on excellent terms. Bring him out, and let us put 
 him through his paces." 
 
 The prince took from his pocket the magic bridle. The 
 horse once saddled, he sprang on his back, and rode upon 
 a track where some race-horses were exercising. Every one 
 looked at Griffon, who seemed clumsy, and hard to manage. 
 Suddenly he quickened his pace and overtook the other 
 horses, that, four abreast, filled the track ; then leaped over 
 them with one bound. Thirty paces farther on he retraced 
 his steps, leaped again over the heads of the coursers and 
 
The Three Wonders of the World. 23 
 
 their astonished jockeys, and returned to the starting-point 
 
 without having turned a hair. 
 
 " Prodigious !" exclaimed the equerry ; " I never saw the 
 
 like. I will bet that this beast could jump over the moon 
 
 if he tried." 
 
 " Mr. Equerry," said the prince, gravely, " I take the bet." 
 And as all stood agape, he shouted two words in the horse 
 
 language, which no one understood, whereupon Griffon drew 
 
24 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 himself up, darted like an arrow through the air, and van- 
 ished from the eyes of the astonished crowd. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The clock had struck six. The Fairest of the Fair was 
 wearily promenading on the balcony of her prison, while be- 
 low, in the valley, Indians, Chinamen, elephants, horses, and 
 
 drums were continuing their monotonous round. Suddenly, 
 she spied a black speck in the distance advancing rapidly 
 through the air. Was it a cloud, a gigantic bird, or some 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 25 
 
 strange monster? As it approached the tower the thing 
 took shape, and the Fairest of the Fair clearly perceived a 
 horse swimming in the air, and upon this horse a handsome 
 rider, richly dressed, with embroidered tunic, velvet cap, and 
 floating plume. Her first emotion was fear ; and she thought 
 of flight. Her second was curiosity — she was a woman and 
 captive. Nothing, moreover, proved that the horse would 
 stop in his mad course ; but when it landed on the platform, 
 and she saw Prosper alight and offer her his hand, she was 
 so overcome with surprise that she swooned. The prince 
 was ready to receive her in his arms, but he was terrified at 
 her pallor and unconsciousness. " Griffon, my friend, she is 
 dying," he cried. " We are lost ! What is to be done ?" 
 " Carry her off, my lord,'' answered Griffon, " carry her off; 
 
26 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 we have no time to lose : you can settle matters on the road. 
 There is no better time for mutual explanations than when 
 a thing is done and cannot be undone." 
 
 Prince Prosper was so excited that he hardly knew what 
 he was about. He seated the princess on the horse, passed 
 his arm round her waist, and pressed her to his heart to keep 
 her from falling. As to Griffon, he gave a joyful neigh, and 
 darted into space like a bird spreading its wings to cleave 
 the air. 
 
 It was high time. A terrible crackling was heard. The 
 tower of glass broke into a thousand pieces, and melted 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 27 
 
 away in tlie lake, which instantly overflowed. Princes, ele- 
 phants, horses, and drummers all fled pell-mell, and proba- 
 bly more than one of them was drowned. As to what be* 
 came of the Green Isles, no one ever knew. No trace of 
 them is found on the maps. The savans have formed nine 
 hundred and sixty-four hypotheses as to the discovery of 
 these lost lands, all of which are so probable that the subject 
 remains a perfect muddle to this day. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 One cannot remain forever in a swoon. By degrees the 
 princess regained her senses, but it took some time for her 
 to understand what was going on around her. Griffon soared 
 above the clouds, illumined by the last rays of the sun ; and 
 it seemed to the Fairest of the Fair as if she were passing 
 through a valley of snow, bordered with purple and gold 
 mountains. In attempting to move, she perceived that her 
 head was resting on Prosper's shoulder ; but she felt so 
 weak that she did not dream of raising it. All that she 
 could do was to ask the handsome cavalier who he was ; and 
 it was with a certain pleasure that she learned that he was 
 a prince, and that he tenderly loved his mother. 
 
 " And where are we going ?" she asked, with a smile. 
 
 "To the palace of the King of the Bitter Waters." 
 
 " Is he your brother, kinsman, or friend ? Is he young 
 and handsome? What is the matter that you do not 
 answer ?" 
 
 Prosper turned pale, and attempted in vain to open his 
 lips. Then, making a desperate effort to control himself, he 
 stammeringly told her of his mother, the wonderful bird, and 
 the pledge he had made. The princess suddenly sat up- 
 right, and pushed away the arm about her waist. 
 
 "Let me go," she cried, "I do not need your support. 
 
28 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 What, was it for others that you tore me from my home and 
 family, and that to exchange me for a parrot. We read of 
 such things in fairy tales without believing them. What had 
 I done to you to be treated in this way .?" 
 
 " Alas," said Prosper, " I had never seen you when I made 
 that rash promise." 
 
 " Ah ! unhappy that I am," cried the princess, " behold me 
 alone, delivered up to a barbarian, without a friend, and for- 
 saken by all !" She sobbed, and shook convulsively with 
 grief. The terrified prince once more supported her with 
 his arm ; she let him do so in silence, like one who knew 
 not what she did. 
 
 This state of affairs could not be prolonged without peril, 
 but happily Griffon went faster than the wind. At daybreak 
 they were in the kingdom of the Bitter Waters. The king 
 was celebrating his birthday by a grand review. They saw 
 from above the troops drawn up on the plain. Loud shouts 
 of " Long live the King" attested the love of the people for 
 their prince. Griffon began his descent by circling in the 
 air like an eagle that leaves his rock to swoop down into the 
 plain, and landed before the king's palace with his double 
 load in the most gallant fashion. 
 
 Prosper alone alighted from the horse. He saluted the 
 king, and, speaking in a whisper that the Fairest of the Fair 
 might not hear, told the story of his feats, and, in exchange 
 for the princess, claimed the wonderful bird whose conquest 
 had cost him so dear. 
 
 " Very well," said the king, who was eying Griffon rath- 
 er than the princess, " I know what I promised ; but first 
 of all I must have that horse, otherwise the bargain is 
 broken." 
 
 "That cannot be," answered Prosper; "you ordered 
 me to bring you the Fairest of the Fair, and here she is. 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 29 
 
 It is your turn to keep your promise; a prince's word is 
 sacred." 
 
 "Do you dare to brave me?" cried the king. "Learn, 
 young man, that a king does what he pleases, and is bound 
 to no one. I shall keep the princess, the horse, and the 
 bird into the bargain. Begone this instant, and presume 
 no longer on my goodness !" 
 
 "Disloyal prince and false knight," exclaimed Prosper, 
 
30 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " you shall pay with your life for your breach of faith \ stand, 
 and defend yourself!" Then, drawing his good sword, he fell 
 upon the King of the Bitter Waters, who had barely time to 
 put himself on guard. The struggle was short ; the king 
 counted upon his magic to overcome Prosper ; but the 
 prince's sword was enchanted ; and at the very first en- 
 
 counter it pierced the throat of his foe, who threw up his 
 arms and fell motionless on the ground. An instant after, 
 the corpse was nothing but a heap of dust and ashes, which, 
 as my readers all know, is the usual end of sorcerers. 
 
 The king dead, the palace doors opened of their own ac- 
 cord ; the enchantment was ended. A host of princes, who 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 31 
 
 had resumed their own shapes, ranged themselves round 
 their deliverer. At their head was Prince Lofty, followed 
 by Prince Reckless, who bore the wonderful bird on his wrist, 
 as a falconer carries his hawk. At this sight the troops 
 disbanded ; all the generals and high officials clustered 
 around Prosper, and offered him the crown, shouting " Long 
 live the King!" The people and soldiers echoed the cry, 
 and the rejoicing was universal. 
 
 Prosper thanked them all. His ambition was in a dif- 
 ferent direction ; but, in order not to disoblige them, he of- 
 fered them in his place Prince Reckless, who was endowed 
 from birth with all the qualities of a great sovereign. They 
 were in need of a ruler, and had no time to wait ; moreover, 
 Prince Reckless was very nearly as good-looking as his 
 brother. The generals proclaimed him king ; the officers of 
 the crown applauded ; the people and soldiers echoed the 
 cry ; and the rejoicing was universal. 
 
 Meanwhile, Prosper approached Griffon, and, bowing to 
 the Fairest of the Fair, who was still mute and pensive. 
 
 " And now, madam," said he, " where does it please you to 
 be conducted by your faithful knight ?" 
 
 " Take me to your mother's house !" she answered, in a 
 mournful tone, " I would not delay for a moment her pleas- 
 ure in embracing so good a son." 
 
 IX. 
 
 People are right in saying that when Happiness enters a 
 house Misfortune always stands on watch at the door to 
 strangle it and take its place. Never had Prosper been so 
 happy j yet he was on the eve of losing everything, without 
 even suspecting the danger by which he was threatened. 
 
 The coronation of Prince Reckless over. Prosper set out 
 to rejoin his mother. The princess rode a snow-white nag, 
 
32 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 which, by a strange instinct, clung close to Griffon's side ; a 
 fortunate circumstance, since Prosper and the Fairest of the 
 Fair constantly had some secret to confide to each other, 
 which could not have been of a tragic kind, since the pair 
 were always laughing. 
 
 But behind them, with head bent, lips compressed, and 
 lowering brow, rode Prince Lofty, his heart consumed with 
 envy. " What," said he to himself, " must this boy return 
 with the three wonders of the world, to be welcomed with 
 transport by my mother, the court, and my people, while I, 
 the eldest, come empty-handed, to be neglected by all. Am 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 33 
 
 I less brave or less generous than he ? No, but luck was on 
 his side and ill-luck on mine !" And he was beset by these 
 evil thoughts, which he vainly tried to banish. 
 
 It chanced that on the third day they halted in a moun- 
 tainous region, where there was a deep valley, at the bot- 
 tom of which was heard a rushing torrent, while on the top 
 of the cliff a narrow footpath followed the windings of the 
 brook as it dashed among the rocks. The moon rose in all 
 its beauty. Prosper went out to breathe the fresh air ; he fol- 
 lowed the footpath which led along the brow of the mountain, 
 and admired the capricious play of the light and shade, think- 
 ing as he walked of all the dangers he had passed through, 
 and of his happiness on seeing his mother again and present- 
 ing to her a daughter. His heart overflowed, and the toil- 
 some past only rendered the present joy the sweeter. 
 
 But behind him, in the darkness, stalked an ungrateful 
 brother and terrible foe. Hidden by the brush and rocks. 
 Lofty had followed Prosper ; why, he dared not own to him- 
 self. Hatred instinctively led him to dog the footsteps of 
 his rival. Suddenly, a diabolical thought crossed his mind. 
 Prosper was standing on the edge of the cliff, looking down 
 at the brook as it glittered in the moonlight far down the 
 valley. A false step, and he was lost. Lofty did not hesi- 
 tate ; he sprang upon his brother, and pushed him over the 
 precipice. Prosper fell, uttering a cry ; then nothing was 
 heard but the noise of the stones as they rolled into the tor- 
 rent and awakened the neighboring echoes. 
 
 The next morning, when the party was ready to go, Pros- 
 per was missing. Every one wished to wait for him, but 
 Lofty harshly ordered them to proceed, and they were forced 
 to obey. The prince was pale and haggard, and at the same 
 time nervous and irritable. He attempted to mount Griffon 
 and lead the way ; but, in spite of a shower of abuse and 
 8 
 
34 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 blows, the horse 
 reared and kicked 
 until he was left at 
 liberty. He did 
 not abuse it, but 
 followed the prin- 
 cess with so meek 
 and submissive an 
 air that she took 
 him in preference 
 to her nag. The 
 green bird also 
 perched on the 
 shoulder of its new 
 mistress, and the 
 train moved on 
 without a word being spoken by any one. 
 After travelling four days in silence they reached the 
 
The Three Wonders of the World, 35 
 
 kingdom of the old queen, who hastened to meet the proces- 
 sion, somewhat astonished at its gloomy air. It seemed more 
 like a funeral train than a triumphal entry. On not seeing 
 her dear Prosper, the poor mother burst into tears, which 
 threw Lofty in such ill-humor that he left the party and shut 
 himself up in his own apartments, and was not seen again 
 until the next day. 
 
 A horse that does not neigh, a bird that does not sing, 
 and a woman that does not talk are so far out of the common 
 order of things that they can be accounted for only by magic. 
 The good queen therefore affixed to the palace door a huge 
 placard, offering an immense reward to any one who would 
 make the lady speak and the bird sing. To keep off char- 
 latans, however, a short shrift and a long rope were prom- 
 ised to all who proved by their failure that they were not 
 sorcerers. It was the custom in olden times thus to treat 
 those who promised marvels in order to build their fortunes 
 on others' credulity. The custom had its advantages, and it 
 is somewhat of a pity that it ever fell into disuse. 
 
 Half a dozen had already been hung, and the rest were 
 beginning to be disheartened, when one day a new aspirant 
 rang the great bell at the palace entrance. The unhappy 
 man was brought into the main hall on the ground -floor, 
 and warned of the fate there was in store for him. He did 
 not seem dismayed, but shook his head in an ironical fash- 
 ion. He was an old peasant, clad in goat-skins ; his shaggy 
 white locks fell over his face, and he walked, leaning on a 
 thick staff, with a slow but firm tread. He approached the 
 throne where the queen was sitting, and was about to speak, 
 when, lo ! the bird began to sing. " E desso," said he, in his 
 jargon. At the same instant Griffon came on a gallop, and 
 leaped the wall, neighing, " Da ist der Herr !" and, strange 
 to say, the princess placed her hand on her heart and mur- 
 
36 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 mured, "It is he!" All 
 gazed at each other ; when, 
 quicker than lightning, the 
 pretended peasant snatched 
 oflf his wig, and threw him- 
 self into the queen's arms. 
 It was Prosper, younger 
 and handsomer than ever. 
 
 He turned to look for his 
 brother; he was so happy 
 that he was ready to forgive 
 him. But Lofty had fled, 
 and never more was seen ', 
 good luck, and good rid- 
 dance to him ! A wicked 
 man the less in the world is 
 a boon to all honest people. 
 How it happened that 
 Prosper was still living; 
 whether he had been caught 
 by the brush on the rocks, 
 or, what was more proba- 
 ble, whether his fairy god- 
 mother had caught him as 
 he fell, and laid him in safe- 
 ty on the opposite bank, is something on which history is in 
 doubt, and I do not venture to hold an opinion. It is cer- 
 tain, however, that the marriage of Prosper and the Fairest 
 of the Fair took place without delay. The guests came 
 from eight hundred leagues round, and Prince Reckless was 
 there with all his court. It was a magnificent spectacle. 
 In thirty days' feasting and dancing they spent the revenues 
 of the whole year, an4 were forced to double the taxes. 
 
The Three Wonders of the World. 
 
 37 
 
 But the people were highly amused ; so much amused, in- 
 deed, that for years to come they dated everything from 
 the marriage of Prince Prosper. Happy country, where the 
 people can be amused at their own expense ! 
 
 The festivities over, the bird proposed to the old queen to 
 make her young again. "I shall be very glad," said she, 
 " but do not go too far. At no price would I be willing to 
 live over again the pleasures and vexations of youth. I 
 should like to be a youthful grandmother, that I might see 
 
38 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 my grandchildren grow up ; I desire nothing more, and would 
 not exchange my grandmother's crown for a bridal wreath." 
 The bird did as it was told, and stopped when the old queen 
 had gone back to the age of forty-five. 
 
 Prince Prosper and the Fairest of the Fair had a large 
 family, and lived happily. Griffon stayed with his young 
 masters, as did likewise the parrot, and they all grew old 
 together. The bird more than once proposed to Prosper to 
 make him young again, but he always refused. " No," said 
 he ; " there are but three beings in the world that know how 
 to love : an old dog, an old horse, and an old wife. I have 
 found two of these treasures, and I mean to cling to them." 
 On her side, the princess, woman though she was, refused to 
 renew her youth. " What is the use," said she, " as long as 
 my husband is satisfied with me as I am 1 Whoever is be- 
 loved is always young and handsome." 
 
 Thus their lives were passed — loving, beloved, trusting, 
 and happy. Their mutual afiection was darkened by no 
 cloud ; and, if they are not dead, they are loving each other 
 to this very day. 
 
THE FAIRY CRAWFISH. 
 
 AN ESTHONIAN TALE. 
 
 In the neighborhood of Revel, near the shores of the Bal- 
 tic, there once lived a wood-cutter in a wretched hovel, situa- 
 ted by a deserted road, on the edge of the forest. Loppi, 
 for that was our hero's name, was as poor as Job, and like- 
 wise as patient. That nothing might be lacking to complete 
 the resemblance. Providence in its mercy had granted him a 
 wife who might have given points to the spouse of the patri- 
 arch. Her name was Masicas, which signifies, it is said, 
 wild strawberry. She was not naturally vicious, and never 
 flew into a rage when other people agreed with her or did as 
 she liked. But the rest of the time she was not so good- 
 tempered; If she was silent from morning to night, when 
 her husband was in the fields or the forest, she scolded from 
 night to morning, when her lord was in the house. It is true 
 
40 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 that, according to the old proverb, "horses quarrel when 
 there is no hay in the rack ;" and plenty did not reign in 
 the wood-cutter's hut. The spiders spun few webs there, 
 for there was not a fly to catch, and two mice that chanced 
 to stray into the wretched dwelling perished with hunger. 
 
 One day, when there was nothing to eat in the house, and 
 the charming Masicas was more vixenish than usual, the hon- 
 est wood-cutter flung over his shoulder an empty sack, his 
 sole possession, and rushed from the house sighing. He 
 used to go out with this wallet every morning in search of 
 work, or, rather, of alms, too happy when he could carry 
 home a crust of dry bread, a head of cabbage, or a few po- 
 tatoes bestowed on him in charity. 
 
 He was passing by a pond, lighted by the first beams of 
 day, when he spied in the wet grass a blackish object, lying 
 motionless, and looking like some strange animal. It was 
 a huge crawfish, whose like he had never seen. The morn- 
 ing sun, or perhaps fatigue, had put the creature to sleep. 
 To seize it around the body and fling it into his sack, with- 
 out giving it time to look about, was the work of an instant. 
 " What a windfall !" thought Loppi ; " and how pleased my 
 wife will be ! It is long since she had such a treat." 
 
 He leaped with joy ; then suddenly stopped and turned 
 pale. From the sack arose sepulchral tones — a human voice; 
 it was the crawfish speaking. 
 
 " Halloa ! my friend," it cried, " stop, and let me go. I 
 am the oldest of the crawfish tribe ; I am more than a hun- 
 dred years old. What could you do with my tough carcass ? 
 It would blunt the teeth of a wolf. Do not abuse the chance 
 that has thrown me into your hands. Remember that I, 
 like yourself, am one of God's creatures, and pity me as you 
 would some day have him take pity on you." 
 
 *^My dear crawfish," answered the wood -cutter, "your 
 
" The honest wood-cutter flung over his shoulder an empty sack, and 
 went out sighing." 
 
42 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 preaching is fine, but do not blame me for not listening 
 to your sermon. For my own part, I would willingly let 
 you go, but my wife is waiting for me to bring her our din- 
 ner. If I return empty-handed, and tell her that I caught 
 the finest crawfish that ever was seen, and let it go again, 
 she will raise an uproar that might be heard from here to 
 Revel. And, with her quick temper, she is quite capable 
 of meeting me with a broomstick." 
 
 " What need is there of telling your wife ?" asked the 
 crawfish. 
 
 Loppi scratched his ear and then his head, and, heaving 
 a deep sigh, 
 
 " My dear," said he, " if you knew Masicas, and under- 
 stood how sharp she is, you would not talk to me in this 
 style. She has a way of leading you by the nose, whether 
 you will or no. There is no resisting her. She turns you 
 inside out like the skin of an eel, and makes you tell all you 
 know, and even some things that you do not know. She is 
 a superior woman." 
 
 " My dear friend," resumed the crawfish, " I see that you 
 belong to the brotherhood of good husbands. I congratulate 
 you ! But as empty compliment will not serve your turn, I 
 am ready to redeem my liberty at a price that will satisfy 
 madame. Do not judge me by appearances. I am a fairy, 
 and have some power. If you listen to me, you will be the 
 gainer ; if you turn a deaf ear, you will repent it all your life." 
 
 " Oh, dear," said Loppi, " I do not want to harm anybody. 
 Fix matters so that Masicas will be pleased, and I am quite 
 ready to let you go free." 
 
 " What kind of fish does your wife like best ?" 
 
 " I have no idea. We poor people have not time to pick 
 and choose. It is enough that I do not go home empty- 
 handed. No one will complain." 
 
Taking the crawfish around the body, he gently placed her in the water." 
 
 \ 
 
44 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 " Lay me on the ground," said the crawfish, " then dip 
 your open sack into this corner of the pond. Right. Now, 
 Fish in the sack /' 
 
 Was such a marvel ever seen ! In an instant the sack 
 was full of fish ; so full, indeed, that it nearly slipped from 
 its owner's hands. 
 
 " You see that she whom you have befriended is not un- 
 grateful," said the crawfish to the astonished wood-cutter. 
 " You can come here every morning and fill your wallet by 
 repeating the words Fish in the sack. I will keep my prom- 
 ise. You have been kind to me, and I will be kind to you. 
 And if, by and by, you wish for something else, come here 
 and call me, in these solemn words, 
 
 • Crawfish, dear friend, 
 Succor pray lend.' 
 
 I will answer your voice, and see what I can do. A last 
 piece of friendly counsel : if you wish to be happy at home, 
 be prudent ; and say nothing to your wife of what has hap- 
 pened to-day." 
 
 "I will try, Madame Fairy," answered the wood-cutter. 
 Then, taking the crawfish around the body, he gently placed 
 her in the water, into which she plunged out of sight. 
 
 As to the proud and happy Loppi, he returned home with a 
 light step and a lighter heart. He hardly waited to enter 
 the house before opening his sack, when, behold, there sprang 
 from it a superb pike, an ell long, a great golden carp, that 
 leaped in the air and fell back gasping, two fine tenches, and 
 a mass of whitefish. Any one would have said that it was 
 the pick of the Revel market. At the sight of all this 
 wealth Masicas uttered a cry of joy, and threw herself on 
 Loppi's neck. 
 
 * My husband, my dear husband, my love of a husband," 
 
 / 
 
The Fairy Crawfish. 
 
 45 
 
 she said, " you see how right your little wife was in making 
 you go out so early this morning to seek your fortune. An- 
 other time you will listen to her. What splendid fish ! Go 
 to the garden, where you will find a little garlic and onions, 
 
4.6 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 then run to the woods and get some mushrooms. I will 
 make you a fish soup such as king nor emperor ever tasted. 
 Then we will broil the carp \ and we shall have a feast fit 
 for an alderman." 
 
 The meal was a merry one. Masicas had no will but that 
 of her husband. Loppi thought that the honeymoon had 
 come again. But, alas ! the very next day, which was 
 Monday, the fish he brought were more coldly received. 
 On the fourth day madame made a face at them, and on 
 Sunday she burst forth in a passion. 
 
 " Have you vowed to shut me up in a convent ? Am I a 
 nun, that you condemn me to keep Lent to all eternity ? What 
 can be more insipid than this fish t The very sight of it 
 turns my stomach." 
 
 "What do you want, then?" cried honest Loppi, who had 
 not yet forgotten his destitution. 
 
 "Nothing but what every honest peasant family has to 
 eat. A good soup, and a piece of roast pork ; that is all I 
 need to be happy. I am content with so little." 
 
 " It is true," thought the wood-cutter, " that the fish from 
 the pond is a little tasteless, and that there is nothing so 
 good for a weak stomach as a nice slice of pork. But will 
 the fairy be able to grant me so great a favor ?" 
 
 The next morning, at daybreak, he hastened to the pond 
 and called his benefactress : 
 
 " Crawfish, dear friend, 
 Succor pray lend." 
 
 And behold, a huge claw rose from the water, then anoth- 
 er, and then a head in a bishop's mitre, with two great star- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 " What do you want, brother ?" asked a well-known voice. 
 
 " Nothing for myself," answered the wood-cutter. " What 
 
The Fairy Crawfish. 
 
 47 
 
 have I to wish for? But my wife has a weak stomach, and 
 is beginning to tire of fish ; she would like something else ; 
 soup, for example, or a roast of pork." 
 
 " If that is all your dear wife needs to make her happy, I 
 can satisfy her," answered the crawfish. "At dinner-time 
 tap thrice on the table with your little finger, saying each 
 
48 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 time, ^ Soup and roast appear P and you will be served. But 
 beware : your wife's wishes may not always be so modest ; 
 do not become a slave to them, or you will repent when it is 
 too late." 
 
 " I will try,'* said Loppi, sighing. 
 
 At the appointed hour the dinner appeared on the table. 
 Masicas was overcome with joy. The gentleness of a lamb 
 and the tenderness of a dove were nothing compared with 
 the submission she showed her husband. These halcyon 
 days lasted a whole week. But ere long the horizon dark- 
 ened, and at last the storm broke on the head of the inno- 
 cent Loppi. 
 
 " How long is this torture to last ? Do you mean to sick- 
 en me to death by feeding me on this greasy broth and fat 
 pork? I am not a woman to stand such treatment." 
 
 " What do you want then, my love .?" asked Loppi. 
 
 " I want a good, plain dinner : a roast goose, and some 
 tarts for dessert." 
 
The Fairy Crawfish. 49 
 
 What answer could he make ? There were a number of 
 things, indeed, that he might have said, but Loppi was not 
 equal to risking the peace of the family. A look from his 
 wife would have made him sink into the earth. One is so 
 weak when he loves ! 
 
 The poor man did not close his eyes that night. Early 
 the next morning he set out for the pond, and walked for a 
 long time up and down the bank, his heart consumed by 
 anxiety. If the fairy thought he was asking too much, what 
 was he to do? At last he summoned up his courage, and 
 
 cried, 
 
 " Crawfish, dear friend, 
 Succor pray lend." 
 
 " What do you want, brother ?" answered a voice that 
 made him start. 
 
 " Nothing for myself. What have I to wish for ? But my 
 wife's stomach is beginning to tire of soup and roast pork. 
 She would like something light ; for instance, a roast goose 
 and some tarts." 
 
 " Is that all ?" replied the good fairy, " we will try once 
 more to satisfy her. Return home, brother, and do not 
 come to me every time your wife wishes to change her bill 
 of fare ; let her order what she likes ', the table is a faithful 
 servant, and will obey her." 
 
 No sooner said than done. On returning home, the wood- 
 cutter found the table already laid, with pewter mugs and 
 plates, wrought-iron spoons, and three-pronged steel forks ; 
 the fairy had done things on a grand scale, to say nothing 
 of the roast goose and potatoes, stewed sauce, and toothsome 
 plum-pudding. Nothing was lacking, not even a flask of 
 anisette cordial to enliven the feast. This time Loppi 
 thought his troubles at an end. 
 
 Alas ! it is sometimes a misfortune for a husband to in- 
 4 
 
so 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 spire his wife with too high an idea of his might. Masi- 
 cas had sense enough to understand that there was some- 
 thing magical about this wonderful plenty. One day she in- 
 sisted on knowing what good genius had taken them under 
 his protection. Loppi attempted at first to keep silence, but 
 how could one resist so trusting, tender, and loving a wife? 
 Let the first husband that would not do likewise dare to 
 cast a stone at him and tell it at home ; I shall think him 
 rasher than Alexander, and bolder than Caesar. 
 
 Masicas had sworn to betray this precious confidence to 
 
The Fairy Crawfish, 51 
 
 no one ; she kept her oath (there was not a neighbor within 
 two leagues around) ; but if she kept the secret, she took 
 care not to forget it. 
 
 An occasion soon offers to him who is on the watch for 
 it. One evening, when Masicas had delighted her husband 
 with her tenderness and good-humor," Loppi," she said, "my 
 dear Loppi, you have been lucky, it is true, but you do not 
 know how to make the most of your luck. You do not think 
 about your little wife. I dine like a princess, and dress like 
 a beggar. Am I so old and ugly that you are willing to let 
 me go ragged.? I do not say this through coquetry, my 
 love ; there is but one man whom I care to please ; but I 
 must have clothes like a lady. Do not tell me that you 
 cannot help it," added she, with the most winning smile, " I 
 know better ; I know that the fairy is always ready to serve 
 you. Can you deny the modest request of her who lives for 
 you alone ?" 
 
 When a woman asks for a dress to shine only in her hus- 
 band's eyes, who could be barbarous enough to refuse to 
 please his companion, even though it took a new toilette every 
 day. Loppi was not a monster. Indeed, in the bottom of 
 his heart, he thought that Masicas was not wrong. With 
 their squalid garments, it seemed as though they were eating 
 stolen food. How much brighter their table would be with 
 a well-dressed mistress of the house at its head ! 
 
 Despite these good reasons Loppi set out for the pond in 
 an uneasy frame of mind. He began to fear that he was 
 going too far. It was not without dread that he called his 
 
 benefactress — 
 
 " Crawfish, dear friend, 
 Succor pray lend." 
 
 Suddenly the fairy appeared above the water. " What do 
 you want, brother ?" said she. 
 
52 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Nothing for myself. What have I to wish for ? But you 
 are so good and generous that my wife's wishes come a lit- 
 tle too fast. Her rags remind her of our former wretched- 
 ness, and nothing will do but that she must be dressed like 
 a lady." 
 
 The good crawfish laughed heartily. "Return home, 
 brother," said she, "your wife's wishes are granted." 
 
 Loppi could not find words to express his thanks, and in- 
 sisted on kissing the claw of his friend. He sang along the 
 road, as gay and light-hearted as a lark. On the way he 
 met a beautiful lady, dressed in cloth, silk, and furs. He 
 bowed humbly to the noble princess, when the stranger 
 laughed in his face and flung herself on his neck. It was 
 Masicas, in all her beauty, and, to speak frankly, she was 
 second to none in majesty and grace. The proverb that 
 the habit makes the monk and the feathers the bird, is, above 
 all, true where women are concerned. ' 
 
 This time Masicas was happy, there was no denying it ; 
 but it is the misfortune of the happy that desires l^eget de- 
 sires. Of what use was it to play the lady when she lived 
 alone in a wretched hovel, without a neighbor to madden 
 with jealousy at her sight, or a mirror in which to gaze at 
 herself from head to foot ? Masicas had not promenaded 
 about in her cloth and furs for a week when she said to her 
 husband, 
 
 " I have been thinking about the way we live ; it is really 
 absurd. I will stand it no longer. A princely table and ele- 
 gant dress do not agree with a hovel open on all sides. 
 The fairy has too much sense, and she loves you too well, my 
 dear husband, not to feel that she owes us a mansion where 
 I can play lady of the castle all day long. With this, I shall 
 have nothing left to desire." 
 
 "Alas! we are lost," cried Loppi. "The string that is 
 
The Fairy Crawfish, 
 
 53 
 
 drawn too tight is sure to snap; we shall be poorer than 
 ever. Why not be content with what we have ? How many- 
 would be thankful for such comfort as ours !" 
 
 " Loppi," said Masicas, impatiently, " you will never be 
 
54 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 anything but a milksop. Don't you know that those who 
 are afraid to speak for themselves always go to the wall ? 
 Are you any the worse for taking my advice ? Go on ; don't 
 be afraid ; I will answer for the consequences." 
 
 She railed at the good man until he set out, his limbs 
 trembling beneath him. Should the fairy refuse to listen, 
 he could bear the disappointment well enough, but how 
 could he face his wife's despair on his return ? He did not 
 
The Fairy Crawfish, 55 
 
 feel able to brave the tempest she would raise ; and the 
 only way in which he could summon up his courage was to 
 vow within his heart that if the crawfish said no, he would 
 fling himself head foremost into the pond. However vio- 
 lent might be the remedy, the evil was still greater. 
 
 Nothing is braver than poltroons at bay. It was in a 
 gruff voice that he cried : 
 
 " Crawfish, dear friend, 
 Succor pray lend." 
 
 "What do you want, brother?" said the fairy. 
 
 " Nothing for myself What have I to wish for? But my 
 wife, in spite of all the favors you have heaped upon us, tor- 
 ments me night and day to make a new demand of you, 
 against my will." 
 
 "Ho, ho!" cried the crawfish, "you have changed your 
 tune. You have told our secret to your wife ; now you may 
 bid farewell to peace at home. And what does this fair 
 lady ask, now that she thinks she has me in her power?" 
 
 " A mansion, good fairy, a modest little castle, that her 
 house may correspond with the fine clothes you have given 
 her. Make Masicas a baroness, and she will be so happy 
 that we shall have nothing left to wish for." 
 
 " Brother," answered the crawfish, gravely, " be it as your 
 wife desires." And she abruptly disappeared. 
 
 Loppi had some trouble in finding his way back. The 
 whole aspect of the country had changed ; around him were 
 well-tilled fields, and pastures full of cattle ; beyond he saw 
 a brick mansion, in the midst of a garden full of fruit and 
 flowers. Wondering what this castle could be, which he be- 
 held for the first time, he gazed at it with admiration, when 
 a richly dressed lady came down the steps. Strange to say, 
 she smiled at him and held out her hand — it was Masicas. 
 
56 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " At last," she exclaimed, " I have nothing left to wish 
 for. Kiss me, my dear Loppi. You have crowned my 
 wishes. I thank you, and also the good fairy." 
 
 The honest wood-cutter was ravished with delight. No 
 dream could have been more enchanting. In an hour to 
 be transported from poverty to riches, and from obscurity to 
 a lofty station ; to dwell in a castle with a graceful woman, 
 always good-humored, and whose only thought was to please 
 him — Loppi wept for joy. 
 
 But, unhappily, there is no dream without a waking. Ma- 
 sicas tasted all the pleasures of wealth and greatness. All 
 the barons and baronesses in the neighborhood disputed 
 with each other the honor of visiting and receiving her ; the 
 governor of the province was at her feet ; and her dresses, 
 castle, horses, and stables were the talk of the whole neigh- 
 borhood. Had she not the finest trotters in the country ; 
 English cows with scarcely any horns and still less milk; 
 English hens that seldom laid, but that were as handsome 
 and wild as pheasants ; and English pigs so fat that neither 
 head, tail, nor feet could be seen ? What did Masicas lack, 
 then, to make her the happiest of women ? Alas, everything 
 had succeeded but too well with her. She felt that she was 
 born to rule, and did not hide it from her husband. The 
 great lady wished to be a queen. 
 
 " Do you not see," said she to Loppi, " with what respect 
 every one treats me? It is because I am always in the 
 right. Even you, who are more stubborn than a mule, can- 
 not help owning that I am never wrong. I was born to be 
 a queen ! I feel it." 
 
 Loppi cried out in amazement. He was sharply told in 
 reply that he was nothing but a simpleton. Who had forced 
 him, against his will, to apply again to the crawfish? It 
 would be the same way this time. He would be king, in 
 
A richly dressed lady came down the steps.' 
 
58 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 spite of himself, and it was to his wife that he would owe his 
 crown. 
 
 Loppi had no wish to reign. He breakfasted well and dined 
 
 better ; his desires 
 went no further. But 
 he loved his repose before 
 everything, and he could 
 not be ignorant that, with 
 his beloved better half, he 
 could enjoy repose only 
 on condition of submitting 
 to madame's will and ca- 
 prices. He scratched his 
 head and sighed ; it is even said that he swore a little ; but 
 he set out, and on reaching the pond called in a tender voice 
 to his dear friend the crawfish. 
 
The Fairy Crawfish, 59 
 
 He saw the black claws rise from the water, and heard 
 the " What do you want, brother ?" but stood for some time 
 without speaking, himself appalled by the temerity of his re- 
 quest. At last he answered, 
 
 " Nothing for myself. What have I to wish for? But my 
 wife is beginning to be tired of being a baroness." 
 
 " What does she want, then ?" asked the fairy. 
 
 " Alas 1" murmured Loppi, " she wants to be a queen." 
 
 " Ho, ho !" cried the crawfish. " It was a lucky thing for 
 her and you that you saved my life ; this time also I will 
 grant your wife's wish. Hail, husband of a queen, I wish 
 you much joy ! Good-evening, Prince Consort !" 
 
 When Loppi returned home the castle had become a pal- 
 ace ; Masicas was a queen. Valets, chamberlains, and pages 
 were rushing about in all directions to execute the commands 
 of their sovereign. 
 
 " God be praised," said the wood-cutter, " I have found 
 rest at last! Masicas is at the top of the ladder; she can 
 climb no higher; and she has so many around her to do 
 her will that I can sleep in peace without her insisting on 
 waking me." 
 
 Nothing is more fragile than the happiness of kings, unless 
 it be that of queens. Two months had hardly passed when 
 Masicas had a new whim. She sent for Loppi. 
 
 "I am tired of being queen," she said; *'I am sick to 
 death of the platitudes of these courtiers. I wish to rule over 
 free men. Go for a last time to the fairy, and make her 
 give me what I desire." 
 
 "Good heavens!" cried Loppi, "if a crown does not satisfy 
 you, what will ? Perhaps you would like to be God himself?" 
 
 " Why not ?" answered Masicas, coolly. " Would the world 
 be any the worse governed?" 
 
 On hearing this blasphemy, Loppi gazed at his wife. 
 
** The castle had become a palace j Masicas was a queen.* 
 
The Fairy Crawfish, '6i 
 
 aghast. The poor woman had evidently lost her mind. 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Say and do what you like," said he, " I shall not trou- 
 ble the fairy with such folly." 
 
 " We will see about that," cried the queen, in a rage. 
 ** Do you forget who I am ? Obey me instantly, or off goes 
 your head." 
 
 " I will go as fast as I can," cried the wood-cutter. " I 
 may as well die one way as another," thought he ; " as well 
 by the hand of the fairy as that of my wife. Perhaps the 
 crawfish will have pity on me." 
 
 He staggered like a drunken man, and found himself on 
 the edge of the pond without knowing how he came there. 
 He cried at once, in despairing accents, 
 
 " Crawfish, dear friend, 
 Succor pray lend." 
 
 There was no answer. The pond remained silent; not 
 even the buzz of a fly was heard. He called a second time ; 
 there was no echo. Terrified, he called a third time. 
 
 " What do you want ?" said a harsh voice. 
 
 " Nothing for myself What have I to wish for ? But the 
 queen, my wife, makes me come here for the last time." 
 
 " What more does she want ?" 
 
 Loppi fell on his knees. 
 
 " Forgive me, it is not my fault ! She wants to be God." 
 
 The crawfish rose half-way out of the water, and, stretching 
 a threatening claw towards Loppi, cried, 
 
 "Your wife deserves to be shut up in prison, and you to 
 be hung, wicked fool. It is the cowardice of husbands that 
 causes the folly of wives. To your kennel, wretch, to your 
 kennel !" 
 
 And she dived into the pond in such a rage that the wa- 
 ter hissed as if a red-hot iron had been dipped in it 
 
62 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 \^'<^icm=z^ 
 
 Loppi fell face downward upon the ground as if struck by 
 lightning. When he set out for home, with hanging head, 
 he knew but too well the road he had travelled so often ; the 
 edge of the forest, bordered with puny birches and sickly 
 firs, stagnant pools here and there, and, farther on, a wretched 
 hovel; he had relapsed into direr want than ever. 
 
 What would Masicas say, and how should he comfort her : 
 He had not much time for these melancholy thoughts ; for 
 a hag, in tatters, flung herself on his neck as if to strangle 
 him. 
 
 "Here you are at last, you monster!" cried she. "It is 
 you that have ruined us by your stupidity and folly. It is 
 you that have enraged your accursed crawfish. I might 
 
The Fairy Crawfish. 
 
 63 
 
 tfK^- 
 
 have expected it. You never loved me ; you never did any- 
 thing for me ; you have always been a selfish wretch. Die 
 by my hand !" 
 
 She would have torn out his eyes, if he had not with great 
 difficulty held both her arms. 
 
 " Take care, Masicas, be quiet ; you will hurt yourself." 
 It was lost labor ; Loppi felt himself giving way, when 
 suddenly the veins in the throat of the fury swelled, her face 
 turned purple, she threw herself back, flung up her arms, and 
 fell heavily on the ground. She was dead ; rage had killed 
 her. 
 
64 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Loppi mourned for his wife, as every good husband ought 
 to do. He buried her with his own hands under a great 
 fir-tree in the neighborhood. Over the grave he placed a 
 stone, and surrounded the whole with a rough wall to keep 
 off the wild beasts of the forest. This sad duty fulfilled, he 
 returned home and strove to forget 
 
 But he fell a prey to despair; he was not made to live 
 alone. " What shall I do ; what will become of me ?" he 
 cried, weeping. *' Here I am, solitary, forsaken, a burden to 
 myself. Who will think for me, choose for me, speak for 
 me, and act for me, as my dear wife used to do ? Who will 
 waken me a dozen times in the night to tell me what I must 
 do to-morrow ? I am nothing but a body without a soul, a 
 corpse. My life fled with my beloved Masicas. I have 
 nothing left but to die." 
 
 He spoke truly. Early the next winter, a peasant on his 
 way through the forest saw a man lying in the snow. It was 
 Loppi, who had been dead a week — dead of cold, hunger, and 
 sorrow, without a friend or neighbor to close his eyes. His 
 icy fingers grasped an awl, with which he had traced on the 
 stone this last tribute to her who had been the delight o\ 
 his life — 
 
 TO THE 
 
 BEST OF WIVES, 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 MOST INCONSOLABLE OF HUSBANDS. 
 
FRAGOLETTE. 
 
 In the neighborhood of Mantua there once lived an orphan, 
 already a tall girl, who went to school every morning with her 
 books and dinner-basket. The school was not far off, but 
 it took a long time to go there, for the way led along a 
 ditch, lined with bushes and great trees, full of blossoms, 
 fruit, birds, and butterflies, according to the season. Who 
 could help stopping to look at all these wonders of creation ? 
 5 
 
66 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 One day our school-girl spied in the heart of a wild rose 
 the prettiest blue butterfly that ever was seen. She held 
 her breath, as she advanced on tiptoe, and gently raised her 
 hand, when the butterfly slipped through her fingers, flut- 
 tered to the right and left, and settled a little higher up the 
 slope. She followed, it flew away, alighted on a flower 
 
 farther up, and flitted thus 
 from place to place, until it 
 led her up the side of the 
 ditch, near a walled enclos- 
 ure, which bore a bad repu- 
 tation in the neighborhood. 
 This was the spot, it was said, 
 where the fairies danced in 
 a ring on Midsummer Eve, 
 and witches held their Sab- 
 baths on dark winter nights. 
 Although the walls had crum- 
 bled in many places, and fill- 
 ed up the ditch, no Christian 
 dared venture into this ac- 
 cursed place ; but butterflies 
 have no scruples, and chil- 
 dren are like butterflies. 
 
 Our blue-winged traveller 
 unceremoniously entered this 
 garden, which looked like a virgin forest, and the little girl 
 followed, carried away by the pleasure of the chase. But 
 scarcely had she pushed through a clump of bushes when 
 she stopped short and cried out with wonder. Before her 
 was a meadow, bordered with large trees, and dotted with 
 red and black spots which enamelled the turf They were 
 great, luscious strawberries, strawberries that had no owner. 
 
Fragolette, 
 
 67 
 
 and that offered themselves to any one ready to profit by 
 this wasted treasure. Forgetting the butterfly, the school- 
 girl threw herself on her knees in the grass, and, in less than 
 a quarter of an hour, filled her basket ; after which she took 
 to her heels, and arrived at the school out of breath, and 
 with cheeks redder than the strawberries she had gathered. 
 She was scolded for coming so late j but she was so proud 
 and happy that she did not hear a word that was said 
 to her. What is the use of laying down the law to con- 
 querors ! 
 
 At luncheon-time she divided her treasure with her little 
 friends, who could not sufficiently praise her courage and 
 good luck. She seemed like a queen surrounded by a host 
 of courtiers. Nothing was wanting to her triumph. They 
 called her Fragolette, which means in French, Little Straw- 
 
68 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 berry, and this title she kept all her life. At least, it is the 
 only name by which she is known in history. 
 
 It is true that there were timid souls who could not rid 
 themselves of certain scruples. While eating the strawberries, 
 they questioned whether it might not be tempting the devil 
 to rob him on his own ground ; but these idle murmurs were 
 lost in the tumult of victory ; and no one paid any attention 
 to them. 
 
 It would have been better to have listened to them, as the 
 sequel of our story proves. Intoxicated with her good fort- 
 une and popularity, Fragolette returned again and again to 
 the spot, and finally began to look upon the place as her 
 own. " It is a deserted field," she thought, " whose fruit is 
 devoured by the blackbirds and thrushes ; and surely a 
 Christian has quite as much right to it as the birds." 
 
 One day, however, when she was gathering her harvest, 
 as usual, a frightful blow on the head stretched her on the 
 ground. "I have caught you, you thief," cried a terrible 
 voice, " you shall pay for this !" 
 
 Stunned by the blow, Fragolette tried to rise, when she 
 saw before her a figure, the very sight of whom froze her 
 with horror. It was a tall, thin, yellow, wrinkled old woman, 
 with red eyes, and a nose like the beak of a vulture. From 
 her gory mouth projected two teeth, longer and sharper than 
 a wild boar's tusks. Fragolette tried to stammer an apology ; 
 but the old woman, who was a witch, and an ogress into the 
 bargain, did not deign to hear a word ; she tied her hands 
 behind her, wound a rope seven times round her waist, and 
 made a running knot in it, through which she passed the 
 handle of the enormous broom with which she had knocked 
 down the child. 
 
 Then, muttering in the devil's language some of those 
 horrible words which make the earth tremble and the 
 
'■* When she was gathering her harvest, as usual, a frightful blow on the 
 head stretched her on the ground." 
 
70 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 heavens turn pale, she seated herself astride the broomstick, 
 and darted like an arrow through the air, carrying with her 
 the unhappy Fragolette, suspended in space, like a spider 
 hanging from its web. 
 
 If she had ever studied geography she might have enjoyed 
 the magnificent spectacle spread out beneath her, of beauti- 
 ful Italy, bordered by the snowy Alps and the blue ocean, 
 and traversed by the verdant ridges of the Apennines ; but in 
 those days women spun on their distaffs at home, and troub- 
 led themselves little about what was taking place in China 
 and Peru — geography was of small use to them ; and, be- 
 sides, the poor child was too frightened to open her eyes. 
 She passed over Vesuvius and Etna without seeing them, 
 and was more dead than alive when the magic broomstick 
 descended to the earth amid the forests of Sicily. 
 
 "Up, little brigand," said the witch, pulling her by the 
 hair, " you belong to me now ; begin your work. Go, set the 
 table in the dining-room. How I should like to eat you if 
 you were not so thin!" she added, feeling her arms; "but 
 in my house people soon grow fat, and you will lose nothing 
 by waiting." With this horrible jest, she opened wide her 
 great mouth, and licked her lips with a smile that made poor 
 Fragolette shudder. 
 
 The dinner was not very merry; as may be thought. The 
 old woman greedily devoured a roast of cat, mice in jelly, 
 and stewed turnips. Fragolette gnawed a crust of bread, 
 and threw herself, in tears, on a wretched pallet that was 
 laid for her in a corner. Happily, she was of the age when 
 slumber is stronger than sorrow, and she had scarcely 
 touched the ground when she fell asleep. 
 
 XL 
 The day after this sad adventure Fragolette's slavery 
 
Fragolette. 
 
 71 
 
 began. Every morning she was forced to sweep and dust 
 the whole house, cook the meals, set the table, wash the 
 dishes, and, what was worst, help to dress her frightful mis- 
 tress. She stood for whole hours curling the only three 
 hairs that the ogress had on her head, after which she had 
 to clean her two great teeth, and put rice-powder, rouge, and 
 court-plaster patches on her face; and she was lucky, indeed, 
 when all this painting was done, if she was let off with three 
 or four boxes on the ear. 
 
 Nevertheless, in spite of this hard life, Fragolette grew 
 taller and prettier every day. I do not say that she grew 
 better, for she was not one of those good creatures that 
 stoop to kiss the hand that strikes them ; no, indeed, her 
 blood boiled in her veins, and she dreamed only of rage and 
 vengeance. The old hag saw this — people always fear those 
 whom they injure. Often, while Fragolette was curling her 
 hair, she wondered whether her servant might not seize the 
 opportunity to throttle her, and whether it would not be wise 
 to be beforehand with the girl. 
 
72 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 One day, when Fragolette seemed to her more beautiful 
 than ever, she was seized with anger and jealousy. 
 
 "Talce this basket," said she to the young girl, "go to the 
 fountain, and bring it back full of water ; if you do not, I 
 will eat you up." 
 
 The innocent girl ran at full speed, fancying that the 
 basket was enchanted, and that the witch was amusing her- 
 self by frightening her, as usual. She dipped the basket 
 into the fountain, but, on lifting it up, the water all ran out, 
 as from a sieve. Three times she tried to fill it, and three 
 times her labor was in vain. At last she understood that 
 the ogress meant to kill her. Filled with rage and despair, 
 she leaned against the fountain and burst into tears. Sud- 
 denly she heard a gentle voice saying, " Fragolette, Frago- 
 lette, why do you weep ?" She raised her head, and saw a 
 handsome young man looking at her tenderly. 
 
Fragolette. 
 
 n 
 
 "Who are you," she said, " and how do you know my name ?" 
 " I am the witch's son, and my name is Belebon. I know 
 that she has resolved to take your life, but she shall not suc- 
 ceed, I promise you. Give me a kiss and I will fill your 
 basket." 
 
 "Kiss the son of the witch! Never!" said Fragolette, 
 proudly. 
 
 " Well, I will be less cruel than you," answered the young 
 man. And, breathing three times on the basket, he dipped 
 it into the fountain and drew it out full of water. Not a 
 drop escaped. 
 
74 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Fragolette returned to the house, and set the basket on 
 the table without saying a word. The ogress turned pale 
 as death. 
 
 " Do you, by chance, belong to the trade?" said she, staring 
 the young girl full in the face. Then, striking her forehead, 
 she said, " You have seen Belebon, and he has helped you ; 
 own it." 
 
 "You must know, since you are a witch." 
 
 For her sole answer the hag dealt her such a box on the 
 ear that she had to cling to the table to keep from falling. 
 
 " Ho, ho !" cried the witch, " we shall see who will win ! He 
 laughs best who laughs last !" 
 
 The next day the ogress said to Fragolette, "I am going 
 to take a trip to Africa. I shall be back this evening. You 
 see that sack of wheat ; it must all be made into bread be- 
 fore I return.' It is no harder than to carry water in a 
 basket. If you do not succeed, look out for yourself!" 
 
 Saying this, she went out chuckling, and locked the door. 
 
 " This time I am lost," cried the young girl. " How can 
 I grind the grain, and knead and bake the bread ? I have 
 neither mill nor oven, nor time to do it." She beat upon the 
 door again and again, hoping to break it open and escape. 
 It was opened by Belebon. 
 
 " Fragolette, Fragolette," said he, " I only wish to do you 
 good ; give me a kiss, and I will make the bread and save 
 you." 
 
 " Kiss the son of the witch !" answered Fragolette, trem- 
 bling. " Never !" 
 
 "You are pitiless, Fragolette, but I. cannot let you die." 
 
 He whistled, and, behold, from all the holes in the house 
 came a host of rats and mice. The rats carried the wheat 
 to the mill, and came running back with a sack of flour ; 
 after which, they heated the oven while the mice made the 
 
Fragolette, 
 
 75 
 
 bread. And when the witch returned it was all baked ; and 
 the golden loaves were piled to the ceiling. 
 
 "Wretch !" cried the old woman, "you have seen Belebon^ 
 and he has helped you ; own it." 
 
 " You must know, since you are a witch." 
 
 The ogress dealt her a savage blow, but Fragolette sud- 
 denly stooped, and her enemy fell forward, striking her nose 
 on the table, and turned blue with rage and pain. 
 
 " Ho, ho !" cried she, " we shall see who will win ! He 
 laughs best who laughs last !" 
 
76 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 III. 
 
 Three days later, the hag, putting on her most smiling 
 countenance, called Fragolette. " My child," said she, " go 
 to my sister's house, ask her for her casket, and bring it to 
 me." 
 
 " How am I to know where your sister lives, or what she 
 is called ?" 
 
 " Nothing is easier," answered the witch ; " go straight for- 
 ward till you come to a torrent that crosses the road, ford it, 
 and a little farther on you will see an old castle, with an iron 
 gate, where my sister, Viperine, lives. Go, and hurry back, 
 my child." 
 
 "What a miracle !" thought Fragolette; "the old witch is 
 in good-humor." 
 
 Saying this, she set out with a light step. On the way she 
 met Belebon, who was waiting for her. 
 
 " Where are you going this morning ?" he asked. 
 
 " I am going to my mistress's sister, to fetch back her 
 casket." 
 
 " Unhappy girl !" cried Belebon, " you are sent to your 
 death. No one ever quitted Viperine's castle alive. But I can 
 save you. Give me a kiss, and I will answer for your safety," 
 
 " No, I will never kiss the son of a witch !" 
 
 " Fragolette, Fragolette, you are ungrateful ; but I love you 
 better than my life, and will save you in spite of yourself. 
 Mark me well ; when you have reached the brink of the tor- 
 rent, you must say, * Beautiful river, let me pass through thy 
 silvery waters !' Then take this bottle of oil, loaf of bread, 
 rope, and small broom. On reaching the iron gate of the 
 old castle, rub the hinges with oil and it will open of its own 
 accord. A great dog will spring at you, barking ; throw him 
 this bread and he will stop. In the courtyard you will see 
 
Fragolette. 
 
 77 
 
 a poor woman drawing water from the well by tying the 
 bucket to her braids of hair; offer her this rope; go up the 
 steps and you will find in the kitchen another woman clean- 
 ing the oven with her tongue, give her this broom. Then go 
 into the chamber where Viperine is asleep ; the casket is on 
 a cabinet, seize it, and escape as fast as you can. If you 
 obey me you will not die." 
 
#ffii^ 
 
 ' The gate, rubbed with oil, opened of its own accord. 
 
Fragolette, 
 
 79 
 
 Fragolette forgot nothing that Belebon had told her. On 
 the brink of the torrent, she cried, " Beautiful river, let me 
 pass through thy silvery waters!" and the nymph of the 
 torrent answered in her sweetest tones, " Pass, lovely girl," 
 whereupon the waters parted so that she passed over dry- 
 shod. The gate, rubbed with oil, opened of its own ac- 
 cord. The dog pounced on the bread, turned round, curled 
 
 
 
 himself up, and lay down, his head on his paws, looking 
 lovingly at Fragolette. The two women joyfully took the 
 gifts that were brought them, and our heroine noiselessly 
 entered the room where Viperine lay snoring. She ran to 
 the cabinet and seized the casket. Her heart beat loudly, and 
 she thought herself saved, when suddenly the witch awoke. 
 Fragolette was already on the steps. 
 
8o 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! there I" cried Viperine ; " woman in the kitchen, 
 kill that thief for me !" 
 
 " Not I," answered the victim ; " she has given me a 
 broom, while you make me clean the oven with my 
 tongue." 
 
Fragolette, 
 
 8i 
 
 " Woman at the well," cried the witch, '* seize that thief 
 and drown her !" 
 
 " Not I," answered the victim ; " she has given me a 
 rope, while you make me draw up the bucket with my 
 hair." 
 
 " Dog, tear her to pieces !" 
 
 " Not I," said the mastiff, without even raising his head ; 
 '* she has given me bread, while you let me die of hunger." 
 
 " Door, shut her in !" 
 
82 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 "Not I," said the door; "she has oiled my hinges, while 
 you let me be eaten with rust." 
 
 The witch reached the bottom of the steps with one bound ; 
 but the door, delighted at regaining its liberty, swung back 
 and forth without ceasing, and, just as Viperine was about 
 to go out, it closed upon her so suddenly that she was nearly 
 crushed by it. 
 
 Fragolette ran on without looking behind her, but, in her 
 terror, she did not forget to pay a compliment to the river, 
 and passed over as before. Viperine was close behind her. 
 " You dirty brook," said she, " open a way for me or I will 
 dry you up !" 
 
 The torrent parted ; but when Viperine was half-way over 
 the waters suddenly rose, and closed upon the witch, who 
 was instantly drowned. The nymph had avenged herself. 
 
 On reaching home, Fragolette gave the casket to her 
 terrible mistress. What a figure the ogress cut can well 
 be imagined. "This is a new trick of Belebon's," she 
 thought, " but I know another worth two of that. He 
 laughs best who laughs last !" 
 
 IV. 
 
 That night she made Fragolette sleep in her room. " Mark 
 me well," said she, " in the poultry -yard there are three 
 cocks, one red, one black, and the third white. To-night, 
 when one of these cocks crows, you must tell me which it is. 
 Look out for yourself if you guess wrong ; I will make but 
 one mouthful of you." 
 
 "Belebon will not be here," thought Fragolette; "I am 
 lost," and she did not close her eyes for an instant. 
 
 At midnight a cock crew. 
 
 " Which cock was it that crowed ?" asked the witch. 
 
 " Belebon," whispered Fragolette, " tell me which it was." 
 
Fragolette. 
 
 83 
 
 "Give me a kiss," murmured a voice, " and I will tell you." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Cruel girl, I will not let you die ; it was the red one." 
 
 The witch sprang from her bed and approached Frago- 
 lette. 
 
 " Answer, or I will eat you up." 
 
 " It was the red cock that crowed," said Fragolette, trem- 
 bling. 
 
 And the witch went back to bed, grumbling. 
 
 At the same instant, another cock was heard. 
 
84 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Which cock was it that crowed ?" asked the witch. 
 
 And Belebon whispered the answer to his beloved, 
 
 " It was the black one." 
 
 And the witch went back to bed, grumbling. 
 
 At daybreak, the cock crew again. 
 
 " Belebon, help me," cried Fragolette. 
 
 " Give me a kiss," said he ; " I have borne your cruelty 
 long enough." 
 
 And behold, the witch came near, opening wide her gory 
 mouth. 
 
 " Belebon, Belebon," cried the child, " if you forsake me, it 
 is you that will be my murderer !" 
 
 " It was the white cock," answered Belebon, unable to re- 
 sist her tenderness. 
 
 " It was the white cock," cried Fragolette. 
 
 " No matter, traitress," exclaimed the ogress, in a rage, 
 "your time is come; you must die." 
 
 With these words she fell upon her prey. 
 
 But Fragolette, young and agile, slipped from her hands, 
 opened the window, and leaped into the garden. The furious 
 witch prepared to follow her, but her foot caught in the win- 
 dow, she fell head foremost, and broke off both her teeth — 
 those teeth on which her power and life depended. Beneath 
 the window lay a corpse ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Left alone with Belebon, Fragolette soon began to wonder 
 what would become of her. To return to her own country 
 scarcely crossed her mind ; she was an orphan, and all there 
 had forgotten her. To stay in the house where she had suf- 
 fered so much was also out of the question. For his part 
 Belebon said nothing; he was happy at having Fragolette 
 near him, and dared not think of the future. 
 
Fragolette, 
 
 85 
 
 There came a time, however, when Fragolette claimed her 
 liberty. Belebon dared not refuse to let her go ; but he re- 
 minded the ungrateful girl of all he had done for her, and 
 offered her his heart and hand. 
 
 " No," said Fragolette, " I will not marry the son of a 
 witch." 
 
 "Go, then," said poor Belebon, "go, since nothing will keep 
 you. But before leaving this house, where I shall die without 
 
86 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 you, give me at least one token of friendship — the only one I 
 shall have ever received from you. Put your hand in mine 
 and forgive me the crime of my birth. We will not part as 
 strangers." 
 
 She gave him her hand, which he took and covered with 
 kisses; she did not withdraw it, and looked at him in a 
 strange fashion. 
 
 " Farewell," said Belebon, "you take with you my happi- 
 ness and life. Blessed, a hundred fold blessed, be him to 
 whom you give this hand." 
 
 " Since you have it, you may as well keep it," said she. 
 
 He fell on her neck, sobbing; and she, the capricious girl, 
 took his head in her hands, and kissed his forehead, laugh- 
 ing and crying at the same time. No one can ever tell what 
 is passing in the heart of a woman. Two days after, they 
 were married. 
 
 Thus ends the story ; but it is natural to ask what be- 
 came of the pair. Did Eelebon continue his mother's wicked 
 practices? Did Fragolette and her husband return to the 
 life of common mortals? I wrote, on this subject, to a 
 learned Sicilian, a member of the Academies of Catania, 
 Agrigentum, and other places, and this is his answer : 
 
 " Most illustrious and reverend seignior : — 
 
 " I have been unable to find in our ancient chronicles the 
 name of either Fragolette or Belebon. Distrusting my own 
 humble erudition, I have consulted very learned brethren of 
 all the Academies, and their answer has been that among 
 all the peoples who successively conquered Sicily — Pelas- 
 gians, Sicanians, Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthaginians, Ro- 
 mans, Arabs, Normans, Spaniards, and others — there never 
 had been seen a married man who was a wizard. We have 
 reason, therefore, to believe, by analogy, that Belebon, once 
 married, was no worse than the rest." 
 
Fragolette, 
 
 87 
 
 Such is the opinion for which I asked, and it seems to me 
 wise and just. I refer the point to my readers, both male and 
 female, and especially to the latter. 
 
 ^1^^^« 
 
THE THREE WISHES. 
 
 There was once a wise emperor who made the following 
 law: Every stranger who comes to court shall be served 
 with a fried fish. The attendants shall carefully watch the 
 new-comer ; and if, after eating the fish down to the bone, 
 he turns it over to eat the other side also, the man guilty of 
 this unheard-of crime shall be instantly arrested, and hung 
 three days after. But, through our imperial grace, the cul- 
 prit may each day make a wish, which shall immediately be 
 granted, provided he does not ask for his life. 
 
The Three Wishes, 
 
 89 
 
 There had already been more than one victim to this legal 
 caprice, when one day a count, followed by his young son, 
 appeared at court. The two noble guests were welcomed in 
 the warmest manner ; and, in accordance with the law of the 
 emperor, a fried fish was served up to them in the midst of 
 their repast. Both father and son relished it heartily ; and, 
 
90 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 after eating down to the bone, the count turned over the 
 fatal fish. He was instantly seized by two attendants and 
 dragged before the emperor, who ordered him to be thrown 
 into prison.- This filled the young son of the count with 
 such grief that he begged the emperor to let him die in his 
 father's stead. As the emperor was not cruel, and, provided 
 some one was hung, cared little who it was, he accepted the 
 exchange, shut up the son in prison, and let the father go free. 
 Once in his dungeon, the youth said to his jailers, "You 
 know that, before dying, I am entitled to three wishes. Go 
 
 '^■^,A^ 
 
The Three Wishes. 91 
 
 to the emperor, and tell him to send me his daughter and a 
 priest to marry us directly." 
 
 A man more astonished than the emperor at this insolent 
 demand it would be hard to find. But a sovereign's word 
 is sacred, and he can hardly break his own law. His 
 daughter, moreover, was resigned to this three days' mar- 
 riage ; and, like a good father, the emperor gave his con- 
 sent. 
 
 The next day the prisoner asked the emperor to send him 
 his treasure. This demand was little less audacious than 
 that of the day before ; but what can be refused a man who 
 is to be hung on the morrow ? The emperor, therefore, sent 
 him his money and jewels, which he immediately proceeded 
 to divide among all the courtiers ; and as at that time there 
 chanced to be those at court who were weak enough to be 
 fond of money, they began to take an interest in this poor 
 young man who had been so well brought up. 
 
 On the third day, the emperor, who had slept badly, went 
 himself to the culprit. " Come," said he, " make haste to 
 tell me your last wish, which, once granted, you shall be 
 strung up without delay, for I am beginning to be a little 
 tired of your unreasonable demands." 
 
 " Sire," said the youth, " I have but one more favor to en- 
 treat of your majesty, after which I shall die contented. It 
 is to put out the eyes of all those who saw my father turn 
 over the fish." 
 
 "Very well," answered the emperor. "Your demand is 
 quite natural, and does credit to your goodness of heart." 
 
 Upon which he arrested the major-domo. 
 
 " I, sire !" cried the major-domo ; " I saw nothing of the 
 kind ; it was the cupbearer." 
 
 " Seize the cupbearer," cried the emperor, " and put out 
 his eyes." 
 
92 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 But the cupbearer declared, with tears, that he had seen 
 nothing ; he referred to the taster, who referred to the but- 
 ler, who referred to the pantler, who referred to the first 
 waiter, who referred to the second, who referred to the third ; 
 in short, no one had seen the count turn over the fish. 
 
 " Father," said the princess, " I appeal to you as a second 
 Solomon. If no one saw it, the count is not guilty, and my 
 husband is innocent." 
 
 ¥^*#fk 
 
 /rjcj 
 
 ^<S^^^ S:^S§^^:ScM^^:^^ ,^^2::^:=^. 
 
The Three Wishes, 
 
 93 
 
 The emperor frowned, and the court at once began to 
 murmur ; he smiled, and every mouth grinned from ear to 
 ear. 
 
 " All right," said he ; " let this handsome innocent live. 
 I have hung more than one who was no more guilty than he. 
 But if he is not hung, he is married; justice is done." 
 
777^ GOLDEN FLEECE, 
 
 A SERVIAN FAIRY TALE. 
 
 I LOVE the Servians ; they are a brave people, who remind 
 me of the heroes of Homer. Their war-songs are epics, and 
 their fairy tales have the freshness and grace of the marvel- 
 lous stories of the East. As a specimen, here is one of the 
 most celebrated, which an aged spinster on the banks of 
 the Morava lately related to Vouk Stephanovitch. 
 
 At Kroujevatz there was once a hunter by the name of lan- 
 ko Lazarevitch. He was the king of the mountain. Though 
 his only worldly wealth was a little cottage surrounded by 
 an orchard, he lived there in peace and plenty, with his wife 
 and child. His bees supplied him with honey, his plum-trees 
 furnished him the best brandy in the country, and, thanks 
 to his carbine, game was never lacking on his table. The 
 
The Golden Fleece, 95 
 
 rich have their fields, mines, and treasures ; lanko had his 
 forest. The hares, roes, and bucks, for ten miles round; 
 belonged to him ; and when fine fox-skins or superb bear- 
 furs were wanted at Belgrade, Widna, Pesth, or even Con- 
 stantinople, to whom did men go for them but to lanko, the 
 hunter of Kroujevatz ? 
 
 Happiness is like the flower of the fields ; it withers in a 
 day. On a fine winter's night, as lanko was lying in wait 
 for game, he spied a strange light in the distance. The for- 
 est-trees were lighted up for an instant as if by a passing 
 torch, then fell again into shadow, while the light went on. 
 At the same time he heard a heavy tread and the sound of 
 crackling boughs. lanko instantly quitted his hiding-place, 
 and ran to see what was the matter, when there rushed from 
 the forest a huge ram, whose eyes darted fire, and whose 
 fleece glittered like the sun. He raised his carbine, but the 
 beast sprang upon him quicker than lightning, and hurled 
 him to the ground. 
 
 The next morning at daybreak some wood-cutters, on 
 their way to work, found the poor hunter stretched on 
 the earth, and already cold in death. Two deep wounds 
 were in his breast, from which his life-blood had ebbed. 
 The wood-cutters carried the body of their brave comrade 
 back to town ; he was buried, and all was over. In the 
 happy dwelling, which had so often rung with lanko's merry 
 songs, nought was heard but the wails of a widow and the 
 sobs of a child. 
 
 Joyous or sad, the years pass away, bearing with them our 
 pleasures and sorrows. Stoian, the son of lanko, grew up 
 to manhood, and his chief desire was to be a hunter. His 
 father's blood flowed in his veins, and, while still a child, it 
 had been his greatest delight to look at and handle the car- 
 bine hanging on the wall. But, when he asked his mother 
 
tfi 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 to give him the fatal weapon and let him go to the forest, 
 the poor woman burst into tears. 
 
 "No, my child," she said, "nothing will induce me to 
 give you that carbine. I have already lost my husband 
 through it, and must I also lose my son ?" Stoian held his 
 peace, and kissed his mother, but the very next morning he 
 
The Golden Fleece, 97 
 
 renewed his entreaties, and was so tender and caressing, 
 and promised to be so prudent, that she finally yielded. 
 
 Early in the morning Stoian hastened to the mountain, 
 intoxicated with joy. He hunted all day long, and at night 
 took up his watch at the very spot where his father was 
 killed. 
 
 The night was dark, and the tired young hunter was falling 
 asleep in spite of himself, when he was aroused by a loud 
 noise. He perceived a strange light ; he saw the forest- 
 trees lighted up one after another, as if by a torch, and 
 heard a heavy tread and the sound of crackling boughs. 
 Without quitting his hiding-place, Stoian raised his carbine 
 and commended himself to God. Suddenly there rushed 
 from the forest a huge ram, whose eyes darted fire, and 
 whose fleece glittered like the sun. 
 
 " Stoian ! Stoian !" he cried, " I killed your father, and 
 have come to kill you !" 
 
 " No," answered the young man ; " with God's help, it is I 
 who will kill you." 
 
 He took aim so truly that the bullet struck the ram be- 
 tween the eyes. He sprang in the air and fell as if struck 
 by lightning. 
 
 Stoian threw himself on the beast, and was beginning 
 to skin it, when suddenly there appeared at his side a tall 
 woman with raven tresses and green eyes. It was the Vila, 
 or fairy of the mountain. 
 
 "Stoian," said she, "you have delivered me from an ene- 
 n^y ; take my hand ; I am your sister. When you are in 
 need of help, call on me." 
 
 The young hunter thanked the lady, and went down the 
 
 mountain to Kroujevatz, happy, and proud of his game. 
 
 The fleece of the ram was hung on the wall, where it lighted 
 
 up the whole cottage. The entire province came to admire 
 
 ■7 
 
98 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 it, and Stoian was proclaimed king of the mountain, like his 
 father. There was not a young girl that did not smile on 
 him as he passed by. 
 
 In those days the Turk (whom God confound !) was mas- 
 ter of Servia. Raschid, the pacha of Belgrade, was an old 
 janizary, who, perhaps, had been brave in his time, but who 
 
The Golden Fleece. 99 
 
 was now nothing but a coarse and selfish old man, who 
 spent his life in drinking, smoking, and sleeping. To aid 
 in ruling a people whose language, religion, and customs he 
 despised, he kept near him a renegade from none knew 
 where — one of those miscreants, without faith or law, who 
 live only by plunder. Yacoub, for that was the name of 
 this honest man, had a low forehead, eyes like a weasel's, 
 a nose as hooked as the beak of an eagle, and ten fingers, 
 even crookeder than his nose. Of all the words in the lan- 
 guage, the one he knew best was the verb take^ and this he 
 conjugated in all its moods and tenses. As to the verb 
 restore, he was ignorant of it. May Satan teach it to him to 
 all eternity ! 
 
 It is a common saying that one Turk makes more havoc 
 than half a score of wolves, and that, in this respect, one 
 renegade is equal to half a score of Turks. Yacoub did 
 not belie the proverb. One day, when Raschid had come 
 to Kroujevatz to hunt, Yacoub, according to custom, set 
 about collecting the taxes on his own behalf. It is just 
 to say, however, that he gave something to his master, who 
 gave nothing to the sultan. 
 
 On entering the house of Stoian the renegade was daz- 
 zled by the golden fleece. His eyes sparkled and his hands 
 clenched with envy. 
 
 " My son," said he to the young hunter, " that is a beauti- 
 ful specimen. The pacha ought to know all the animals of 
 his forests ; carry him that fleece. It belongs to him." 
 
 " The fleece is mine," answered Stoian, " and I shall not 
 give it away." 
 
 "Who talks of giving?" returned the renegade; "with 
 the great men of earth every gift is a barter. The pacha, my 
 master and yours, is too generous to remain under obliga- 
 tions to a raya." 
 
ICX) 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 ** I do not sell niy property ; I keep it," replied Stoian. 
 
 " Weigh your words, young man," said Yacoub, with a 
 frown. "Pride goeth before a fall, and the pacha's arm is 
 long. I want this fleece, and must have it." 
 
 For his only answer Stoian took down his carbine, and 
 showed the renegade the door. 
 
 "Don't be rash, my son," said Yacoub, hurrying out; 
 " you may some day regret not taking my advice." 
 
 On his return to the palace, the renegade found Raschid 
 
The Golden Fleece, idi 
 
 gulping down glass after glass of the white wine of Semen- 
 dria. 
 
 "Taste this wine," said he to Yacoub ; "it is tokay. If 
 the cadis were to try it, they would give their whole Koran 
 in exchange for a bottle." 
 
 " The vintage is excellent," answered the renegade, " but 
 
i62 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 it is not as good as the white wine I drank at Smyrna. It 
 is true that the pacha there has a vine which bears grapes 
 without their equal." 
 
 " He is very fortunate," said Raschid, drinking deeper and 
 deeper every moment. 
 
 " What hinders you from being as fortunate as he ?" contin- 
 ued Yacoub. " There is in this country a certain Stoian, a 
 kind of sorcerer, who could plant you such a vine, and make 
 it bear grapes in a week. But perhaps he might raise some 
 difficulties about it." 
 
 " Difficulties !" exclaimed the Turk, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders. " Send a janizary, and tell him that if, within a week, 
 I have not a vine as fine and grapes as good as those of 
 Smyrna, I will cut off his head." 
 
 "That is an argument that admits of no reply," said Ya- 
 coub, laughing heartily. He added to himself, "The golden 
 fleece is mine." 
 
 On receiving this terrible message, Stoian burst into tears. 
 " Alas ! mother, we are lost !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "My son," said the poor woman, "did not I tell you that 
 the carbine would cost your life, as it did your father's ?" 
 
 In despair, the young man rushed from the house, and 
 wandered onward, not knowing whither he went. On reach- 
 ing the mountain he met a young girl, who said, 
 
 " Brother, why do you weep ?" 
 
 " God be with you !" answered Stoian, roughly ; " you can- 
 not help me in my trouble." 
 
 " How do you know ?" rejoined she ; " it is by trying them 
 that we learn what our friends are worth." 
 
 The hunter raised his head, and recognized the Vila. He 
 threw himself, weeping, into her arms, and told her of the 
 wickedness of Yacoub and the folly of the pacha." 
 
 " Is that all ?" said the fairy. " Courage, brother ! I am 
 
The Golden Fleece. 103 
 
 here. Go to the pacha, ask him where he would like to 
 have his vine planted, and tell him to have the trenches 
 dug. Then take a sprig of basil, plant it in the trench, and 
 sleep peacefully in the new garden. Before a week is past 
 you will gather ripe grapes." 
 
 Stoian did as the Vila had bidden him. On the first day 
 he planted the sprig of basil ; but he had little confidence 
 in the fairy's promises, and went to sleep with a heavy heart. 
 He rose before daybreak, and ran to the spot ; the shoots 
 were already above the ground. The second day they grew 
 tall ; on the third they put forth leaves ; on the fourth they 
 blossomed. On the sixth day the grapes were golden, al- 
 though it was only spring - time. Stoian gathered and 
 pressed them, and carried to his terrible master a jug of 
 new wine and a plate of ripe grapes. 
 
 At the sight of this wonderful vintage, every one was as- 
 tonished except the pacha, who thought it quite natural, and 
 did not even thank poor Stoian. Nothing is easier, says 
 the proverb, than to catch snakes with other people's hands. 
 
 " Well," said Raschid to Yacoub, " what do you think of 
 my power ? I am not a sorcerer, and I am proud of it. He 
 who wields the sword needs neither wealth nor knowledge ; 
 the purse and brains of others all belong to him." 
 
 " I marvel at your highness's genius," answered the rene- 
 gade, bowing low, " and hope that you will not leave your 
 work unfinished." 
 
 "Is anything lacking to my vineyard?" asked Raschid, 
 with a dissatisfied air. 
 
 " It lacks the ivory tower which, at Smyrna, is the admi- 
 ration of the faithful and the despair of unbelievers." 
 
 "Is that all?" said the pacha, laughing. "Come here, 
 young man. If, in a month, I have not an ivory tower like 
 that of Smyrna, I will cut off" your head. Hear and obey !" 
 
I04 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Stoian ran to his mother, weeping. "Alas, we are lost!" 
 he cried. 
 
 " Go, my son, hasten to the mountain ; perhaps you will 
 find there our friend and protectress." 
 
 •The young man hurried -to the mountain, and called the 
 fairy three times. She came, smiling, and listened to him 
 with tenderness. 
 
 "^^^ % 
 
 ^?e- 
 
 " Is that all ?" she said. " Courage, brother ! I am here. 
 Go to the pacha, and ask him for a ship, three hundred tuns 
 of wine, two hundred pipes of brandy, and a dozen carpen- 
 ters. Set sail and steer straight ahead. When the ves- 
 sel is between two mountains, go on shore, empty the pond 
 that you will see there, and fill it with wine and brai^- 
 
The Golden Fleece. 
 
 105 
 
 dy. When the elephants come thither at night to quench 
 their thirst, they will drink until they fall dead-drunk. Let 
 the carpenters saw off their tusks, and you will have a full 
 
 cargo of ivory. Then return to the vineyard with your 
 booty, take with you a sprig of basil, and sleep tranquilly 
 in this new garden ; in a week the tower will be built." 
 
 Stoian did all that the Vila had bidden him. The vessel 
 anchored between two mountains ; they emptied the pond, 
 and filled it with wine and brandy. At nightfall the ele- 
 
io6 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 phants came thither in herds. The first that tasted the 
 brandy seemed astonished ; but he soon went back to it 
 with delight, and the rest followed his example. A scene 
 of jollity, noise, and general confusion followed. The whole 
 elephant nation kept holiday. In contempt of etiquette, the 
 king of the elephants danced a hornpipe, and the queen 
 waltzed with a young chamberlain. The whole company 
 soon fell sound asleep, and the carpenters began their work. 
 Do not blush at this humiliation, good people of Elephant 
 Land ; you are not the first nation that have had their teeth 
 filed while drunk or asleep, and you will not be the last. 
 
 On his return, Stoian had the huge mass of ivory piled in 
 the garden. From his hiding-place behind the wall Yacoub 
 watched the young hunter, in hopes to steal his secret ; but 
 Stoian spent the whole day in singing plaintive songs, ac- 
 companying himself on the guzla. When night cast its veil 
 over the earth, nothing was done. Yacoub went away rub- 
 bing his hands. " He is lost !" he thought ; " the golden 
 fleece is mine." 
 
 But the next morning the foundations of the ivory tower 
 were laid ; the day after it had risen to the second story ; 
 and on the sixth day it was finished, with its dome and min- 
 arets. For ten leagues round it shone in the sunlight with 
 a brilliancy more dazzling than that of the silver moon- 
 beams upon the waters. 
 
 At the sight of this marvellous structure all were aston- 
 ished except the pacha, who thought it quite natural, and 
 did not even thank poor Stoian. 
 
 " Well," said he to Yacoub, stroking the handle of his at- 
 aghan, " what do you think of my power ?" 
 
 " I marvel at your highness's genius," answered the rene- 
 gade, bowing low, " and hope that you will not leave your 
 work unfinished." 
 
The Golden Fleece, 1 07 
 
 "Is anything lacking to my ivory tower?" asked Raschid, 
 with a dissatisfied air. 
 
 " It lacks the Princess of the Indies. Of what use is the 
 ivory tower if it does not contain the masterpiece of crea- 
 tion ?" 
 
 "You are right," said the pacha. "It is the bird that 
 gives value to the cage. Come hither, young man," said he 
 to Stoian. "Go, fetch me the Princess of the Indies. If 
 you return without this miracle of beauty, I will cut off your 
 head. Hear and obey !" 
 
 Stoian ran to his mother, weeping. 
 
 " Alas ! we are lost," he cried. " You will never see 
 your child again." 
 
 " Go, my son, hasten to the mountain ; perhaps you will 
 find there our friend and protectress." 
 
 The young man hurried to the mountain, and called the 
 fairy three times. She came, smiling, and listened to him 
 with tenderness. 
 
 " Is t^at all ?" said she. " Courage, brother ! I am here. 
 Go to the pacha, and ask him for a large ship. In this ship 
 build twelve fine shops, and fill them with rarer stuffs and 
 jewels than are to be found in all the bazaars of Constan- 
 tinople. In these shops put twelve of the handsomest 
 youths of Servia, dressed like princes. Then set sail, and 
 when the ship stops between two mountains, go on shore ; 
 you will be in the kingdom of the Indies. Take your guzla, 
 sing with your companions, and when the girls of the coun- 
 try come to the fountain, invite them to see the treasures in 
 your ship. Make them presents; they will be delighted 
 with your generosity, and, on returning home, will say that 
 never was there seen a finer ship, richer treasures, or more 
 obliging merchants. Being a woman and a princess, the 
 daughter of the King of the Indies has a double share of cu- 
 
io8 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 riosity. She will come to see you : amuse her all day, but 
 as soon as night falls, weigh anchor and set sail. But when 
 the princess is on board, the task is not done. She is a ma- 
 gician, and may put you more than once in danger. Follow 
 my counsels, however, and you will succeed." 
 
 Saying this, the fairy drew near the brook that trickled 
 down the mountain, and called a salmon that was swimming 
 up the stream. She detached a scale from it, which she 
 gave to Stoian. 
 
 " Take this talisman," said she. " If ever you need a ser- 
 vice done you in the depth of the sea, throw this scale into 
 the water, and call my brother, the salmon, to your aid." 
 
 Then, raising her eyes to the sky, the Vila saw a falcon 
 chasing a dove. She whistled, and both birds flew to her, 
 and perched on her shoulder. She pulled a feather from 
 the falcon's crest, and another from the wing of the dove, 
 and gave them to Stoian. 
 
 " Take these talismans," said she ; "and if ever you need a 
 service done you in the air, fling these feathers on the breeze, 
 and call to your aid my brother, the falcon, and my sister, 
 the dove. And now farewell, brother. I have exhausted for 
 you all the secrets of my art; you will see me no more." 
 
 Stoian thanked his sister, the Vila, and did all that she 
 had bidden him. The vessel stopped between two moun- 
 tains ; the young girls came to the fountain, they listened to 
 the songs of Stoian, they came on board, they took the 
 choicest gifts without much urging, and that very evening 
 they repeated throughout the town, " Never was there seen 
 a finer ship, richer treasures, or more obliging merchants." 
 
 The next morning the Princess of the Indies, followed 
 by twelve companions, came to the shore in a magnificent 
 howdah, borne by the gentlest and handsomest of ele- 
 phants. She carried on her shqi^lder a little parrot, that 
 
The Princess of the Indies, followed by twelve companions, came to 
 the shore." 
 
I lo Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 diverted her with its chatter. Stoian hastened to meet the 
 lady, and did her the honors of his ship. At each shop the 
 richest stuffs were spread before her, and the rarest jewels, 
 rings, bracelets, necklaces, and diadems displayed before 
 her eyes. The princess and her attendants were as fasci- 
 nated as larks before a mirror ; and the day passed without 
 their being able to tear their astonished and delighted gaze 
 from such wonders. 
 
 As soon as night fell upon the sea Stoian weighed anchor 
 and set sail. At the first motion of the ship the princess 
 took alarm : she hastened on deck, and, taking the parrot 
 on her finger, " Fly, dear bird," she said, " and tell my fa- 
 ther some one is carrying off his child." 
 
 The parrot took flight, but Stoian instantly flung on the 
 breeze the falcon's feather, and cried, " Brother Falcon, come 
 to my aid !" 
 
 And, lo ! a black speck was seen far off on the horizon ; 
 the falcon darted through the air, pounced upon the parrot, 
 and carried it to a rock to devour it. 
 
 The princess looked at Stoian with a disdainful air, and 
 threw her ring into the sea, when, lo ! the ship instantly 
 stopped as if it were aground. It was in vain that the wind 
 filled the sails — a hidden power held the vessel motionless. 
 
 Stoian flung into the waves the scale of the salmon, cry- 
 ing, " Brother Salmon, come to my aid." 
 
 He had not done speaking when the rich scales of a huge 
 salmon were seen shining through the water; then the fish 
 dived and caught the ring, upon which the vessel floated 
 swiftly over the sea, impelled by the fairest of winds. 
 
 The princess cried out, and hastened below to her com- 
 panions. At daybreak the next morning she came again 
 on deck, and said to Stoian, 
 
 " With a word I could turn this ship to stone, and you 
 
The Golden Fleece, 1 1 1 
 
 would never more see your country. But if you will give 
 me the water of immortality, I am ready to go with you. 
 Do you see yonder rock, where a thick smoke is rising? 
 There is a fountain, guarded by two dragons, whose nostrils 
 breathe fire. No one has ever been able to overcome the 
 vigilance of those monsters, who sleep neither night nor day. 
 If you can succeed where all others have failed, and can fill 
 this little flask, I will be your most devoted friend and servant." 
 
 For his only answer Stoian seized the flask, and, flinging 
 on the breeze the feather of the dove, cried, 
 
 " Sister Dove, come to my aid !" 
 
 In an instant a dove, white as snow, perched on Stoian's 
 shoulder ; she seized the flask in her beak, soared high in 
 the heavens, and vanished from sight. In an hour she came 
 flying back, and Stoian could offer the princess the water 
 of immortality. 
 
 "Thank you, my friend," said she, in the tenderest of 
 tones. "Now you have nothing more to fear from my 
 power. Say, whither are you taking me.''" 
 
 " To my master, the pacha," answered Stoian. 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed she ; and, drawing her veil over her face, 
 she went below, and did not speak again to Stoian for the 
 rest of the voyage. 
 
 When it was learned that the young hunter had returned, 
 there was universal rejoicing at Kroujevatz. The people 
 flocked from all directions to see the entry of the Princess of 
 the Indies. It was a wonderful spectacle. First came the 
 twelve attendants, each mounted upon a black horse, which 
 was led by the bridle by one of Stoian's companions. Noth- 
 ing more magnificent had ever been seen than these young 
 men, with their rich garments, girdles glittering with gems, 
 sabres with silver scabbards, and inlaid carbines. But all 
 were forgotten at the sight of Stoian and his conquest. En- 
 
112 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 veloped though she was in a long veil, which hid all but hei 
 great black eyes, the princess eclipsed her companions as 
 the moon eclipses the stars. Her white horse seemed proud 
 to carry her. All the men admired her as she passed, but 
 the women looked at Stoian. Handsome, haughty, and mel- 
 ancholy, he attracted the gaze of all. 
 
 On entering the palace where the pacha was awaiting her 
 the princess threw aside her veil. At the sight of this mar- 
 vellous beauty, Raschid, forgetting his age, hastened to her 
 with a tottering step, and attempted to embrace her. But 
 she repulsed him so roughly that, if the faithful Yacoub had 
 not been at hand, the pacha would have bruised his nose on 
 the ground, in spite of all his power. 
 
 " Ha ! beautiful savage," cried he, " what has your faithful 
 slave done to be treated in this way?" 
 
 "You are an ill-bred fellow," answered the princess. 
 "You ask neither my name nor that of my father; you 
 know neither who I am nor what I wish. Am I a dog or a 
 hawk, to be taken thus by force ? Learn that he who mar- 
 ries me must possess a twofold youth, that of the soul and 
 that of the body." 
 
 " I have a very youthful soul," said the pacha. " As to 
 the body, I should ask nothing better than to renew its age, 
 were it only to marry you, and live long by your side. But 
 how is it to be done ?" 
 
 " I have found the means," returned the princess. " This 
 flask contains the water of immortality. Let yourself be be- 
 headed ! once dead, I will sprinkle you with this magic wa- 
 ter, and will make you as young and handsome as at twenty." 
 
 The pacha made a grimace ; then, looking round him, he 
 saw Stoian, and frowned. 
 
 "I believe in this marvellous water," said he; "but I 
 should not object to see it tried. What if I test it on this 
 
" Handsome, haughty, and melancholy, he attracted the gaze of all.** 
 
114 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 fellow, whose looks I dislike, I know not why ? Come here, 
 raya ; to make you young again, we will cut off your head." 
 
 " I am young enough to dispense with such a trial," an- 
 swered Stoian, looking at the beautiful East-Indian ; " but, 
 though I perish, I will not shrink from danger. What mat- 
 ters life to me?" 
 
 At a sign from the pacha a janizary drew his sword, and 
 with one blow struck off the young man's head. Every one 
 uttered a cry of horror ; but the princess instantly sprinkled 
 the quivering body with her marvellous water ; when, lo ! 
 Stoian rose full of life and health, and so young and hand- 
 some that the pacha, wild with jealousy, exclaimed, 
 
 " Make me young again, princess ! Quick, without losing 
 an instant !" 
 
 He called the janizary and gave him his orders; then, 
 seeing Yacoub, who pretended to weep, 
 
 " Poor Yacoub," he said ; " my faithful friend and right 
 hand, I cannot let you remain old while I am young ; we 
 should no longer understand each other's wants. No, my 
 friend, I am not selfish ; I need you, and we must both re- 
 new our youth together. We will be beheaded at the same 
 time." 
 
 At this mark of friendship Yacoub turned pale as death. 
 He opened his lips and tried to speak, but the signal was 
 given, and at the same instant his head rolled on the ground 
 by the side of that of the pacha. 
 
 "Take away that carrion," said the princess, coldly, "and 
 throw to the dogs the body of the wretch who dared treat 
 me with insult." 
 
 At these words all looked at each other; the Turks 
 frowned, but the Servians drew their sabres, and said, " The 
 princess is right: an insult recoils on him who dealt it. 
 Woe to him who does not respect a woman." 
 
The people flocked from all directions to see the entrance of the Prin- 
 cess of the Indies." 
 
Ii6 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 An old Turk responded, " What is done is done. No one 
 can escape his fate." 
 
 Peace restored, the princess said to Stoian, " Here I am, 
 a widow without being married, and you are left without a 
 master. Are you not going to take me back to my father?" 
 
 "No," cried Stoian; "the dearest right of a Servian is to 
 carry off his wife, and I have twelve companions ready to 
 follow my example." 
 
 " Stoian," said the princess, smiling, " you know that I dis- 
 like violence. What need is there of carrying me off.? Will 
 it not suffice to take me to your mother's house, and give 
 me a place at your fireside ?" 
 
 No sooner said than done, and the same day saw thirteen 
 weddings at Kroujevatz. 
 
 Raschid had more than one successor, and there was 
 more than one Yacoub ; for wherever there is a pacha like 
 Raschid, there is also a flatterer and a traitor ; but the 
 wicked profit by experience, and fear holds them in check. 
 No one disturbed Stoian, and all respected the Princess of 
 the Indies. The house is still seen where the pair dwelt, 
 and strangers are shown above the door a stone, carved, it 
 is said, by Stoian's own hands. On it are a carbine and yat- 
 aghan, crossed ; the whole surmounted by the motto, which 
 is the delight of Servia and the terror of the Osmanli, Svo- 
 bodnosty Liberty. 
 
POOR HANS, 
 
 Old Hans lay dying. His pastor sat by liis bedside, of- 
 fering the last consolations. 
 
 " Alas !" said old Hans, "life is small loss to me. I have 
 never been anything but a poor wretch, bowed down with 
 toil and pain. Where no one else wanted to go, there poor 
 Hans was sent; and when others overturned the cart, it 
 was Hans that had to set it up again." 
 
 " Rejoice then, my friend," said the pastor, " your suffer- 
 ings will soon be over. Blessed are they who suffer, for 
 theirs is the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 " Ah !" cried old Hans, " I am sure beforehand that it will 
 be just the same up thefe. Every one will shout after me, 
 

 Hans, light up the sun !" " Hans, put out the moon ^* 
 
Poor Hans. 
 
 119 
 
 * Hans, light up the sun !' * Hans, put out the moon !' ' Hans, 
 let fly the thunder !' ' Hans, put the angels to bed !' " 
 
 And without even heaving a sigh, poor Hans closed his 
 eyes, folded his hands, and breathed his last. 
 
ZERBINO THE SAVAGE, 
 
 A NEAPOLITAN FAIRY TALE. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived in Salerno a young wood- 
 cutter named Zerbino. Poor and an orphan, he had no 
 friends ; shy and taciturn, he spoke to nobody and nobody 
 spoke to him. As he never meddled with other people's bus- 
 iness, every one took him for a fool. He was nicknamed 
 The Savage, and never was title better deserved. In the 
 morning, when the whole town was still asleep, he went to 
 the mountain, with his jacket and axe on his shoulder; 
 stayed all day in the woods, and did not return until dusk, 
 dragging after him a bundle of fagots with which he bought 
 his supper. When he passed the fountain where the young 
 girls of the neighborhood congregated every evening to fill 
 their pitchers and empty their throats, they all laughed at 
 his glum face, and made a butt of the poor wood-cutter. 
 Neither the black beard nor glittering eyes of Zerbino dis 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 121 
 
 mayed the bold huzzies, who vied with each other in jeering 
 at the simpleton. 
 
 " Zerbino of my soul," cried one, " speak but one word to 
 me and I will give you my heart." 
 
 " Delight of my eyes," exclaimed another, " let me hear 
 the sound of your voice and I am yours." 
 
 " Zerbino ! Zerbino !" cried all the madcaps in chorus, 
 " which of us will you take for a wife ? Is it I ? Is it I ? 
 Which one will you have ?" 
 
 " The greatest chatterbox of you all," answered Zerbino, 
 shaking his fist at them ; upon which they cried, " Thank 
 you, good Zerbino, thank you !" 
 
 Pursued by shouts of laughter, the poor savage retreated 
 home, with the grace of the wild boar fleeing before the 
 hunter. His door once shut, he supped on a crust of bread 
 and glass of water, rolled himself in a ragged old coverlet, 
 lay on the bare earth, and instantly fell into a dreamless 
 slumber, free from care and sorrow. If happiness consists 
 in feeling nothing, Zerbino was the happiest of men. 
 
 11. 
 
 One day, when he had tired himself with hacking at an old 
 box-tree as hard as flint, Zerbino thought he would take a 
 nap by the side of a pool surrounded with spreading trees. 
 To his great surprise, he found stretched on the turf there a 
 lady of marvellous beauty, arrayed in a robe of swan's-down. 
 The stranger seemed to be in a nightmare ; with drawn feat- 
 ures and clenched hands, she was vainly struggling to shake 
 ofl" a hideous dream. 
 
 "What folly to go to sleep at noon with the sun shining 
 on one's face !" said Zerbino. " Women are all fools." 
 
 He wove some branches together so as to shade her head, 
 and threw his jacket over the rude arbor. 
 
122 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Just as he had finished arranging the leaves he spied a 
 viper in the grass, close by the stranger, that was crawling 
 towards her and darting out its venomous tongue. 
 
 " What !" said Zerbino, " so small and yet so wicked !" 
 And with two strokes of his axe he cut the serpent into 
 three pieces, which writhed as if still trying to reach the 
 lady. Zerbino kicked them into the pool, where they fell 
 hissing like a red-hot iron dipped in water. 
 
 At this moment the fairy awoke and sprang up, her eyes 
 sparkling with joy. 
 
 "Zerbino ! Zerbino !" she shouted. 
 
 " That is my name ; I know it ; you need not scream so 
 loud." 
 
 " What, my friend," said the fairy, " will you not let me 
 thank you for the service you have done me? You have 
 saved me from worse than death." 
 
 " I have saved you from nothing at all," answered Zerbino, 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 123 
 
 with his usual grace. " Another time don't go to sleep on 
 the grass without looking to see whether there are any ser- 
 pents about, that is my advice to you. Now good-day ! Let 
 me sleep ; I have no time to waste." 
 
 He stretched himself his full length on the grass and 
 closed his eyes. 
 
 " Zerbino," said the fairy, " have you nothing to ask of me." 
 
 *' I ask you to let me alone. When a man wants nothing, 
 he has all he wants ; when he has all he wants, he is happy. 
 Good-day!" 
 
 And the churl began to snore. 
 
 " Poor boy !" said the fairy, " your soul is asleep ; but, say 
 what you may, I will not be ungrateful. Had it not been 
 for you, I should have fallen into the hands of a genie, my 
 cruel foe ; had it not been for you, I should have been 
 turned into a viper for a hundred years. I owe you a hun- 
 dred years of youth and beauty. How shall I pay you? I 
 have it," she cried ; " he who has what he wants is happy, 
 you said yourself just now. Well, my good Zerbino, what- 
 ever you may desire, whatever you wish for, shall be yours. 
 I hope you will soon have cause to bless the fairy of the 
 waters." 
 
 She made three circles in the air with her hazel wand, 
 then stepped into the lake so lightly that the waters were 
 not even rippled. At the approach of their queen the reeds 
 bowed their heads ; the water-lilies opened their freshest 
 blossoms ; the trees, the sunshine, and the winds themselves 
 all smiled on the fairy, and all seemed to share in her happi- 
 ness. A last time she raised her wand, and the waters 
 opened instantly with a flash of light, as if a sunbeam had 
 pierced their depths, to receive their young sovereign. Then 
 shadow and silence fell over all, and nothing was heard but 
 Zerbino still snoring. 
 
" She made three circles in the air with her hazel wand." 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 125 
 
 III. 
 
 The sun was beginning to decline when the wood-cutter 
 awoke. He returned tranquilly to his task, and with a vig- 
 orous arm attacked the trunk of the tree whose branches he 
 had lopped off in the morning. The resounding blows of 
 the axe made no impression on the hard wood. Bathed in 
 perspiration, Zerbino vainly smote the gnarled trunk, which 
 defied all his efforts. 
 
 "Ah!" said he, looking at the jagged edge of his axe, 
 " what a pity that some one would not invent a tool that 
 would cut wood like butter. I should like to have one of 
 that sort." 
 
 He drew back a step, whirled the axe around his head, 
 and struck with such force that he fell flat, ten paces 
 forward, with his arms outstretched, and his face on the 
 ground. 
 
 " Pshaw !" he exclaimed, **I must see double ; I struck on 
 one side." 
 
 Zerbino was quickly reassured, for at the same instant the 
 tree fell so near him that the poor fellow just escaped being 
 crushed by it. 
 
 "That was a fine stroke," said he, "it helps my day's 
 work amazingly. What a clean cut I made ; it looks as 
 if it were sawed. There is not another wood-cutter in the 
 town that could have done it." 
 
 Upon this he gathered up all the branches that he had 
 hewed off that morning, unwound a rope from his waist, 
 seated himself astride the bundle of fagots, the better to tie 
 them together, and fastened them with a slip-knot. 
 
 " Now !" said he, " I must drag them home. What a pity 
 that bundles of fagots had not four legs like horses, so that I 
 could gallop proudly into Salerno like a fine gentleman that 
 
126 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 rides about doing nothing. How I should like to see myself 
 prancing into town in that fashion !" 
 
 And, behold, instantly the bundle of fagots rose and 
 began to trot at a measured pace. Without being at all 
 astonished, the honest Zerbino let himself be carried 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 
 
 127 
 
 along by this new kind of steed, and pitied the poor wretch- 
 es on the way, who went on foot for want of a bundle of 
 fagots. 
 
 IV. 
 
 At the time of which we are speaking there was a great 
 square in the centre of Salerno, where the king's palace stood. 
 This king, as every one knows, was the famous Mouchamiel, 
 whose name is immortal in history. 
 
 Every afternoon the king's daughter, the Princess Leila, 
 might have been seen seated in her balcony in a melancholy 
 mood. It was in vain that her slaves attempted to amuse 
 her by their songs, tales, or flatteries — Leila listened only to 
 her thoughts. For three years the king her father had 
 sought to marry her to every baron in the neighborhood, and 
 for three years the princess had refused all suitors. Salerno 
 was her dowry, and she knew that it was her dowry alone 
 
1 28 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 that they wished to marry. Earnest and tender, Leila had 
 no ambition; she was not a coquette; she did not laugh 
 merely to show her teeth ; she knew how to listen, and never 
 talked when she had nothing to say — a malady so rare among 
 women that it drove the doctors to despair. 
 
 Leila was even more dreamy than usual, when suddenly 
 Zerbino appeared on the square, guiding his bundle of fagots 
 with the majesty of a plumed Caesar. At the sight, the 
 princess's two waiting-women were seized with a mad fit of 
 laughter, and, happening to have some oranges in their 
 hands, they flung them at the rider so adroitly that two of 
 them struck him full in the face. 
 
 " Laugh, you wretches !" cried Zerbino, shaking his fist at 
 them, " and may you keep on laughing till your teeth are 
 worn to the gums." 
 
 And, behold, the two women laughed convulsively with- 
 out stopping either for the threats of the wood-cutter or the 
 commands of the princess, who pitied the poor churl. 
 
 " Good little woman !" said 2^rbino, looking at Leila, " so 
 sweet and so sad ; I wish you nothing but good-luck. May 
 you love the first man that makes you laugh, and marry 
 him into the bargain." 
 
 Upon which he pulled his forelock, and bowed to the 
 princess in the most gracious manner imaginable. 
 
 As a general rule, when one is astride a bundle of fagots 
 it is better to bow to no one, not even a queen. Zerbino for- 
 got this, to his sorrow. In order to salute the princess, he 
 let go the rope that held the bundle together, when, behold, 
 the sticks fell apart, and the honest Zerbino tumbled back- 
 ward, his feet in the air, in the most grotesque way imagina- 
 ble. He made a bold somersault, carrying with him half 
 the leaves, and, crowned like a sylvan god, rolled over once 
 more on the ground. 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 
 
 129 
 
 Why do we always laugh 
 when a person falls at the 
 risk of breaking his neck? 
 I know not ; it is a mystery 
 which philosophy has not 
 yet solved. What I do 
 know is that every one 
 laughed on that occasion, 
 the Princess Leila like the 
 rest. But she instantly 
 sprang up, gazed at Zerbi- 
 no with a peculiar expres- 
 sion, laid her hand on her 
 heart and then on her 
 head, and went in-doors, 
 strangely agitated. 
 
 Meanwhile Zerbino gath- 
 ered up the scattered sticks, 
 and returned home on foot, 
 like a simple woodman. 
 Prosperity had not daz- 
 zled him, neither was he 
 cast down by ill-luck. He 
 bought a good Italian 
 cheese, as white and hard 
 as marble, cut a large slice 
 from it, and dined with a 
 hearty appetite. The poor 
 simpleton little suspected 
 what harm he had wrought, 
 and what trouble he had 
 left behind him. 
 
 " The sticks fell apart, and the honest 
 Zerbino tumbled backward." 
 
I30 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 V. 
 
 While these grave events were taking place, four o'clock 
 struck in the tower of Salerno. The day was sultry, and si- 
 lence reigned in the streets. Secluded in a lower chamber, 
 far from the heat and noise, King Mouchamiel was dreaming 
 of the happiness of his people — he was asleep. 
 
 All at once he awoke with a start. A pair of snowy arms 
 were wound around his neck, and his face was wet with scald- 
 ing tears. The fair Leila was embracing her father in a par- 
 oxysm of tenderness. 
 
 " What does this mean ?" said the king, surprised at this 
 outburst of affection. "What signify these kisses and tears ? 
 Child of your mother, you are trying to coax something out of 
 me." 
 
 " On the contrary, my dear father, your obedient daughter 
 has come to tell you that she is ready to follow your will 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 131 
 
 I have found the son-in-law you have been seeking, and to 
 please you will give him my hand." 
 
 " Good !" said Mouchamiel ; " so this is the end of your 
 whims. Who is it that you are going to marry? Is it the 
 Prince of Cava? No. The Count of Capri, or the Marquis 
 of Sorrento ? No. Who is it, then ?" 
 
 " I do not know, father." 
 
 "What! you do not know! You must have seen him, 
 however ?" 
 
 "Yes, just now, in the palace square." 
 
 " And did he speak to you ?" 
 
 " No, father, what need is there of words, when hearts un- 
 derstand each other ?" 
 
 Mouchamiel made a grimace, rubbed his ear, and, peering 
 at his daughter through his half-closed eyelids, asked, 
 
 " At least, he is a prince ?" 
 
 " I do not know, father ; but what matters it ?" 
 
 " It matters a great deal, my daughter. You know noth- 
 ing of politics. You are free to choose any son-in-law that 
 suits me, and it will be all right. As a king and a father, 
 I will never interfere with your will while it agrees with 
 mine. But otherwise, I have duties to fulfil towards my 
 family and subjects ; and I intend that my will shall be 
 done. Where is this fine fellow, whom you do not know, 
 who has never spoken to you, and who adores you ?" 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " This is too much !" cried Mouchamiel. " Is it to talk 
 such nonsense that you come hither to rob me of moments 
 that belong to my people ? Ho, there, chamberlains ! Call 
 the princess's women, and let them take her back to her 
 apartments." 
 
 On hearing these words Leila raised her arms to heaven, 
 burst into tears, and fell at the king's feet, sobbing. At the 
 
132 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 same moment the two women entered, still laughing ready 
 to split their sides. 
 
 " Silence, wretches, silence !" exclaimed Mouchamiel, in- 
 dignant at this lack of respect. 
 
 But the more the king cried silence the louder the women 
 laughed, regardless of etiquette. 
 
 " Guards !" said the king, beside himself, " seize these in- 
 solent women and cut off their heads. I will teach them 
 that there is nothing less laughable than a king." 
 
 "Sire!" said Leila, clasping her hands, "remember that 
 you have rendered your reign illustrious by abolishing the 
 penalty of death." 
 
 " You are right, my daughter. We are a civilized people. 
 We will spare these women, and content ourselves with treat- 
 ing them in the Russian fashion with all possible considera- 
 tion. Let them be knouted till they die a natural death." 
 
 " Pardon, father, pardon," said Leila. " It is your daugh- 
 ter that entreats you." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, let them stop laughing, and rid me of 
 their presence," cried the good Mouchamiel. " Take away 
 these idiots. I forgive them. Shut them up in a cell, till they 
 die of silence and ennuis 
 
 " Oh, father !" said poor Leila. 
 
 "Begone!" said the king; "marry them, and let that end 
 the matter." 
 
 " Thanks, sire ! We shall laugh no longer," cried the 
 two women, as they fell on their knees, opening their mouths 
 and showing their toothless gums. " We are the victims of 
 an infernal art; a wizard has bewitched us." 
 
 " A wizard in my state !" cried the king, who was a free- 
 thinker. " It is impossible ; there are none ; I do not be- 
 lieve in them." 
 
 ** Sire," said one of the women, " is it natural for a bundle 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 133 
 
 of fagots to trot like a horse, and prance under the rein of a 
 wood-cutter? This is what we have just seen in the square 
 before the palace." 
 
 " A bundle of fagots !" returned the king. " That looks 
 like witchcraft. Guards, seize the man and his fagots, and 
 let them both be burned. After that I hope I shall be suf- 
 fered to sleep in peace." 
 
 " Burn my beloved !" exclaimed the princess, tossing her 
 arms like a sibyl. " Sire, this noble knight is my husband, 
 my love, my life ! Let a hair of his head be touched and I 
 shall die." 
 
 " My household has gone distracted," said poor Moucha- 
 miel. " What is the use of being king if I cannot even take 
 an afternoon nap. It is all my good-nature. Call Mistigris ! 
 Since I have a minister, the least that he can do is to tell 
 me what to think, and let me know what to wish." 
 
 VI. 
 
 Signor Mistigris was announced. 
 He was a little man; fat, short, round, 
 and broad, who rolled rather than 
 walked. Weasel eyes, looking every 
 way at once, a low forehead, hooked 
 nose, fat cheeks, and a triple chin : 
 such was the minister that made Sa- 
 lerno happy, in the name of King 
 Mouchamiel. He entered, simper- 
 ing, puffing, and mincing like a man who lightly bears the 
 weight of power. 
 
 " Here you are at last !" said the prince. " How is it 
 that strange things take place in my dominions, and I, the 
 king, am the last to be informed of them ?" 
 
 " Everything is going on as usual," said Mistigris, calmly. 
 
1 34 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " I have the police reports here ; peace and happiness pre- 
 vail throughout the state," and he opened a large packet of 
 papers and read as follows : 
 
 " Report of the Port of Salerno. All is tranquil. No more 
 frauds in the custom-house than usual. Three quarrels be- 
 tween sailors, six stabs ; five admissions to the hospital. 
 Nothing new. 
 
 "City Report. Taxes doubled; prosperity and morality 
 continually on the increase. Two women dead of hunger ; 
 ten foundlings ; three men who have beaten their wives ; ten 
 wives who have beaten their husbands ; thirty robberies ; 
 two assassinations; three poisonings. Nothing new." 
 
 " Is that all you know about it ?" cried Mouchamiel, in an 
 angry tone. " Well, sir, though it is not my business to be 
 informed of the affairs of state, I know more about them 
 than you do. A man has ridden through the square on a 
 bundle of fagots, and bewitched my daughter. Here she is, 
 wishing to marry him." 
 
 " Sire," said Mistigris, " I was not ignorant of this inci- 
 dent. A minister knows everything; but why trouble your 
 majesty with such trifles ? The man will be hung, and there 
 will be an end of the matter." 
 
 " And can you tell me where this wretch is to be found ?" 
 
 " Doubtless, sire !" replied Mistigris ; " a minister sees ev- 
 erything, hears everything, and is present everywhere." 
 
 "Well, sir," said the king, "if in a quarter of an hour this 
 fellow is not here, you will leave the ministry to those who 
 are not content with seeing, but who also act. Begone !" 
 
 Mistigris left the room, still smiling. But, once in the ante- 
 room, he turned purple with excitement, and was forced to 
 cling to the arm of the first man he met. This was the pre- 
 fect of the city, whom a happy chance threw in his way. 
 Mistigris drew back and seized the magistrate by the collar. 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 135 
 
 "Sir!" said he, emphasizing each of his words, "if in ten 
 minutes you do not bring me the man who rides through 
 Salerno on a bundle of fagots, I will dismiss you. Do you 
 understand ? I will dismiss you. Begone !" 
 
 Stunned by this threat, the prefect ran to the chief of 
 police. 
 
 "Where is the man that rides a bundle of fagots?" said he. 
 
 " What man ?" asked the chief of police. 
 
 " Do not argue with your superior. I will not endure it. 
 By not arresting this rascal you have utterly failed in your 
 duty. If this man is not here in five minutes, I shall dis- 
 charge you. Begone !" 
 
 The chief hastened to the police station, where he found 
 the men set to watch over the public safety playing dice. 
 
 " You knaves !" he cried. " If in three minutes you do 
 not bring me the man who rides a bundle of fagots, I will 
 bastinado you like galley-slaves. Begone without a word." 
 
 The men went out cursing, while the wise and able Misti- 
 gris, confiding in the miracles of hierarchy, tranquilly returned 
 to the king's chamber, recalling to his lips that perpetual 
 smile which formed a part of his profession. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Two words whispered by the minister into fne king's ear 
 delighted Mouchamiel. The idea of burning a wizard was 
 not displeasing to him. It was a striking little event that 
 would do honor to his reign, a proof of wisdom that would 
 astonish posterity. 
 
 One thing alone embarrassed the king, namely, poor Leila, 
 who was drowned in tears, and whom her women vainly at- 
 tempted to drag to her apartments. 
 
 Mistigris winked at the king, then approaching the prin- 
 cess, said, in his least surly tones : 
 
1 36 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Madam, he is coming, and he must not find you in tears. 
 Adorn yourself, on the contrary, be more beautiful than ever, 
 and let the very sight of you assure him of his happiness." 
 
 " I understand you, good Mistigris," exclaimed Leila. 
 "Thanks, my dear father, thanks," she added, seizing her 
 father's hands, and covering them with kisses. " Bless you, 
 bless you a thousand times !" 
 
 She went out intoxicated with joy, with head erect, eyes 
 sparkling, and so happy that she stopped the first chamber- 
 lain on her way to inform him herself of her marriage. 
 
 " My good chamberlain," she added, " he is coming. Do 
 the honors of the palace yourself, and be sure that we shall 
 not be ungrateful." 
 
 Left alone with Mistigris, the king looked at his minister 
 angrily. 
 
 " Are you mad ?" he cried. " What ! without consulting 
 me, do you pledge my word ? Do you think yourself the 
 master of my empire, that you dispose of my daughter and 
 me without my consent ?" 
 
 " Bah !" said Mistrigris, tranquilly. " The first thing to be 
 done is to calm the princess. In politics one never troubles 
 himself about the morrow. ' Sufficient unto the day is the 
 evil thereof.' " 
 
 " But my word !" resumed the king. " How can I break it 
 without perjuring myself? I will have revenge on that inso- 
 lent fellow who has stolen my daughter's heart." 
 
 " Sire," said Mistigris, " a prince never breaks his word \ 
 but there are several ways of keeping it." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" asked Mouchamiel. 
 
 "Your majesty," continued the minister, " has just prom- 
 ised your daughter that she shall be married ; we will marry 
 her, after which we shall obey the law, which decrees, 
 
 " * If a noble under the rank of a baron dares pretend to 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 
 
 m 
 
 the love of a princess of royal blood, he shall be treated like 
 a noble, that is, decapitated. 
 
 " ' If the suitor is a citizen, he shall be treated like a citizen, 
 that is, hung. 
 
 "'If he is a peasant, he shall be drowned like a dog.' 
 
 " You see, sire, 
 that nothing is easier 
 than to harmonize 
 your paternal love 
 and your royal jus- 
 tice. We have so 
 many laws in Sa- 
 lerno that one can 
 always be found to 
 suit our case." 
 
 " Mistigris," ex- 
 claimed the king, 
 "you are a scoun- 
 drel 1" 
 
 "Sire," said the 
 fat man, " you flat- 
 ter me ! I am noth- 
 ing but a politician. 
 I have been taught 
 that there is one kind 
 of morality for prin- 
 ces and another for 
 the people, and I 
 have profited by the 
 lesson. It is this 
 discernment which 
 makes the genius of 
 a statesman the ad- 
 miration of the astute and the scandal of fools." 
 
138 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " My good friend," said the king, " with your long-winded 
 phrases, you are as tiresome as an academical eulogy. I do 
 not ask you for words, but for deeds ; make haste to punish 
 this man and let us have done with the matter." 
 
 As he was speaking, the Princess Leila entered the royal 
 chamber. She was so beautiful, and her eyes shone with 
 such joy, that the good Mouchamiel sighed, and began to 
 wish that the rider of the fagots might be a prince, so that 
 he should not be hung. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Glory is a fine thing, but it has its disadvantages. Its pos- 
 sessor must bid farewell to the pleasure of living unknown 
 and defying the silly curiosity of the crowd. The triumphal 
 entry of Zerbino was not finished before every child in Salerno 
 was acquainted with his person, home, and mode of life. The 
 guards had little trouble, therefore, in finding the man they 
 sought. 
 
 Zerbino was on his knees in the courtyard, busied in 
 sharpening his famous axe. He was just trying the edge 
 with his thumb-nail when a hand laid hold of his collar and 
 set him on his feet. Half a score of kicks and a score of 
 cuffs propelled him into the street. It was in this way that 
 he learned that a minister was interested in his person, and 
 that the king himself deigned to invite him to the palace. 
 
 Zerbino was a philosopher, and a philosopher is aston- 
 ished at nothing. He thrust his hands into his pockets and 
 walked on quietly, without troubling himself about the hail 
 of blows that fell upon him. Nevertheless, a philosopher is 
 not always a saint. A kick in the thigh wore out the patience 
 of the wood-cutter. 
 
 " Gently !" said he ; "have a little pity on a poor man !" 
 
 " I believe that the simpleton is arguing," said one of his 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 1 39 
 
 tormentors. "Our gentleman is made of down; we must 
 handle him with gloves." 
 
 " I wish you were in my place," said Zerbino. " We should 
 see whether you would laugh." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you scoundrel," said the leader of 
 the band, as he dealt him a blow that might have felled an 
 ox. 
 
 The blow was badly aimed, doubtless, for instead of strik- 
 ing Zerbino, it went straight into the eye of one of the guards. 
 Furious, and half blinded, the wounded man threw himself on 
 the awkward fellow who had struck him, and seized him by 
 the hair. A scuffle ensued ; the bystanders attempted to 
 separate them ; fisticuffs rained up and down, right and 
 left, and a general affray followed, enlivened with the shrieks 
 of women, cries of children, and barking of dogs. It became 
 necessary, at last, to call in the patrol, to restore order by ar- 
 resting assailants, defenders, and spectators. 
 
 Zerbino, still unmoved, was proceeding towards the castle, 
 when he was accosted, in the square, by a file of well-made 
 fellows in embroidered coats and short breeches. They 
 were the valets of the king, who, by the direction of the 
 major-domo and the grand chamberlain himself, had come 
 to meet the betrothed of the princess. Having been instructed 
 to be polite, each one had his hat in his hand and a smile 
 on his lips. They bowed to Zerbino. The wood-cutter, like 
 a well-bred man, returned the salute. They bowed anew, 
 and Zerbino again returned it; a performance which was 
 repeated eight or ten times in succession with unmoved 
 gravity. Zerbino was the first to tire ; not having been born 
 in the palace, his back was less supple than theirs ; he was 
 not accustomed to bending it. 
 
 " Stop !" he cried ; " enough ! three refusals are a sign of 
 good-luck, and three bows are a sign of a dance. You have 
 
I40 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 ;.J-Cv-' 
 
 bowed long enough, now dance." And, lo ! the valets began to 
 dance and bow, and to bow and dance, and, preceding Zerbino 
 in admirable order, gave him an entrance into the castle 
 worthy of a king. 
 
 IX. 
 
 To give himself a majestic air, Mouchamiel was gravely 
 staring at the end of his nose, Leila was sighing, Mistigris 
 was whittling a quill, like a diplomatist in search of an idea, 
 and the courtiers, motionless and mute, seemed lost in con- 
 templation. At last the great door of the saloon opened : 
 the major-domo and valets entered with a measured tread, 
 dancing a saraband which greatly surprised the court. Be- 
 hind them walked the wood-cutter, as little moved by the 
 royal splendors as if he had been born in a palace. Never- 
 theless, at the sight of the king, he stopped, took off his hat, 
 and, clasping it in both hands to his breast, bowed three times, 
 stretching out his right foot, after which he put on his hat 
 again, seated himself calmly in an arm-chair, and crossed 
 his legs. 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 141 
 
 " My father !" cried the princess, throwing herself on the 
 king's neck, "this is the husband that you have given me. 
 How handsome and noble he is ! Do you not love him ?" 
 
 " Mistigris," murmured Mouchamiel, half strangled, " ques- 
 tion this man with the greatest respect. Think of my daugh- 
 ter's repose and my own. What luck! Oh, how happy 
 fathers would be if they had no children !" 
 
 " Your majesty may be tranquil," said Mistigris ; " humani- 
 ty is my duty and pleasure." 
 
 " Up, scoundrel !" said he, harshly, turning to Zerbino, " an- 
 swer quickly if you wish to save your skin. Are you a prince 
 in disguise ? You are silent, wretch ! You are a wizard !" 
 
 "I am no more a wizard than you are, my fat fellow," an- 
 swered Zerbino, without stirring from his chair. 
 
 "You villain !" exclaimed the minister, "your denial proves 
 your crime, your silence proclaims you guilty." 
 
 " If I confessed should I be innocent?" asked Zerbino. 
 
 " Sire !" said Mistigris, who mistook rage for eloquence ; 
 "do justice, purge your state, purge the earth of this mon- 
 ster. Death is too mild a punishment for such a ruffian." 
 
 " Go on !" said Zerbino. " Bark ! my fat fellow, bark ! but 
 don't bite." 
 
 " Sire !" said Mistigris, puffing and panting, " your justice 
 and humanity are at stake : bow^ wow, wow. Humanity 
 commands you to protect your subjects by delivering them 
 from this wizard : bow, wow, wow ; justice demands that he 
 should be hung or burned : bow, wow, wow. You are a fa- 
 ther, bow, wow, but you are a king, bow, wow, and the king, bow^ 
 wow, should take precedence of the father, bow, wow, wow." 
 
 " Mistigris," said the king, " you speak well, but your stam- 
 mer is unbearable. Don't be so affected. Have done 1" 
 
 " Sire !" screamed the minister, " death to the villain ; the 
 halter or the stake. Bow, wow, wow." 
 
142 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 While the king sighed, Leila, suddenly quitting her father, 
 placed herself by Zerbino's side. 
 
 " Give your commands, sire !" said she. " This is my hus- 
 band; his fate shall be mine." 
 
 At this shameless speech, all the court ladies covered their 
 faces ; Mistigris himself thought it incumbent upon him to 
 blush. 
 
 " Unhappy girl !" cried the king, in a frenzy of rage ; " by dis- 
 honoring yourself, 5'ou have pronounced your doom. Guards ! 
 seize these two creatures ; let them be married on the spot j 
 then confiscate the first boat that you find in the port, thrust 
 these wretches into it, and abandon them to the waves." 
 
 " Oh, sire !" cried Mistigris, as the guards were dragging 
 away the princess and Zerbino, " you are the greatest king on 
 earth. Your goodness, gentleness, and indulgence will be the 
 example and astonishment of posterity. In what language will 
 the Official Gazette narrate it to-morrow ! As for us, confound- 
 ed by such magnanimity, we can only admire it in silence." 
 
 " My poor daughter," exclaimed the king, " what will be- 
 come of her without her father ? Guards ! seize Mistigris, 
 and put him, too, in the boat. It will be a consolation to me 
 to know that so able a man is with my dear Leila. And 
 then, to change ministers is always diverting, and in my sad 
 condition I need something of the sort. Farewell, my good 
 Mistigris." 
 
 Mistigris stood with his mouth wide open. He had just re- 
 covered breath enough to curse princes and their ingrati- 
 tude when he was dragged from the palace. In spite of his 
 prayers, threats, and tears he was thrust into the boat, and the 
 three friends soon found themselves alone on the waters. 
 
 As to the good king Mouchamiel, he wiped away a tear, 
 and shut himself up in his chamber to finish the nap so 
 rudely interrupted* 
 
Zerbino held the rudder, and murmured some plaintive song." 
 
144 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 X. 
 
 The night was calm and beautiful ; the moon shed its silver 
 light on the sea, and over its tremulous waters ; the wind 
 from the land drove on the bark, and already Capri was 
 seen rising from the waves like a basket of flowers. Zerbino 
 was at the helm, murmuring some plaintive woodman's or 
 sailor's song. Leila sat at his feet, silent, but not sad. She 
 was listening to her beloved. The past she had forgotten, 
 for the future she had little care ; to stay by Zerbino 's side 
 was life to her. 
 
 Mistigris, less tender, was less of a philosopher. Restless 
 and angry, he bustled about like a bear in its cage, and made 
 fine speeches to Zerbino, to which the wood-cutter paid no 
 heed, but only nodded, stolid as ever. Unaccustomed to 
 official harangues, the orations of the minister put him to 
 sleep. 
 
 "What will become of us ?" cried Mistigris. "Wretched 
 wizard, if you have any power show it, and come to our rescue. 
 Make yourself prince or king somewhere, and appoint me 
 your prime-minister. I must have something to rule. What 
 is the use of having power if you do not make your friends' 
 fortune ?" 
 
 " I am hungry," said Zerbino, half opening his eyes. 
 
 Leila sprang up instantly, and began to look around her. 
 
 " My love," said she, " what would you like ?" 
 
 " Some figs and raisins," said the wood-cutter. 
 
 Mistigris uttered a cry ; a barrel of figs and raisins sprung 
 up between his legs and threw him down. 
 
 " Oh !" thought he, springing up, " I know your secret, ac- 
 cursed wizard. If you can have what you wish for, my fort- 
 une is made ; I have not been minister for nothing, handsome 
 prince, and I will make you wish for whatever I do." 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 145 
 
 While Zerbino was eating his figs Mistigris approached 
 him, bowing and smiling. 
 
 " Signer Zerbino," said he, " I entreat of your excellency 
 your incomparable friendship. Perhaps your excellency has 
 not understood all the devotion that was hidden under the 
 affected harshness of my words, but I assure you that it was 
 planned the more speedily to insure your happiness. It was 
 I alone that hastened your happy marriage." 
 
 " I am hungry," said Zerbino. " Give me some figs and 
 raisins." 
 
 "Here they are, my lord," said Mistigris, with all the 
 grace of a courtier. " I hope his excellency will be satisfied 
 with my humble services, and will often permit me to dis- 
 play my zeal. 
 
 "Brute !" he murmured to himself, "you do not even lis- 
 ten to me. I must win Leila's favor at all hazards. The 
 great secret of politics is to know how to please the ladies. 
 
 "By the way, Signor Zerbino," resumed he, simpering, 
 "you forget that you were married this evening. Ought you 
 not to make a wedding-gift to your royal bride ?" 
 
 "A wedding-gift! you tire me, my fat fellow," answered 
 Zerbino. " Where do you expect me to find such a thing ? 
 Go and bring me one from the fishes, at the bottom of the 
 sea ?" 
 
 At that very instant, as if hurled by an invisible hand, 
 Mistigris leaped overboard and disappeared under the 
 waves. 
 
 Zerbino set to work anew to stone and munch his raisins, 
 while Leila never tired of watching him. 
 
 "There is a porpoise coming to the surface," said Zer- 
 bino. 
 
 It was not a porpoise, but the happy messenger, who had 
 risen to the top and was struggling with the waves. Zerbino 
 10 
 
146 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 seized him by the hair and pulled him into the boat. 
 Strange to say, Mistigris held in his teeth a carbuncle, that 
 shone like a star in the darkness. 
 
 " Here is the gift sent to the charming Leila by the king 
 of the fishes," stammered he, as soon as he could breathe. 
 "You see, Signor Zerbino, that you have in me the most 
 faithful and devoted of slaves. If ever you have a little 
 ministry to intrust to me — " 
 
 "I am hungry," interrupted Zerbino; "give me 'some figs 
 and raisins." 
 
 " My lord," resumed Mistigris, " will you do nothing for 
 your wife, the princess ? This boat, exposed to the changes 
 of the weather, is not a fitting abode for one so young and 
 lovely." 
 
 " Hush, Mistigris," said Leila. " I am comfortable here 
 I ask for nothing more." 
 
 " Do you remember, madam ?" said the officious minister, 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 147 
 
 " that when the Prince of Capri offered you his hand he sent 
 to Salerno a splendid ship of mahogany inlaid all over with 
 gold and ivory, with sailors dressed in velvet, silken cord- 
 ages, and three saloons adorned with mirrors. That is what 
 a petty prince did for you. Signor Zerbino, noble, power- 
 ful, and good as he is, surely will not be left in the back- 
 ground." 
 
 " The man is a fool," said Zerbino ; " he talks all the 
 time. I should like to have such a vessel as that if only to 
 stop your mouth, you chatterbox, and make you hold your 
 tongue." 
 
 And lo ! Leila uttered a cry of surprise and delight that 
 made the woodsman start. He was on board a magnificent 
 ship, that cleft the waves with the grace and majesty of a 
 stately swan. A tent lighted with alabaster lamps formed 
 a richly furnished drawing-room on deck. Leila, still seated 
 at her husband's feet, gazed at him with admiration. Misti- 
 gris ran after the crew, and tried to give orders to all the 
 sailors. But on this strange vessel no one said a word. Mis- 
 tigris wasted his eloquence, and could not even find a cabin- 
 boy to rule. Zerbino rose to look at the wake of the ship ; 
 and Mistigris ran after him, simpering. 
 
 " Is your lordship satisfied with my efforts and zeal ?" 
 asked he. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you chatterer," said the woodsman. 
 " I forbid you to say another word till morning. I am 
 drowsy, let me go to sleep." 
 
 Mistigris stood with his mouth open, making respectful 
 gestures; then in despair he went below to the dining-room 
 and ate his supper in silence. He drank for four hours with- 
 out being able to console himself, and ended by falling under 
 ihe table. In the meantime Zerbino dreamed at his ease. 
 
 Leila alone did not close her eyes. 
 
14^ Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 One tires of everything, even of happiness, says the prov- 
 erb. With much greater reason might one tire of being at 
 sea in a ship where no one said a word and which was drift- 
 ing none knew whither. As soon, therefore, as Mistigris had 
 regained his senses and speech, his sole idea was to persuade 
 Zerbino to wish to be on land. The task was difficult. The 
 adroit courtier was in constant fear that some indiscreet 
 wish might send him again among the fishes ; he trembled, 
 above everything, lest Zerbino should regret his axe and 
 forest. What a fate, to become the minister of a wood- 
 cutter ! 
 
 Happily, Zerbino awakened in excellent humor. He was 
 becoming accustomed to the princess, and her charming face 
 pleased him, churl as he was. Mistigris wished to improve 
 the occasion, but women, alas ! are so unreasonable when 
 they are in love! Leila declared to Zerbino that it would 
 be sweet to live alone together, far from the world, in some 
 tranquil cottage in an orchard, on the banks of a stream. 
 Without understanding anything of this poetry, the honest 
 Zerbino listened with pleasure to her loving words. 
 
 " A cottage with cows and chickens," said he, "that would 
 be fine, if—" 
 
 Mistigris felt himself lost, and struck a decisive blow. 
 
 "Oh, my lord !" he cried, " look yonder before you. How 
 beautiful that is !" 
 
 "What?" asked the princess; "I see nothing." 
 
 " Nor I either," said Zerbino, rubbing his eyes. 
 
 " Is it possible ?" resumed Mistigris, with an air of aston- 
 ishment. " What ! do you not see that marble palace gleam- 
 ing in the sun, and that stately staircase shaded with orange- 
 trees, with its hundred steps leading down to the sea-shore ?" 
 
Zerbino the Savage, 149 
 
 " A palace ?" said Leila, " I want none ; to live surrounded 
 with courtiers, selfish followers, and valets. Let us fly!" 
 
 "Yes," said Zerbino. "A cottage is better; we should 
 be quieter there." 
 
 " But this palace is unlike any other," exclaimed Mistigris, 
 his imagination excited by his fears. " In this fairy abode 
 there are neither courtiers nor valets ; you are served by in- 
 visible hands, and are at once alone and surrounded by at- 
 tendants. The furniture has hands, and the walls have ears." 
 
 " Have they a tongue ?" said Zerbino. 
 
 " Yes," returned Mistigris, "they tell you everything you 
 wish to know, but only speak at your bidding." 
 
 " Well," said the wood-cutter, " they have more wit than 
 you. I should like to have such a castle as that. Where is 
 this fine palace ? I do not see it." 
 
 " It is there before you, my love," exclaimed the princess. 
 
 The vessel had made for land, and anchored in a harbor 
 just deep enough for it to come up to the pier. The harbor 
 was half surrounded by a great staircase of wrought iron. 
 At the head of this staircase, overlooking the sea, on a vast 
 plateau, arose the most charming palace that ever was seen. 
 
 The three friends gayly mounted the staircase, Mistigris 
 at the head, puffing and blowing at every step. On reach- 
 ing the gate of the castle he attempted to ring, but there 
 was no bell ; he called, and the gate itself answered. 
 
 " What do you want, stranger ?" it asked. 
 
 " To speak with the master of this palace," said Mistigris, 
 a little embarrassed at talking for the first time to a gate. 
 
 "The master of this palace is Signor Zerbino," replied 
 the gate. " I will open to him when he appears." 
 
 Zerbino came up, with the fair Leila on his arm ; the gate 
 opened respectfully, and let tne pair pass, followed by Mis- 
 tigris. 
 
I50 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 Once on the terrace, Leila gazed with delight at the mag- 
 nificent spectacle of the 
 vast sea glittering in the 
 morning sun. 
 
 "How pleasant it is 
 here," said she, " and how 
 delightful it would be to sit 
 in this gallery, under the 
 shade of the blossoming 
 laurels." 
 
 "Well," said Zerbino, 
 " we can sit on the ground." 
 
 " Are there no easy-chairs 
 here ?" exclaimed Mistigris. 
 
 " Here we are ! here we 
 are !" cried the easy-chairs, 
 and they hurried up, one 
 after another, as fast as 
 their four feet could carry 
 them. 
 
 " This is a nice place to 
 breakfast in," said Mistigris. 
 
 " Yes," returned Zerbino, 
 " but where is the table ?" 
 
 "Here I am! here I 
 am !" answered a contralto 
 voice, and a beautiful ma- 
 hogany table, marching 
 with matronly gravity, 
 strode forward and placed 
 itself before the guests. 
 
 "This is charming," eX' 
 claimed the princess, " but where is the food .?" 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 151 
 
 " Here I am ! here I am !" cried a number of little shrill 
 voices, and thirty platters, followed by their sisters, the 
 plates, and their cousins, the knives and forks, without for- 
 getting their aunts, the salt-cellars, ranged themselves on the 
 table, which was covered with game, fruit, and flowers. 
 
 " Signor Zerbino," said Mistigris," you see what I have 
 done for you. All this is my work." 
 
 " You lie !" cried a voice. 
 
 Mistigris turned around, but saw no one. It was one of 
 the pillars of the gallery that had spoken. 
 
 " My lord," said he, " no one can accuse me of impos- 
 ture. I have always spoken the truth." 
 
 " You lie !" said a voice. 
 
 " This palace is detestable," thought Mistigris. " If the 
 walls speak the truth, we shall never have a court here, and 
 I shall never be minister. We must change this." 
 
 " Signor Zerbino," he resumed, " instead of living here 
 alone, would you not rather be a king, and have subjects to 
 pay you taxes, furnish you with soldiers, and surround you 
 with love and tenderness ?'* 
 
 "Be a king — what good would that do me?" replied Zer- 
 bino. 
 
 " My friend, do not listen to him," said Leila. " Let us 
 stay here; we are so happy, we two alone." 
 
 " We three," cried Mistigris ; " I am the happiest of men 
 here, and with you I desire nothing more." 
 
 " You lie !" said a voice. 
 
 " What, my lord, is there any one here that dares doubt 
 my devotion ?" 
 
 " You lie !" returned the echo. 
 
 " My lord, do not listen to this," exclaimed Mistigris. " I 
 honor and love you ; I swear it." 
 
 " You lie 1" repeated the pitiless voice. 
 
152 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Oh ! if you do nothing but lie, begone to the moon," 
 
 said Zerbino, " it is the land 
 of liars." 
 
 It was an imprudent 
 speech, for instantly Misti- 
 gris shot into the air, and 
 disappeared above the 
 clouds. Whether he ever 
 descended again to earth 
 no one knows, though some 
 chroniclers say that he has 
 since been seen there un- 
 der another name. It is 
 certain that he was never 
 more beheld in a palace 
 where the very walls spoke 
 the truth. 
 
 XII. 
 Left alone, Zerbino folded 
 his arms and looked at the 
 sea, while Leila abandoned 
 herself to the sweetest 
 thoughts. To live in an 
 enchanted solitude alone 
 with one we love is the 
 dream of our happiest 
 days. She took Zerbino's 
 arm and together they sur- 
 veyed their new domain. 
 On the right and left, the 
 palace was surrounded 
 with beautiful meadows 
 watered with sparkling streams. Shady trees, purple 
 
Zerbino the Savage. 153 
 
 beeches, larches with feathery cones, and fragrant orange- 
 trees cast lengthening shadows over the turf. Among the 
 foliage warbled the linnet, breathing joy and repose. Leila 
 laid her hand on her heart, and, looking at Zerbino, 
 
 ** My love," said she, " are you happy here, and have you 
 nothing more to wish for ?" 
 
 " I have never wished for anything," said Zerbino. " To- 
 morrow I shall take my axe and set to work ; there are fine 
 forests to cut down here, and I can get plenty of fagots." 
 
 "Oh !" said Leila, sighing, " you do not love me." 
 
 " Love you !" exclaimed Zerbino, " what is that ? I wish 
 you no harm, certainly ; quite the contrary. Here is a palace 
 fallen from the clouds ; it is yours. Write to your father 
 and tell him to come hither; I shall be glad to see him. 
 If I have hurt your feelings it was not my fault, I did not 
 mean to. A wood-cutter I was born, and a wood-cutter I 
 shall die. I was brought up to it, and I know how to keep 
 my place. Don't cry ; I don't want to say anything to 
 grieve you." 
 
 " Oh, Zerbino !" cried poor Leila, " what have I done that 
 you should treat me so.? Am I so ugly and ill-tempered 
 that you cannot love me ?" 
 
 "Love you! I never thought of such a thing. There, 
 there, don't cry, there is no use in it. Be calm, my child, be 
 reasonable. What ! crying again. Well ! well ! I should 
 like to love you, if it would give you pleasure. I do love 
 you, Leila, I do love you !" 
 
 Poor Leila, bathed in tears, raised her eyes. Zerbino had 
 undergone a transformation. In his glance she saw the 
 tenderness of a husband — the devotion of a man who has 
 given his heart and life forever to another. At the sight, 
 Leila's tears flowed more freely than ever, but she smiled 
 through them at Zerbino, who, for his part, wept for the first 
 
154 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 time in his life. Is it not the greatest pleasure of earth to 
 shed tears without knowing why? 
 
 All at once, the fairy of the waters appeared, leading the 
 sage Mouchamiel by the hand. The good king had been 
 very unhappy since the loss of his daughter and his minister. 
 He embraced his children tenderly, gave them his blessing, 
 and bade them farewell the same day, in order to spare his 
 feelings and health. The fairy of the waters remained the 
 protectress of the spouses, who lived long in their beautiful 
 palace, happy in forgetting the world, and still happier in 
 being forgotten by it. 
 
 Did Zerbino remain a boor, like his father? Did his soul 
 ever open to the light of higher things ? When he could un- 
 seal his mind with a word, was this word never whispered? 
 I know not, and am unable to conjecture. But what did it 
 matter, after all, since he was happy ? He was beloved, and 
 that is the greatest joy of life. It was not necessary that he 
 should have wit ; whether princess or shepherdess, every 
 woman in a household has wit enough for two. 
 
|- !^ I I 
 
 THE SHEPHERD PACHA, 
 
 A TURKISH TALE. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived at Bagdad a pacha who 
 was greatly beloved by the sultan, and greatly dreaded by 
 his people. Ali, for this was the name of our friend, was a 
 true Mussulman, a Turk of the old school. As soon as the 
 dawn of day permitted him to distinguish a black thread 
 from a white one, he spread a carpet on the ground and, his 
 face turned towards Mecca, piously went through with his 
 ablutions and prayers. His devotions finished, two negro 
 slaves, dressed in scarlet, brought him his pipe and coffee, 
 when he settled himself on the divan, with his legs crossed, 
 and remained thus all day long. To sip black, bitter, and 
 scalding Mocha, smoke Smyrna tobacco slowly through a 
 long nargile, sleep, do nothing, and think less, such was his 
 fashion of governing. Every month, it is true, an order came 
 from Stamboul requiring him to send to the imperial treasury 
 a million of piasters, the taxes of the pachalic. The good 
 Ali, departing from his usual quiet, then summoned before 
 
156 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 him the richest merchants of Bagdad, and politely asked 
 them for two millions of piasters. The poor men raised their 
 hands to heaven, beat their breasts, tore their beards, cast 
 up their eyes, and swore that they had not 2, para; they im- 
 plored pity of the pacha and mercy of the sultan. Upon 
 which Ali, without ceasing to sip his coffee, ordered them 
 to be bastinadoed on the soles of their feet till they brought 
 this money which they did not possess, and which they al- 
 ways succeeded in finding somewhere. The sum counted 
 out, the faithful administrator sent one half to the sultan and 
 put the other into his own coffers, then again returned to his 
 smoking. On these occasions he sometimes complained, 
 despite his patience, of the cares of greatness and weariness 
 of power ; but the next day he thought no more of them, 
 and levied the taxes the next month with the same calmness 
 and disinterestedness. He was a model pacha. 
 
 Next to his pipe, coffee, and money, the thing dearest to 
 Ali was his daughter, Delight-of-the-Eyes. He had reason 
 to love her, for in his daughter as in a living mirror Ali saw 
 himself reflected, with all his virtues. As indolent as she 
 was beautiful, Delight-of-the-Eyes could not take a step 
 without three women ready to wait on her: a white slave 
 had charge of her hair and dress ; a yellow slave held her 
 mirror or fanned her, and a black slave amused her by her 
 antics, and received her caresses or blows. The pacha's 
 daughter drove out every morning in a great chariot, drawn 
 by oxen ; she spent three hours in the bath, and employed 
 the rest of her time in making calls, munching rose con- 
 serves, drinking pomegranate sherbet, looking at dancing- 
 girls, and ridiculing her dear friends. After a day so well 
 spent she returned to the palace, kissed her father, and slept 
 a dreamless slumber. Reading, thinking, embroidering, sing- 
 ing, and playing were tiresome tasks, which Delight-of-the- 
 
The Shepherd Pacha. 
 
 ^11 
 
 Eyes took care to leave to her servants. When a girl is 
 young, beautiful, rich, and a pacha's daughter, she is born to 
 amuse herself, and what is there more amusing and moie 
 praiseworthy than doing nothing. This is the way that the 
 Turks reason ; but how many Christians are Turks in this 
 respect t 
 
 There is no happiness here below without alloy ; were it 
 not so, earth would make us forget heaven. Ali experienced 
 this. One tax-day the vigilant pacha, less wide-awake than 
 
 usual, bastinadoed, by mistake, a Greek raya, a protege of 
 England. The bastinadoed man clamored, as he had a right 
 to do, but the English consul, whose slumbers had been 
 broken, clamored louder than the raya, and England, who 
 never sleeps, clamored still more loudly than the consul. 
 She howled through the journals, vociferated in Parliament, 
 and shook her fist at Constantinople. The sultan grew 
 tired of so much fuss about such a trifle, and being unable to 
 rid himself of his faithful ally, of whom he stood in awe, he 
 
158 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 determined at least to shake off the pacha, the innocent 
 cause of all this hubbub. His highness's first idea was to 
 strangle his late friend ; but he reflected that to punish a 
 Mussulman would give too much exultation and joy to those 
 dogs of Christians, who were always barking. In his inex- 
 haustible clemency, therefore, the Commander of the P'aith- 
 ful contented himself with ordering the pacha to be set on 
 some desert shore and left to die of hunger. 
 
 Happily for AH his judge and successor was an old pacha 
 whose zeal was tempered by years, and who knew by ex- 
 perience that the will of sultans is immutable only in the 
 almanac. He said to himself that his highness might some 
 day regret his old friend, and would then give him credit for 
 a clemency that cost him nothing. He caused Ali and his 
 daughter to be brought to him in secret, gave them slaves' 
 dresses and a few piasters, and warned them that if they 
 were found in the pachalic the next day, or if he ever heard 
 their names mentioned again, he would strangle or decapi- 
 tate them, whichever they preferred. Ali thanked him for 
 all his goodness, and an hour later was on his way with a 
 caravan bound for Syria. That very evening the fall and 
 exile of the pacha were proclaimed in the streets of Bagdad, 
 and there was universal rejoicing. On all sides men ex- 
 tolled the justice and vigilance of the sultan, whose eyes 
 were always open to the sufferings of his children. The 
 next month, therefore, when the new pacha, whose hand was 
 somewhat heavy, demanded two and a half million piasters, 
 the good people of Bagdad paid it without grumbling, too 
 happy at having escaped the claws of the brigand who for so 
 many years had pillaged them with impunity. 
 
 To save one's head is fortunate, but it is not everything ; 
 it is necessary to live, and this is a somewhat difficult task 
 for one accustomed to count upon the labor and money of 
 
The Shepherd Pacha, 159 
 
 dthers. On reaching Damascus, Ali found himself destitute 
 of resources. A stranger, without friends or kinsmen, he 
 was on the point of starving, and, what was still greater grief 
 for a father, he saw his daughter growing pale and wasting 
 away by his side. 
 
 What was he to do in this extremity? Ask alms? This 
 was unworthy of a personage who the day before had a 
 nation at his feet. Work? Ali had always lived like a 
 nobleman; there was nothing that he knew how to do. His 
 only secret of raising money had been to bastinado his fel- 
 lows ; but to exercise this respectable means of livelihood 
 in peace it was necessary to be a pacha, and to have per- 
 mission from the sultan. To carry it on as an amateur, at 
 his own risk and peril, was to run the risk of being hung as 
 a highway robber. Pachas dislike competition. Ali knew 
 something about it ; it had been the pride of his life from 
 time to time to strangle some petty thief who had had the 
 folly to poach upon rich men's domains. 
 
 One day, when he had eaten nothing, and Delight-of-the- 
 Eyes, worn out by long fasting, was unable to rise from the 
 mat on which she lay, Ali, prowling around the streets of 
 Damascus like a famished wolf, saw some men lifting jars of 
 oil on their heads and carrying them to the warehouse near 
 by. At the door of the warehouse stood a clerk who paid 
 each porter a para for a jar. The sight of this little piece 
 of copper made the ex-pacha's heart leap within him. He 
 took his place in the line, and, mounting a narrow staircase, 
 received a huge jar, which he had great difficulty in raising 
 upon his back with both hands. 
 
 With rigid neck, elevated shoulders, and wrinkled brow 
 Ali was slowly desending the stairs, when, at the third step, 
 he felt his burden inclining forward. He threw himself 
 back, his feet slipped, and he rolled to the bottom of tb'i 
 
i6o 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 staircase, followed by the jar, which 
 broke in a thousand pieces, and del- 
 uged him with oil. He was rising, 
 covered with shame, when the clerk 
 of the warehouse seized him by the 
 collar, 
 
 " Rascal !" said the latter, "pay me 
 
 fifty piasters quickly, to repair your 
 
 awkwardness, and begone; when a 
 
 \^-Tm^^^mp^ifi-^y~~f-\^ "^^^ knows nothing of a trade, he 
 
 — Vitf^B^^CI fiji should let it alone." 
 
 Hr^Hliljfe^SyBt " Fifty piasters !" said Ali, smiling 
 
 bitterly. " Where do you expect me 
 
 to get them ? I have not 2ipara" 
 
 " If you do not pay with your 
 purse you shall with your skin," re- 
 turned the clerk. At a sign from 
 him Ali was seized by four vigorous 
 arms and flung on the ground, his 
 feet were tied with ropes, and, in the 
 attitude in which he had but too often placed others, he re- 
 ceived fifty blows on his soles, as conscientiously applied as 
 if a pacha had presided over the punishment. 
 
 He arose, lame and bleeding, wrapped his feet in some 
 rags, and dragged himself home, sighing. 
 
 " God is great !" murmured he. " It is just that I should 
 suffer myself what I have made others suffer. But the mer- 
 chants of Bagdad whom I bastinadoed were happier than I ; 
 they had friends who paid for them, while I am famishing, 
 and have nothing to reward me for my beating." 
 
 He was mistaken. A good woman, who, by chance or 
 curiosity, had seen his mishap, took pity on him. She gave 
 him oil to dress his wounds, a little sack of flour, and a few 
 
 03MIK ^-' 
 
The Shepherd Pacha. 1 6 1 
 
 handfuls of pease on which to live till he was cured, and that 
 night, for the first time since his fall, Ali could sleep without 
 care for the morrow. 
 
 Nothing sharpens the wits like sickness and suffering. In 
 his forced rest Ali was struck with a bright thought. "I was 
 a fool," reflected he, "to undertake to be a porter. A 
 pucha's strength does not lie in his muscles ; to oxen be- 
 longs that honor. What distinguish men of my condition are 
 skill and sleight of hand. I was an unequalled hunter, and, 
 moreover, I know how to flatter and lie. I ought to know 
 how, I have been a pacha. I will choose a business in 
 which I can astonish the world by these brilliant qualities, 
 and rapidly win an honorable fortune." Reflecting thus, 
 Ali turned barber. 
 
 The first few days all went well. The master of the new 
 barber made him draw water, scrub the shop, shake the rugs, 
 keep the utensils in order, and serve the customers with 
 coffee and pipes. Ali performed these delicate functions 
 admirably. If by chance the head of some mountain peas- 
 ant was intrusted to him, a wrong slip of the razor passed 
 unnoticed: these good people are tough -skinned, and are 
 not ignorant that they were made to be flayed ; a little more 
 or less does not affect them or rouse them from their torpor. 
 
 One morning, in the absence of the head barber, a great 
 personage entered the shop, the very sight of whom intimi- 
 dated poor Ali. It was the pacha's buffoon, a hideous little 
 humpback with a head like a pumpkin, long hairy claws, a 
 restless eye, and teeth like an ape. While Ali covered his 
 face with a fragrant lather, the buffoon, leaning back in his 
 chair, amused himself with pinching the new barber, laugh- 
 ing in his face, and running out his tongue at him. Twice 
 he knocked from his hands the basin of suds, which de- 
 lighted him to such a degree that he flung him four paras. 
 11 
 
l62 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Nevertheless, the prudent AH preserved his gravity. Ab- 
 sorbed in the care of so precious a face, he was guiding 
 his razor with admirable regularity and lightness, when all 
 at once the humpback made such a hideous grimace and 
 uttered such a cry that the barber, frightened, suddenly 
 drew back his hand, carrying away on the end of his razor 
 half of an ear, and that not his own. 
 
 Buffoons like to laugh, but it is at the expense of others. 
 There are few men with thinner 
 skins than those who chafe the 
 skins of their neighbors. To 
 fling himself on Ali and cuff 
 and choke him, shouting murder 
 meanwhile, was the humpback's 
 first impulse. Happily for Ali, 
 the cut was so deep that the 
 wounded man was soon forced 
 to think of his ear, from which a 
 stream of blood was gushing. 
 Ali seized the lucky moment 
 and fled through the lanes of. 
 Damascus with the swiftness of 
 a man who knows that to be 
 caught is to be hung. 
 
 After many windings, he hid himself in a ruined cellar, 
 and only ventured to return home in the darkness and si- 
 lence of night. To stay at Damascus after such an accident 
 was certain death. Ali had no difficulty in convincing his 
 daughter that it was necessary to depart, and that at once. 
 Their baggage was little encumbrance to them, and before 
 dawn they had reached the mountain. For three days they 
 walked without stopping, with nothing to eat but a few figs 
 filched from the trees on the road, and a little water pro- 
 
The Shepherd Pacha. 163 
 
 cured with great difficulty from the bottom of the dried-up 
 ravines. But every misfortune has its compensation, and it 
 must be said that never, in the times of their splendor, had 
 the pacha or his daughter eaten or drunk with better ap- 
 petite. 
 
 At their last stopping-place the fugitives were welcomed 
 by an honest peasant who liberally practised the holy law of 
 hospitality. After supper he talked with Ali, and, finding 
 him without resources, offered to take him for a shepherd. 
 To lead to the mountain a score of goats, followed by half 
 a hundred sheep, was not a tiresome task; two good dogs did 
 the hardest part of the work ; he ran no risk of being beaten 
 for his awkwardness ; he had all the milk and cheese he 
 wanted, and if the farmer did not give him ^ipara, he at least 
 permitted Delight-of-the-Eyes to take as much wool as she 
 could spin, for her father's clothes and her own. Ali, who 
 had no choice but to die of hunger or be hung, decided, 
 without much reluctance, to lead the life of the patriarchs ; 
 the very next morning he made his way to the mountain 
 with his daughter, his dogs, and his flock. 
 
 Once in the fields, Ali relapsed into his indolent ways. 
 Stretched on his back smoking his pipe, he passed his time 
 watching the flight of the birds through the air. Poor De- 
 light-of-the-Eyes was less patient; she thought of Bagdad, 
 and did not forget in her distaff the sweet leisure of olden 
 times. 
 
 "My father!" she often said, "what is the use of life 
 when it is nought but perpetual misery ? Is it not better to 
 put an end to it at once than to die by a slow fire ?" 
 
 " God is great ! my daughter," answered the wise shep- 
 herd ; " what he does is well done. I have repose ; at my 
 age this is the chief of blessings ; you see, therefore, that I 
 am resigned. Ah ! if I had only learned a trade. You have 
 
She was thinking of Bagdad, and her distaff did not make her forget 
 the sweet leisure of other days." 
 
The Shepherd Pacha. 
 
 165 
 
 Are 
 
 youth and hope, and can look for a change of fortune, 
 not these good reasons for taking comfort ?" 
 
 " I am resigned, my good father," said Delight-of-the-Eyes, 
 sighing. The more she hoped, the less was her resignation. 
 
 All had led this happy life in solitude for more than a 
 year when one morning the son of the pacha of Damascus 
 was hunting on the mountain. While chasing a wounded 
 bird he lost his way. Alone, and far from his suite, he 
 sought to find his path by following the course of a brook, 
 when, on turning a rock, he saw before him a young girl sit- 
 ting on the grass with her feet in the water, and braiding up 
 
1 66 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 her long hair. At the sight of this beautiful creature You- 
 souf uttered a cry. Delight-of-the-Eyes raised her head. 
 Terrified at the sight of a stranger, she fled to her father, 
 and disappeared from the gaze of the astonished prince. 
 
 " Who can this be ?" thought Yousouf. " The flower of 
 the mountain is fresher than the rose of our gardens ; this 
 daughter of the desert is more beautiful than our sultanas. 
 Here is the woman of whom I have dreamed." 
 
 He followed the steps of the unknown as fast as the slip- 
 pery stones would let him, and at last found Delight-of-the- 
 Eyes busied in milking the goats, while Ali called off the 
 dogs, whose furious barking announced the stranger's ap- 
 proach. Yousouf complained that he had lost his way and 
 was dying of thirst. Delight-of-the-Eyes immediately brought 
 him milk in a great earthen jug; he drank slowly, gazing 
 at the father and daughter without speaking, and at last 
 decided to ask his way. Ali, followed by his two dogs, con- 
 ducted the hunter to the foot of the mountain and returned 
 trembling ; the stranger had given him a piece of gold ; he 
 must be an officer of the sultan, perhaps a pacha. To Ali, 
 who judged from his own recollections, a pacha was a man 
 who could only do harm, and whose friendship was to be 
 dreaded quite as much as his hatred. 
 
 On reaching Damascus, Yousouf threw himself on his 
 mother's neck : he repeated to her that she was as beautiful 
 as at sixteen, and as brilliant as the moon in its full ; that 
 she was his only friend, and that he loved no one else in 
 the world; saying which he kissed her hands again and 
 again. 
 
 His mother smiled. "My child," said she, "you have a 
 secret to confide to me ; speak quickly. I know that I am 
 not as beautiful as you call me, but I am sure of this, that 
 you will never have a better friend than I.'* 
 
The Shepherd Pacha, 167 
 
 Yousouf did not wait to be urged. He was burning to 
 tell what he had seen on the mountain ; he drew a marvel- 
 lous portrait of the fair stranger, and declared that he could 
 not live without her, and would marry her the next day. 
 
 "A little patience, my son!" said his mother. "Let us 
 learn who this miracle of beauty is ; after that we will per- 
 suade your father to give his consent to this happy marriage." 
 
 When the pacha learned of his son's passion, he began 
 with expostulations and ended with a fit of rage. Were rich 
 and elegant girls so scarce in Damascus that his son must 
 go to the desert in search of a shepherdess ? Never would 
 he give his consent to this wretched marriage, never ! 
 
 Never is a word which a prudent man should beware of 
 speaking in his household when his wife and son are arrayed 
 against him. A week had not passed before the pacha, 
 moved by the mother's tears and the son's pallor, retired 
 from the field, tired of the contest; but, like a strong-minded 
 man who knows his own value, he openly declared that he 
 was doing a foolish thing and that he knew it. 
 
 " All right!" said he; "let my son marry a shepherdess, if 
 he will ; his folly be on his own head ; I wash my hands of 
 him. But, that nothing may be lacking to this absurd mar- 
 riage, let my fool come hither; he is the fitting messenger 
 to send for this wretched goatherd who has bewitched my 
 household." 
 
 An hour after the humpback, mounted on an ass, was on 
 his way to the mountain, execrating the caprice of the pacha 
 and the love of Yousouf. What sense was there in sending 
 as ambassador to a shepherd, through dust and sun, a deli- 
 cate man, born to live under the canopy of a palace and to 
 delight lords and princes by the brilliancy of his wit? But, 
 alas ! fortune is blind ; it seats fools on the pinnacle of power, 
 and reduces geniuses who would not die of hunger to the 
 condition of fools. 
 
1 68 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Three days of fatigue had not softened the ill-humor of 
 the humpback, when he saw Ali lying in the shade of a 
 tree, and more occupied with his pipe than his sheep. Giv- 
 ing his ass a kick, the fool advanced towards the shepherd 
 with the majesty of a vizier. 
 
 " Fellow !" said he, '' you have bewitched the pacha's son ; 
 he does you the honor to marry your daughter. Scour up 
 this pearl of the mountain as quickly as you can, I must 
 carry her back to Damascus. As for yourself, the pacha 
 sends you this purse, and orders you to clear out of the coun- 
 try as fast as possible." 
 
 Ali let fall the purse that was flung him, and, without turn- 
 ing his head, asked the humpback what he wanted. 
 
 "• Stupid brute !" returned the latter. " Didn't you hear 
 me? The pacha's son takes your daughter in marriage." 
 
 " What does the pacha's son do for a living ?" asked Ali. 
 
 " What does he do for a living ?" cried the buffoon, burst- 
 ing into a fit of laughter, " Blind dotard that you are, do 
 you imagine that so exalted a personage as he is a rustic of 
 your sortf Don't you know that the pacha shares the tithes 
 of the provinces with the sultan, and that out of the forty 
 sheep that you tend so badly, there are five that belong to 
 him by right, and thirty-five that he can take if he chooses." 
 
 " I am not talking of the pacha," tranquilly returned AH. 
 " God protect his Excellency ! I ask you what his son does 
 for a living? Is he an armorer? 
 
 " No ! you fool !" 
 
 "A blacksmith?" 
 
 " By no means !" 
 
 " A carpenter ?" 
 
 " No !" 
 
 " A charcoal-burner ?" 
 
 " No, no \ he is a great gentleman. Don't you know, you 
 
The Shepherd Pacha, 169 
 
 blind bat, that nobody but beggars work? The son of the 
 pacha is a noble lord ; that is to say, he has white hands and 
 does nothing." 
 
 "Then he shall not have my daughter," said the shepherd, 
 gravely. "Housekeeping is expensive, and I will never 
 give my daughter to a husband who cannot support his 
 wife. But perhaps the pacha's son has some lighter trade. 
 Is not he an embroiderer ?" 
 
 " No," said the buffoon, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 "A tailor?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " A potter ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " A basket-maker ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Is he a barber, then .?" 
 
 "No," said the humpback, purple with rage; "stop this 
 foolish jesting or I will have you beaten to a jelly. Call 
 your daughter, I am in haste." 
 
 " My daughter shall not go," said the shepherd. 
 
 He whistled to his dogs, who gathered round him, growling, 
 and showing fangs which appeared to give little amusement 
 to the envoy of the pacha. He mounted his ass, and, shak- 
 ing his fist at Ali, who held back his dogs, bristling with 
 rage, 
 
 " Wretch !" said he, " you shall soon hear from me. You 
 shall know what it costs to have any other will than that of 
 the pacha, your master and mine." 
 
 The buffoon returned to Damascus with his maimed ear 
 hanging lower than usual. Happily for him, the pacha took 
 the matter in good part. It was a little disappointment for 
 his wife and son, and a triumph for himself; a double suc- 
 cess which agreeably tickled his pride. 
 
1 70 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Upon my word !" said he, " the honest man is even 
 madder than my son. But don't be troubled, Yousouf, a 
 pacha never breaks his word. I will send four horsemen 
 to the mountain to bring me the girl ; as for the father, have 
 no anxiety about him ; I have a decisive argument in store 
 for the fellow." 
 
 Saying this, he made an airy gesture with his hand, as 
 if cutting down something that was in his way. 
 
 At a sign from his mother Yousouf arose, and entreated 
 his father to leave to him the care of carrying out this little 
 adventure. Doubtless the means proposed was irresistible, 
 but Delight-of-the-Eyes might be weak enough to love the 
 old shepherd ; she would weep for him \ and the pacha would 
 not wish to sadden the honeymoon. Yousouf hoped, with 
 a little persuasion, easily to overcome a resistance which 
 seemed to him unreasonable. 
 
 "Very well," said the pacha. "You think yourself wiser 
 than your father ; it is the way with sons. Go, and do as 
 you please ; but I warn you that from this day forth I wash 
 my hands of your affairs. If that old fool of a shepherd 
 refuses you, that ends the matter. I would give a thousand 
 piasters to see you return as discomfited as the humpback." 
 
 Yousouf smiled ; he was sure of success. How could 
 Delight-of-the-Eyes help loving him? He adored her. 
 Moreover, at twenty, who doubts himself or his good fort- 
 une. Doubt is for those whom life has deceived, and not 
 for those whom she intoxicates with her first illusions. 
 
 AH received Yousouf with all the respect due to the son 
 of a pacha. He thanked him politely for his honorable pro- 
 posal, but continued inexorable. No trade — no marriage. 
 It was for him to choose. The young man had thought 
 that Delight-of-the-Eyes would come to his aid ; but Delight- 
 of-the-Eyes was invisible ; and there was a good reason for 
 
The Shepherd Pacha, 171 
 
 her not disobeying her father ; the prudent Ali had not said 
 a word to her about the marriage. Since the visit of the 
 buffoon he had carefully kept her shut up in the house. 
 
 The pacha's son returned from the mountain utterly cast 
 down. What should he do? Return to Damascus to be 
 the butt of his father's railleries? Never would Yousouf 
 resign himself to this. Lose Delight-of-the-Eyes ? Rather 
 death. Make this old shepherd change his mind? You- 
 souf could not hope for it, and he almost came to the point 
 of regretting that he had ruined his cause by too great 
 kindness of heart. 
 
 Amid these sad reflections he suddenly perceived that 
 his horse, left to himself, had strayed away. Yousouf found 
 him on the edge of an olive wood. In the distance he spied 
 a village. The bluish smoke rose above the roofs, and he 
 heard the barking of dogs, the song of the workmen, and the 
 noise of the forge and hammer. An idea struck Yousouf. 
 What hindered him from learning a trade ? Was it so very 
 difficult? Was not Delight-of-the-Eyes worth any sacrifice? 
 The young man tied his horse to an olive-tree, upon which 
 he hung his weapons, embroidered jacket, and turban. At 
 the first house he reached he complained of having been 
 robbed by the Bedouins, bought a rough suit of clothes, and, 
 thus disguised, went from door to door to offer himself as 
 an apprentice. Yousouf's appearance was so prepossessing 
 that every one welcomed him cordially, but he was appalled 
 at the conditions proposed to him. The blacksmith asked 
 two years to teach him, the potter one year, and the mason 
 six months; it was a century. The pacha's son would not 
 resign himself to this long servitude. All at once a shrill 
 voice called out : " Ho ! my son, if you are in haste and 
 are not ambitious, come with me ; in a week I will teach 
 you how to earn your living." 
 
172 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Yousouf raised his head. A few steps from him a little 
 fat man with round belly and rosy face was seated on a 
 bench with his legs crossed ; he was a basket-maker. He 
 was surrounded with straw and reeds of all colors. With a 
 skilful hand he plaited the braids, which he then sewed to- 
 gether into baskets, mats, and hats of varied shades and pat- 
 terns. It was a charming sight. 
 
 "You are my master," said Yousouf, taking the hand of 
 the basket-maker ; *' and if you can teach me your trade in 
 
 .^J2.V<P_ ^ 
 
 ~ £l^}ljPj^ 
 
 two days, I will pay you well for your pains. Here is my 
 advance fee." 
 
 With these words he flung two pieces of gold to the 
 amazed workman. 
 
 An apprentice who scatters gold about him is not seen 
 every day. The basket-maker did not doubt that he had to 
 deal with a prince in disguise. He did wonders, and, as his 
 pupil lacked neither intelligence nor good-will, before night 
 he had taught him all the secrets of his trade. 
 
 " My son," said he, "your education is finished ; you shall 
 judge before night whether your master has earned bis 
 
The Shepherd Pacha. 1 73 
 
 money. The sun is setting; it is the time when people 
 pass my door on their way home from work. Take this 
 mat, which you have braided and sewed with your own 
 hands, and offer it for sale. Either I am greatly mistaken 
 or you will sell it for four paras. For a beginner that is 
 doing well." 
 
 The basket-maker was not mistaken. The first purchaser 
 offered three paras. He was asked five, and after more 
 than an hour's haggling he finally decided to give four. He 
 drew out his long purse, looked several times at the mat, 
 criticised it, and finally made up his mind to count out his 
 four copper coins, one by one. But, instead of taking the 
 money, Yousouf flung a piece of gold to the purchaser, and 
 ten to the basket-maker ; then, seizing his masterpiece, he 
 rushed from the village like a madman. On reaching his 
 horse he spread the mat on the ground, enveloped his head 
 in his mantle, and slept the most restless but, nevertheless, 
 the sweetest sleep that he had ever tasted in his life. 
 
 At daybreak, when Ali came to the pasture with his sheep, 
 he was greatly astonished to see Yousouf installed before 
 him under the old carob-tree. As soon as he perceived the 
 shepherd, the young man arose, and, taking the mat on which 
 he had been lying, 
 
 " My father !" said he, " you required me to learn a trade. 
 I have done so. Here is my work, examine it for yourself." 
 
 " It is a fine bit of work," said Ali ; " if it is not very 
 smoothly braided, it is honestly sewed. What can you earn 
 by making one mat a day like this ?" 
 
 " YoMx paras ^' said Yousouf, "and with a little practice, I 
 could make two at least in a day." 
 
 " Be modest," returned Ali ; " modesty becomes youthful 
 talent. Yo\xx paras a day is not much, but (our paras to-day 
 and four to-morrow make eight paras^ and four paras the 
 
1 74 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 day after will make twelve. In fine, it is a trade at which a 
 man can earn a living, and if I had had the wit to learn it 
 when I was pacha, I should not have had to turn shepherd 
 to-day." 
 
 These words filled Yousouf with astonishment. Ali told 
 him his whole story. It was risking his head, but a little 
 pride is excusable in a father on giving his daughter in mar- 
 riage. Ali was not sorry to show his son-in-law that Delight- 
 of-the-Eyes was not unworthy to be" the wife of a pacha's son. 
 
 The sheep that day went home earlier than usual. You- 
 souf was anxious to thank the honest farmer who had given 
 shelter to Ali and his daughter. He bestowed on him a 
 purse of gold to reward him for his charity. None is so 
 liberal as a happy man. Delight-of-the-Eyes, on being in- 
 troduced to the mountain hunter, and informed of Yousouf 's 
 intentions, declared that it was a daughter's first duty to 
 obey her father. In such cases, it is said, daughters are al- 
 ways obedient in Turkey. 
 
 The same day, in the cool of the evening, they set out 
 for Damascus. The horses were fleet, and their hearts were 
 light; they went like the wind, and, before the close of the 
 second day, they had reached their destination. Yousouf 
 presented his bride to his mother. It is needless to say how 
 great was her joy. After the first caresses, she could not 
 resist the pleasure of showing her husband that she had been 
 wiser than he, and took pleasure in revealing to him the birth 
 of the fair Delight-of-the-Eyes. 
 
 " By Allah !" cried the pacha, stroking his long beard to 
 keep himself in countenance, and hide his confusion, "do 
 you imagine, madam, that you can surprise a statesman like 
 me? should I ever have consented to this union if I had 
 not known the secret that astonishes you ? Understand that 
 a pacha knows everything." And he instantly retired to his 
 
The Shepherd Pacha. 
 
 175 
 
 Study to write to the sultan, that he might decide Ali's fate. 
 He was not ready to displease his highness for the bright 
 eyes of an outlawed family. Youth loves romance in life, 
 but the pacha was a serious man, who was anxious to live 
 and die a pacha. 
 
 All sultans love stories, if we are to believe "The Thou- 
 sand and One Nights." Ali's protector had not degener- 
 ated from his ancestors. He sent a ship expressly to Syria 
 to bring the ex-pacha of Bagdad to Constantinople. Ali, 
 clad in rags, with crook in hand, was led to the seraglio, 
 where, before a numerous audience, he had the honor of 
 amusing his majesty during a whole afternoon. 
 
 When Ali had finished his story, the sultan ordered him to 
 be clothed in a robe of honor. Of a pacha his highness had 
 made a shepherd ; he wished now to astonish the world by a 
 new miracle of his omnipotence, and of a shepherd to make 
 a pacha. 
 
 The whole court applauded this brilliant mark of favor. 
 Ali threw himself at the sultan's feet, and declined an honor 
 
1 76 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 which had lost all attractions for him. He did not wish, he 
 said, to run the risk of displeasing the master of the world a 
 second time, and begged to grow old in obscurity, blessing 
 the generous hand that had rescued him from the abyss into 
 which he had justly fallen. 
 
 All's boldness appalled the . spectators, but the sultan 
 smiled. 
 
 "God is great!" he cried, "and has some new surprise in 
 store for us each day. During the twenty years that I have 
 reigned, this is the first time that one of my subjects has 
 asked to be nothing. For the rarity of the thing, AH, I grant 
 your prayer. All that I ask is that you shall accept a gift 
 of a thousand purses. No one must leave my presence 
 empty-handed." 
 
 On his return to Damascus Ali bought a beautiful garden, 
 filled with oranges, lemons, apricots, plums, and grapes. To 
 dig, hoe, graft, prune, and water these was his sole delight. 
 He went to bed every night with a tired body and tran- 
 quil soul, and arose every morning refreshed and light- 
 hearted. 
 
 Delight-of-the-Eyes had three sons, all more beautiful than 
 their mother. Old Ali undertook to bring them up. He 
 taught all of them gardening, and made each one learn a 
 different trade. To engrave on their hearts the truth that he 
 had learned only in exile, he inscribed on the walls of his 
 house and garden the finest passages of the Koran, above 
 which he wrote these wise sayings, which the Prophet himself 
 would not have disowned : 
 
 *' Labor is the only treasure that never fails us." 
 
 " Use thy hands for work and thou wilt never stretch them for alms." 
 " When thou knowest what it costs to earn a para, thou wilt respect 
 others' property and labor." 
 
 " Work brings health, wisdom, and joy." 
 
 " Labor and dulness never dwell under the same roof." 
 
The Shepherd Pacha. 
 
 177 
 
 It was amid such wise teachings that the sons of Delight- 
 of-the-Eyes grew up. All three were pachas. Whether they 
 profited by their grandfather's counsels I know not. I like 
 to think so, although the annals of the Turks are silent con- 
 cerning it. The first lessons of infancy are not forgotten. 
 It is to education that we owe three fourths of our vices and 
 half our virtues. Good people, remember what you owe to 
 your fathers, and say to yourselves that wicked men and 
 pachas, are, for the most part, only children badly trained. 
 12 . 
 
BRIAM THE FOOL, 
 
 AN ICELANDIC TALE. 
 
 In the good country of Iceland, there once lived a king 
 and queen who ruled a faithful and obedient people. The 
 queen was good and gentle, and little attention was paid to 
 her ; the king was grasping and cruel, and all who feared 
 him, therefore, vied with each other in praising his virtue and 
 kindness. Thanks to his avarice, the king had more castles, 
 farms, herds, goods, and jewels than he could count, but the 
 more he had, the more he wanted. Woe to the man, rich or 
 poor, who fell into his power ! 
 
 At the lower end of the park about the royal castle stood 
 a little hut, where dwelt an old peasant and his wife. Provi- 
 dence had bestowed on them seven sons, and these were all 
 their riches. To feed this large family the good people 
 
Briam the Fool, 1 79 
 
 had nothing but a cow, called Bukolla. She was a splendid 
 animal, black-and-white, with short horns, and large, soft, 
 and gentle eyes. Her beauty, moreover, was her very least 
 merit ; she was milked thrice a day, and never gave^ less than 
 five gallons at a time. She was so devoted to her mas- 
 ters that she came home of her own accord at milking-time, 
 dragging her full udders, and lowing from afar for them to 
 come to her relief; in short, she was the delight of the 
 household. 
 
 One day, as the king was hunting, he chanced to pass 
 through the pasture where the cows of the castle were feed- 
 ing. Unluckily, Bukolla had strayed among the herd. 
 
 " What a fine cow I have there !" exclaimed he. 
 
 " Sire," answered the herdsman, " it is not yours ; it is 
 Bukolla, the cow of the old peasant that lives in the hovel 
 yonder." 
 
 " I must have her," said the king, and through the whole 
 hunt he talked of nothing but Bukolla. At night, on his re- 
 turn, he called the captain of his guard, who was as wicked 
 as himself, and said, " Go find that peasant, and bring me 
 directly the cow that has struck my fancy." 
 
 The queen begged him to forbear. " These poor people," 
 said she, " have nothing in the world but their cow ; to take 
 her away is to make them die of starvation." 
 
 " I must have her," returned the king, " by purchase, bar- 
 ter, or force, no matter which. If, in an hour, Bukolla is not 
 in my stables, woe to the knave that has failed in his duty !" 
 And he frowned so fiercely that the queen dared not open 
 her lips, and the captain of the guard set off post-haste with 
 a band of soldiers. 
 
 The peasant was milking the cow in front of the door, 
 with all the children gathered round, caressing her. On 
 hearing the king's message the good man shook his head, 
 
i8o Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 and declared that he would not sell Bukolla at any price. 
 " She is mine," said he, " she is my joy and treasure, and I 
 love her better than all the king's gold." 
 
 It was growing late, and the captain of the guard feared 
 his master's wrath. He seized Bukolla by the horns to drag 
 her away. The peasant sprang to his feet, to offer resistance, 
 when a blow from an axe laid him dead on the ground. At 
 the sight, all the children burst into tears except Briam, the 
 eldest, who stood, pale and speechless, as if transfixed to the 
 spot. 
 
 The captain of the guard knew that blood for blood is 
 the law in Iceland, and that sooner or later the sons would 
 avenge their father. If the tree was not to grow again, it 
 must be plucked up, root and branch. With a frenzied 
 grasp, the^ruffian seized one of the crying children. " Where 
 is your pain ?" he asked. " Here," said the child, laying his 
 hand on his heart, whereupon the wretch instantly plunged 
 a dagger into his breast. Six times he put the same ques- 
 tion and received the same answer, and six times he flung 
 the corpse of the son upon that of the father. All this time, 
 Briam, with his eyes and mouth wide open, was running 
 about, chasing the flies as they buzzed in the air. 
 
 " Come here, you rascal ! where is your pain .?" cried the 
 executioner. 
 
 For his sole answer, Briam put his thumb and forefinger 
 to his nose in token of contempt, and ran off as fast as his 
 legs could carry him, singing and dancing. The captain of 
 the guard was about to pursue the insolent fellow, when he 
 was stopped by his companions. 
 
 " Fie !" said they ; " kill the cub after the wolf, but do not 
 kill a fool ! What harm can he do you ?" 
 
 That evening the king had the pleasure of stroking Bu- 
 kolla, and the thought never crossed his mind that she 
 
Briam the Fool. 
 
 i8i 
 
 had cost him too dear. But in the ruined hovel an old 
 woman, in tears, entreated justice of God. The whim of a 
 prince had robbed her in an hour of her husband ind six 
 children. Of all whom she loved, of all who were her sup- 
 port, nought was left her but a wretched idiot. 
 
 II. 
 
 Ere long, nothing was talked of for twenty leagues round 
 but Briam and his antics. 
 
 One day, he wanted to drive -^ ^ ~- K 
 
 a nail into the axle of the 
 sun; another, he tossed up 
 his cap to the man in the 
 moon. The king, who was 
 ambitious, thought that it 
 would be a good thing to 
 have a fool at his court, in 
 humble imitation of the great 
 princes of the Continent. 
 Briam was sent for, accord- 
 ingly, and dressed in a motley 
 suit, with one leg red and 
 the other blue, one sleeve 
 green and the other yellow ; 
 and an orange body. In 
 this parrot -like costume, he 
 was set to amuse the court- 
 iers. Sometimes caressed 
 and oftener beaten, the poor 
 fool suffered everything with- 
 out complaint. He passed 
 whole hours in talking with 
 the birds or watching the 
 
1 82 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 burial of an ant. If he opened his lips, it was to make some 
 mad speech, which greatly delighted those who were not 
 its butt. 
 
 One day, when dinner was about to be served, the captain 
 of the guard entered the castle kitchen. Briam, armed with 
 a chopping-knife, was cutting up carrot leaves in the style 
 of parsley. The sight of the knife terrified the murderer, 
 and aroused his suspicions. " Briam, where is your mother ?" 
 asked he. 
 
 " There she is, hanging yonder," answered the idiot, point- 
 ing with his finger at the huge pot, where the royal dinner 
 was stewing. 
 
 " Stupid lout, what do you mean ?" exclaimed the guards- 
 man, opening his eyes. 
 
 "That is my mother; it is what feeds me," returned 
 Briam. And, springing to the fireplace, he grasped the 
 sooty pot in his arms, and ran off with it to the forest. 
 They chased him, but it was labor lost ; when they caught 
 him, the dinner was spilled and everything spoiled. That 
 night the king was forced to dine on a crust of bread, and 
 his only consolation was to have Briam soundly whipped by 
 the scullions of the castle. 
 
 Briam limped to his mother's hovel, and told her what had 
 happened. "My son, my son," said the poor woman, "that 
 is not what you should have said." 
 
 " What should I have said, mother .?" 
 
 " My son, you should have said, ' This is the pot that is 
 filled every day by the king's generosity.' " 
 
 "Well, mother, I will say that to-morrow." 
 
 The next day the court was assembled. The king was 
 talking with his high-steward — a great lord, who loved good 
 cheer, fat, sleek, and jolly ; with a large, bald head, a thick 
 neck, a huge belly, over which he could not cross his arms, 
 
Briam the Fool. 
 
 83 
 
 and a pair of little legs which with difficulty supported this 
 vast structure. As the steward was talking with the king, 
 Briam came up, and struck him a smart blow in the" belly, 
 saying : " This is what is filled every day by the king's gen- 
 erosity." 
 
 It is needless to say 
 that a beating followed. 
 The king was furious, 
 and the court like- 
 wise ; but it was whis- 
 pered that evening 
 throughout the castle 
 that fools, without 
 knowing it, sometimes 
 speak the truth. 
 
 Briam limped to his 
 mother's hut, and told 
 her what had hap- 
 pened. " My son, my 
 son," said the poor 
 woman, "that is not 
 what you should have 
 said." 
 
 " What should I have said, mother ?" 
 
 "My son, you should have said, 'This is the best and 
 most faithful of courtiers.' " 
 
 " Well, mother, I will say that to-morrow." 
 
 The next day the king held a grand levee, and while the 
 ministers, officers, chamberlains, fine gentlemen, and fair 
 ladies were disputing the smiles of the monarch, he amused 
 himself by teasing a large spaniel that was trying to snatch 
 a cake from his hands. 
 
 Briam seated himself at the king's feet, and, seizing the 
 
1 84 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 dog by the nape of the neck, causing it to howl piteously, 
 cried, "This is the best and most faithful of courtiers." 
 
 The king smiled at this jest, upon which the courtiers all 
 burst out laughing, but no sooner had he left the room than 
 a shower of blows and kicks rained upon poor Briam, who 
 had great difficulty in escaping the storm. He limped to his 
 mother's hut and told her what had happened. 
 
 " My son, my son," said the poor woman, " that is not 
 what you should have said." 
 
 " What should I have said, mother ?" 
 
 "You should have said, 'This creature would eat up 
 everything if one would let her.' " 
 
 " Well, mother, I will say that to-morrow.'* 
 
 The next day was a holiday, and the queen appeared in 
 her most gorgeous array. She was covered with velvet, 
 laces, and jewels ; her necklace alone was worth the tax of 
 twenty villages. All admired her splendor. Just then 
 Briam came up, crying, " This creature would eat up every- 
 thing if one would let her." 
 
 It would have been all over with the insolent wretch if 
 the queen herself had not interceded for him. 
 
 " Poor fool," said she, " begone ; no one shall hurt you. 
 If you knew how these jewels weigh me down, you would not 
 reproach me for wearing them." 
 
 Briam hastened to his mother's hut, and told her what 
 had happened. " My son, my son," said the poor woman, 
 " that is not what you should have said." 
 
 " What should I have said, mother ?" 
 
 " My son, you should have said, * This is the king's love 
 and pride.' " 
 
 " Well, mother, I will say that to-morrow." 
 
 The next day, the king was going to the chase. His fa- 
 vorite mare was brought him ; he mounted, and was care- 
 
Briam the Fool. 185 
 
 lessly bidding the queen good-bye, when Briam struck the 
 horse on the shoulder, saying, " This is the king's love and 
 pride." 
 
 The king looked angrily at Briam, upon which the poor 
 fool ran off as fast as his legs could carry him, already be- 
 ginning to scent the whip in the air. He entered his 
 mother's hut, out of breath, and told her what had happened. 
 
 " My son," said the poor woman," do not go back to the 
 castle ; they will kill you." 
 
 " Patience, mother, none can say who will slay and who 
 will be slain." 
 
 "Alas!" said his mother, weeping; "how happy your 
 father is to be in his grave, where he cannot see your shame 
 and mine." 
 
 " Patience, mother, no two days are alike." 
 
 III. 
 
 Almost three months had passed since Briam's father 
 slept in the grave with his children, when the king gave a 
 great feast to the chief officers of his court. The captain 
 of the guard sat at his right and the fat high-steward at his 
 left. The table was covered with lights, fruits and flowers, 
 and the guests quaffed the choicest wine from golden cups. 
 As the drink went round their blood grew heated, words ran 
 high, and more than one quarrel was threatening. Briam, 
 madder than ever, poured the wine, and took care not to 
 leave a glass empty, but while he held the golden flagon with 
 one hand, with the other he pinned the clothing of the guests 
 together, two by two, so that no one could rise without drag- 
 ging his neighbor after him. 
 
 He had made the round of the board three times, when 
 the king cried, heated with wine : 
 
 " Jump upon the table, fool, and give us a song !" 
 
86 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Briam leaped up lightly among the fruits and flowers, and 
 began chanting in a mournful strain : 
 
 "Each has its turn, 
 Wind and rain, 
 Night and day, 
 Death and life, 
 Each has its turn." 
 
 "What do you mean by this dismal dirge?" exclaimed 
 the king. " Fool, make me laugh or I will make you cry." 
 
B riant the FooL 187 
 
 Briam looked at the king fiercely, and chanted, in a men- 
 acing voice ; 
 
 "Each has its turn, 
 Good luck and ill, 
 Outrage and vengeance, 
 Deaf are the fates, 
 Each has its turn." 
 
 " What ! villain, it looks as if you were threatening me," 
 cried the king; "you shall be punished as you deserve." 
 
 He rose to his feet so suddenly that he dragged after him 
 the captain of the guard. The latter, taken by surprise, fell 
 forward, and, to steady himself, caught hold of the king's 
 elbow and neck. 
 
 " Wretch !" cried the prince, " do you dare to lay hands on 
 your master?" And, seizing his dagger, he was about to 
 stab the officer when the latter grasped the king's arm with 
 one hand, and, with the other, plunged his dirk into his 
 throat. The blood gushed forth in torrents, and the prince 
 fell, dragging his murderer with him in the death-struggle. 
 
 The captain of the guard rose quickly, amid shrieks and 
 confusion, and, drawing his sword, exclaimed, " Gentlemen, 
 the tyrant is dead. Hurrah for liberty. I will be king and 
 will marry the queen. If any one objects, let him speak, I 
 am ready for him.'* 
 
 "Long live the king!" cried all the courtiers; and there 
 were even a few who took advantage of the occasion to draw 
 a petition from their pockets. The joy was universal, and 
 almost delirious. Suddenly, with flashing eyes and uplifted 
 axe, Briam stood before the usurper. 
 
 ** Dog, and son of a dog," he cried, " when you slew my 
 kindred, you thought neither of God nor man. Your time 
 has come 1" 
 
 The captain of the guard attempted to draw his sword, 
 
i88 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 but Briam dealt his right arm such a blow that it fell like a 
 broken bough. 
 
 " And now," cried Briam, " if you have a son, let him 
 avenge you, as Briam this day avenges his father." With 
 these words, he cleft his skull asunder. 
 
 "Long live Briam!" cried the courtiers; "long live our 
 liberator !" At that instant the queen entered, terror-strick- 
 en, and threw herself at the fool's feet, calling him her 
 avenger. Briam raised her from the ground, then, seating 
 himself by her side and brandishing his axe, he called on 
 all the courtiers to swear fidelity to their lawful sovereign. 
 
 "Long live the queen!" cried every one. The joy was 
 universal and almost delirious. 
 
 The queen wished to keep Briam at the court; but he 
 begged to return to his hut, and asked no other reward than 
 the poor cow, the innocent cause of so much suffering. On 
 approaching the door of the cottage, the cow began to low 
 for those who could no longer hear her. The poor woman 
 came out, in tears. 
 
 "Mother," said Briam, "here is Bukolla; you are 
 avenged !" 
 
" At that instant the queen entered, terror-stricken, and threw her- 
 self at the fool's feet." 
 
190 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 Here ends the story. What became of Briam none can 
 tell ; but the whole country still points out the ruins of the 
 hut where he and his brothers dwelt, and mothers say to 
 
 their children, " There lived the lad who avenged his father 
 and comforted his mother." And the children answer, 
 " We will follow his example." 
 
THE LITTLE GRAY MAN. 
 
 AN ICELANDIC TALE. 
 
 In olden times — I speak of three or four hundred years 
 ago — there lived at Skalholt, in Iceland, an old peasant, 
 who was no more richly endowed with wit than he was with 
 money. One day, when the honest man was at church, he 
 heard a fine sermon on charity. " Give alms, brethren, give 
 alms !" said the curate, " and the Lord will restore it to you 
 a hundred-fold." These words, which were repeated again 
 and again, fixed themselves in the peasant's mind, and mud- 
 dled what little brains he had. Scarcely had he returned 
 home when he began to cut down the trees in his garden, 
 dig up the ground, and fetch wood and stones, as if he were 
 about to build a palace. 
 
 " What are you doing, my poor man ?" asked his wife. 
 
 " Don't call me ' poor man ' any longer," said the peas- 
 ant, gravely ; " we are rich, my dear wife, or, at least, we 
 soon shall be. In a fortnight I am going to give away my 
 cow." 
 
192 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Our only means of livelihood," cried the wife ; " we shall 
 die of starvation." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you ignoramus," said the peasant ; 
 "it is clearly to be seen that you did not listen to the cu- 
 rate's sermon. By giving away our cow we shall receive a 
 hundred more as a reward ; the curate said so, and it is gos- 
 pel truth j I shall put fifty of them in the stable that I am 
 going to build, and with the money that I get for the other 
 fifty I shall buy meadow-land enough to keep our herd both 
 in winter and summer. We shall be richer than the king." 
 And, without troubling himself about either the prayers or 
 reproaches of his wife, the simpleton went on building his 
 stable, to his neighbors' great astonishment. 
 
 The work finished, he tied a rope around the cow's neck, 
 and led her straight to the curate's house. He found him 
 talking with two strangers, at whom he scarcely glanced, so 
 eager was he to make his gift and to receive the promised 
 reward. The curate was greatly astonished at this new 
 form of charity. He made a long speech to his foolish 
 sheep, to prove to him that our Lord had spoken of spiritual 
 rewards alone ; but it was sheer waste of time : the peasant 
 only answered, "You said so, Mr. Curate; you said so." 
 Tired, at last, of reasoning with such a dolt, the pastor fell 
 into a fit of holy wrath, and shut his door in the face of the 
 peasant, who stood in the road thunder-struck, repeating, 
 " You said so, Mr. Curate ; you said so." 
 
 Nothing was left for him but to return home ; and this 
 was not an easy matter. It was early spring; the ice was 
 melting, and the gusts of wind blew the snow in all direc- 
 tions. He slipped at every step, while the cow lowed, and 
 would not go on. At the end of an hour he had lost his 
 way, and was in danger of losing his life. He stopped, 
 perplexed, execrating his ill-fortune, and not knowing what 
 
The Little Gray Man, 19 j 
 
 to do with the animal that he was dragging along. As he 
 was sadly reflecting, a man came up, carrying a huge sack, 
 and asked him what he was doing abroad in such wretched 
 weather. 
 
 The peasant told the story of his troubles. " My good 
 man," said the stranger, "if you take my advice, you will 
 make a trade with me. I live close by here ; give me your 
 cow, which you can never get home, and take this sack, 
 which is no more than you can carry, and which is full of 
 good things ; it holds nothing but meat and bone." 
 
 The bargain struck, the stranger led away the cow, while 
 the peasant threw over his shoulder the sack, which he found 
 frightfully heavy. Dreading his wife's reproaches and ridi- 
 cule, the instant he entered the house he hastened to tell of 
 the danger he had run, and what a good trade he had made 
 in exchanging a dying cow for a sack: full of victuals. On 
 hearing this fine story, his wife began to snarl. He begged 
 her to keep her ill-humor to herself, and to hang on her 
 biggest pot. " You will see what I have brought," said he. 
 " Wait a little, and you will thank me." He opened the sack, 
 when out stepped a little man, all in gray, like a mouse. 
 
 " How are you, good people ?" said he, with the air of a 
 prince. " I hope that, instead of cooking me, you will give 
 me something to eat ; this little journey has made me very 
 hungry." 
 
 The peasant dropped upon his bench as if he were thun- 
 derstruck. 
 
 " There !" said his wife ; " I was sure it would turn out so. 
 Here is a new piece of folly. But what else can one expect 
 of a husband ? Here you have lost the cow, that was our 
 only means of livelihood, and, now that we have nothing, 
 you bring us another mouth to feed. I wish you had stayed 
 in the snow with your sack and its treasure." 
 13 
 
194 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 The good woman would have gone on talking till dooms- 
 day, if the little gray man had not thrice remonstrated with 
 her that hard words would not fill the pot, and that the wis- 
 est course was to go and hunt for game. He went out at 
 once, in spite of the darkness, wind, and snow, and soon 
 came back, bringing a fat sheep. 
 
 "There!" said he; "kill this creature, and do not let us 
 die of starvation." 
 
 The old peasant and his wife looked askance at the little 
 man and his booty. This boon, that fell, as it were, from 
 the clouds, savored strongly of theft ; but, when hunger cries 
 aloud, farewell to scruples. Lawful prey or not, the sheep 
 was hungrily eaten. 
 
 From that day plenty reigned in the peasant's household. 
 One sheep followed another, and the honest man, more 
 
The Little Gray Man, 195 
 
 credulous than ever, marvelled within himself whether he 
 had not gained by the exchange, when, instead of the hun- 
 dred cows that he expected, heaven had sent him so skilful 
 a purveyor as the little gray man. 
 
 There are two sides to everything. While the sheep mul- 
 tiplied in the old man's house they perceptibly diminished 
 in the royal flock which was at pasture in the neighborhood. 
 The head shepherd, in great distress, informed the king that 
 for some time, in spite of his redoubled vigilance, the finest 
 wethers in the flock had disappeared one after another. 
 Some adroit thief had certainly taken up his abode in the 
 neighborhood. It did not take long to discover that there 
 was a stranger in the peasant's cabin, whom no one knew, 
 and who had come from none knew whither. The king or- 
 dered the stranger to be instantly brought before him. The 
 little gray man set out without a frown, but the peasant and 
 his wife began to feel a little remorse on thinking that re- 
 ceivers and thieves were hung on the same gallows. 
 
 When the little gray man appeared at court, the king 
 asked him whether, by chance, he had not heard that five 
 fat sheep had been stolen from the royal flock. 
 
 "Yes, your majesty !" answered the little man ; "it was I 
 that took them." 
 
 " By what right ?" said the prince. 
 
 "Your majesty, I took them because an old man and his 
 wife were suftering with hunger, while you, oh, king, were 
 rolling in wealth, and could not use one tenth of your in- 
 come. It seemed to me just that these honest people should 
 live on your superfluity, rather than die of want, while you 
 knew not what to do with your abundance." 
 
 The king stood stupefied at such audacity ; then, looking 
 the little man in a manner that boded no good, " As far as I 
 can see," said he, " your chief talent is stealing." 
 
196 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 The little man bowed with modest pride. 
 
 " Very well !" said the king ; " you deserve to be hung ; 
 but I forgive you, on condition that, by this time to-morrow, 
 you shall have stolen from my shepherds my black bull, 
 which they tell me they guard so carefully." 
 
 "Your majesty, you ask an impossibility. How do you 
 expect me to deceive such vigilance ?" 
 
 " If you do not do it," returned the king, " you will be 
 hung," and with a gesture he dismissed the thief, while all 
 around echoed, "Hung!" "hung!" "hung!" 
 
 The little gray man returned to the hut, where he was 
 tenderly received by the peasant and his wife. He only 
 told them, however, that he needed a rope, and that he 
 should leave the next morning at daybreak. They gave 
 him the cow's old halter, upon which he went to bed and 
 slept soundly. 
 
 At the first dawn of day the little gray man set out with 
 his rope. He went into the forest along the road by which 
 the king's shepherds were to pass, and, choosing a great 
 oak, well in sight, hung himself by the neck to its largest 
 bough. He took good care, however, not to make a slip- 
 noose. 
 
 Two shepherds soon came by, leading the black bull. 
 
 " Look," said one, " the knave has already got his reward. 
 It is certain, at least, that he did not steal his halter. Good- 
 bye, my fine fellow ! There is no danger of your taking the 
 king's bull." 
 
 No sooner were the shepherds out of sight than the little 
 gray man sprang down from the tree, ran up a cross-road, 
 and hung himself anew to a great oak near the road. The 
 shepherds were astonished to see another man hung. 
 
 " Who is that ?" cried one. " Do I see double ? Here is 
 the man that was hung over yonder." 
 
Why, here is the man that was hung over yonder !' ' 
 
198 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " How stupid you are !" said his companion ; " how can a 
 man be hung in two places at once ? This is another rob- 
 ber, that is all." 
 
 "I tell you that it is the same one," returned the 
 first shepherd ; " I know him by his coat and his grim- 
 ace." 
 
 "And I will bet that it is some one else," said the sec- 
 ond shepherd, who was strong-minded. 
 
 The bet was taken, and the two shepherds tied the bull to 
 a tree, and ran back to the first oak. But no sooner were 
 they out of sight than the little gray man leaped from his 
 gibbet, and stealthily led the bull to the peasant's cottage. 
 He was joyfully welcomed, and the animal was put into the 
 stable till it could be sold. 
 
 The two shepherds returned at night to the castle with 
 hanging heads and dejected air. The king saw at once 
 that a trick had been played them. He sent for the little 
 gray man, who presented himself with the serenity of a 
 hero. 
 
 " You have stolen my bull," said the king. 
 
 "Your majesty," answered the little man, "I only did it 
 in obedience to your commands." 
 
 "Very well!" said the king; "here are ten gold crowns 
 as its ransom ; but if, in two days, you do not steal the 
 clothes off my bed while I am asleep, I will hang you." 
 
 "Your majesty, do not ask such a thing. You are too 
 well guarded for a poor man like me to be able even to ap- 
 proach the castk." 
 
 "If you do not do it," said the king, "I shall have the 
 pleasure of hanging you." 
 
 When evening came, the little gray man, who had returned 
 to the hut, took a long rope and a basket. This basket 
 he lined with moss, and put in it a cat that had just kit- 
 
The Little Gray Man. 
 
 199 
 
 tened, with all her litter. Then, groping his way through 
 the thick darkness, he slipped into the castle, and mount- 
 ed to the roof without being seen. To enter the garret, 
 saw through a plank of the floor, and let himself down 
 through this opening into the king's chamber, was the work 
 of a few moments. Once there, he carefully turned down 
 the bedclothes, and laid the cat and kittens in the royal 
 
 bed. He then clam- 
 bered up the bedpost, 
 and seated himself on 
 the canopy, and in 
 this elevated position 
 waited to see what 
 would happen. 
 
 The palace clock 
 struck eleven, and the 
 
200 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 king and queen entered their apartment. Having un- 
 dressed, both knelt down and said their prayers ; after 
 which the king put out the light, and the queen got into 
 bed. All at once she shrieked, and sprang to the middle 
 of the room. 
 
 " Are you mad ?" said the king. " Do you want to alarm 
 the whole castle ?" 
 
 " My dear," answered she, " come away from that bed, I 
 beg of you ; I felt a burning breath there, and my feet 
 touched something hairy." 
 
 " Why not say at once that the devil is in the bed ?" said 
 the king, laughing contemptuously. " All women have the 
 heart of a hare and the head of a linnet." 
 
 Upon which, like a true hero, he bravely lay down under 
 the coverlet, and instantly sprang out, dragging after him 
 the cat, which had fastened its claws into his thigh. At 
 the king's shrieks the sentinel rushed to the door, and knocked 
 thrice with his halberd, as a signal that aid was at hand. 
 
 " Silence !" said the prince, ashamed of his weakness, and 
 not wishing to be caught in a fright. 
 
 He struck a match, lighted the lamp, and saw in the bed 
 the cat, tenderly licking her kittens. 
 
 "This is too much !" he cried. "This impudent creature 
 has no respect for our crown, but takes our royal couch in 
 which to deposit her litter. Wait, puss, and I will give you 
 what you deserve." 
 
 " She will bite you," said the queen ; "she may be mad." 
 
 "Don't be afraid, my dear!" returned the good prince, 
 and, raising the corners of the under-sheet, he wrapped the 
 whole litter in it ; after which he rolled it in the coverlet 
 and upper-sheet, made a huge bundle of the whole, and threw 
 it out of the window. 
 
 " Now," said he to the queen, " let us go to your room, 
 
The Little Gray Man, 
 
 20I 
 
 and sleep in peace, since we 
 are avenged." 
 
 The king slept, and pleasant 
 dreams lulled his slumbers; 
 but while he reposed, a man 
 climbed on the roof, and fas- 
 tened a rope thereto, by which 
 he let himself down to the 
 ground. Once there, he groped 
 for the bundle, took it on his 
 back, leaped over the wall, and 
 ran off through the snow. The 
 sentinels declared the next 
 morning that a phantom had 
 flitted before them, and that 
 they had heard the cries of a 
 new-born child. 
 
 When he awoke the next 
 morning, the king collected 
 his thoughts, and began for 
 the first time to reflect calm- 
 ly. He suspected that he had 
 been the victim of some trick- 
 ery, and that the author of the 
 crime was the little gray man. He sent for him at once. 
 
 The little gray man came, carrying on his shoulder the 
 clothes, freshly ironed. He bent his knee before the queen, 
 and said, in a respectful tone, 
 
 " Your majesty knows that what I did was only in obedi- 
 ence to the king's orders. I hope that you will be good 
 enough to forgive me." 
 
 " Very well," said the queen j " but never do it again, or 
 you will kill me with fright." 
 
202 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " But I do not forgive you," said the king, greatly vexed 
 that the queen should take it upon herself to show clemency 
 without consulting her lord and master. "Listen to me, 
 you scoundrel. If by to-morrow night you have not stolen 
 the queen herself from her castle, to-morrow night you shall 
 be hung." 
 
 " Your majesty !" cried the little man, " hang me at once, 
 and spare me twenty-four hours of anguish. How do you 
 expect me to succeed in such an undertaking .^ It would be 
 easier to pull down the moon with my teeth." 
 
 " That is your business and not mine," returned the king. 
 " Meanwhile, I shall order the gallows to be set up." 
 
 The little man went out in despair. He buried his face 
 in his hands, and sobbed ready to break his heart. The 
 king laughed for the first time. 
 
 Towards dusk a holy Capuchin monk, with his rosary in 
 
The Little Gray Man, 
 
 203 
 
 his hand, and his wallet upon his back, came to the castle, 
 according to custom, to beg for his convent. When the 
 queen gave him alms, 
 
 " Madam !" said he, " God will 
 reward your charity. Even now 
 I bring you a recompense. To- 
 morrow, as you well know, a 
 wretch, who is doubtless guilty, 
 is to be hung in the castle." 
 
 " Alas !" returned the queen, 
 " I forgave him heartily, and would 
 gladly have saved his life." 
 
 "That cannot be," said the 
 monk ; " but this man, who is a 
 kind of wizard, may make you a 
 valuable gift before he dies. I 
 know that he possesses three mar- 
 vellous secrets, one alone of which is worth a kingdom. One 
 of these he may be ready to bequeath to her who looked on 
 him with pity." 
 
 " What are these secrets ?" asked the queen. 
 
 " By virtue of the first, a woman can make her husband 
 do whatever she chooses." 
 
 " Ah !" said the princess, shrugging her shoulders, " there 
 is nothing wonderful about that recipe. From the time of 
 Eve, of blessed memory, this mystery has been handed down 
 from mother to daughter. What is the second secret ?" 
 
 "The second one confers wisdom and goodness on its 
 possessor." 
 
 " Indeed !" said the queen, in an absent-minded way ; 
 "and the third?" 
 
 " The third secures to the woman who possesses it unequal- 
 led beauty, and the power of pleasing to the end of her life." 
 
204 Last Fairy 'I ales, 
 
 " Father, that is the secret that I want !" cried the queen. 
 
 " Nothing is easier than to obtain it," said the monk. " It 
 is only necessary that before dying, and while he is still 
 at full liberty, the wizard should take both your hands, and 
 blow three times upon your hair." 
 
 " Let him come !" said the queen. " Father, go bring 
 him here !" 
 
 " That cannot be," said the monk. " The king has given 
 the strictest orders that this man shall not enter the castle. 
 If he sets his foot within these grounds, he dies on the spot. 
 Do not deprive him of the few hours he has to live." 
 
 " But, father, the king has forbidden me to go out till to- 
 morrow evening." 
 
 " That is a pity," said the monk. " I see that you must 
 give up this priceless treasure. It would be sweet, how- 
 ever, never to grow old, but always to remain young and 
 beautiful, and, above all, beloved." 
 
 " Alas ! father, you are quite right. The king's command 
 is the height of injustice. But even if I should attempt to 
 go, the guards would stop me. Don't look so astonished ; 
 you see how the king treats me, with his caprices. I am the 
 most unhappy of women." 
 
 "My heart is wrung," said the monk. "What tyranny! 
 What barbarism ! Well, madam, you should not give way 
 to such unreasonable commands. It is your duty to do as 
 you please." 
 
 " But how can I do so ?" 
 
 "There is one way, if you are strong in the consciousness 
 that you are right. Get into this sack, and I will carry you 
 out of the castle at the risk of my life. And fifty years 
 hence, when you are as young and beautiful as you are to- 
 day, you will applaud yourself for resisting the will of a ty- 
 rant." 
 
The Little Gray Man. 
 
 205 
 
 " Very well," said the queen. " But is not this some snare 
 laid for me?" 
 
 " Madam," said the holy man, raising his hands to heaven 
 and beating his breast, " as sure as I am a monk, you have 
 nothing to fear. Besides, I will stay by your side all the 
 time you are with this unhappy man." 
 
 " And you will bring me back to the castle ?" 
 
 " I swear it." 
 
 " And with the secret ?" 
 
 " With the secret. But if your majesty has any scruples, 
 stay here and let the secret die with its possessor, unless he 
 chooses to give it to some more confiding woman." 
 
 For her sole answer, the queen crept into the sack ; the 
 monk drew the strings together, threw the bundle over his 
 shoulder, and crossed the courtyard with measured steps. 
 On his way he met the king, who was making his rounds. 
 
 "The alms must have been plentiful to-day, judging by 
 appearances," said the king. 
 
2o6 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 "Sire," answered the monk, "your majesty's charity is 
 inexhaustible, and I fear that I have abused it. Perhaps I 
 had better leave this sack and its contents." 
 
 "No! no!" said the king; "carry it away, father, and 
 good riddance to it. I fancy that all you have there is not 
 worth much. You will make a slender supper." 
 
 " I wish your majesty may sup with as good an appetite," 
 returned the monk, as he went away, muttering under his 
 breath. 
 
 The supper-bell rang, and the king entered the dining- 
 room, rubbing his hands. He was satisfied with himself, 
 and he hoped to have vengeance — a double reason for being 
 hungry. 
 
 " The queen pot down yet !" said he, sarcastically. " That 
 does not surprise me, however ; unpunctuality is the virtue 
 of women." 
 
 He was about to sit down to the table, when three soldiers 
 entered, crossing their halberds, and driving before them the 
 little gray man. 
 
 "Sire," said one of the guards, "this fellow has had the 
 audacity to enter the courtyard of the castle in spite of the 
 royal command. We should have hung him on the spot, 
 without disturbing your majesty's supper, but he pretends 
 that he has a message from the queen, and that he is the 
 bearer of a state secret." 
 
 " The queen !" cried the king, amazed. " Where is she, 
 wretch ? and what have you done with her ?" 
 
 " I have stolen her," said the little man, coolly. 
 
 " But how ?" asked the king. 
 
 " Sire, that monk, with the huge sack on his back, to whom 
 your majesty deigned to say, ' Take it away, and good rid- 
 dance to it ' " — 
 
 " Was you !" said the prince. " Wretch, there is no longer 
 
The Little Gray Man. 207 
 
 any safety for me. One of these days you will take me, and 
 my kingdom into the bargain." 
 
 " Sire, I come to ask you for more than that." 
 
 "You frighten me," said the king. "Who are you — a 
 wizard, or the devil in person ?" 
 
 " No, sire. I am simply the Prince of Holar. You have 
 a marriageable daughter. I was on my way to ask her 
 hand, when the bad weather forced me and my squire to 
 take refuge with the curate of Skalholt. There I chanced 
 to fall in with a foolish countryman, who made me play the 
 part you know. All that I have done, moreover, has been 
 only to obey and please your majesty." 
 
 " All right," said the king. " I understand ; or, rather, I 
 don't understand. No matter. Prince Holar, I would 
 rather have you for a son-in-law than a neighbor. Where is 
 the queen ?" 
 
 " Sire, she is here. My squire was ordered to bring her 
 to the palace." 
 
 The queen soon entered, a little abashed at her credulity, 
 but easily consoled by thinking that she would have so clever 
 a son-in-law. 
 
 " But the famous secret," she whispered to the Prince of 
 Holar; "you owe it to me." 
 
 " The secret of being always beautiful," said the prince, 
 "is to be always beloved." 
 
 " And the way to be always beloved ?" said the queen. 
 
 "Is to be good and simple, and to do your husband's 
 will." 
 
 " He dares say that he is a wizard," said the queen, in- 
 dignantly raising her hands to heaven. 
 
 " Have done with these mysteries !" cried the king, who 
 was beginning to be nervous. "Prince Holar, when you 
 marry our daughter, you will have more time than you 
 
208 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 will want to talk with your mother-in-law. The supper is 
 cooling. To table ! Amuse yourself, my son-in-law ! Give 
 the evening to pleasure ! To-morrow you will be married." 
 
 At these words, which he thought witty, the king looked 
 at the queen, who answered with such a frown that he in- 
 stantly began to rub his chin, and watch the flies on the 
 ceiling. 
 
 Here end the adventures of Prince Holar. Happy days 
 have no history. We know, however, that he succeeded his 
 father-in-law, and that he was a great king. Something of a 
 liar and something of a robber ; bold and cunning, he had 
 the virtues of a conqueror. He took from his neighbors 
 more than a thousand leagues of snow, which he lost and 
 won three times by the sacrifice of half a dozen armies. 
 His name, however, figures gloriously in the celebrated an- 
 nals of Skalholt and Holar, and to these famous documents 
 we refer our reader. 
 
-^■^ 
 
 GAGLIUSO: OR, THE GOOD CAT. 
 
 A FAIRY TALE FROM THE PENTAMERON. 
 
 Ingratitude, sirs, is a nail that blights the tree of 
 courtesy when once it is driven in it ; it is a broken arch, 
 that lays in ruins the foundations of affection ; it is a hand- 
 ful of soot that, falling into the dish of friendship, destroys 
 its taste and flavor, as is seen and proved daily, as well as 
 by the tale which I am about to tell. 
 
 There was once in my beloved city of Naples a poor old 
 man named Gagliuso, so squalid and destitute that he was 
 as naked as a worm. Feeling himself at the point of 
 death, he said to his two children, Oratiello and Pippo, " My 
 sons, I am summoned to pay the debt of nature. Believe 
 me. Christians as you are, that my only regret in quitting 
 this sad abode of toil and pain is that I leave you without 
 a farthing. Alas ! you will have less than a fly could carry 
 off on his foot. I have led a dog's life ; I have dined off an 
 empty stomach, and gone to bed in the dark. But in spite 
 of all, I wish on my deathbed to leave you some token of 
 my love. Oratiello, my first-born, take that wallet hanging 
 on the wall, and may you find in it every night what I have 
 often sought in vain all day, a crust of bread. As to you, 
 14 
 
2IO 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 my youngest, take the cat. My children, remember your 
 dear father." With these words, he burst into tears, and a 
 little while after said, " Farewell, it is night." 
 
 Oratiello buried his father at the public expense; after 
 which he plucked up his courage, and went down to the bay 
 to help the fishermen draw the seine. 
 
 —^ * _C?- -V." "^ 
 
 But Pippo, looking at the cat, cried, " See what a fine 
 legacy my father has left me ! I cannot keep myself, and 
 here I have two mouths to feed !" 
 
 The cat heard these lamentations, and remarked, "You 
 complain without cause, and have more luck than sense. 
 You do not know your good-fortune, for I can make you 
 rich if I set about it." 
 
 Pippo felt that she was right. He stroked the cat three 
 or four times, and warmly besought the favor of Dame Puss, 
 who took compassion on the poor lad. She went out every 
 morning, to the bay, or the fish-market, where she managed 
 to lay hold of some huge mullet or superb sword-fish, which 
 she carried to the king, saying, " Your majesty's slave, Signer 
 
l^" 
 
 JESSINEP/RH.PIIiE 
 
 ZAU^onms txtsxsm 
 
 She managed to lay hold of some huge mullet or superb sword-fish, 
 which she carried to the king." 
 
212 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Gagliuso, sends this fish, with his compliments, as a small 
 gift to a great prince." 
 
 Upon which the king, with the pleased air of one receiv- 
 ing a present, would answer, " Tell this stranger gentleman 
 that I am infinitely obliged to him." 
 
 
 \. 
 
 Another time the cat would scour the fields and marshes, 
 and when the hunters shot down a blackbird, lark, or wood- 
 cock, would snatch up the game, and hurry with it on the 
 same errand to the king. She used this artifice so long that 
 at last, one morning, the king said, " I am under so many 
 obligations to Signor Gagliuso, that I should like to make 
 his acquaintance and thank him for all his courtesy." The 
 cat replied, " Signor Gagliuso's blood and life are at your 
 
Gagliuso; or, the Good Cat, 
 
 213 
 
 majesty's disposal. My master will wait upon you to-mor- 
 row morning without fail." 
 
 Morning having come, the cat hastened to the king, cry- 
 ing, " Signor Gagliuso begs you to excuse him for not pre- 
 senting himself before you. Some of his rascally valets ran 
 off with his clothes last night ; the thieves have not left him 
 a shirt to his back." 
 
 On hearing this, the king ordered a quantity of linen and 
 wearing apparel to be taken from his own wardrobe and 
 sent to Gagliuso. Before two hours had passed our hero 
 entered the palace, escorted by the cat. The king received 
 him most graciously, and seating him by his side, ordered a 
 magnificent feast to be served him. 
 
 While they were at dinner, Gagliuso turned from time to 
 time to the cat, and said, " Look here, Puss, keep an eye 
 
214 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 
 on our things !** to which she answered, "Hnsh! hush! don't 
 speak of such trifles." The king asked what troubled Gag- 
 liuso, whereupon the cat said that he would like a small 
 lemon, when the king sent to the garden for a whole basketful. 
 But Gagliuso continued to repeat the same thing, while the 
 cat tried to hush him, and when the king insisted upon know- 
 ing what was the matter, invented one excuse after another 
 to conceal her master's meanness, in thinking that any one 
 there would be likely to steal his hat and cloak. 
 
 At last, after sitting long at the table, talking of one thing 
 and another, Gagliuso asked permission to withdraw. Left 
 alone with the king, the cat extolled her master's merit, wit, 
 and good sense, and, above all, the immense wealth that 
 
Gagliuso ; or, the Good Cat, 
 
 215 
 
 he possessed in the Roman Campagna and Lombardy. He 
 was just such a son-in-law as a crowned head might desire. 
 The king, asking what his fortune might be, the cat declared 
 that it was impossible to reckon the value of the goods and 
 chattels of this Croesus, who did not know himself what he 
 was worth. But if the king wished to be sure, it was a very 
 easy matter; he had only to send some trusty messengers 
 across the frontier, and they would learn for themselves that 
 there was no wealth in the world like Gagliuso's. 
 
 
 
 ^'K2i 
 
 The king summoned his faithful counsellors, and ordered 
 them carefully to inquire into the affair. They followed the 
 
2l6 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 cat, who, as soon as they had crossed the frontier, ran on 
 before, on the pretence of preparing refreshments. Where- 
 ever she found a flock of sheep, cows, horses, or swine, she 
 said to the shepherds, or keepers, " Look here ! there is a 
 company of robbers coming to plunder everything they find. 
 If you wish to escape and save your property, you must say, 
 'All this belongs to Signor Gagliuso!' and they will not 
 touch a hair." 
 
 
 / 
 
 \y 
 
 
 
 k%4 
 
 m 
 
Gagliuso ; or^ the Good Cat. 217 
 
 She repeated the same thing at all the farms along the 
 way, so that, wherever the king's messengers went, they 
 heard the same song. All that they saw belonged to Sig- 
 nor Gagliuso. Tired of asking the same question, they re- 
 turned to the king and told him wonders concerning Signor 
 Gagliuso's possessions. On hearing this the monarch prom- 
 ised the cat a heavy fee if she would make the match, and 
 her friendly tongue bobbed back and forth like a shuttle till 
 it had woven the whole intrigue. Gagliuso offered himself, 
 and the king gave him a fat dowry with his daughter. 
 
 After a month's merry-making Gagliuso told his royal 
 father-in-law that he wished to carry his bride to his estates. 
 The king accompanied them as far as the frontier, after which 
 they went to Lombardy, where, by the cat's advice, Gagliuso 
 bought a vast domain with the title of baron. 
 
 Master Gagliuso, on seeing himself as rich as a prince, 
 thanked the cat in the warmest way imaginable, telling her 
 over and over again that it was to her that he owed his 
 wealth and grandeur. The wit of a cat had done more 
 for him than all his father's sense. She might dispose of 
 the property and life of her dear master as she saw fit. And 
 when she died — would to Heaven that she might live a hun- 
 dred years ! — he pledged her his word that he would have 
 her embalmed and put in a golden casket, which he would 
 keep in his chamber, that he might always have her cher- 
 ished remembrance before his eyes. 
 
 The cat was greatly puffed up with all these fine speeches. 
 Before three days had passed, she stretched herself at full 
 length along the garden terrace, pretending to be dead. 
 
 " Husband ! husband !" cried Gagliuso's wife, " what a 
 great misfortune ! the cat is dead !" 
 
 " The deuce take her," answered Gagliuso ; " better that 
 she should die than we." 
 
2l8 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " What shall we do with her ?" asked the princess. 
 "Take her by the paw and fling her out of the win- 
 dow." 
 
 
 On hearing this funeral oration, which was not exactly 
 what she was looking for, the cat jumped up, and cried: "So 
 these are your thanks to me for cleansing you of your filth ! 
 This is your gratitude for stripping you- of rags fit for noth- 
 ing but a wad for a distaff! This is the way you reward 
 me for feeding you, you scoundrel ! for clothing you, you 
 wretch ! But it is wasting soap to wash an ass's head. Ac- 
 cursed be all I have done for you. You are not even worth 
 the trouble of spitting in your face. A fine gold casket 
 you have made ready for me ! A splendid funeral you have 
 ordered for me! Well, puss, you have sweated, labored, 
 
Gagliuso ; or^ the Good Cat, 
 
 219 
 
 and worn yourself out, to be paid in such coin ! Fool that 
 you were, not to know that service is no inheritance. The 
 philosopher was right who said, *He who goes to bed an 
 ass will get up an ass.' The more one does, the more one 
 may do. But fine words and foul deeds deceive wise men 
 and fools alike." 
 
 V 
 
 
 With these words she started for the door. Gagliuso fol- 
 lowed, and attempted in the humblest accents to soften her. 
 His labor was in vain ; she would not return, but went 
 straight onward, without turning her head, saying, " Beware 
 of enriching a pauper, he is sure to turn out a villain." 
 
220 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 And now, friendly reader, that you know Basilio's version 
 of Puss in Boots, referred to in our Preface, as well as the 
 old, familiar one, tell us which is the original and which the 
 copy. Guess if you can, and choose if you dare. 
 
 A learned friend suggests that it is not necessary that one 
 of these stories should be a repetition of the other ; both 
 may have come from a common theme. It is a melody 
 which has been sung in many countries, but though it has 
 produced more than one variation in its journeyings, it is 
 still the same melody, which each nurse sings in her own key. 
 
 Here is another example ; a Middle Age fable, found in 
 the Recitals of a Minstrel of Rheims of the 13th Century, 
 published by the Historical Society of France. We give it 
 as it was chanted by a minstrel in the days of St. Louis. 
 
 ^^^^^^^ 
 
THE WOLF AND THE GOAT 
 
 A MEDIAEVAL FABLE. 
 
 There was once a wolf named Isengrin, who had a piece 
 of arable land. He went to a goat, with two kids, and said 
 to her, " Dame Goat, I have a bit of an old vineyard that I 
 would like to have you farm for me on shares. The soil is so 
 fertile that it will bear wheat without enriching; and, I as- 
 sure you, that I would much rather till it all myself than 
 divide it with others. But I have an important suit before 
 my noble lord Lion, against Belin, the shepherd, who pre- 
 tends that I have eaten two of his sheep, so that I have to 
 go to court every week, and furnish counsel, at a heavy cost." 
 
 " I dare not," answered the goat. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Forsooth, because you are a great and mighty lord, with 
 powerful connections, while I am an humble and defenceless 
 creature. It would be useless for me ever to bring a suit 
 against you, in case we should disagree." 
 
 " Zounds !" cried the wolf, " Dame Goat, my fair friend, 
 what have you to fear from me ? I swear by the faith I owe 
 Dame Hersent, my wife, and by the twelve living children 
 she has given me, that I will deal honestly by you, and never 
 wrong you in all my life." 
 
222 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Well," said the goat, " I will do it ; but I have great 
 misgivings that you will not give me my fair share." 
 
 The wolf went away. The goat cleared the ground of the 
 vine-roots, ploughed it, and sowed it with wheat, which yielded 
 a fine crop. When harvest-time had come, she went to the 
 wolf and said, " Sir Wolf, our wheat is ripe ; will you come, 
 or send some one, to look after it ?" 
 
 " In faith," returned the wolf, " I can neither go nor send ; 
 gather it in yourself; put the grain on one side and the straw 
 on the other, and when I return from court we will make a 
 fair division." 
 
 The goat left, unable to obtain any other answer. She 
 cut and thrashed the wheat, and put the grain on one side 
 and the straw on the other. 
 
 No sooner had she finished than the wolf appeared. This 
 was what he had been waiting for. He went to the goat, 
 and said, loftily, " Come, dame, shall we divide the crop ?" 
 
 "Whenever you please, noble sir," answered she. " Here 
 is the grain on one side, and the straw on the other, as you 
 commanded ; take half of each." 
 
 " Out upon you, foolish beast, you do not know what you 
 are talking about. I shall do no such thing." 
 
 " What will you do, then ?" asked the goat. 
 
 " Forsooth, I am a great lord, and have an expensive house- 
 hold to keep up. My needs are greater than yours, you 
 underling. A little will suffice for you ; you shall have the 
 straw and I will take the grain." 
 
 " Oh, my lord, you are unjust ; for God's sake, take your 
 share and leave me mine." 
 
 "Zounds !" cried the wolf, " I shall do nothing of the kind. 
 And I warn you that I shall come back to-morrow to know 
 whether you will do as I wish." 
 
 The wolf departed. The goat stood aghast. Suddenly, 
 
The Wolf and the Goat, 
 
 223 
 
 she bethought herself of two mastiffs that she had nursed, 
 and that lived near by, at the Abbey of Citeaux. One was 
 named Tabarel and the other Roenel. The goat went 
 straightway there, and found them sitting by the gate. On 
 seeing their foster-mother they ran to meet her, gave her a 
 warm welcome, and asked what brought her hither. She 
 told them how the wolf wished to treat her. 
 
2^4 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " In faith," cried both the dogs, " by our fangs, but this 
 shall not be. Return home, dear mother, we promise to be 
 there early in the morning, to see the division between you 
 and Isengrin. Please Heaven, Sir Wolf shall not wrong you 
 while we are by !" 
 
 The goat returned home, and found her kids crying. She 
 quieted them, and went to bed. However, she slept little, 
 and rose very early, praying to God for aid. 
 
 The two brothers, Tabarel and Roenel, appeared. They 
 bade her good-morning, and asked if Isengrin had come. 
 
 " Not yet," she answered. 
 
 "Mother," said the dogs, "we have thought of a good 
 plan. We will creep under this heap of straw, and curl our- 
 selves up there until we see and hear what Isengrin means 
 to do. For, if he knew we were here, perhaps he would not 
 come, but would wait until we were gone." 
 
 " You are right, my children," replied the goat. And the 
 dogs crept under the straw. 
 
 Isengrin soon appeared, bringing with him his friend and 
 counsellor, Reynard the fox, who had played him more than 
 one scurvy trick. "Well, dame," said he to the goat, "have 
 you consulted your friends yet ?" 
 
 " Whom could I consult ?" answered the goat. " Take 
 your share, and leave me mine." 
 
 " Grumble as much as you like, it shall be as I say," ex- 
 claimed the wolf. 
 
 While the wolf and goat were disputing, Reynard cast his 
 eyes on the heap of straw and saw the dogs' tails sticking out. 
 
 " Neighbor, be on your guard," said he to Isengrin. " I 
 see more in this business than you do." 
 
 " Come what will. Sir Reynard, I mean to have my way in 
 the matter. I will have the grain and she shall take the 
 straw." 
 
Reynard .c^st hjs eye^ on the heap of straw and saw the dogs' tails 
 sticking out." 
 
226 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Mark me, neighbor," said Reynard, " what I tell you is 
 only for your good ; and may good befall you ! Beware ! I 
 am going away." 
 
 Reynard quitted Isengrin and mounted a hillock close by 
 to see how the affair would end. Isengrin and his cartmen 
 took their sacks and filled them with wheat. 
 
 "Holy Mother, help me!" cried the goat. "My chil- 
 dren," she called to Roenel and Tabarel, "you see how I am 
 treated !" And, behold, the dogs sprang from the straw, and, 
 without stopping to argue the matter, fell upon the wolf, 
 threw him down, seized him by the throat, and inflicted more 
 than a hundred wounds upon his body, so that locks of hair 
 flew in all directions. They worried him until his pulse 
 and breath were gone, and left him for dead. 
 
 Then they took the wheat ; and while they were carrying 
 
 
The Wolf and the Goat 227 
 
 it to the granary of the goat, the cartmen hastened, with 
 great difficulty, to lift Isengrin into the cart, and drove home 
 with him at full speed. 
 
 And, behold, Reynard came to meet them. He had seen 
 the whole affair, and chuckled over it, for such was his nat- 
 ure. The pain of others was his delight. He approached 
 the mangled wolf, and said, in a honeyed tone : 
 
 " ftood neighbor, I am grieved at your accident. If you 
 had listened to me it would not have happened. I told you 
 to be on your guard, for I saw more in the business than you 
 did." 
 
 " Reynard, Reynard !" exclaimed the wolf, " he who has 
 no friend but you has none at all. I have been put to 
 shame ; but I will have my revenge." And he turned his 
 back on Reynard, who made a face at him. 
 
 Isengrin was carried to his house, where Dame Hersent, 
 his wife, and his children were looking for him. When 
 they saw him stretched in the cart on a wisp of hay, they 
 began to laugh at him, saying, " He who tackles a goat will 
 get a butting. Is this the grain you were to bring us for 
 our wheat cakes?" Such was the greeting which Isengrin 
 received from his household. Whence came the saying, 
 " When a man falls the whole world treads upon him." He 
 was lifted from the cart, groaning and shamefaced, and car- 
 ried to bed. It was five months before his wounds were 
 healed. 
 
 Let us return to Roenel and Tabarel. When they had 
 carried the wheat to the granary, they said to the goat, 
 " Good mother, we are going to the abbey, which is close by ; 
 if you need us we shall be ready to help you. Take this 
 tiorn and blow on it in case of danger, when we will run to 
 your aid." 
 
 "Many thanks, dear children," answered the goat. 
 
" He who tackles a goat will get a butting. 
 
The Wolf and the Goat, 229 
 
 "Blessed be the day I nursed you." The dogs bade her 
 farewell, and returned home. 
 
 As soon as he had somewhat recovered from his advent- 
 ure Isengrin went to see the goat, but she was on her guard, 
 and as soon as she spied him began to blow the horn. And, 
 lo ! sounds of Bow^ wow^ wow ! were heard in the distance, 
 as if to say, Here we are ! here we are I Upon this, Master 
 Wolf pricked up his ears directly, and began to amble gently 
 along, then took to his heels, with his tail between his 
 legs, as if the devil were after him. He never came back 
 again. 
 
 Violence and Knavery almost always end in the ruin of 
 the author. Honesty is the best policy. 
 
 This mediaeval fable is a new version of the Wolf and the 
 Lamb. But the wolf has had the upper hand long enough, 
 and here the lamb, or, in other words, the goat, has its turn. 
 It is a law of nature for us to turn things wrong side out 
 after using them on the right side. In this way David over- 
 throws Goliath, Omphale makes Hercules hold her distaff, 
 and Delilah robs Samson of his strength. Nothing is more 
 natural. It is the swinging of the pendulum ; or what the 
 universities call the law of compensation. For example, if 
 our philosophers are to be believed, man is descended from 
 the ape. This will hold true uptil a new order of things pre- 
 vails, when it will be found that the ape is descended from 
 man. It is inevitable. 
 
THE WICKED DAUGHTERS-IN-LAW. 
 
 Once upon a time there were three old women, who were 
 neighbors, and who lived together in the greatest harmony. 
 Each of them had a son. The three young men, who were 
 brought up together and were in the same business, loved 
 each other like brothers. The friendship of the children 
 rendered the mutual affection of the mothers even warmer 
 than ever. But the good women were wise ; they reflected 
 that death was approaching, and that when they were gone 
 their sons would be left alone. Their great desire was, there- 
 fore, to see them marry. 
 
 One day, as the three friends were walking together, they 
 saw three young girls in a balcony, who seemed to them so 
 charming that they asked them in marriage that very evening. 
 They did not have to wait long for an answer, and the three 
 
The Wicked Daughters-in-Law, 231 
 
 marriages took place the next day. Then, as they were very 
 fond of each other, and were not rich, it was agreed that 
 they should all live together under one roof, and that the 
 poor mothers should pass their old age peacefully with their 
 children. 
 
 Business compelled the three young merchants to travel, 
 
232 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 and it once chanced that they were all three obliged to be 
 absent for some time. They were scarcely on the road when 
 their wives began to quarrel with their mothers-in-law. To 
 live with these old women was unendurable ; and they were 
 determined at any cost to rid themselves of this burden. 
 Two of them proposed simply to choke their mothers-in-law, 
 but the youngest objected. " No," said she, "that would be 
 cruel, and, besides, it would be no revenge ; it is better to 
 torment them from morning till night, and from night till 
 morning." 
 
 No sooner said than done. One of the wives sent her 
 mother-in-law to school, to learn to read and write. It was 
 a little late, at seventy !' The second one sent her mother- 
 in-law to a fiddler, to learn to play the fiddle ; and the third 
 shut hers up in the cellar, with a basket of eggs to hatch. In 
 this way the fair dames rid themselves of their troublesome 
 companions, and led a merry and contented life in their hus- 
 bands' absence. 
 
The Wicked Daughter s-m-Law. 233 
 
 On returning to town, the three friends were astonished at 
 the uproar that prevailed in the school. They looked through 
 the window, and saw an old woman trying to say the alpha- 
 bet. As she did not know the letters, the teacher scolded 
 and punished her, to the great amusement of the mischievous 
 urchins. 
 
 "Is not that your mother?" asked one of the friends of his 
 companion. 
 
 " Ho ! there ; mother, what are you doing at school ?" 
 cried the young man. 
 
 " It was your wife, my daughter-in-law, that sent me here. 
 You see how I am treated." 
 
 "Be patient for a little while, mother, I will soon come 
 and take you away." 
 
 Two paces beyond lived the fiddler, and it was almost as 
 noisy there as at the school. A poor old woman was squeak- 
 ing her bow in such a fashion as to set all the dogs in the 
 neighborhood howling, while all around scoffed at her, and 
 roared with laughter. 
 
 " Oh, mother !" cried one of the friends, " what are you 
 doing there?" 
 
 " Alas, my son, it was your wife, my daughter-in-law, that 
 set me to learn this trade." 
 
 "Be patient for a little while, mother, I will soon come 
 and take you away." 
 
 On approaching the house, they heard groans in the cel- 
 lar. The three companions looked through the darkness, 
 and discerned an old woman crouching over a basket, with 
 nothing near her but a crust of dry bread and a jug of water. 
 
 "Ah! mother," cried one of the friends, "what are you 
 doing there ?" 
 
 " Alas ! my son, it was your wife, my daughter-in-law, who 
 put me where you find me." 
 
234 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 " Be patient for a little while, mother, I will soon come 
 and take you away." 
 
 The three friends entered the house, their hearts burning 
 with wrath. They found their wives dressed in mourning, 
 with tears in their eyes. 
 
 "What has happened.'"' 
 
 " Alas !" cried each of the wives, " I have lost my dear 
 mother-in-law." 
 
 "What! all three dead ?" 
 
 "Yes," answered their wives, "all three are gone." 
 
 The three husbands sighed, and seemed deeply grieved, 
 like good sons. But the very next morning they said to 
 their wives, 
 
 "Dress yourselves handsomely, and we will take a sail 
 and enjoy ourselves." 
 
 The delighted wives put on their best gowns. How happy 
 
The Wicked Daughter S'in-Law. 235 
 
 ^^ 
 
 they were to have rid themselves of their mothers-in-law, 
 and so easily deceived their husbands. They would have 
 laughed less had they known of three sacks in the boat, hid- 
 den under a seat. 
 
 As soon as they were out at sea, the faces of the three 
 men turned black as thunder. Each of them seized his 
 wife, thrust her into a sack, and flung her into the water, 
 crying, "Go send your mother-in-law to school, to play the 
 fiddle, or to hatch eggs !" 
 
 After which the three sons took their mothers home with 
 them, and vowed never to marry again. 
 
THE SPINNING QUEEN, 
 
 A DALMATIAN FAIRY TALE. 
 
 There was once a Dalmatian woman who had a daugh- 
 ter as beautiful as the day, but hopelessly lazy and unwilling 
 to do any kind of work. After vainly trying to coax her to 
 be useful, the mother took her to the forest, near a cross- 
 road, and began to beat her with all her might. Just then 
 the prince chanced to pass that way, who asked why she 
 treated the girl so cruelly. 
 
 " My lord," said she, " it is because our daughter wears 
 our life out with her intolerable industry. She spins up 
 everything, even to the moss that grows on the walls." 
 
 " Let me have her," said the prince. " I will give her 
 wherewith to spin to her heart's content." 
 
 " Take her," said the mother, " take her, I am glad to be 
 rid of her." 
 
 The prince carried her home, enchanted with such a val- 
 uable acquisition. The same evening, he shut the young 
 girl up alone in a chamber with a huge load of flax. What 
 to do in such a plight she knew not. She paced up and 
 down, wringing her hands, and crying, "What will become 
 of me ? I can't spin, and I won't spin." 
 
 Her anguish was at its height, when behold, at midnight, 
 three old witches tapped at the window-pane, and she quick- 
 ly let them in. 
 
" On seeing how ugly they were, the prince could not forbear saying tq 
 his bride ' Your aunts are not handsome.' " 
 
238 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 " If you will ask us to your wedding, we will help you 
 spin this evening," said they. 
 
 " Spin, ladies," she answered ; " I will ask you with all my 
 heart." 
 
 And behold, the three witches spun and spun all the flax 
 that was there while Miss Lazybones slept at her ease. 
 
 In the morning, when the prince came to the chamber, he 
 saw the whole wall hung with skeins of thread and the girl 
 asleep. He went out on tiptoe, and forbade any one to en- 
 ter the room, so that the spinner could rest after her hard 
 labor. This did not prevent him from sending thither on 
 the same day a second huge load of flax. The witches re- 
 turned at midnight, and finished the work, as the night be- 
 fore. The prince was wonder-struck; and as there was 
 nothing more to spin in the house, he said to the young girl, 
 
 " I will marry you, for you are the Spinning Queen." 
 
 On the evening before the wedding, the pretended spinner 
 said to the prince, " I must invite my aunts." 
 
 " They shall be welcome," was his answer. 
 
 Once admitted, the three witches grouped themselves 
 around the stove. They were hideous to behold. On see- 
 ing how ugly they were, the prince could not forbear saying 
 to his bride, " Your aunts are not handsome." 
 
 Then, approaching the first witch, he asked her why her 
 nose was so long. 
 
 " My dear nephew," she answered, " it is through spin- 
 ning so much. When one spins all the time and wags her 
 head all day long, the nose grows long insensibly." 
 
 The prince passed on to the second, and asked her why 
 her lips were so thick. 
 
 " My dear nephew," said she, " it is through spinning so 
 much. When one spins all the time, and moistens the 
 thread all day long, the lips grow thick insensibly." 
 
The Spinning Queen, 239 
 
 He then asked the third why she was so humpbacked. 
 
 " My dear nephew," said she, " it is through spinning so 
 much. When one sits bent over her work all day long, the 
 back becomes humped insensibly." 
 
 Upon this, the prince was seized with such a fear that, 
 through spinning, his wife might become as horrible as these 
 thiee frights, that he flung both spindle and distaff into the 
 fire, and forbade her ever again to spin a thread, under pen- 
 alty of his deep displeasure. What anger this caused the 
 bride, I leave those to guess who resemble her. 
 
THE KING OF THE SERPENTS. 
 
 A FAIRY TALE OF THE DANUBE. 
 
 ' There was once a shepherd who had served his master 
 zealously and faithfully for long years. One day, as he was 
 watching his flocks, he heard a hissing noise, that came from 
 the woods. Wishing to learn what it was, he entered the 
 forest and followed the sound. After going on a little way, 
 he saw that the dry grass and dead leaves had caught fire, 
 making a blazing circle, in the midst of which a serpent was 
 hissing. The shepherd stopped to see what it would do, as 
 the flames were fast closing in upon it. On spying him, the 
 serpent cried, " For God's sake, save me from the fire !" 
 The shepherd stretched his crook over the flames to the 
 snake, which twined around it, and glided on to his hand 
 and thence to his throat, around which it coiled itself like a 
 necklace. 
 
 " Alas !" cried the frightened shepherd, " have I saved 
 you only for my own destruction ?" 
 
 " Fear nothing," answered the snake, " but take me back 
 to my father, the King of the Serpents." 
 
 The shepherd tried to excuse himself, saying that he could 
 not leave his flock without a keeper ; but the serpent cried. 
 
The King of the Serpents. 
 
 241 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about your sheep ; no harm will 
 come to them ; only make haste as fast as you can." 
 
 The shepherd ran through the forest with the snake coiled 
 around his neck till he reached a gate made of adders inter- 
 laced together. The snake gave a hiss, upon which the ad- 
 ders separated, and made way for them to pass. The ser- 
 pent then said to the shepherd, " When we reach the castle, 
 my father will offer you anything you wish : silver, gold, 
 jewels, and all the most precious treasures of earth ; accept 
 16 
 
242 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 none of them, but only ask to know the language of the 
 animals. He will long refuse this favor, but will grant it at 
 last." While talking they reached the castle, and were met 
 by the King of the Serpents, who exclaimed, with tears in 
 his eyes, " My child, where have you been ?" 
 
 The young serpent told his father how he had been sur- 
 rounded by fire and had been saved by the shepherd. The 
 King of the Serpents then turned to the shepherd and said, 
 
 " What shall I give you for saving my child ?" 
 
 "Teach me the language of the animals," he answered, 
 " that I may talk with all the earth as you do." 
 
 " That would be of no use to you," said the king, " for if I 
 should enable you to understand this language, and you 
 should tell any one, you would die on the spot. Ask me 
 for something that will serve you better, and it shall be 
 yours." 
 
 " If you wish to pay me," returned the shepherd, " teach 
 me the language of the animals ; if not, adieu, and God be 
 with you ! I want nothing else." 
 
 He feigned to depart. The king called him back, saying, 
 " Stop ! come here, since you insist upon it. Open your 
 mouth." 
 
 The shepherd did as he was bid; the king blew into his 
 mouth, and said, " Now blow in turn in mine." When they 
 had blown thus three times into each other's mouths, the 
 king said, " Now you understand the language of the animals. 
 God be with you \ but if you care for life, beware of betray- 
 ing the secret, for if you say a word of it to any one, you 
 are a dead man." 
 
 The shepherd returned. As he passed through the wood 
 he heard what the birds, the insects, and all on the earth 
 were saying. On reaching his flock, he found it safe and 
 in good order, and stretched himself on the ground for a 
 
The King of the Serpents, 
 
 243 
 
 nap. Scarcely had he lain down when two crows perched 
 on the bough of a tree overhead, and said, in their own lan- 
 guage, "What if this shepherd knew that just under the 
 
 spot where that black lamb is standing there is a cavern 
 full of gold and silver!" 
 
 No sooner had the shepherd heard this than he went and 
 
244 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 told his master. They brought a wagon, and dug until they 
 found the door of the cavern, the treasure of which they car- 
 ried off. The master was a man of honor ; he gave the 
 whole to the shepherd, saying, " This treasure is yours ; it 
 was God who bestowed it on you." 
 
 The shepherd took the money, built a house, found a wife, 
 and lived happy and contented. He soon became the rich- 
 est man, not only in the village, but in the country ; for ten 
 leagues around there was not one that could compare with 
 him. He had flocks of sheep, and herds of cattle and 
 horses, with a keeper for each flock and herd, besides much 
 land and money. One Christmas Eve he said to his wife, 
 "Get ready a good stock of wine, brandy, and victuals to 
 carry to the farm to-morrow, that the shepherds may have a 
 feast." This was done, and they all assembled at the farm the 
 next day, when the master said, " My friends, eat, drink, 
 and be merry ; I will watch the flocks and herds to-night in 
 your place." 
 
 At midnight, as he was keeping guard, the wolves began 
 to howl and the dogs to bark. The wolves said, " Let us 
 come in and harry the cattle, and there will be plenty of 
 fresh meat for you." 
 
 And the dogs answered, " Come in ; we shall be glad for 
 once to have our fill." 
 
 But among the dogs there was an old mastifl" with only 
 two fangs in his jaws, who said, "As long as my two fangs 
 are left, you shall not prey on my master's property." 
 
 The master heard and understood everything. When 
 morning came, he ordered all the dogs, except the old mas- 
 tiff", to be taken out and shot. The astonished servants re- 
 monstrated, saying it was a great pity to kill so many fine 
 animals, but the master only said, " Do as I bid you." 
 
 He set out for home with his wife, the husband mounted 
 
The King of the Serpents. 245 
 
 on a handsome gray horse, and the wife on an ambling 
 mare, which was hidden from sight by the long folds of her 
 dress. The husband took the lead, and the wife fell in the 
 rear. The horse turned and said to the mare, 
 
 " Hurry! why do you go so slow?" 
 
 " Oh, it is easy enough for you to go fast, with only my 
 master to carry, but I have not only my mistress, but all her 
 necklaces, bracelets, skirts, petticoats, satchels and key-bags 
 without end. It needs two yoke of oxen to carry all this 
 paraphernalia." 
 
 The husband turned and laughed. His wife, noticing it, 
 pricked on her mare, and, having overtaken her spouse, 
 asked what he was laughing at. 
 
 " A mere nothing," said he ; "a foolish thought that en- 
 tered my brain." 
 
 This did not satisfy his wife, who insisted on knowing 
 what he laughed at. Tired of her importunity, he cried out 
 at last, " Why can't you leave me in peace ? what business 
 is it of yours ? I really do not know myself why I laughed." 
 
 But the more he stormed, the more she persisted in know- 
 ing the cause of his laughter. At last he said, " Know 
 then that if I revealed what I was laughing at, that instant 
 would be my last." 
 
 Even this did not stop the dame, who tormented her hus- 
 band more than ever to tell her. At last they reached home. 
 On alighting from his horse, the husband ordered a bier to 
 be brought. As soon as it was ready, he had it set before 
 the house, and said to his wife, 
 
 ^' Mark me, I shall stretch myself on this bier, and then 
 tell you at what I was laughing, but the instant I have spok- 
 en I shall be a dead man." 
 
 He stretched himself on the bier, and as he cast a last 
 look around him he saw the old house-dog approaching, 
 
246 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 with tears in his eyes. The poor man called to his wife to 
 give him a piece of bread. She flung it to the dog, that did 
 not even look at it. The barnyard cock ran up and gulped 
 it down, upon which the dog exclaimed, " Wretched glutton, 
 have you the heart to eat when our master is going to die ?" 
 
 " Let him die," said the cock, " if he is fool enough to do 
 so. I have a hundred wives ; I call them all when I find a 
 kernel of corn, and swallow it as soon as they get there. If 
 any of them should take it into her head to complain I 
 would peck her well for it, while he, who has only one wife, 
 has not wit enough to keep her in order." 
 
 No sooner had the husband heard this than he leaped 
 from the bier, seized a stick, and called his wife into the 
 house, saying, " Come, and I will tell you what you want so 
 much to know." He then reasoned with the stick, saying, as 
 each blow fell, " This is it, wife, this is it." Such was the 
 answer he gave her, and never again did the dame ask her 
 husband why he laughed. 
 
POUCINET. 
 
 A FINNISH TALE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Once upon a time there was a peasant who had three 
 sons, Peter, Paul, and Jack. Peter was big, fat, red-faced, 
 and dull-witted ; Paul was spare, sallow, envious, and spite- 
 ful ; Jack was as sharp as a steel-trap and as fair as a wom- 
 an, but small — so small that he could have hidden away in 
 his father's great boots, whence he was nicknamed Pouci- 
 net. 
 
 The peasant's sole worldly wealth was his family, and 
 there was joy in the household when by chance they caught 
 a glimpse there of the shadow of a penny. Black bread was 
 dear, and it was hard to earn a living. As soon as the three 
 children were old enough to begin to work, their father begged 
 them from morning to night to leave the hut where they were 
 
248 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 born and go out into the world to seek their fortune. 
 
 "In other lands," said he, 
 " bread is not always easily 
 earned, but there is some 
 to be had for the getting; 
 while here there is none 
 at all, and the best thing 
 that can happen to you is 
 to die of starvation." 
 
 But, lo ! a league from the 
 peasant's cabin the king of 
 the country had his palace 
 — a magnificent building, all 
 of wood, with twenty carved 
 balconies and six glass win- 
 dows. And, behold, sud- 
 denly, on a fine summer's 
 night, just over against the 
 windows there sprung from 
 the ground a huge oak, with 
 such thick branches and fo- 
 liage that it darkened the 
 whole palace. To cut down 
 this giant was no easy task ; 
 not an axe could be found 
 that its trunk did not blunt, 
 and for every branch or root 
 that was cut ofi" two sprout- 
 ed forth in its place. It was 
 in vain that the king offered 
 three bags of dollars to any 
 one who would rid him of 
 Tired of the struggle, he was 
 
 this troublesome neighbor. 
 
Poucinet, 
 
 249 
 
 forced to resign himself to the necessity of having the pal- 
 ace lighted at midday. 
 
 This was not all. In a country where brooks sprang 
 from the very stones, there was no water in the royal house- 
 hold. In summer the inmates had to wash their hands in 
 beer and to shave with honey. This was a shocking state 
 of affairs, and the prince had promised lands, money, and 
 the title of marquis to any one who should dig a well in the 
 courtyard of the castle deep enough to furnish water all the 
 year round. But no one had been able to win the prize, for 
 the palace was on high ground, with a solid bed of granite 
 an inch below the surface. 
 
 Now the king had revolved these two ideas in his brain 
 till he could think of nothing else. Petty prince as he was, 
 he was just as self-willed as an Emperor of China. It is the 
 monopoly of royalty. To attain his ends, he distributed 
 throughout the length and breadth of his kingdom huge 
 placards, stamped with the royal arms, offering to any one 
 who should cut dow'n the tree and dig the well nothing less 
 
250 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 than the hand of the princess his daughter and half his king- 
 dom. The princess was as beautiful as the day ; the half 
 of a kingdom is never to be despised ; and the reward was 
 enough to tempt the most ambitious. From Sweden and 
 Norway, from Denmark and Russia, from Great Britain and 
 the Continent, came a host of sturdy workmen, axe on shoul- 
 der and pick in hand. But it was in vain for them to cut 
 and to chop, to dig and to hew ; their labor was all lost. 
 At every stroke the oak became harder and the granite more 
 flinty, so that the boldest were forced at last to give up the 
 task in despair. 
 
 II. 
 One day, when the people in all the country round were 
 talking of this matter that turned every one's brains, the 
 three brothers asked themselves why, if their father was 
 willing, they should not go and try their fortune. It is true 
 that they hardly hoped to succeed, and aspired neither to 
 the princess nor half of the kingdom ; but who knew wheth- 
 er they might not find a place and a good master at the 
 court or elsewhere; and this was all they needed. Their 
 father approved of the plan, and Peter, Paul, and Jack set 
 out for the king's palace. 
 
Poucinet. 251 
 
 On the way, Poucinet skipped along the road, scamper- 
 ing hither and thither like a hound, noticing and studying 
 all he saw, and ferreting into every nook and corner. In- 
 sects, weeds, and pebbles, nothing escaped his mouse-like 
 eyes. Every moment he stopped his brothers to ask them 
 the reason for this and that — why the bees burrowed into 
 the flower-cups, why the swallows skimmed the surface of 
 the streams, and why the butterflies flew in zigzag fashion. 
 At all these questions Peter laughed, while Paul shrugged 
 his shoulders, and told him to hold his tongue. 
 
 On the way they came to a great forest of firs that cov- 
 ered a mountain, upon the summit of which they heard the 
 sound of an axe and the crash of falling branches. 
 
 " I wonder very much why any one is chopping wood on 
 the top of the mountain," said Poucinet. 
 
 "I should wonder very much if you did not wonder," 
 answered Paul, harshly. " Everything is wonderful to the 
 ignorant." 
 
 " Why, child, any one would think you had never heard 
 of wood-choppers before," said Peter, pinching his little broth- 
 er's cheek. 
 
 "No matter," returned Poucinet, "I am curious to see 
 what is going on up there." 
 
 " Go, then," said Paul, " and tire yourself out ; it will be a 
 lesson to you, you conceited imp, who are always wanting to 
 know more than your big brothers." 
 
 Poucinet troubled himself little about this remark. He 
 clambered up the mountain, listening for the sound, and 
 making his way in that direction. On reaching the top, 
 what do you think he found there? An enchanted axe, 
 which, all alone by itself, was cutting down a huge pine-tree. 
 
 "Good -morning. Madam Axe," said Poucinet. "Are 
 you not tired of hacking away all alone at that old tree ?" 
 
252 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 "For long years I have been waiting for thee, my son," 
 
 answered the axe. 
 
 "Well,herelam," 
 replied Poucinet. 
 
 And, without be- 
 ing at all astonished, 
 he look the axe, put 
 it in his great leather 
 bag, and skipped mer- 
 rily down the moun- 
 tain. 
 
 " Did you find any- 
 thing up there that 
 was so wonderful?" 
 asked Paul, scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 " It was really an 
 axe that we heard," 
 answered the boy. 
 
 " I told you so," 
 said Peter ; " you 
 have put yourself in 
 a dripping sweat for 
 nothing. You might 
 better have stayed 
 with us." 
 
 A little farther on 
 the narrow path 
 wound laboriously 
 among masses of 
 jagged rocks. In 
 the distance, up the 
 cliff, they heard a dull sound, like iron striking the stone. 
 
Poucinet, 
 
 253 
 
 "I wonder why any one is breaking stone up there," said 
 Poucinet. 
 
 "Really," exclaimed Paul, "here 
 is a chicken just out of his shell, 
 who has never heard a woodpeck- 
 er tapping a hollow tree." 
 
 "That's so," said Peter, laugh- 
 ing; "it is nothing but a wood- 
 pecker; stay with us, my boy." 
 
 " No matter," returned Pouci- 
 net ; "I am curious to see what 
 is going on up there." 
 
 And, behold, he set about clam- 
 bering up the rocks on his hands 
 and knees, while Peter and Paul 
 laughed at him. On reaching the 
 top of the precipice, Wliat do you 
 think he found there? An en- 
 chanted pickaxe, which, all alone, 
 and by itself, was hollowing out the 
 rock as if it had been butter. At 
 every stroke it penetrated more 
 than a foot. 
 
 "Good -morning. Madam Pick- 
 axe," cried Poucinet. " Are you 
 not tired of digging away there all 
 alone at that old rock ?" 
 
 " For long years I have been 
 waiting for thee, my son," answer- 
 ed the pickaxe. 
 
 "Well, here I am," rejoined Pou- 
 cinet." 
 
 And, without the least astonishment, he took the pickaxe, 
 
They stooped to drink from the hollow of their hands." 
 
Ir^oucinet 
 
 255 
 
 separated the axe from the handle, put the two pieces in 
 his great leather bag, and skipped merrily down the rocks. 
 
 " What miracle did your lordship find up there ?" asked 
 Paul, in an insulting tone. 
 
 " It was a pickaxe that we heard," answered the boy, and 
 he went on his way without saying anything more. 
 
 A little way farther on they came to a brook. The water 
 was cool and clear, and the travellers were thirsty. As they 
 stooped to drink from the hollow of their hands, Poucinet 
 remarked, 
 
 " I wonder why there is so much water in such a shallow 
 valley. I should like to know where this brook comes from." 
 
 "You conceited fool," 
 
 cried Paul, "you want 
 to pry into everything. 
 Don't you know that 
 brooks spring from the 
 ground ?" 
 
 "No matter," said 
 Poucinet ; " I am curi- 
 ous to see where this 
 water comes from." 
 
 And he followed 
 up the course of the 
 stream in spite of the 
 cries and reproaches 
 of his brothers. He 
 went on and on, while 
 the stream became nar- 
 rower and narrower. 
 And when he reached 
 the end, what do you 
 think he found? A 
 
$56 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 walnut-shell, from which the water spouted and sparkled in 
 the sun. 
 
 " Good-morning, Madam Spring," cried Poucinet. " Are 
 you not tired of staying all alone here in a little corner, 
 spouting water ?" 
 
 " For long years I have been waiting for thee, my son,'* 
 answered the walnut-shell. 
 
 " Well, here I am !" said Poucinet. 
 
 And, without the least astonishment, he took the walnut- 
 shell, stopped it up with moss, so that the water could not 
 flow, put it in his great leather bag, and skipped merrily 
 down the mountain. 
 
 " Do you know now where the brook comes from ?" cried 
 Peter, as soon as he saw him. 
 
 "Yes, brother, from a little hole," answered Poucinet. 
 
 " This boy is too bright," said Paul j " he will never live 
 to grow up." 
 
 "I have seen what I wished to see," whispered Poucinet 
 to himself, " and I know what I wished to know ; I am sat- 
 isfied." And he rubbed his hands. 
 
 III. 
 
 At last they reached the king's palace. The oak was 
 larger and more umbrageous than ever ; there was no well 
 in the courtyard, and at the palace gate still hung the great 
 placard promising the hand of the princess and one half of 
 the kingdom to any one, noble, burgher, or peasant, that 
 should accomplish the two tasks desired by his majesty. 
 But, as the king was tired of so many useless attempts, which 
 had served no purpose but to drive him to despair, a small 
 placard had been hung under the large one, and on this 
 small placard was written, in red letters, 
 
 " Know all men by these presents, that, in his inexhaust- 
 
Poucinet, 
 
 257 
 
 ible goodness, his majesty 
 the king has deigned to 
 command that any one who 
 does not succeed in cutting 
 down the oak or digging 
 the well shall have his ears 
 cut oflf on the spot, to teach 
 him to know himself, which 
 is the first lesson of wis- 
 dom." 
 
 And, in order that every 
 one might profit by this pru- 
 dent counsel, thirty bloody 
 ears were nailed around this 
 placard, belonging to those 
 who had been lacking in 
 modesty. 
 
 On reading the placard, Peter burst out laughing, turned 
 up his mustaches, looked at his arms, with their great 
 muscles, like whip -cords, and swinging his axe twice 
 around his head, with one blow he cut off one of the 
 largest branches of the accursed tree. But, no sooner had 
 it fallen than two thicker and stronger boughs sprouted 
 forth in its place ; whereupon the king's guards seized 
 the unlucky wood - chopper, and cut off his ears on the 
 spot. 
 
 " You awkward fellow !" exclaimed Paul ; and, taking his 
 axe, he walked slowly round the tree, and, seeing a root 
 springing from the ground, he chopped it off at one blow. 
 At the same instant two enormous roots sprang up in its 
 place, from each of which sprouted forth a vigorous branch, 
 full of leaves. 
 
 " Seize this wretch 1" cried the king, frenzied with rage, 
 17 
 
258 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 "and, since he did not profit by his brother's example, shave 
 off his ears close to his head.-" 
 
 No sooner said than done. But the double family misfor- 
 tune did not terrify Poucinet, who resolutely advanced to try 
 his luck. 
 
 "Drive away that dwarf!" exclaimed the king; "and if 
 he refuses to go, cut off his ears directly ; it will teach him a 
 lesson, and save us from witnessing his folly." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, your majesty, a king's word is sa- 
 cred," said Poucinet. " I have the right to try ; it will be 
 time enough to cut off my ears when I fail." 
 
Poucinet 259 
 
 " Go on, then," returned the king, sighing ; " but take care 
 that I do not cut off your nose into the bargain." 
 
 Poucinet drew the enchanted axe from the bottom of his 
 great leather bag. It was almost as tall as himself, and he 
 had great difficulty in setting it upright, the handle on the 
 ground. " Cut ! cut !" he cried. 
 
 And, behold, the axe cut, chopped, and split, hewing in 
 all directions, right and left, up and down, trunk, branches, 
 and roots ; in a quarter of an hour the tree was in pieces, and 
 there was so much wood that the whole palace was warmed 
 with it for more than a year. 
 
 When the tree was hewn down and chopped up, Poucinet 
 approached the king, who was seated 
 with the princess by his side, and bowed 
 gracefully to them both. 
 
 " Is your majesty satisfied with your 
 faithful servant ?" asked he. 
 
 " Yes," said the king, " but I must 
 have my well, or look out for your 
 ears !" 
 
 " If your majesty will kindly show 
 me where you wish it placed, I will 
 endeavor once more to please my sovereign," answered Pou- 
 cinet. 
 
 They repaired to the great courtyard of the palace. The 
 king took a raised seat ; the princess placed herself a little 
 below her father, and began to look with some anxiety on 
 the diminutive husband sent her by Heaven. She had not 
 dreamed of a spouse of this size. Without troubling him- 
 self at all about it, Poucinet took from his great leather 
 bag the enchanted pickaxe, coolly fitted the axe to the han- 
 dle, and, placing it on the ground at the designated spot, 
 cried, 
 
26o Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 "Dig! Digr 
 
 And, behold, the pickaxe splintered the granite, and in 
 less than a quarter of an hour dug a well more than a hun- 
 dred feet deep. 
 
 "Does your majesty think this cistern large enough?" 
 asked Poucinet, with a bow. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said the king; "but there is no water. ' 
 
 " Let your majesty grant me a minute," returned Pouci- 
 net, "and your just impatience shall be satisfied." 
 
 Saying this, he took from his great leather bag the wal- 
 nut-shell, wrapped m moss, and placed it in a large basin, 
 which, in default of water, had been filled with flowers. 
 When the walnut-shell was firmly imbedded in the earth, he 
 cried, 
 
 "Spout! spout!" 
 
 And, behold, the water spouted forth among the flowers, 
 with a gentle murmur, forming a fountain that filled the whole 
 courtyard with its coolness, and fell again in a cascade in 
 such abundance that in a quarter of an hour the well was 
 full, and it was necessary to hasten to dig a channel to carry 
 off" this menacing wealth of water. 
 
 "Sire," said Poucinet, bending one knee to the ground 
 before the royal seat, " does your majesty think that I have 
 fulfilled your conditions ?" 
 
 " Yes, Marquis de Poucinette," replied the king. " I am 
 ready to cede you half my kingdom, or, rather, to pay you the 
 value thereof, by means of a tax which my faithful subjects 
 will be too happy to raise ; but to give you the princess 
 and to take you for my son-in-law is another affair, which 
 does not depend on me alone." 
 
 " What must I do ?" asked Poucinet, haughtily, resting his 
 hand on his hip, and gazing at the princess. 
 
 ** You shall know to-morrow," said the king. " Meanwhile, 
 
■ And behold, the water spouted forth among the flowers with a gentle 
 murmur." 
 
262 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 you are our guest, and the best chamber in the palace shall 
 be made ready for you." 
 
 The king having gone, Poucinet hastened to find his 
 brothers, who, with their cropped ears, looked like rat-terriers. 
 
 "Well, brothers," said he, "was I wrong in keeping my 
 eyes open, and seeking out the reason of things?" 
 
 " You have been lucky," answered Paul, coldly. " Fortune 
 is blind and chooses blindly." 
 
 " You have done well, my boy," cried Peter. " With or 
 without ears, I rejoice in your good-fortune, and wish our 
 father were here to see it." 
 
 Poucinet carried his two brothers away with him, and, be- 
 ing in favor, the chamberlain found a post in the palace the 
 same day for the two cropped varlets. 
 
 IV. 
 
 On retiring to his apartments, the king could not sleep. A 
 son-in-law like Poucinet was not to his liking. His majesty 
 studied how to avoid keeping his word without seeming to 
 break it. For honest men, this task is difficult. Between his 
 honor and his interest a knave never hesitates, but it is for 
 this very reason that he is a knave. 
 
 In his anxiety, the king summoned Peter and Paul. The 
 two brothers alone could tell him the birth, character, and 
 manners of Poucinet. Peter praised his young brother, which 
 delighted his majesty but little ; Paul put him more at his 
 ease by proving to him that Poucinet was nothing but an 
 adventurer, and that it would be absurd for a great prince to 
 feel himself pledged to a low-born wretch. 
 
 " The lad is so conceited," said the spiteful Paul, " that he 
 thinks himself able to face a giant. In this district there lives 
 an ogre who is the terrbr of the neighborhood, and who car- 
 ries off the sheep and cattle for ten leagues around. Now 
 
Poucinet 
 
 263 
 
 Poucinet has said again and again that if he liked he could 
 make this giant his servant." 
 
 "We shall see if he will," exclaimed the king; and he dis- 
 missed the brothers and slept tranquilly. 
 
 The next morning, in the presence of the whole court, the 
 king sent for Poucinet. He came, looking as fair as a lily, as 
 fresh as a rose, and as smiling as the morning. 
 
 "My son-in-law," said the king, dwelling upon the words, 
 " a brave man like you cannot marry a princess without giv- 
 ing her a household worthy of her. There is in this forest 
 an ogre who, it is said, is twenty feet high, and who breakfasts 
 every day on an ox. With a laced coat, a cocked hat, gold 
 epaulets, and a halberd fifteen feet long, he would make a 
 porter worthy of a king. My daughter begs you to make her 
 this little present, after which she will see about giving you 
 her hand." 
 
264 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " It is not easy," said Poucinet, " but to please her high- 
 ness I will try." 
 
 He went to the kitchen, put in his great leathern bag the 
 enchanted axe, a loaf of bread, a piece of cheese, and a knife, 
 then, throwing it over his shoulder, set out for the forest. 
 Peter wept, but Paul smiled, thinking that, once gone, 
 he would never be heard from again. 
 
 On entering the wood, 
 Poucinet looked to the 
 right, and the left, but 
 the tall grass prevented 
 him from seeing. Upon 
 this, he began to sing, at 
 the top of his voice, 
 " Ogre ! ogre ! where are 
 you, ogre? Show your- 
 self! I must have your 
 body or your life ! Here 
 I am !" 
 
 " And here I am !" 
 cried the giant, with a 
 frightful roar ; " wait for 
 me, and I will make but 
 one mouthful of you." 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry, 
 my friend," exclaimed 
 Poucinet, in a shrill, pip- 
 ing voice," I have an hour 
 at your disposal." 
 
 The giant turned his 
 head on all sides, astonished to see no one, then, casting 
 down his eyes, he spied a lad, seated on the trunk of a fallen 
 tree, holding a great leather bag between his knees. 
 
l*ouctnet. 
 
 265 
 
 " Was it you that broke up my nap, you rascal ?" cried the 
 giant, rolling his great flaming eyeballs. 
 
 " Yes, my good fellow," said Poucinet ; " I have come to 
 take 5'ou into my service." 
 
 " Ah !" said the giant, who was as dull as he was big, 
 "that is a good joke. I am going to toss you into the crow's 
 nest that I spy up yonder ; that will teach you to prowl 
 about my forest." 
 
 " Your forest !" returned Poucinet, " it is more mine than 
 yours ; if you say another word, I will cut it down in a 
 quarter of an hour." 
 
 " Ah !" said the giant, " I should like to see you do that, 
 my little fellow." 
 
266 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 Poucinet had placed the axe on the ground. " Cut ! cut !" 
 he cried, and, behold, the axe cut, chopped, split, and hewed 
 to the right and left, and up and down, while the branches 
 rained on the ogre like hail in a storm. 
 
 " Enough ! enough !" cried the giant, who began to be 
 alarmed ; " do not destroy my forest. Who are you ?" 
 
 " I am the famous sorcerer Poucinet, and I have only to 
 speak a word for my axe to chop off your head. You don't 
 know yet whom you have to deal with. Stay where you 
 are." 
 
 The giant stood still, greatly puzzled at what he had seen. 
 Poucinet, who was hungry, opened his great leather bag, and 
 took out his bread and cheese. 
 
 "What is that white thing?" asked the giant, who had 
 never seen any cheese. 
 
 "It is a stone," said Poucinet, beginning to munch it 
 greedily. 
 
 " Do you eat stones ?" asked the giant. 
 
 " Yes, they are my usual diet ; that is the reason why I do 
 not grow like you, who eat beef ; and that too is why, small 
 as I am, I am ten times stronger than you. Show me the 
 way to your house." 
 
 The giant was conquered. He led the way for Poucinet, 
 like a huge dog, and brought him to an immense building. 
 
 " Listen !" said Poucinet to the giant ; "one of us must be 
 the master and the other the servant. Let us make a bar- 
 gain. If I cannot do what you can, I will be your slave ; if 
 you cannot do what I can, you shall be mine." 
 
 " Agreed 1" said the giant ; " I should like to have a little 
 fellow like you to wait on me. It tires me to think, and you 
 have wit enough for both of us. To begin with, here are my 
 two buckets ; go bring me the water for dinner." 
 
 Poucinet raised his head and looked at the buckets. 
 
Enough, enough,' cried the giant, who began to be alarmed, ' do not 
 destroy my forest.' " 
 
268 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 They were two immense tuns, each ten feet high and six feet 
 in diameter. It would have been easier to drown in them 
 than to stir them. 
 
 "Ah I" said the giant, opening his huge mouth, "you are 
 already nonplussed, my son. Do what I do, and go draw 
 the water." 
 
 " What is the use of that ?" asked Poucinet ; " I will go 
 and fetch the spring, and turn that into the dinner-pot ; it 
 will be much easier." 
 
 " No, no," cried the giant ; "you have already spoiled my 
 
PoucineL 269 
 
 forest ; do not meddle with my spring — to-morrow I shall be 
 thirsty. Make the fire and I will bring the water." 
 
 Having hung the dinner-pot over the fire, the giant threw 
 in it a whole ox, cut in pieces, with fifty cabbages and a cart- 
 load of carrots. He skimmed it with a frying-pan, and 
 tasted it again and again. 
 
 " Come to the table," said he, at length, " and now let me 
 see you do what I do. For my part, I feel hungry enough to 
 eat this whole ox and you into the bargain. You will answer 
 for my dessert." 
 
 " Very well," said Poucinet. But before sitting down he 
 slipped under his jacket his great leather bag, so that it fell 
 from his throat to the ground. 
 
 The giant ate and ate, and Poucinet was not behind him, 
 only, instead of putting the meat, cabbages, and carrots into 
 his mouth, he slipped them into the bag. 
 
 "Oh!" cried the giant, "I can eat no more; I must undo 
 a button of my waistcoat." 
 
 " Don't stop yet, you lazy fellow," said Poucinet, shoving 
 half a cabbage under his chin. 
 
 " Ah !" cried the giant, " I must undo another button. 
 What an ostrich's stomach you have ! Any one could see 
 that you are in the habit of eating stones." 
 
 " Go on !" said Poucinet, slipping a huge piece of beef out 
 of sight. 
 
 " Ugh !" exclaimed the giant, " I have undone my third 
 button — I feel stuffed. And how is it with you, sorcerer .?" 
 
 " Bah !" said Poucinet, " nothing is easier than to give 
 one's self a little room." 
 
 He took his knife and slit his jacket and bag the whole 
 length of the stomach. " It ts your turn," said he to the 
 giant, " do what I do !" 
 
 " No, I thank you," answered the giant. " I would rather 
 be your servant ; I cannot digest steel." 
 
270 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 No sooner said than 
 done. The giant kissed 
 his little master's hand 
 in token of submission ; 
 then, lifting him on one 
 shoulder and a large bag 
 of gold on the other, he 
 set out for the palace. 
 
 V. 
 
 There was a holiday at 
 the palace, and no one 
 was thinking any more of 
 Poucinet than if the giant 
 had eaten him a week be- 
 fore, when suddenly there 
 was heard a terrible up- 
 roar, which shook the 
 building to its founda- 
 tion. It was the giant, 
 who, finding the great 
 gate too small for him, 
 had knocked it down with one blow of his foot. Every one 
 ran to the window, the king with the rest, and saw Poucinet 
 tranquilly seated on the shoulder of his terrible servant, on 
 a level with the second-story balcony, where the court was 
 assembled. He stepped down among them, and, bending his 
 knee before his betrothed, said, " Princess, you wished for a 
 slave ; here are two of them." 
 
 This gallant speech, which was inserted the next day in 
 the court journal, embarrasseid the king not a little at the 
 moment when it was spoken. Not knowing what answer to 
 make, he drew the princess aside in the embrasure of a win- 
 
Poucinet. 
 
 271 
 
 dow and said, " My 
 daughter, I have 
 no excuse for re- 
 fusing your hand to 
 this daring youth. 
 Sacrifice yourself, 
 for state reasons ; 
 princesses do not 
 marry for their in- 
 cHnation alone." 
 
 " I beg your par- 
 don," returned she, 
 with a courtesy, 
 " princess or not, 
 every woman wish- 
 es to marry to suit 
 her taste. Leave 
 me to defend my 
 rights in my own 
 way. 
 
 "Poucinet," she 
 added, aloud, "you 
 are brave and suc- 
 cessful, but that is 
 not sufficient to 
 please the ladies." 
 
 " I know it," an- 
 swered Poucinet ; 
 " it is necessary 
 besides to do their 
 will and bend to 
 their caprices." 
 
 " You are a bright fellow," said the princess. " Since you 
 
272 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 are so good at guessing, I propose to you a last ordeal, 
 which should not terrify you, since you will have me for your 
 adversary. Let us try which is the cleverer, you or I. My 
 hand shall be the price of victory." 
 
 Poucinet made a low bow. The whole court descended 
 to the throne-room, where, to the general consternation, they 
 found the giant seated on the ground. The ceiling being only 
 fifteen feet high, the poor giant could not stand upright. At 
 a sign from his young master, he crept to his side, proud 
 and happy to obey him. It was strength in the service of 
 intellect. 
 
 " We will begin with an extravaganza," said the princess. 
 " It is said that women do not stick at untruths ; let us see 
 which can tell the greatest falsehood. The one who first 
 cries, 'That is too much !' will have lost." 
 
 " I am at your highness's orders, to lie in jest, or to speak 
 the truth in earnest," answered Poucinet. 
 
 " I am sure," said the princess, " that your farm is not so 
 
Poucinet, 273 
 
 large as ours. When two shepherds blow their horns at each 
 end of the land, neither can hear the other." 
 
 " That is nothing," said Poucinet. " My father's estate is 
 so vast that a heifer that is two months old when she enters 
 the gate on one side is a full-grown milch cow when she 
 leaves it on the other." 
 
 " That does not astonish me," said the princess. " But you 
 have not such a huge bull as ours. Two men, seated on its 
 horns, cannot touch each other with a twenty-foot pole." 
 
 "That is nothing," said Poucinet. "The head of my fa- 
 ther's bull is so large that a servant perched on one horn 
 cannot see the man sitting on the other." 
 
 " Neither does that surprise me," said the princess. " But 
 you have not so much milk as we, for we fill daily twenty 
 tuns each a hundred feet in height, and pile up a moun- 
 tain of cheeses every week as high as the great pyramid of 
 Egypt." 
 
 " What of that !" said Poucinet. " In my father's dairy 
 they make such mammoth cheeses that our mare one day hav- 
 ing fallen into the mould, we did not find her until after a 
 week's search. The poor animal had broken her back, and 
 to use her I was forced to replace her spine by a large fir- 
 tree, which worked admirably. But one fine morning the fir 
 put forth a branch in the air, which grew so tall that, on 
 climbing it, I reached the sky. There I saw a lady dressed in 
 white, spinning thread from the foam of the sea ; I caught 
 hold of it, when, crack ! it snapped, and I fell into a mouse- 
 hole. There, whom should I find but your father and my 
 mother, each with a distaff; and your father was so awk- 
 ward that my mother boxed his ears till his mustaches 
 shook." 
 
 "That is too much!" cried the princess, furious; "my fa- 
 ther would never have submitted to such an indignity." 
 18 
 
274 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " She said, ' That is too much,' " cried the giant. " Master, 
 the princess is ours." 
 
 VI. 
 
 "Not yet," said the princess, blushing, " Poucinet, I have 
 three riddles to set you ; guess them, and nothing will be left 
 me to do but to obey my father. Tell me what it is that is 
 always falling and is never broken ?" 
 
 " Oh !" said Poucinet, " my mother told me that long ago ; 
 it is a waterfall." 
 
 " That is so," said the giant ; " who would have guessed 
 that?" 
 
 " Tell me," said the princess, in a more tremulous voice, 
 " what it is that travels the same road every day, yet never 
 retraces its steps ?" 
 
 " Oh !" answered Poucinet, " my mother taught me that 
 long ago ; it is the sun." 
 
 " That is right," said the princess, pale with anger. " There 
 remains a last question: what is it that you think and I do 
 not ? what is it that I think and that you do not ? what is 
 it that we both think? and what is it that neither of us 
 thinks?" 
 
 Poucinet cast down his head and reflected ; he was em- 
 barrassed. 
 
Poucinet 275 
 
 " Master," said the giant, " if the question is too hard, don't 
 bother your brains about it. Make a sign, and I will carry off 
 the princess and settle the matter." 
 
 " Be silent, slave," answered Poucinet. " Strength can do 
 little, my poor fellow, as you must know. Let me try some 
 other means. 
 
 " Madam," said he, after a profound silence, " I scarcely 
 dare guess your riddle, in which, nevertheless, I discern my 
 happiness. I ventured to think that your words would not 
 puzzle me, while you justly thought the contrary. You are 
 good enough to think that I am not unworthy to please you, 
 while I have not the temerity to think so. Lastly, what we 
 both think," added he, smiling, " is that there are greater 
 fools than we in the world ; and what neither of us think is 
 that the king, your august father, and this poor giant have as 
 much — " 
 
 " Silence !" said the princess. " Here is my hand." 
 
 "What is it that you think about me?" asked the king. 
 " I should be glad to know." 
 
 "My good father," said the princess, throwing herself on 
 his neck, " we think that you are the wisest of kings and the 
 best of men." 
 
 " Right !" returned the king. " I know it. Meanwhile, I 
 must do something for my good people. Poucinet, I make 
 you a duke." 
 
 "Long live my master, Duke Poucinet !" cried the giant, 
 in such a voice that it was thought a thunderbolt had fallen 
 upon the palace. Luckily, the only harm done was a gen- 
 eral panic and a score of broken window-panes. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To describe the marriage of the princess and Poucinet 
 would be a useless task. All weddings are alike ; the onlj; 
 
276 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 difference is in the day after. Nevertheless, it would be in- 
 excusable on the part of a faithful historian not to tell how 
 much interest the giant's presence added to the magnificent 
 festival. For example, on coming out of the church, in the ex- 
 cess of his joy the faithful giant could think of nothing better 
 to do than to pick up the bridal carriage and put it on his 
 head, and thus bring back the pair in triumph to the palace. 
 This is one of the incidents that it is well to note, as its like 
 is not seen every day. 
 
 In the evening there was a scene of festivity. Feast- 
 ing, speech-making, epithalamiums, colored glass, fireworks, 
 flowers, and bouquets — nothing was lacking ; there was uni- 
 versal rejoicing. In the palace, every one was laughing, sing- 
 ing, eating, drinking, or talking. One man alone, lurking in a 
 corner, solaced himself in a way different from the rest : this 
 was Paul ; he was glad his ears had been cut off, since he 
 was thus made deaf and unable to hear the praises lavished 
 on his brother ; and wished that he were also blind, that he 
 might not see the happiness of the spouses. Unable to bear 
 his thoughts, he at last fled to the woods, where he was de- 
 voured by the bears. I wish that all spiteful people might 
 share his fate. 
 
 Poucinet was so small that it seemed hard at first for him 
 to command respect ; but his affability and gentleness soon 
 won the love of his wife and the affection of all his people. 
 After the death of his father-in-law he filled the throne for 
 fifty-two years, without any one for a single day desiring a 
 revolution. Incredible as this fact may seem, it is attested by 
 the official chronicle of his reign. He was so shrewd, says 
 the history, that he always divined what would serve and 
 please his subjects, and so good that the pleasure of others 
 was his chief joy. He lived only for the good of those 
 about him. 
 
" The faithful giant could think of nothing better to do than to set the 
 carriage on his head." 
 
278 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 But why praise his goodness ? Is it not the virtue of men 
 of wit? Whatever may be said, there is no such thing on 
 earth as stupid people that are good. When one is stupid, 
 he is not good, and when he is good, he is not stupid ; trust 
 my long experience. If all the fools in the world are not 
 wicked, which I suspect, all the wicked are fools. This is 
 the moral of my story ; if any one finds a better let him go 
 and tell it at Rome. 
 
THE PRUDENT FARMER. 
 
 A RAGUSAN TALE. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived at Ragusa a farmer who 
 dabbled a little in trade. One day he set out for town to 
 make a few purchases, taking with him all his money. On 
 reaching a cross-road he stopped and asked an old man 
 whom he chanced to find there which route he should take. 
 
 " I will tell you for a hundred crowns and no less," an- 
 swered the stranger ; " every piece of advice I give is worth 
 a hundred crowns." 
 
 " Indeed !" thought the farmer, closely observing the foxy- 
 looking old man. " What kind of advice can it be that is 
 worth a hundred crowns ? It must be something very rare, 
 for in general you get plenty of advice for nothing ; it is true 
 that it is not worth much more than you give for it. Well !" 
 said be to the old man, " speak, here is your money." 
 
28o 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 " Mark me well," resumed the stranger, " the straight road 
 that you see before you is the road of the present; the other 
 one, which makes a curve, is the road of the future. I have 
 some more advice to give you," he added, " but for that you 
 must pay me another hundred crowns." 
 
 The farmer reflected long, but finally thought to himself, 
 "Since I have bought the ^.rst, I may as well buy the sec- 
 ond." And he gave another hundred crowns. 
 
 " Listen," said the stranger, " when you are on a journey, 
 and stop at an inn where the host is old and the wine is 
 new, begone quickly, if you would escape harm. Give me 
 another hundred crowns," he added, " I have still something 
 more to tell you." 
 
The Prudent Farmer, 281 
 
 The farmer reflected, " What can this new piece of advice 
 be ? Bah \ since I have bought two, I may as well buy the 
 third one." And he gave his last hundred crowns. 
 
 " Heed me well !" said the old man, " if ever you fly in a 
 passion, keep half of your wrath for the morrow, and do not 
 use up all your anger in one day." 
 
 The farmer returned home empty-handed. 
 
 " What did you buy ?" asked his wife. 
 
 " Nothing but three pieces of advice, each of which cost 
 me a hundred crowns," he answered. 
 
 "That is just like you, wasting your money, and scatter- 
 ing it to the winds, as usual !" 
 
 " My dear wife," said the farmer, gently, " I do not regret 
 my money. Just listen to the sayings which I bought with 
 it." 
 
 But his wife shrugged her shoulders at what she styled 
 idle words, and called her husband a fool, who would ruin 
 his household and leave his wife and children to starve. 
 
 A short time after, a merchant stopped before the farmer's 
 door, with two wagons full of goods. He had lost his part- 
 ner on the way, and he offered the farmer fifty crowns if he 
 would take charge of one of the wagons and go with him to 
 town. 
 
 " I hope you will not refuse," said the farmer's wife to him, 
 " this time you will earn something, at least." 
 
 They set out, the merchant driving the first wagon, and 
 the farmer the second. The weather was bad and the roads 
 heavy, and they travelled with great difficulty. At last they 
 reached the cross-road, where the merchant asked which 
 route they should take. 
 
 " That one, which is the road of the future,'* said the farm- 
 er; "it is longer but it is surer." 
 
 The merchant, however, insisted on taking the road of the 
 
282 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 present. " I would not go that way for a hundred crowns,** 
 said the farmer. 
 
 They separated, therefore ; the farmer, who had taken the 
 longer road, nevertheless arrived much before his comrade, 
 with his wagon in good condition. The merchant did not 
 rejoin him till night ; his wagon had fallen in a morass, all 
 the load had been damaged, and the master had been hurt 
 into the bargain. 
 
 At the first inn they reached the host was old, and a 
 green branch announced that new wine was sold there cheap. 
 The merchant wished to stop there for the night. 
 
 " I would not do it for a hundred crowns," exclaimed the 
 farmer, and he departed hurriedly, leaving his companion. 
 During the evening, a group of young idlers, who had drank 
 too freely of the new wine, quarrelled for some trifling cause, 
 knives were drawn, the host, cumbered with years, had not 
 the strength to separate the combatants, a man was killed, 
 and, in order to escape the law, the corpse was hid in the 
 wagon of the merchant. The latter, who had slept well, and 
 
The Prudent Farmer. 283 
 
 had heard nothing of the affray, rose early to harness his 
 horses. Terrified at finding a dead body in his wagon, he 
 drove off as fast as he could in order to escape a tedious law- 
 suit. But the Austrian police were on his track ; they pur- 
 sued and overtook him, and while waiting for the case to 
 be brought to trial, threw the merchant in prison and confis- 
 cated his goods. 
 
 On learning of what had happened to his comrade, the 
 farmer determined at least to save the wagon under his 
 charge, and returned to his own house. On nearing the 
 garden, he saw through the twilight a young soldier seated 
 in his finest plum-tree, coolly munching his favorite fruit. 
 The farmer raised his gun to shoot the thief, when he reflect- 
 ed, " I have paid a hundred crowns to learn that I must not 
 spend all my wrath in one day. Let us wait till to-morrow ; 
 the thief will return." 
 
 He made a circuit to enter the house by another way. 
 As he knocked at the door, the young soldier flung himself 
 in his arms, crying, " Father, I have a furlough, and have 
 come to surprise and embrace you." 
 
 Said the farmer to his wife, " Now hear what has hap- 
 pened to me, and see whether I paid too dear for my three 
 pieces of advice." 
 
 He told them the whole story. As the poor merchant 
 was hung, in spite of all he could do, the farmer found him- 
 self the heir of this imprudent man. Enriched thereby, he 
 daily repeated that good advice is never bought too dearly, 
 and for the first time his wife and he are of one and the 
 same mind. 
 
A FEMALE SOLOMON. 
 
 A CROATIAN TALE. 
 
 There was once upon a time a poor man who lived in a 
 hut alone with his daughter ; but this daughter was as wise 
 as Solomon. She went everywhere in search of alms, and 
 also taught her father what to say to obtain what he needed. 
 One day he chanced to solicit aid from the emperor, who, 
 surprised at his manner of speaking, asked him who he was, 
 and who had taught him to express himself in a way so much 
 above his station. 
 
 " My daughter, sire," he answered. 
 
 " And who taught your daughter ?" asked the emperor. 
 
 " It was God, as well as our great misery," was the reply. 
 
 "Take these thirty eggs to your daughter," said the em- 
 peror, " and tell her to hatch chickens from them ; if she 
 does not, woe betide her !" 
 
 The poor man went to his hut in tears, and told the story 
 to his daughter. She saw at once that the eggs were boiled ; 
 but told her father to go to bed, and she would see to every- 
 thing. He followed her advice ; for her part, she took a 
 pot, filled it with water and beans and hung it over the fire ; 
 then, next morning, when the beans were boiled, she called 
 
A Female Solomon, 285 
 
 her father and told him to take a plough and oxen and plough 
 up the earth by the side of the road where the emperor was 
 to pass. 
 
 " And," she added, " when you see the emperor, sow these 
 beans, and say, in a loud voice, * God bless my boiled beans 
 and make them grow !' Then, if the emperor asks how it is 
 possible for boiled beans to grow, answer that it is as easy 
 as to hatch a chicken from a boiled egg." 
 
 The poor man did as he was bid; he ploughed up the 
 ground, sowed the beans, and cried, when he saw the em- 
 peror, " God bless my boiled beans and make them grow !" 
 And when the emperor stopped and said, " Poor fool, how 
 is it possible for boiled beans to grow ?" he answered, " Gra- 
 cious emperor, it is as easy as to hatch a chicken from a 
 boiled egg." 
 
 The emperor knew that the daughter had prompted her 
 father to act in this way. He ordered his valets to bring 
 the poor man before him ; then he gave him a small pack- 
 age of hemp, and said, " Take this, and make of it sails, cord 
 age, and all that is needed for a vessel, or else I will cut 
 off your head." 
 
 The poor man took the package and returned drowned in 
 tears to his daughter. On hearing what had happened she 
 told him to go to bed, and that she would put matters right. 
 The next day she took a bit of wood, awoke her father, and 
 said, 
 
 "Take this match to the emperor, and let him make 
 from it a spindle, a shuttle, and a loom, after which I will do 
 what he asks." 
 
 The poor man once more followed his daughter's advice ; 
 he went to the emperor and repeated what he had been bid 
 to say. The emperor was astonished. After a moment's 
 thought he took a goblet, and, giving it to the poor man, 
 
286 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 said, "Take this goblet to your daughter, and tell her to 
 bale out the ocean, and make of it an arable field." 
 
 The poor man obeyed, sighing, and carried the goblet to 
 his daughter, repeating the emperor's message. Again she 
 told him to go to bed, and leave the matter to her. The 
 next day she called him and gave him a bunch of tow, saying, 
 
 "Take this to the emperor and let him stop up all the 
 springs and the mouths of all the rivers, after which I will 
 bale out the sea." 
 
 When the emperor heard this, he perceived that the maid- 
 en was wiser than he. He ordered her to be brought be- 
 fore him, and when they were face to face, asked the ques- 
 tion, " My girl, can you tell me what is heard farthest off?" 
 
 " Thunder and falsehood are heard farthest off, gracious 
 emperor," she answered. 
 
 The emperor thereupon took his beard in his hand and, 
 turning to the courtiers, said, " Guess how much my beard 
 is worth." 
 
 When they had all estimated its value, some more and 
 others less, the damsel maintained to their faces that none 
 of them had guessed right, saying, " An emperor's beard is 
 worth three rains in a summer's drought." 
 
 The emperor was delighted, and said, " She has guessed 
 nearest of all." He asked her if she would be his wife, add- 
 ing that he would not let her go until she had consented. 
 The damsel bowed and said, 
 
 " Gracious emperor, your will be done ! I only ask that 
 you shall give me a writing, in your own hand, declaring 
 that if at any time you grow tired of me and wish to send 
 me away from you and out of the palace, I shall have the 
 right to carry away with me what I love best." 
 
 The emperor consented, and gave her a writing sealed 
 with the red wax and great official stamp of the empire. 
 
"An emperor's beard is worth three rains in a summer's drought." 
 
288 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 It chanced after a time that the emperor grew tired of 
 his wife, as she had foreseen, and said to her, " I will live 
 with you no longer; leave the palace, and go where you 
 please." 
 
 "Illustrious emperor," answered the empress, "I will 
 obey you ; only permit me to stay here one night longer, 
 and to-morrow I will go." 
 
A Female Solomon. 289 
 
 The emperor having granted this request, before supper 
 the empress mixed brandy and sweet herbs with the wine, 
 and persuaded him to drink of it, saying, 
 
 "Drink and be merry; to-morrow we part; and, believe 
 me, I shall be happier than on my wedding-day." 
 
 The emperor had scarcely swallowed the beverage when 
 he fell fast asleep. The empress had him taken at once to 
 a carriage which she had ready, and carried him away with 
 her to a grotto hewn in the rock. On awaking, he rubbed 
 his eyes, and looking around him at the strange spectacle, 
 cried, " Where am I, and who brought me here ?" 
 
 " It was I," answered the empress. 
 
 "Why did you do this ? Did I not tell you that you were 
 no longer my wife ?" 
 
 " It is true that you said so," returned she, extending to 
 him a paper, "but do you remember what you promised me 
 in this writing ? On quitting the palace I had a right to take 
 away with me what I loved best in it, and this dearest thing 
 is you." 
 
 At these words the emperor's heart melted ; he em- 
 braced her, and they returned to the palace together, never 
 more to part. 
 19 
 
DAME GUDBRAND. 
 
 A NORWEGIAN TALE. 
 
 There was once an old man called Gudbrand of the Hill, 
 who lived in a lonely cottage on a distant hillside. 
 
 Now it must be known that this Gudbrand had an excel- 
 lent wife, which sometimes happens. But what happens far 
 more seldom was that Gudbrand understood the value of 
 such a treasure. The husband and wife lived peacefully to- 
 gether, enjoying their common happiness, and troubling them- 
 selves neither about the lack of money nor their advancing 
 years. Everything that Gudbrand did, his wife declared to 
 be just what she most wanted ; so that the good man could 
 not move or change a single thing in the house without his 
 wife's thanking him for having foreseen and accomplished 
 her wishes. 
 
 They led an easy life, moreover ; the farm belonged to them, 
 and they had a hundred dollars in their drawer, and two 
 good milch cows in their stable. They lacked for nothing, 
 and could grow old without fearing want and wretchedness, 
 or needing the pity or assistance of their neighbors. One 
 evening, as they were talking together by the fireside of 
 their work and their plans, Dame Gudbrand said to her 
 husband, 
 
 " My dear, a happy thought strikes me. Why not take 
 one of our cows to town and sell it? The other one will 
 
" He lived in a lonely cottage on a distant hillside,"" 
 
292 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 give us all the milk and 
 butter we need, and what 
 is the use of wearing our- 
 selves out for others ? We 
 have no children, and mon- 
 ey lying idle ; and it is bet- 
 ter to save our strength. 
 You will always find 
 enough to do to keep you 
 busy at home, mending 
 tools and furniture, and I 
 shall have more time to 
 sit by you with my spindle 
 and distaff." 
 
 Gudbrand, as usual, 
 
 thought his wife was quite 
 
 right, and set off early the next morning for town, with his 
 
 cow. But it was not market-day, and he found no one ready 
 
 to buy her. 
 
 " Well, well," said he to himself, " I have only to drive her 
 home again ; I have plenty of straw and fodder for her, and 
 the road is no longer going than coming ;" and with these 
 words, he tranquilly turned his face homeward. 
 
 After a few hours' walk, just as he was beginning to feel a 
 little tired, he met a man riding a horse to town — a superb- 
 looking animal, all saddled and bridled. 
 
 "The way is long, and darkness is coming on fast," thought 
 Gudbrand ; " I shall not get home to-night with my cow, and 
 my wife will be worried. How proud she would be to see 
 me come prancing into the yard on this horse, like a bailiff!" 
 And with this thought, he stopped the rider, and exchanged 
 his cow for the horse. 
 
 Once in the saddle he had some misgivings. Gudbrand 
 
Dame Gudbrand, 
 
 293 
 
 was old and heavy, and the horse was young, fiery, and skit- 
 tish. In half an hour Gudbrand was on foot, with the bridle 
 on his arm, trying hard to hold the frisky animal, that tossed 
 his head in the wind, and reared and pranced at every stone 
 by the wayside. "It is a bad bargain," thought Gudbrand ; 
 when, just at that instant, he spied a countryman leading a 
 pig as fat as butter, whose belly 
 touched the ground. 
 
 " I have often heard my wife 
 say, " thought Gudbrand, " that a 
 humble nail that is of use is worth 
 more than a sparkling diamond 
 that is good for nothing." And 
 he exchanged his horse for the 
 
 pig- 
 
 It was a happy thought, but the 
 good man had counted without 
 
294 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 wts^^ 
 
 his host. Master Porker was tired, and would not budge an- 
 other step. Gudbrand talked, 
 coaxed, and swore, but all 
 in vain. He dragged the pig 
 by the snout, he pushed him 
 from behind, he beat him on 
 all sides, and had his trouble 
 for his pains. The creature lay 
 in the dust like a ship stuck in 
 the mud. The farmer was in 
 
 despair, when a man passed leading a goat, which, with its 
 
 udders full of milk, 
 
 pranced, ran, and 
 
 curveted with an 
 
 agility charming 
 
 to behold. 
 
 " Just what I 
 
 want," cried Gud- 
 
 ^^^S^ 
 
 --N? 
 
Dame Gndbrand. 
 
 295 
 
 brand ; " I had rather have that live- 
 ly, merry goat, than this stupid, vile 
 beast." And thereupon, without giv- 
 ing the matter a second thought, he 
 exchanged the pig for the goat. 
 
 Everything went smoothly for the 
 space of half an hour. The long- 
 horned damsel led on Gudbrand, who 
 at first laughed at her pranks. But 
 when one is past twenty, he soon tires 
 
 of climbing rocks ; and the farmer, chancing to meet a shep- 
 herd watching his flock, was easily persuaded to exchange 
 his goat for a sheep. " I shall have just as much milk," 
 thought he, " and this animal at least will be quiet, and will 
 
 not tire my wife 
 and me." 
 
 Gudbrand had 
 judged rightly ; 
 there is nothing 
 more placid than 
 a sheep. She 
 played no pranks, 
 and did not try to butt him ; but she would not go on, and 
 stood bleating for her sisters. The more Gudbrand pulled, 
 the more she endeavored to return to the flock, and the 
 more pitifully she moaned. 
 
 Kf^-^'^'-^^r^ 
 
 =^^^^? 
 
296 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " The whimpering 
 fool !" cried Gudbrand. 
 " She is as headstrong 
 and as whining as my 
 neighbor's wife. Who 
 will take this bleat- 
 ing, crying, groaning 
 beast off my hands? 
 I would sell her at 
 any price." 
 
 " It is a bargain," said a peasant who was passing. " Take 
 this fine, fat goose, 
 which is far better 
 than a sheep that 
 will moan itself 
 to death in an 
 hour." 
 
 " Agreed," said 
 Gudbrand \ " a 
 live goose is worth 
 more than a dead 
 sheep." And he carried off the goose with him. 
 
 This, however, was no easy task. The bird was an un- 
 easy companion. Frightened at being 
 off the ground, it fought lustily with 
 Ck.'S£S^5)^ wings, claws, and beak, till Gudbrand 
 
 yW^^^^^^f was tired of the struggle. 
 
 " Pooh !" said he, " a goose is a hate- 
 ful bird ; my wife never would have one 
 in the house." 
 
 And, thereupon, at the first farm- 
 house where he stopped, he exchanged 
 the goose for a handsome cock, with 
 
Dame Gudbrand, 
 
 297 
 
 gay plumage, and fine spurs and 
 comb. This time he was satisfied 
 with his bargain. The cock, it is 
 true, screamed from time to time, 
 in a voice too shrill to please sen- 
 sitive ears, but as his legs were 
 tied together and he was carried 
 head downward, he soon submit- 
 ted to his fate. The only trouble 
 
 was that it was growing late. Gudbrand, who had set out 
 before daybreak, found himself at evening hungry and pen- 
 niless. He had still a long way to go ; his legs were falter- 
 ing, and his stomach was crying for food. He was equal to 
 the occasion. At the first inn, he sold his cock for half a 
 dollar, and as he had a good appetite, spent it to the last 
 penny in satisfying his hunger. 
 
 " After all," thought he, " of what use would a cock be to 
 me after I had perished of starva- 
 tion ?" 
 
 On nearing home, Gudbrand be- 
 gan to reflect on the strange way 
 in which his journey had turned 
 out. Before entering his house, he 
 stopped at his neighbor's. Grizzled 
 Peter. 
 
 " Well, Gudbrand," said Peter, 
 
 " what luck did you have in town ?" 
 
 " So, so," said he ; " 1 cannot say that I have been very 
 
 lucky, but neither have I reason to complain." And he 
 
 told him all that had happened. 
 
 " Well, neighbor," exclaimed Peter, " you have made a fine 
 mess of it ! What will your wife say to you ? May God pro- 
 tect you I I would not be in vour shoes for ten dollars." 
 
293 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 "Why," said Gudbrand, "matters might have turned out 
 much worse with me ; as it is, I am well, and at peace in 
 body and soul. And whether I have been wise or foolish, I 
 have such a good wife that she will be perfectly satisfied 
 with everything I have done." 
 
 " I hear what you say, neighbor, and 
 marvel at it, but with all due respect to 
 you, I don't believe a word of it." 
 
 "Will you bet that I am wrong?" said 
 
 Gudbrand. " I have a hundred dollars 
 
 in my drawer at home ; I will venture 
 
 twenty-five of them ; will you do the 
 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Peter. 
 
 The bargain 
 concluded, the 
 two friends 
 entered Gud- 
 brand's house. 
 Peter stood at 
 the chamber- 
 door to listen. 
 
 *' How are 
 
 you, dame ? " 
 
 said Gudbrand. 
 
 "Thank God, 
 
 you are home again !" exclaimed his wife ; " I was beginning 
 
 to be so uneasy about you. How are you, and what success 
 
 have you had in town ?" 
 
 " So, so," said Gudbrand ; " I could find no one to whom 
 to sell our cow, so I exchanged her for a horse." 
 
 " For a horse !" exclaimed his wife ; " what an excellent 
 idea. 1 thank you with all my heart. Now we can go in 
 
"Good-evening, dame,' said Gudbrand* 
 
300 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 our wagon to church, like so many people who look down 
 upon us, and are no better than we. If we choose to keep 
 a horse and feed it, it is nobody's business ; we have a per- 
 fect right to do so. Where is the horse ? He must be put 
 into the stable." 
 
 " I did not bring him home," said Gudbrand ; " on the 
 way I changed my mind and traded him for a pig." 
 
 " Why," said his wife, " that is just what I should have 
 done in your place. A thousand thanks, my dear. Now, 
 when the neighbors drop in, I shall have a bit of bacon to 
 offer them, like other people. What do we want of a horse ? 
 The neighbors would say, ' See those proud folks, looking 
 down on us who have to walk to church.' Come, we must 
 put the pig in his sty." 
 
 " I did not bring the pig, either," said Gudbrand; "on the 
 way I changed him for a goat." 
 
 " Bravo !" cried his wife, " what a wise and prudent man 
 you are ! Now I think of it, what should we have done with 
 a pig? Folks would have pointed their fingers at us, saying, 
 * Look at those people, who eat up all they make !' But with 
 my goat I shall have milk and cheese, to say nothing of kids. 
 Make haste and put the goat in the stable." 
 
 " But I did not bring the goat," said Gudbrand ; " on the 
 way I exchanged it for a sheep." 
 
 "That is just like you !" cried his wife ; "you did this for 
 my sake. I am too old to climb over hills and rocks after 
 a goat. But with a sheep I shall have milk and wool be- 
 sides. Put the sheep in the stable." 
 
 "I did not bring the sheep, either," said Gudbrand; "on 
 the way I changed it for a goose." 
 
 " Thank you with all my heart," said the good woman ; 
 " what should I have done with a sheep ? I have neither 
 spinning-wheel nor loom ; weaving is hard work, and when 
 
Dame Gudbrand, 
 
 301 
 
 the cloth is woven, it must be cut out and made. It is 
 much easier to buy ready- 
 made clothing, as we have 
 always done. But a goose 
 — a fat goose — is just what I 
 wanted; I need down for our 
 bed j and I have always had 
 a longing for once in my life 
 to eat a roast goose. Come, 
 let us put the goose in the 
 barn-yard." 
 
 "But neither did I bring 
 the goose home," said Gud- 
 brand; " on the way I changed 
 it for a cock." 
 
 " My dear," said his wife, 
 "you are wiser than I. A 
 cock is really useful ; it is 
 better than a clock, which 
 must be wound every week. 
 A cock crows every morning 
 at four o'clock, and tells us 
 that it is time to praise God 
 and go to work. After all, 
 of what good would a goose 
 have been to us.? I do not 
 know how to cook it ; and as 
 for our bed, thank God, there 
 is plenty of moss as soft as 
 down. Put the cock in the 
 barn-yard." 
 
 " I did not bring the cock, 
 either," said Gudbrand, " for at nightfall I found myself as 
 
302 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 hungry as a hunter, and had to sell the cock for half a dol- 
 lar, without which I should have died of starvation." 
 
 " God be praised for giving you this happy thought !" cried 
 his wife. "My dear, you have done everything just as I 
 wished. What do we need of a cock? We are our own 
 masters ; no one has a right to order us about, and we can 
 lie in bed as late as we like. Now that you are here, my 
 dear husband, I am happy. I need but one thing, and that 
 is, to know that you are by my side." 
 
 Upon this Gudbrand opened the door, and called, "Neigh- 
 bor Peter, what did I tell you? Go, fetch your twenty-five 
 dollars." And he kissed his old wife on both cheeks with 
 as much pleasure and more tenderness than if she had been 
 twenty years old. 
 
GRIZZLED PETER. 
 
 A NORWEGIAN TALE. 
 
 The story does not end here. Every medal has its ob- 
 verse side. The day would not appear so bright if it were 
 not blotted out by the night. However good and perfect all 
 women may be, there are, nevertheless, a few who are not 
 always as easy-tempered as Dame Gudbrand. Need I say 
 that this is the husband's fault? If he always gave way, 
 would he ever be contradicted? "Give way !" I hear some 
 whiskered gentleman exclaim. Yes, of course ; else hear 
 with what you are threatened. A Norwegian experience 
 may be useful elsewhere. 
 
 Grizzled Peter bore no resemblance to his neighbor, Good- 
 man Gudbrand. He was petulant, imperious, choleric, and 
 about as impatient as a dog from whom a bone is snatched, 
 or a cat that is seized by the nape of the neck. He would 
 have been unbearable if Heaven, in its mercy, had not given 
 him a wife worthy of him. This good woman was head- 
 strong, quarrelsome, rasping, shrewish, and always ready to 
 
304 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 be silent when her husband wanted to talk, or to rail when 
 he wished to be at peace. It was great good luck for Griz- 
 zled Peter to have such a treasure. Without his wife, how 
 could he have ever known that patience is not the merit of 
 fools, and that gentleness is the chief of virtues. 
 
 One night, in harvest, when he returned home after fifteen 
 hours' hard labor, more ill-tempered than ever, loudly asking 
 if supper was not ready, and furiously scolding at women 
 and their laziness, 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Peter," said his wife. " Would you 
 like to change places ? To-morrow I will go harvesting and 
 you shall keep house. We will see which has the harder 
 work, and does it better." 
 
 " Done !" answered Peter. " You will learn, for once, by 
 experience, what your poor husband suffers. It may teach 
 you to respect him ; you need the lesson." 
 
 The next morning, at daybreak, his wife set out, her rake 
 over her shoulder and her sickle 
 by her side, rejoiced to see the 
 sun rise,and singing like the lark. 
 Grizzled Peter was a little sur- 
 prised to find himself alone in 
 the house. He made the best 
 of it, however, and set to work to 
 churn the butter, as if he had 
 been accustomed to it all his life. 
 One soon gets heated at a new 
 trade. Peter's throat was dry, 
 and he went down cellar to draw 
 some beer. He had just taken 
 the spigot out of the cask, and 
 was about to put in the spout, 
 when he heard overhead the 
 
Grizzled Peter. 
 
 305 
 
 grunting of the pig, who was ravaging 
 the kitchen. 
 
 " My butter is lost !" cried Peter. He 
 rushed up the cellar steps, four at a time, 
 with the spigot in his hand. Such a 
 spectacle as met his sight ! The churn 
 was overturned, the cream was on the 
 ground, and the pig was wallowing in 
 floods of milk. A wiser man would 
 have lost patience. Peter flung himself 
 upon the animal, that ran away grunt- 
 ing. The thief paid dearly for his crime, 
 for his master seized him on the way, 
 and dealt him such a blow on the head 
 with the spigot that he fell stark dead on the spot. 
 As he gazed at his bloody work, Peter bethought himself 
 
 that he had 
 not closed the 
 bunghole, and 
 that the beer 
 was still run- 
 ning. He rush- 
 ed down cel- 
 lar. Fortunately, the beer was running no longer; it is 
 true that not a drop was 
 left in the cask. 
 
 It was necessary to begin 
 anew and churn the butter 
 if he wished to have any din- 
 ner. Peter went to the dai- 
 ry, and found cream enough 
 there, fortunately, to repair 
 the accident of the morning. 
 20 
 
3o6 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 He set about churning with all his might, when he sudden- 
 ly remembered, rather late in the day, that the cow was still 
 
 in the stable, and had had noth- 
 ing yet to eat or drink, though the 
 sun was now high in the heavens. 
 He started for the stable, but ex- 
 perience had made him wise. 
 
 "There is the baby crawling 
 on the floor," he thought ; "he 
 will be sure to upset the churn if 
 I leave it here." 
 
 He took the churn on his back, 
 _ and went to draw water for the 
 
 cow. The well was deep, and 
 
 the bucket did not fill. Peter became impatient, and leaned 
 
 over to pull the rope, when, pop ! a deluge of cream from 
 
 the churn poured over his head and 
 
 into the well. 
 
 "Oh, dear!" cried Peter; "I 
 
 shall have no butter to-day. I must 
 
 think now of the cow. It is too 
 
 late to drive her to pasture, but 
 
 there is a fine growth of hay that 
 
 has not been cut on the thatched 
 
 roof. She will lose nothing by stay- 
 ing at home." 
 
 Having taken the cow from the 
 
 stable, it was not difficult to get 
 
 her on the roof. The house being 
 
 built in a hollow, the thatch on one 
 
 side was nearly on a level with the 
 
 ground, and, with the help of a 
 
 broad plank, the cow was easily installed in her aerial pasture. 
 
He let thd rope carefully down the kitchen chimney. 
 
3o8 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 Peter could not stay on the roof to watch the cow. He 
 had to make soup and carry it to the reapers. But being a 
 prudent man, and 
 not wishing to ex- 
 pose his cow to 
 the danger of 
 breaking her 
 bones, he tied a 
 long rope around 
 her neck, which he 
 carefully lowered down the kitchen 
 chimney ; this done, he returned to 
 the kitchen, and fastened the rope 
 around his leg. "Now," thought 
 he, " I can be quite sure that the 
 animal will be quiet, and that noth- 
 ing will happen to her." 
 
 He filled the pot, put into it a 
 good piece of bacon, some vegetables, and water, hung it 
 
 over the fagots, lighted a match, 
 and blew the fire, when, presto ! 
 the cow slipped from the roof 
 and dragged our gentleman up 
 the chimney, head downward 
 and heels in air. There is no 
 knowing what would have hap- 
 pened to him had not a strong 
 iron bar luckily stopped him on 
 the way. There they both hung 
 between heaven and earth, Pe- 
 ter and the cow, he in the chim- 
 ney and she from the roof, both 
 shrieking and groaning frightfully. 
 
Grizzled Peter, 
 
 309 
 
 Happily, the good wife had no more patience than her hus- 
 band. After waiting three sec- 
 onds for the soup to be brought 
 her at the usual time, she ran 
 home as if the house were on 
 fire. At the sight of the cow 
 suspended from the roof she 
 drew her sickle and cut the 
 rope. It was a great joy for 
 the poor animal to find herself 
 once more upon the ground she 
 loved ; and it was no less fort- 
 unate for Peter, who was not 
 in the habit of viewing the 
 heavens feet in air, and who 
 fell head foremost into the pot. 
 But luck seemed to be on his 
 side that day : the fire had not 
 caught, the water was cold, and 
 the pot hung awry, so that he 
 escaped with honor from this 
 trying ordeal with no other ac- 
 cident than a scratched fore- 
 head, grazed nose, and two cut 
 cheeks. Happily, nothing was 
 broken but the dinner-pot. 
 
 On entering the kitchen and 
 seeing her husband standing 
 abashed and bloody, in the 
 prevailing disorder, the dame 
 stuck her arms akimbo, and 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " Well, which of us is it that is always right ? 1 have 
 
"The dame stuck her arms akimbo, and exclaimed, ' Well, which of us 
 is it that is always right ?' " 
 
Grizzled Peter, 
 
 311 
 
 done my work in the harvest-field, and here I am ! And 
 you, Mr. Cook, Mr. Shepherd, Mr. Housekeeper, where is the 
 butter, where is the beer, 
 where is the pig, where 
 is the cow, where is our 
 dinner.? If the baby is 
 not dead, it is not your 
 fault! Poor litde one, 
 if you had not your 
 mother !" Clasping the 
 baby in her arms, tears 
 came to her relief. Is 
 not sensibility the tri- 
 umph of woman, and 
 are not tears the triumph of sensibility ? 
 
 Peter bore the storm sulkily, but in silence. He did well ; 
 resignation befits great minds. But a few days after the 
 neighbors perceived that he had changed the motto of his 
 house. Instead of two clasped hands bearing a heart encir- 
 cled with a blue ribbon and surmounted by an eternal flame, 
 he had painted on the front of the cottage a hive surrounded 
 with bees, with the following inscription : 
 
 " Bees sting sharp, 
 But evil tongues sharper." 
 
 It was his only vengeance for this day of defeat. 
 
THE TAILOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 A SENEGAL TALE. 
 
 There was, once upon a time, a Senegal tailor, who 
 had a daughter as dazzling as the sun. All the youths in 
 the neighborhood were in love with her beauty, and two of 
 them went to her and asked for her hand. The girl, like 
 a well -trained daughter, made them no answer, but called 
 her father, who listened to them, and said : 
 
 " It is late ; go home, and come again to-morrow. I will 
 tell you then which of you shall have my daughter." 
 
 At daybreak the next morning the young men were at his 
 door. 
 
 " Here we are," they cried ; " remember what you prom- 
 ised us yesterday." 
 
 " Wait," said the tailor ; " I must go out and buy a piece 
 of cloth ; when I return, you will hear what I expect you to 
 do." 
 
 He soon returned, and, calling his daughter, said to the 
 young men, 
 
 " My sons, there are two of you, and I have but one 
 daughter. I cannot give her to both of you, and must re- 
 fuse one. You see this piece of cloth ; I will cut from it 
 two pairs of breeches, exactly alike ; each of you shall make 
 one of them, and the one that finishes first shall be my son- 
 in-law." 
 
The Tailors Daughter, 313 
 
 Each of the rivals took his task, and prepared to set to 
 work under the tailor's eyes. The latter said to his daughter, 
 " Here is thread ; you can thread the needles for the work- 
 men." 
 
 The girl obeyed ; she took the spool and sat down by the 
 youths. But the pretty witch was full of cunning ; her father 
 did not know which one she loved, neither did the young 
 men, but, for her part, she knew very well. The tailor went 
 out, the girl threaded the needles, and her suitors set to 
 work. But to the one she loved she gave short needlesful, 
 while she gave long needlesful to his rival. Both sewed 
 zealously; at eleven o'clock the work was scarcely half done, 
 but at three in the afternoon the young man with the short 
 needlesful had finished his task, while the other was far be- 
 hind. When the tailor returned, the victor carried him the 
 finished breeches. His rival was still sewing. 
 
 " My children," said the father, " I did not wish to show 
 any partiality between you, for which reason I divided the 
 cloth into two equal parts, and gave each a fair chance. 
 Are you satisfied ?" 
 
 " Perfectly," answered they. " We understood your mean- 
 ing, and accepted the trial ; what is to be will be !" 
 
 But the tailor had reasoned to himself: " He who finishes 
 his task first will be the better workman, and consequently 
 the one better fitted to support his household." It did not 
 occur to him that his daughter might outwit him by giving 
 the longer needlesful to the one she did not wish to win. 
 Woman's wit decided the contest, and the girl chose hei 
 husband herself. 
 
DAME WEASEL AND HER HUSBAND. 
 
 A NUBIAN TALE. 
 
 Dame Weasel brought a son into the world. She called 
 her husband and said, " Go get me the kind of swaddling- 
 clothes I want, and bring them here to me." 
 
 The husband listened to his wife with a puzzled air, and 
 asked, " But what kind of swaddling-clothes do you want?" 
 
 " I want the skin of an elephant," snapped the weasel. 
 
 The poor husband stood agape in amazement, wondering 
 if his wife had not lost her wits, till the angry weasel flung 
 the baby in his arms, and rushed out, with a toss of her 
 head. 
 
 She went straight to the Earth-worm and said, " Neighbor, 
 I have a field covered with turf; come and help me dig it up." 
 
 The Worm once busy at work. Dame Weasel went to the 
 Hen, and said, " Cousin, my field is full of worms, we need 
 your help in getting rid of them." 
 
 The Hen ran thither without waiting for another word, 
 hastily gobbled up the Worm, and began scratching in the 
 dirt for more. 
 
 A little farther on the Weasel met the Cat ; " My friend," 
 said she, " there are some hens in my field, and it might be 
 to your advantage to take a turn that way while I am gone." 
 
 A moment after, the Cat had devoured the Hen. 
 
 While the Cat was thus regaling himself, the Weasel said 
 to the Dog, '• Master, will you allow the Cat to lord it over 
 
Dame Weasel and her Husband. 
 
 315 
 
 that field?" The furious Dog rushed on the Cat and 
 strangled him, determined that there should be no other 
 ruler there than himself. 
 
 The Lion, passing that way, Dame Weasel bowed to him 
 respectfully. " My lord," said she, " do not go near that field, 
 it belongs to the Dog ;" upon which the Lion, blinded with 
 jealousy, flung himself on the Dog and tore him to pieces. 
 
 The Elephant came next. Dame Weasel entreated his 
 help against the Lion, and begged him to come into her ter- 
 ritory as a protector. But he little knew the treachery of 
 the Weasel, who had digged a deep pit there and covered it 
 with boughs. The Elephant fell into the snare, and was 
 killed by the fall, while the Lion, who was afraid of the Ele- 
 phant, fled to the forest. 
 
 The Weasel then stripped ofl" the Elephant's skin, and 
 showed it to her husband, saying, " I asked you in vain for 
 this skin ; with God's help I have obtained it myself, and I 
 bring it to you." 
 
 The husband of Dame Weasel had not suspected before 
 that his wife was more cunning than all the beasts of the 
 earth, still less, that she was more cunning than he. He 
 was convinced of it at last ; and hence came the saying, 
 " He is as cunning as a weasel." 
 
THE SUN'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 A GREEK FAIRY TALE. 
 
 There was once a woman who could not be comforted 
 because she had no children. One day she said to the 
 Sun, 
 
 "Good Sun, if you will but give me a daughter, you 
 may take her back when she is twelve years old." 
 
 The Sun immediately sent a daughter to the good woman. 
 
Tk£ Sun's Daughter. 
 
 317 
 
 
 She named her Letiko, and cherished her for twelve years 
 like the apple of her eye. But one day, when Letiko was 
 gathering herbs, the Sun came to her and said, " My child, 
 
3i8 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 when you go home, tell your mother to remember what she 
 promised me." 
 
 Letiko went home and said to the good woman, " Mother, 
 as I was gathering herbs, a handsome young prince came 
 and bade me tell you to remember what you had promised 
 him." 
 
 At this message, the good woman trembled and turned 
 pale ; then set instantly to work to shut the doors and win- 
 dows, and stop up the holes and crevices, that the Sun might 
 not make his way into the house and carry off Letiko. Un- 
 happily she forgot the keyhole^ and the Sun seiit one of his 
 beams through it, which seized Letiko, and bore her away. 
 
 The Sun was not a bad master, but Letiko could not for- 
 get, in his service, the mother she had lost. 
 
 One day the Sun sent her to the barn for some hay. Letiko 
 
The Suns Daughter, 
 
 319 
 
 seated herself on the sheaves, and sighed, " As this hay is 
 crushed beneath my feet, so my heart is crushed by the loss 
 of my mother." She stayed so long in the barn that the Sun 
 called to her, " Letiko, what are you doing there ?" 
 
 " My shoes are so large that I cannot walk," she answered. 
 Upon which the Sun made her smaller shoes. 
 
 Another day the Sun sent her for water. On reaching 
 the spring, Letiko sighed, " As this water moans as it falls, 
 so moans my heart for my poor mother." 
 
 She stayed so long at 
 the spring that the Sun 
 called to her, "Letiko, 
 what are you doing 
 there?" She said, "My 
 skirt is so long that I 
 cannot walk." Upon 
 which the Sun cut off 
 the hem of her skirt. 
 
 Another time the Sun 
 sent her for a pair of 
 sandals. On her way 
 back she sat down by 
 
 the roadside, and sighed, "As this leather creaks in my 
 hand, so does my heart cry out for my poor mother." 
 
 She remained seated there so long that the Sun called to 
 her, " Letiko, what are you doing there ?" 
 
 " My hat is so large that it falls over my eyes, and hinders 
 me from walking." 
 
 Upon which the Sun cut off the brim of her hat. 
 
 At last the Sun saw that Letiko was sorrowful. He sent 
 her once more to the barn for hay ; but listened at the door 
 and heard the child cry for her mother. He then called to 
 him two foxes, and said, 
 
320 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " Will you take Letiko back home ?" 
 
 " With pleasure." 
 
 " But if you are hungry and thirsty, what will you eat and 
 drink on the way." 
 
 " We will eat the child's flesh and drink her blood," an- 
 swered the honest foxes. 
 
 r3.;>m. 
 
 When the Sun heard this, he said to himself, "Good people, 
 you will not do for me." He thanked the foxes, and called 
 two hares. 
 
 " Will you take Letiko back to her mother ?" 
 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 " But if you are hungry and thirsty, what will you eat and 
 drink on the way ?" 
 
The Suns Daughter, 
 
 321 
 
 "We will eat the grass of the fields and drink the water 
 of the springs." 
 
 " Good, take the child ; I trust her to you." 
 
 And, behold, the hares set out with Letiko ; but the way 
 was long, and they were hungry. 
 
 " Dear Letiko," said the hares to the young girl, " climb 
 this tree, and stay there till we have satisfied our appetite." 
 
 Letiko climbed the tree, and the hares ran to the forest. 
 
 
 21 
 
322 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 •They were hardly out of sight, when a lamia appeared be- 
 neath the tree — this is what an ogress is called in Greece. 
 She was a horrible old witch, with only one eye, in the mid- 
 dle of her forehead, and a huge mouth with two great tusks. 
 " Letiko 1 Letiko ! come down and see what pretty shoes I 
 have on !" she cried. 
 
 " Mine are as pretty as yours." 
 
 "Come down, I am in haste, my house is not swept." 
 
 " Go and sweep it, and come back when it is done." 
 
 The lamia ran home and hurried back as fast as she 
 could. " Letiko ! Letiko !" she cried, " come down and see 
 what a handsome sash I have on." 
 
 " My sash is handsomer than yours." 
 
 " If you do not come quickly, I will break down the tree 
 and eat you up." 
 
 " Break it down first and eat me up afterwards." 
 
 And, behold ! the ogress shook the tree, without being able 
 to stir it. " Letiko ! Letiko ! make haste, I must go and feed 
 my babies." 
 
 " Go and feed them, and come back when you have done." 
 
 The monster gone, Letiko cried, " Help ! my hares, help !" 
 And one of the hares said to the other, " Brother, do you 
 hear? The child is calling us." They came running like 
 the wind. Letiko sprang down from the tree, and all three 
 took to their heels. 
 
 The witch hurried back as fast as she could, but the bird 
 had flown, whether east, west, north, or south, she knew not 
 
 She saw some men working in the fields, and went to them, 
 but they were as deaf as posts. 
 
 " Have you seen any one go by ?" asked she. 
 
 " We are planting beans," they answered. 
 
 " I asked you if you had seen any one go by ?" she cried, 
 in a furious tone. 
 
"Letiko rushed in first, followed by the hares." 
 
324 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 " What is the matter ?" replied the good men ; " are you 
 deaf? we are planting beans, do you hear? beans, beans, 
 beans !" 
 
 When Letiko approached the house, the dog scented her, 
 and cried, ^^ Bow, wow, wow I here is Letiko!" The cat, 
 that was roaming on the roof, spied the child from afar, and 
 began to call, ^^ Miaow, miaow f here is Letiko !" The poor 
 mother answered, " Hush, cruel beasts, would you kill me 
 with grief?" 
 
 The cock, stretching up his neck and head, saw the child 
 in turn, and crew, " Cock-a-doodle-doo ! Cock-a-doodle-doo ! here 
 is Letiko." And the poor mother sobbed, " Hush, cruel bird, 
 would you kill me with grief?" 
 
 The three friends reached the door, but the ogress was 
 at their heels, and had them just within her grasp. Letiko 
 rushed in first, followed by the hares, one after the other, but 
 the last one left the hair of his tail in the witch's clutches. 
 On seeing this, the poor mother clasped Letiko to her breast, 
 and cried, " Welcome ! my good hares, you have brought my 
 daughter back in safety, and in return I will dye your tails 
 silver." And ever since that day all the hares have had 
 silver tails. 
 
THE LITTLE MAN, 
 
 There was once a little gentleman who every day grew 
 twenty-four hours older. But when he went to the inn to 
 drink a glass of wine or a schooner of beer, the inn-keeper 
 always greeted him with, " Good-morning, my little man 1" 
 which vexed him greatly. 
 
 One morning he went to the shoemaker, to have a pair of 
 high heels put on his boots. No sooner had he entered the 
 shop than the shoemaker exclaimed, "Good-morning, my 
 little man ; what can I do for you to-day ?" 
 
 "Master Crispin," he answered, "hasten to put a pair of 
 
326 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 heels on my boots, and let them be high enough to make 
 people stop calling me little man. I am tired of it." 
 
 The shoemaker set to work, and when he had finished 
 and been paid, " Good-bye, my little man," said he, " if you 
 are satisfied, remember me another time." 
 
 The little gentleman was greatly vexed that the shoe- 
 maker had no more respect for his own work. " It will be 
 different with the inn-keeper," he thought \ "he will open his 
 eyes, and greet me by another name." 
 
 He entered the inn, stamping his feet, and standing as 
 straight as if he had swallowed a bayonet. As soon as the 
 inn-keeper saw him, he cried, "Good-morning, my little 
 man ; what will you have, beer or wine ?" 
 
 Fancy the vexation of the little gentleman that his heels 
 had produced no more effect ! He hastened to the hatter, 
 Xf^ buy the tallest hat that could be found. He had not 
 let go the door-knob before the hatter greeted him with, 
 
The Little Man. 
 
 327 
 
 "Good-morning, my little man, what can I do for you to- 
 day?" 
 
 "I want a hat tall enough to make people stop calling 
 me little man ; it vexes me beyond measure." 
 
 The hatter gave him a hat that might have served for 
 a grenadier, took his money, and thanked his customer. 
 " Good-bye, my little man, remember me next time." • 
 
 The little man was angry that the hatter paid so little re- 
 spect to his own wares. " Bah !" thought he, " it will be 
 different at the inn." He hastened thither and entered the 
 bar-room, his hat on his head like an Englishman. 
 
 " Good-morning, my little 
 man," said the inn-keeper, 
 " what will you have, beer or 
 wine?" 
 
 It is needless to say how 
 much the little man was 
 vexed. What was the use of 
 having such high heels un- 
 der his feet, and such a tall 
 hat on his head ! And how 
 was it that, in spite of all 
 these dearly bought advan- 
 tages, every one persisted in 
 calling him little man ? 
 
 Right and left, up and 
 down, he asked all he met 
 why he was still called little man, in spite of his heels and 
 hat, but no one could or would tell him. This vexed him 
 horribly. 
 
 "How stupid I am !" thought he; "if the people here 
 know nothing, I will go to Rome and ask the pope, who 
 knows everything." 
 
328 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 No sooner said than done ; he packed his valise, and set 
 out for Rome. 
 
 On the way he stopped at a tavern to pass the night. 
 " Good-day, my little man," said the host ; " where are you 
 going at this pace ?" 
 
 " I am going to Rome to see the pope," answered the lit- 
 tle gentleman, ill-humoredly. " The pope will tell me why, 
 in spite of my high heels and tall hat, every one takes the 
 liberty of calling me little man. It makes me furious." 
 
 "Bravo!" cried the host. "I will go along with you. 
 I, too, have something to ask the pope. I should like to 
 know why every one calls me the poor tavern-keeper. John, 
 you lazybones, pack my valise, I am going to Rome." 
 
 " Master, I am going too," said the hostler. " I should 
 like to ask the pope why every one, without knowing me, 
 calls me lazybones." 
 
 On reaching Rome, the three friends asked an audience 
 of the pope. They were received in a drawing-room, in 
 which there was a large mirror. 
 
 The pope listened to them kindly, and said to the tavern- 
 keeper, 
 
 " Turn your back to this mirror ; then look over your left 
 shoulder, and tell me what you see in the glass." 
 
 " I see," cried the tavern-keeper, " ten or twelve women, sit- 
 ting round a table, drinking coffee and chattering. Why ! there 
 is my wife. I'll warrant she will not lose a word of the gossip." 
 
 "Well, my son," said the pope, "as long as your wife 
 spends her time in this way, away from home, you will be 
 called a poor tavern-keeper, and you will stay a poor tavern- 
 keeper." 
 
 It was the hostler's turn. He placed himself in the same 
 position, and looked over his left shoulder. 
 
 " Holy Father !" he cried, " I see dogs chasing a hare. 
 
The Little Man. 
 
 329 
 
 They think to catch him ; ho ! ho ! Dash and Rover, you 
 did not get up early enough, the hare is too fast for you !" 
 
 " Well, my son," said the pope, " when you run as fast as 
 this hare the first time an order is given you, be sure that 
 no one will call you lazybones any longer." 
 
 After the hostler came the little gentleman. He too 
 turned his back to the glass, and looked over his left shoul- 
 der. The pope asked him what he saw. 
 
330 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 "I see nothing but myself," answered the little man. 
 
 " Do you see yourself larger than you are ?'* 
 
 " No," said the little man, " I see myself just as I am, 
 neither smaller nor larger." 
 
 " In that case, my son," rejoined the pope, " I have but 
 one piece of advice to give you : to have yourself measured 
 until you have grown. When you are tall, you will no longer 
 be called little man." 
 
 The little gentleman retired discontented, it is said, in 
 which he was wrong. But how many there are who are no 
 wiser than he ! How many there are who wish to soar 
 above their shadow, who think to add to their stature by 
 borrowed plumes, and who need to go to Rome to see them- 
 selves just as they are between their hats and their heels ] 
 
I'-.A't 
 
 FALSEHOOD AND TRUTH, 
 
 AN OLD SPANISH FABLE. 
 
 In olden times, Falsehood and Truth agreed to live to- 
 gether like a pair of friends. Truth was a good soul, sim- 
 ple, timid, and confiding; Falsehood was plausible, brill- 
 iant, and dashing. One commanded, and the other always 
 obeyed. As may be supposed, everything went on smoothly 
 in such a delightful partnership. 
 
 One day Falsehood suggested to Truth that it would be 
 well to plant a tree that would give them blossoms in spring, 
 
332 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 shade in summer, and fruit in autumn. Truth was pleased 
 with the plan, and the tree was set out directly. 
 
 No sooner had it begun to grow than Falsehood said to 
 Truth : " Sister, let us each choose a share of the tree. 
 Possessions held too closely in common breed strife ; short 
 accounts make long friends. There are the roots, for exam- 
 ple ; it is they that support and nourish it ; they are shel- 
 
 tered from wind and weather ; why do you not take them ? 
 To oblige you, I will content myself, for my part, with the 
 branches, that grow in the open air, at the mercy of birds, 
 beasts, and men, wind, heat, and frost. There is nothing 
 that we would not do for those we love." 
 
 Truth, abashed by such goodness, thanked her comrade, 
 and burrowed under ground, to the great joy of Falsehood, 
 
Falsehood and Truth, 333 
 
 who found himself a4one among mankind, and able to reign 
 at his ease. 
 
 The tree shot up fast ; its great boughs spread shade and 
 coolness far and wide, and it soon put forth blossoms fairer 
 than the rose. Men and women hastened from all sides to 
 admire the marvel. Perched upon the topmost branch 
 Falsehood harangued them, and soon charmed them with his 
 honeyed words. He taught them that society is nothing but 
 falsehood, and that men would be ready to tear each other to 
 pieces if they always spoke the truth. " There are three ways 
 to succeed here below," added he : " by simple falsehood, as 
 when the vassal says to his lord, * I respect and love you ;' 
 by double falsehood, as when he exclaims, ' May the thun- 
 derbolts of Heaven fall on me if I am not your most faithful 
 servant ;' and by triple falsehood, as when he repeats, ' My 
 goods, my arm, and my life all are my lord's;' and then deserts 
 his master at the moment of danger." The good apostle gave 
 these lessons in so airy a manner, and illustrated them by 
 such fine examples, that all who heard him were intoxicated 
 with his words ; they jeered at those who did not applaud, 
 and even began to doubt themselves. For a hundred leagues 
 around, nothing was talked of but Falsehood and his wisdom ; 
 it was proposed to make him king. As to good Truth, who 
 lay crouching in her den, no one gave her a thought; she 
 might die forgotten. 
 
 Abandoned as she was by all, she was forced to live on 
 whatever she could find under ground ; and while False- 
 hood was enthroned among verdure and flowers, the poor 
 mole gnawed the bitter roots of the tree she had planted. 
 She gnawed them so deep that one day, when Falsehood, 
 more eloquent than usual, was addressing an innumerable 
 multitude, the wind rose slightly, and suddenly blew down 
 the tree, that had no longer any roots to support it. The 
 
334 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 branches in their fall crushed all who were beneath them. 
 Falsehood escaped with an injured eye and broken leg, 
 which left him lame and squinting ; which was coming off 
 cheaply. 
 
 Truth, suddenly restored to light, rose from the ground with 
 dishevelled hair and a stern countenance, and began harshly 
 to rebuke those about her for their weakness and credulity. 
 
 No sooner had he heard her voice than Falsehood cried, 
 " Behold the author of all our ills ; the one who has de- 
 stroyed us. Death to her !" Upon which the people, armed 
 with sticks and stones, gave chase to the unhappy woman, 
 and thrust her again into the hole, more dead than alive. 
 
Falsehood and Truth, 
 
 335 
 
 Having done this, they quickly sealed it with a large stone, 
 that Truth might never more arise from her tomb. 
 
 
 However, she had still a few friends ; for during the night 
 an unknown hand traced the following epitaph upon the 
 stone : 
 
336 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 *' Aqui yaze la Verdad, 
 A quein el mundo cruel 
 Mato sin enfermedad 
 Porque no reinase en el 
 Sino Mentira y Maldad." 
 
 Or, " Here lies Truth, slain not by disease, but by the cruel 
 world, that nought might reign in it but Falsehood and Dis- 
 loyalty." 
 
 It is Falsehood's smallest fault not to suffer contradiction. 
 The friend of Truth was hunted down, and hung as soon as 
 
 :M|«#^„.^.>. 
 
 found. Dead men only never grumble. To be better as- 
 sured of his victory, Falsehood built him a palace over the 
 sepulchre of Truth. But it is said that sometimes she turns 
 in her grave, and thereupon the palace crumbles like a house 
 
Falsehood and Truth. 
 
 337 
 
 of cards, and buries beneath its ruins all who dwell therein, 
 both innocent and guilty. 
 
 '^\'\ 
 
 •2. ''L- 
 
 
 
 But men have something else to do than mourn their 
 dead ; they fall heirs to their inheritance. The people, those 
 eternal dupes, each time rebuild the palace with greater 
 splendor than before, and Falsehood, lame and squinting, 
 reigns therein to this very day. 
 
THE MYSTIC GARDEN. 
 
 A HEBREW APOLOGUE. 
 
 " Remember the days of old, consider the years of many 
 generations : ask thy father, and he will shew thee ; thy 
 elders, and they will tell thee." 
 
 If ever a people remained faithful to tradition it has been 
 the Jewish people, to whom these words were addressed. It 
 has preserved everything, history and legends, and, to be 
 just, let us add that, the Bible excepted, it has jumbled them 
 all up together. For this reason lovers of fairy lore have a 
 weakness for this unhappy race, that has so long been the 
 sport of fate and the scorn of nations. It has hoarded up 
 for us the traditions of the East, and has borne and dissem- 
 inated them through every quarter of the globe. Its spirit 
 lives in us more than we are aware. 
 
The Mystic Garden, 339 
 
 We are too ignorant how great has been the influence of 
 the persecuted rabbis. Their books have been almost as 
 much despised as themselves ; yet they have been drawn 
 upon largely. When we read an ingenious moral tale or a 
 transparent apologue, we trouble ourselves little about the 
 source from which it came ; it is a kind of ingratitude which 
 we commit every day, and for which we suffer little remorse. 
 
 Here is a story bequeathed us by the rabbis, which, though 
 very old, deserves to be held in everlasting remembrance. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived a king who was exceeding 
 mighty, sage, and just. This monarch caused a law to be pro- 
 claimed throughout his dominions, decreeing that no rewards, 
 offices, or honors should be bestowed on any who had not 
 merited them by services rendered their king or country, 
 and that each should be rewarded according to his deserts. 
 
 In the course of time there were born at the court three 
 children, all of royal blood. All three grew up richly en- 
 dowed with virtue and talent — handsome, well-made, amia- 
 ble, and beloved and esteemed by every one. The king, 
 who was very fond of them, and was anxious to give them a 
 station in accordance with their merit, called them to him 
 one day, and said, " My children, I wish to do you the great- 
 est possible honor and good. I would like to set you above 
 all others in my palace, for you have found favor in my sight, 
 and I believe you capable of the highest deeds of virtue. 
 But all my people know, and you know with them, that there 
 i? a law in my kingdom which I cannot break. I can confer 
 honors and office on no one, save as a reward for services 
 that he has done. You cannot attain the high rank for 
 which I destine you, therefore, by remaining at court. I 
 advise you to go out into the world, scour the country far and 
 wide, and try to win, by your exploits, the prize promised you 
 by the law, and which I shall delight to bestow upon you. At 
 
340 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 i 
 
 my summons, you will return to court ; until then, mark well 
 what you do ; for, according to your merit, such will be your 
 reward." 
 
 The three young men were very loath to quit the court, 
 but the king had ordered it, and they were forced to obey. 
 All three, therefore, took leave of their sovereign, and em- 
 barked in fine weather, leaving it to chance to shape their 
 course. 
 
 They had sailed a long way, when they spied an island 
 which looked fertile and smiling from the sea. They land- 
 ed, and found in the middle of the isle a fair garden full 
 of fruit. As they drew near it, three guards came out to 
 
Three guards came out to meet them. 
 
 -.^-i-x 
 
342 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 meet them, who permitted them to enter, but each gave 
 them a word of advice. 
 
 The first guard told them that they must not expect to 
 stay forever in this garden. The time would come when 
 they would be forced to depart. None of those who had 
 lived there before them had ever been allowed to remain. 
 Such was the rule ; some came and others went. 
 
 The. second guard bade them engrave it upon their mem- 
 ory that they must quit this garden precisely as they had 
 entered it. They were free to enjoy all that they found 
 there, and no one would hinder them ; but, on leaving, 
 they were expressly forbidden to carry anything away with 
 them. 
 
 The third guard advised them to be moderate in their 
 enjoyments and pleasures, and to do nothing but what was 
 
The Mystic Garden. 343 
 
 virtuous and upright, adding, that this conduct would do 
 much towards prolonging their lives. 
 
 Having heard these wise counsels, the youths entered the 
 garden, which was even more beautiful and enchanting than 
 it had seemed from outside. They found an abundance of 
 trees laden with rich fruit, and plants and flowers as pleasing 
 to the smell as to the sight. Nightingales were warbling in 
 the branches of the huge oaks, myriads of birds delighted 
 the ear with their melodious songs, and running streams 
 diffused freshness and life everywhere. 
 
 It is needless to tell how great was the joy of the three 
 comrades. They ate of the delicious fruits, drank of the 
 sweet waters, and reposed under the leafy shade of the great 
 trees, listening to the nightingales, while the gentle breeze 
 wafted through the foliage the sweet odor of the flowers. 
 
 After a little while they parted, and each went his way to 
 the part of the garden that pleased him best. 
 
 Fascinated by the beauty of the fruit and the coolness of 
 the waters, the first of the three youths thought only of enjoy- 
 ing what lay nearest at hand. To eat, drink, sleep, lead a 
 merry life, and cast away all care, such was his sole idea. 
 He wholly forgot the counsels of the third guard. 
 
 The second of the young men was charmed neither by the 
 fruit nor the flowers. He had found gold, silver, and pre- 
 cious stones in abundance in a corner of the garden. Daz- 
 zled by these treasures, he thought only of amassing them, 
 and made his clothes into bags to hold all these riches. 
 Absorbed in this idea, he neither ate, drank, nor slept. As 
 to using the garden and its pleasures, he did not dream of it 
 for a moment, forgetting what the second guard had told 
 him, that whatever was found there must be enjoyed, and not 
 hoarded, for nothing could be carried away with him. 
 
 The third youth had engraved upon his memory all that 
 
'It is needless to tell how great was the joy of the three comrades." 
 
The Mystic Garden, 
 
 345 
 
 %^.r:. . 
 
 the three guards had 
 told him, and did not 
 follow his compan- 
 ions' example. The 
 course that they had 
 pursued seemed to 
 him dangerous and 
 wrong ; it was not 
 what they had been 
 taught to do. He 
 made use of the gar- 
 den and its pleasures, 
 but only so far as was 
 needful to sustain 
 life. He passed his 
 time in studying this 
 abode, and what it contained. On beholding the fruits, flow- 
 ers, and animals, with their prodigious diversity, and seeking 
 
346 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 the property of each plant, he marvelled at the perpetual 
 miracle of nature ; and on following the watercourses, so 
 well distributed that, from step to step, and from ridge to 
 ridge, there was not a blade of grass that was not watered, 
 he never tired of contemplating the incredible order that set 
 everything in its place. 
 
 What added to his astonishment was that, in this well-reg- 
 ulated garden, no gardener was to be seen. But reflection 
 soon told him that order so perfect could not exist through 
 accident, and that there must surely be a most wise gardener 
 — an invisible master — who ruled this beautiful domain. 
 Each day heightened his admiration ; each day increased 
 his desire to know the master of the garden ; he sought him 
 everywhere, and, without ever seeing him, he loved him for 
 all the pleasure he had enjoyed in the sight and study of 
 so many marvels. 
 
 While each of the young men was enjoying himself in his 
 own fashion, a slave of the king brought them a summons 
 to return at once to court and give an account of their life. 
 
 They set out for the gate by 
 which they had entered, but 
 scarcely had he passed it, 
 when the first of the three — 
 he who had thought only of 
 his pleasure — grew faint from 
 the change of air, and, no 
 longer having the fruit of the 
 garden to sustain him, his 
 body puffed up, his strength 
 failed him, and he fell on the 
 ground and expired. 
 
 The second one dragged him- 
 self slowly along, laden like 
 
 •'V? 
 
The Mystic Garden. 
 
 347 
 
 a pack-mule. The hope of one day enjoying his treasure 
 made him forget his fatigue; but, on reaching the gate of 
 the garden, the guards, astonished at seeing him move so 
 heavily, laid hold of 
 him, and stripped 
 him in an instant 
 of all his spoil. 
 The unhappy youth 
 groaned and wept; 
 all his pains and la- 
 bor had led to noth- 
 ing but wretched- 
 ness and despair. 
 
 The third youth 
 had lelt a lively joy 
 on hearing the voice 
 of the messenger 
 who summoned him 
 by order of the king. 
 The master whom 
 he had been unable to see, he should doubtless find on quit- 
 ting the garden, and could express to him all his love and 
 gratitude. Moreover, he had committed no offence; far 
 from it; he had done everything to recognize his will and 
 to obey him. It was, therefore, with a heart full of hope, 
 and without a thought of what he left behind him, that he 
 ran to the garden gate. He was warmly welcomed by the 
 guards, who rejoiced to see the alacrity with which he obeyed 
 the king's commands. 
 
 On drawing near the court, the youth who had been stripped 
 of his booty was so weary and miserable that he could scarce- 
 ly keep his feet. It was in vain that he insisted that he was 
 of royal blood ; no one believed him ; still more, the slaves 
 
348 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 .. r-1,^ 
 
 n 
 
 
 
 
 if* 
 
 of the palace, indignant that such a beggar should claim 
 relationship with the king, turned him from the palace door, 
 and threw him into a narrow dungeon, where he would have 
 full time to expiate his faults and bewail his folly. 
 
 The third youth was as royally welcomed as his com- 
 rade was harshly treated. All the grandees of the court 
 went out to meet him, embraced him, and accompanied 
 him to the king's presence to do him honor. The king was 
 greatly rejoiced to see this young man, so alert and ready to 
 do his bidding, and although nothing was hidden from his 
 
The Mystic Garden, 349 
 
 knowledge, he asked the new-comer what he had done since 
 he saw him last. The youth told the story of all the great 
 and beautiful things he had seen in the delicious place 
 where he had been, and added : " I am quite sure that this 
 garden has a master of exceeding great wisdom ; this mas- 
 ter cannot be far off, though he takes delight in hiding him- 
 self from our sight ; and it is my chief desire to express to 
 him the love and gratitude I have felt at the sight of his 
 works." 
 
 "Since your time has been so well spent, I will grant 
 your wish," answered the king. " I am the master of yon- 
 der garden ; I rule it from here through the ministers of my 
 will ; and there is not a creature so small, or a blade of 
 grass so humble, that it has not a servant to cherish it and 
 watch its growth." 
 
 On hearing these words, and comprehending this mystery, 
 the happy youth felt his love for his master glow still bright- 
 er in his breast ; he tasted infinite joy in the knowledge of 
 his power, and dwelt forevermore side by side with him at 
 the court, raised to the highest pinnacle of honor. 
 
 The moral of this story, continue the rabbis, is easily dis- 
 cerned. The king is the supreme Creator and Sovereign 
 Ruler of all things. The garden is the world ; the three 
 youths represent the three kinds of men that are here on 
 earth ; one seeks nothing but pleasure ; the second pursues 
 fortune, and the third loves goodness alone, which is the 
 true aim of man. That the three young men are of royal 
 blood signifies that they belong to Israel, the chosen people 
 of God. As to the counsels of the three guards, we know 
 that they are true. The first is God's own words to Adam, 
 " Dust thou art, and to dust shalt thou return." The sec- 
 ond is the saying of Job, " Naked came I out of my mother's 
 womb, and naked shall I return thither." Lastly, the third 
 
350 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 is the great speech of Moses, our master in Israel, appoint- 
 ed by God : " I have set before thee this day life and good, 
 and death and evil. Therefore choose life, that both thou 
 and thy seed may Hve." 
 
 Does not this signify that life consists in doing good, and 
 death in doing evil ? 
 
 He who weighs well these three sayings, and always bears 
 them in mind, cannot mistake the true path, but will find the 
 road which, on quitting life, leads to everlasting repose. 
 Keep this example, therefore, before thine eyes like a mirror. 
 And now, in his infinite mercy, may God grant thee grace to 
 serve him, and may'st thou in this manner obtain peace in 
 this life, and glory in the life to come. Amen. 
 
THE EVE 
 
 OF 
 
 ST, MARK. 
 
 AN ESTHONIAN 
 FAIRY TALE. 
 
 Near Revel, in Es- 
 thonia, on the shores 
 of the Gulf of Finland, there once lived an old sorcerer, 
 who had thoroughly mastered all the secrets of the black 
 art. He knew everything, saw everything, understood every- 
 thing, and could do everything. To turn dust into gold, 
 or gold into dust, to assemble the winds, summon or quell 
 the tempest, hush the thunders, or call the dead from their 
 graves — all this was to him but child's play. He held earth, 
 sea, and air at his bidding. It was a common saying con- 
 cerning him, that the sun and moon trembled at his sight, 
 lest he should send them to shine upon a world even wick' 
 
352 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 eder than ours. The devil himself, with all his pride and cun 
 ning, was nought but a slave before this terrible magician. 
 In spite of all his knowledge, might, and wealth, our hero 
 
 was not hap- 
 py. Although he 
 harmed nobody, 
 and willingly showed kind- 
 ness to the poor, he was 
 detested and shunned by 
 all. When he entered a 
 village the women fled with 
 their children in their arms, 
 and the men shut them- 
 
The Eve of St. Mark, 353 
 
 selves up in their houses till he went by. The only ones who 
 remained in the streets were those who had some favor to 
 ask ; they bowed to the ground and kissed his hand, as 
 if he had been a lord ; but no sooner had he turned his 
 back than they cursed him in their hearts, or shook their 
 fists after him. It is the penalty of omnipotence to be loved 
 by no one, and to have your footsteps dogged by envy, mal- 
 ice, and ingratitude. 
 
 Our magician had had a sad experience. When young 
 he had sought to marry ; but, in spite of his knowledge and 
 power, no one had been willing to accept him as a suitor. 
 A woman does not like to have her heart always laid bare, 
 and no girl is so young as not to know that it is the first re- 
 quisite of a good husband that he should not be a sorcerer. 
 The poor man lived alone, therefore, in an old Gothic manor- 
 house, with a great dog and a black cat for his sole compan- 
 ions. With the first he talked politics, and philosophized 
 with the second. Let no one be surprised to see a feline phi- 
 losopher ; it was long ago acknowledged by sages that the 
 finest systems of metaphysics are nought but pap for cats. 
 
 One stormy day, our sorcerer amused himself by walk- 
 ing upon the raging waters. The whistling wind, rumbling 
 thunder, and dashing breakers helped him to forget his sad 
 thoughts. Suddenly, by the flash of the lightning, he saw a 
 sinking ship, upon whose deck lay an infant in its cradle. 
 To snatch the innocent victim from death, and bear it away in 
 his arms, was the work of an instant. The waves had not 
 closed over the vessel before the old man was in his house, 
 lulling with ineffable tenderness the child, who gazed in his 
 face without fear. It was the first time that any human be- 
 ing had smiled upon him. The dog licked the tiny feet 
 of the new-comer, happy to share in his master's joy, while 
 the cat, with sphinx-like gravity, fixed his green eyes upon 
 23 
 
354 Z^^/ Fairy Tales. 
 
 the stranger, as if about to ask him some riddle, and devour 
 him if it was not solved. 
 
 In this solitude, far from towns and men, the orphan grew 
 up among the three friends by whom he had been adopted. 
 Adolf, as he was named by the sorcerer, was no common 
 child, and profited well by the lessons of his masters. The 
 magician taught him the language of birds and beasts ; the 
 dog showed hirfi how to be gentle, patient, kind, and good ; 
 as to the cat, it was by means of his claws that he induct- 
 ed into his flesh and spirit the first principle of all morality, 
 " Do not scratch others, if you wish them to leave you with a 
 whole skin." 
 
 For sixteen years Adolf lived happily with his father. 
 He could not take a step in the great forests that surrounded 
 the old manor, without meeting friends and comrades. He 
 gambolled with the doe's fawns around their mother ; he played 
 hot cockles with the bear cubs, and hide-and-seek with the 
 rabbits ; the ever-anxious hare confided to him her cares and 
 troubles, and the squirrel taught him how to climb the trees 
 and pick the plumpest nuts. The lark, linnet, and thrush 
 warbled their sweetest songs at his approach. Together 
 they leaped, sang, and made such an uproar that some owl, 
 disturbed in his slumbers, would come, with his round eyes 
 and hooked beak, gravely to preach that the day was made 
 for sleep, and that stagnation was wisdom. You should have 
 seen how the troop of madcaps greeted the poor fool, and 
 what a noise they made when he returned to his hole in de- 
 spair, carrying with him his hooting and sermonizing. 
 
 In this way Adolf passed his days, knowing neither sorrow 
 nor care. When he returned home at night, with sparkling 
 eyes and flowing locks, the sorcerer never tired of listening 
 to and admiring him. To spare him a tear, he would have 
 laid at his feet all his learning and treasures. It is the privi- 
 
" The dog licked the tiny feet of the new-comer, happy to share in his 
 master's joj[." 
 
356 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 lege of youth to be loved — an inestimable blessing, of whose 
 value it is ignorant; as for old age, its only joy is in loving 
 and being happy in the happiness of others. 
 
 Unhappily, in the forests as in the town, evil tongues are 
 always found, that meddle with what does not concern them. 
 That gossip, the magpie, that goes prowling about, peering 
 into everything, and that can keep neither her eyes nor her 
 beak to herself, had no sooner spied the handsome Adolf 
 than she asked him, with a pitying air, why he lived alone 
 in the woods like a wolf. Revel was only six leagues away ; 
 why did he not go to see the walls, towers, castle, and bell 
 of the ancient city of Waldemar? "It is true," she added, 
 in her jargon, " that the thrushes are coquettish dames who 
 chatter all the time, but what are they in comparison with 
 the fine city belles who change their plumage and their tune 
 every day? Then there are the men at the tavern at night, 
 with their songs, laughter, noise, and jollity. He who has 
 
The Eve of St, Mark. 
 
 357 
 
 People vege- 
 
 not seen all this has lived with his eyes shut, 
 tate in the woods ; they live only in the city." 
 
 Saying this, the magpie 
 shook her tail, cocked up her 
 head, and called on a spar- 
 row who had come from 
 Revel that morning to 
 munch cherries, to prove her 
 words. Friquet, a true cit, 
 a bold glutton and impudent 
 braggart, screeched in his 
 shrillest tones that it was the 
 most shameful thing in the 
 world for any one but a 
 beast to live in the woods. 
 " Hurrah for the town !" he 
 cried; "where men drink 
 when they are not thirsty, 
 eat when they are not hun- 
 gry, and amuse themselves 
 by doing nothing. They turn 
 
 day into night there, and winter into summer ; it is the land 
 of pleasure and liberty. To bury one's self in the country 
 when one is young, rich, and handsome, is stupid, foolish, and 
 wicked." 
 
 " Unless," added Margot, the magpie, " there are those who 
 selfishly keep you at home, knowing that in the town they 
 would have to share their treasure with delightful men and 
 lovely women. Farewell, my dear Adolf, you are a good lit- 
 tle boy, and your papa ought to be very much pleased with 
 you. Come, Friquet, there are sohv^ charming people ex- 
 pecting us in town ; we must not tlr2 them with waiting j 
 how could they dine without us ?" 
 
358 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 The silly talk of these feather-brained gossips threw poor 
 Adolf into strange confusion. It was in vain that his friends 
 the birds sang him their merriest songs, and that the rabbit 
 
 tried to amuse him with his tricks and antics; the forest 
 seemed a desert. At the corner of each path he looked for 
 a human figure ; he felt the need of mingling with beings 
 
The Eve of St. Mark, 359 
 
 like himself, whom he had never seen except in books and 
 pictures. Weary with this vain desire, he returned home 
 with hanging head and dejected mien. For the first time in 
 his life he felt unhappy. 
 
 Scarcely had he let himself drop upon a seat when Caesar, 
 the dog, looked at him with anxious eyes. 
 
 "Adolf," said he, "something is the matter with you." 
 
 The child stroked the dog and did not answer. 
 
 Mustache, the cat, who was asleep under the stove, half 
 opened one eye, and pricked up his ears. 
 
 " Adolf," said he, " something is the matter with you." 
 
 Adolf sighed, and did not answer. 
 
 The sorcerer, who had been listening, drew from his gir- 
 dle a little mirror in which he could read men's thoughts. 
 Scarcely had he cast his eyes on it when he turned pale. 
 
 " Adolf," he murmured, in a trembling voice, " you wish to 
 leave us." 
 
 " To leave you, father !" cried the child ; " never ! I am 
 so happy with you." 
 
 And he burst into tears. 
 
 " My child," said the sorcerer, " I read your soul better 
 than you can yourself. You are tired of staying here ; you 
 wish to go to the city, and live with men. I had planned 
 for you a happier lot. I wished to keep you with me, and to 
 spare you the bitterness and deceptions of life. But man can- 
 not escape his fate. Go where your heart calls you ; to- 
 morrow you shall set out for the city." 
 
 " With you, father ?" 
 
 "No, my son ; at my age and with my experience, solitude 
 alone is endurable. But you shall not go alone ; I will give 
 you companions that will watch over you." 
 
 Adolf, threw himself, weeping, into his father's arms, and 
 vowed he would never leave him. The sorcerer embraced 
 
360 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 him, and smiled mournfully. An hour later, Adolf was asleep 
 and sweetly dreaming, while the old man sat on the foot of 
 the bed and, gazed at the child through his tears. 
 
 II. 
 
 At sunrise Adolf was ready to go. Three black horses 
 stood in waiting at the castle gate. The handsomest and 
 most spirited was for him ; the others were held by two im- 
 posing-looking squires ; one, dressed in white, with a cocked 
 hat on his head, was none other than honest Caesar, turned 
 into a valet ; while the other, in black, with a knife thrust in 
 his belt, was easily recognized, by his grimace, as Mustache, 
 with his green eyes, and thick, bristling coat. 
 
 There is nothing so sad as parting. Once on the road, 
 the three friends proceeded a long way in silence. But by 
 degrees the sun rose in the heavens, their tongues were 
 loosened, and they chattered as merrily as birds. Caesar 
 admired all Adolf's madcap speeches, for he loved him ; 
 Mustache grumbled unceasingly, and admired nothing in 
 the world but himself — he was a philosopher. 
 
 Laughing and disputing, they passed through the forest, 
 and came to the turn of the road where it entered the plain, 
 when Adolf cried out, pointing to his companions a strange 
 figure, at which he shuddered. By the side of the road, 
 leaning with both hands on a crutch, and shaking all over, 
 was an old woman, in rags. Her uncombed gray locks fell 
 dishevelled about her wrinkled, yellow face ; her dim eyes 
 were almost hidden under her inflamed eyelids ; her hooked 
 nose and sharp, turned-up chin nearly met, like the beaks 
 of two fighting-cocks, and her mouth, with its toothless gums, 
 babbled confused sounds. 
 
 "What is this?" asked Adolf. 
 
 " A gypsy, a beggar, a thief," said Mustache. 
 
The Eve of SL Mark. 
 
 361 
 
 "A poor woman 
 bowed down with old 
 age," said Caesar. 
 
 "What is old age?" 
 asked Adolf, who had 
 never seen anything 
 like this in the forest. 
 
 "Old age," an- 
 swered the senten- 
 tious Mustache, "is 
 the winter of life. 
 When the snow falls, 
 
 the trees shed their leaves ; when the hair turns white, man 
 sheds his teeth, eyes, stomach, and legs. It is the law of 
 nature." 
 
 " And I shall soon be like this poor creature," sighed Adolf. 
 
 ^7v'K«£^;>-^^=^- 
 
362 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 "No, my son," returned Caesar. "It takes seventy or 
 eighty years to make an old man of a child, and you are 
 only sixteen." 
 
 " Seventy years soon pass," exclaimed Mustache. " As the 
 great poet Pindar sings, ' Life is the dream of a shadow.' 
 An admirable saying for a personage who was neither a cat 
 nor a philosopher by trade." 
 
 By Caesar's advice, Adolf flung some money to the old 
 woman, then spurred on his horse to escape this mournful 
 spectacle. They rode fast, moreover, for they were beginning 
 to be hungry, like mere mortals, and they spied in the dis- 
 tance the smoke of a village. " At last," thought Adolf, " I 
 shall behold mankind." 
 
 The first house that they came to was a decent-looking 
 inn, with a golden lion for a sign. They called, but no 
 one answered. The door stood half-way open ; they entered 
 the public room, and knocked with their whips on the table. 
 Suddenly, they heard a groan in an adjoining chamber. 
 Adolf ran to answer the plaintive call, and found himself 
 face to face with a new kind of misery. 
 
 Upon a mattress on the floor lay a young woman with two 
 children in her arms, one shaking with chills, and the other 
 burning with fever. The poor hollow-eyed mother could 
 only stammer a few words with her parched lips. 
 
 " Pardon me, good sirs," said she, " we have the spring 
 fever ; this is the day of the chills, and I am not able to 
 wait on you." 
 
 "Is there not another inn in the village?" asked Mus- 
 tache. 
 
 " Yes, but do not go there, good sir. Small-pox is raging 
 in it just now. The best thing for you to do is to hasten to 
 Revel, for our village is full of the epidemic. Excuse me, 
 and may God be with you !" 
 
The Eve of St, Mark. 
 
 363 
 
 " Is there nothing I can do for you ?" cried Adolf. 
 
 " Thank you, my lord," answered she ; " time is the only 
 cure for the sickness sent by Heaven. We must be re- 
 signed." 
 
 Once out of this gloomy abode, Adolf turned to Mustache. 
 
364 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 "What is sickness?" asked he. "I never saw anything 
 of the kind among the companions of my solitude." 
 
 "In truth," returned the green-eyed philosopher, " sickness 
 is the monopoly of man : he alone has fevers and physicians." 
 
 " Are people often ill ?" asked Adolf. 
 
 " That depends upon temperaments," replied Mustache \ 
 " women are ill all their lives, or think that they are, which 
 amounts to the same thing. As to men, the healthiest suf- 
 
The Eve of St. Mark. 365 
 
 fer little except during childhood, old age, and a part of 
 middle life." 
 
 " It is frightful !" cried the youth. 
 
 " Bah !" replied the philosopher, " it is the law of human 
 nature. As yonder woman said, with excellent judgment, 
 we must be resigned." 
 
 " Poor creatures !" thought Adolf. " Menaced with sick- 
 ness and old age, how you must cling together, and help and 
 love each other !" 
 
 " Look yonder, master !" exclaimed Caesar. 
 
 Adolf raised his eyes and saw a crowd of peasants, seated 
 around tables set along the road. Each one held a mug or 
 bottle in his hand ; some were singing and others shouting. 
 One was dancing on the table amid the clattering glasses, 
 while his companions kept time with him by drumming on 
 the wood with their knives. 
 
 " What is that .?" asked Adolf. 
 
 " A village festival," answered Caesar. 
 
 " Happy men !" sneered Mustache ; " drunk and crazy !" 
 
 " At last,"said Adolf, " we have found people who enjoy life." 
 
 As he was speaking, some soldiers marched along the 
 highway, and were hailed by the revellers. One of them 
 answered with an oath, whereupon a bottle was flung at his 
 head. He stooped in time to avoid the blow, and picked 
 up a huge stone, which he hurled among the crowd. A sharp 
 cry was heard ; the stone had struck a woman full in the 
 face, and the blood was trickling down her cheeks. At the 
 sight, the drunken men fell in a body upon the soldiers, 
 arming themselves with whatever came to hand — bottles, 
 jugs, benches, and sticks. The soldiers drew their swords 
 in self-defence, and a sharp conflict followed, which, however, 
 was of short duration. 
 
 Before Adolf could reach the field of battle, two of the 
 
366 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 soldiers, followed by volleys of stones, were fleeing towards the 
 town, loudly calling for help, and leaving their comrades on 
 the ground, lifeless or writhing in death. They were avenged, 
 however, for side by side with them lay three dead and sev- 
 eral dying peasants, while others were carried off by their 
 comrades, who stanched their wounds while trying to escape 
 before the soldiers returned. The men were sullen and 
 
The Eve of St. Mark 367 
 
 angry ; the women shrieking and the children crying ; it was 
 a heart-rending sight. 
 
 Adolf threw himself on his knees by the side of a peasant 
 who had been ripped open by a sabre thrust, and was wrapped 
 in eternal slumber, and tried to question his sightless eyes 
 and speechless lips. 
 
 " What is this ?" asked he of Caesar. 
 
 " Alas, master," was the answer, " it is death. This man's 
 sufferings are over ; he will never more awake." 
 
 " Yes," said Mustache, " life is a dream that begins and 
 ends in nothingness. Dust before birth, and dust after death. 
 Such are man and his destiny." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Adolf, " is life so easily lost, and yet do 
 men so little respect this precious possession of their fellows?" 
 
 " Bah i" said Mustache, " their greatest pleasure is to kill 
 each other. Nations hold in remembrance none but the con- 
 querors who slay them. Fame is bloodshed." 
 
 " My friends," cried the youth, " let us return to my father. 
 I will not go to Revel. As for men, I have seen too much 
 of them ; my heart is broken. Take me back to our forests, 
 and let me forget the terrible lesson I have had to-day." 
 
 III. 
 
 On hearing these words, Mustache smiled grimly to him- 
 self, and hastily turned back towards the manor. Caesar 
 tried to comfort Adolf, but the youth hung his head and paid 
 no heed to him. He was crushed with grief, and his heart 
 was overflowing with bitterness. He was tired of men, but 
 solitude appalled him. On the word of two chattering birds, 
 he had pictured to himself a world full of enchantment ; he 
 bad had a delightful dream, and at sixteen it is not easy to 
 renounce these sweet illusions. 
 
 While Csesar and Mustache galloped on, each seeking to 
 
368 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 
 be the first to tell 
 the sorcerer of 
 his child's return, 
 Adolf pensively 
 followed the path 
 that he had trod- 
 den so gayly in 
 the morning. 
 Night was falling, 
 and the shadows 
 deepened his sad- 
 ness. 
 
 "What is the 
 matter, Adolf?" 
 murmured a gen- 
 tle voice. " Has anything gone wrong with you ?" 
 
 The youth raised his head, and saw a nightingale perched 
 upon a twig. 
 
 " Good - evening, dear bird," said he, "why are you not 
 singing as usual? Is your heart wrung like mine? Perhaps 
 you too have seen mankind?" 
 
 " No," answered the nightingale, " I am not singing to- 
 night, because I am saving myself for a great occasion. 
 This is the eve of St. Mark ; and I am keeping my voice to 
 serenade the one I love." 
 
The Eve of St. Mark, 369 
 
 " Alas !" said Adolf, " she whom you love cannot escape 
 sickness, old age, or death." 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" returned the nightingale: 
 "the fairies of the night are immortal; their youth and 
 beauty never fade.'* 
 
 " Are they good ?" asked the youth. 
 
 " They are goodness itself. Their hearts are full of pity 
 for all who suffer here below." 
 
 " I must see them," cried Adolf. 
 
 " My handsome friend," said the nightingale, " they are 
 only to be seen once a year, on the eve of St. Mark, and to 
 reach their dwelling without danger, you must have wings." 
 
 " Oh, nightingale, dear nightingale," cried the youth, " take 
 me with you. Show me the way to them. Do not refuse 
 me, if you love me." 
 
 " My child," returned the nightingale, "I fear I have talked 
 too much. We birds have more feathers than brains. For- 
 get my gossiping, and forgive me." 
 
 But Adolf insisted so warmly, and with so many prayers 
 and tears, that the nightingale said, shaking his head, 
 
 " My child, my child, there is danger in knowing too much. 
 Many things are hid from man's eyes for his happiness. If 
 ever you see the fairies, farewell to your peace of mind ; the 
 world that delights you will be nought but a desert, and you 
 will pass your life in regretting a vanished dream." 
 
 " No, no, dear bird," cried the youth ; " away with this mis- 
 taken pity. If I do not see the fairies this night, nothing is 
 left me but to die. Grant my prayer, and save my life." 
 
 " If that is so," said the nightingale, " I will tell you what 
 to do j but the danger is great and the success doubtful. 
 
 " Know, then, that every year, on the eve of St. Mark, at 
 midnight, the King of the Serpents holds high court in 
 the great marsh where the water-lilies grow. A golden cup, 
 24 ,««_ 
 
370 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 filled with the milk of the goats of the sky, is then offered him. 
 If you can seize the cup and drink a draught of this magic 
 milk, your eyes will be opened, and you will see all that 
 night hides with its sable cloak from the eyes of mortals. 
 But remember that all the serpents in the world will be at 
 this meeting, and that one of their bites will kill you." 
 
 "They cannot be worse than men," rejoined Adolf, "and, 
 besides, what have I to fear from death? I have lost all 
 relish for life." 
 
 And with these words he leaped from his horse, threw the 
 reins on its neck, and plunged into the forest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When Adolf reached the great water-lily marsh after a 
 long walk, he found nothing there but silence and darkness. 
 Although it was spring, he thought he saw by the light of 
 the stars that the grass had just been cut. Piles of new- 
 mown hay were lying here and there, as in harvest -time, 
 otherwise all was unchanged ; nothing was stirring, and our 
 hero began to think that a trick had been played on him, 
 when a distant clock slowly struck midnight. Immediately 
 a strange light appeared in the midst of the marsh, looking 
 like a star fallen from heaven. Adolf approached this ap- 
 parition, when the turf around him seemed crawling like an 
 ant-hill. What he had taken for heaps of grass were thou- 
 sands of serpents asleep on the ground, that had awakened 
 at the summons of their lord and were hastening to pay 
 him homage. 
 
 The youth's surprise may well be imagined, but it was too 
 late to draw back. All that he could do was to keep in the 
 shade, and follow this multitude, crawling silently onward. 
 Ere long, he saw an enormous dragon, wearing on its head 
 a crown of emeralds and rubies, the lustre of which lighted 
 
' When Adolf reached the great water-lily marsh, he found nothing 
 there but silence and darkness." 
 
372 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 the forest afar off. It was his majesty, the King of the Ser- 
 pents. Around him, like courtiers vying with each other 
 for the smile of their prince, thronged adders, asps, vipers, 
 and serpents of all sizes and colors, entangled together, all 
 stretching up their turgid necks, and darting out their forked 
 tongues, hissing loudly. The noise was deafening, and the 
 sight one that might have frozen the boldest heart with terror. 
 
 We would not venture to say that our hero was not 
 frightened \ but at the sight of the golden cup he forgot his 
 terror. Without thinking of danger, he threw himself like a 
 madman into this host of serpents, more numerous and 
 closely serried than the blades of grain in a wheat -field, 
 rushed to the cup, seized it, drained it at a draught, and 
 flung it far from him. Then, feeling escape impossible, he 
 folded his arms, and awaited death. 
 
 To his great joy, however, the dragon snatched the cup 
 and fled with it. The whole army of serpents followed their 
 chief with frightful hisses. Adolf found himself alone in the 
 forest, where all again was silent. His heart had not yet 
 ceased to throb loudly, when he heard the first notes of the 
 nightingale. The bird had not deceived him; the fairies 
 were coming. 
 
 The moon rose, illumining the forest with its silver light. 
 Our hero looked around him. The marsh was transformed 
 into a glade carpeted with moss ; the trees were covered 
 with leaves, and violets were blossoming everywhere. In 
 the distance, Adolf caught glimpses of light figures flitting 
 through the forest like sylphs floating over the turf. 
 
 There was no more doubt, they were the fairies of the 
 night. How beautiful they were, in their white drapery, 
 clasped on one shoulder, their hair carelessly knotted be 
 
** They skimmed over the moss without touching it." 
 
374 
 
 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 hind, and their arms and feet bare, as they skimmed over 
 the moss without touching it ! 
 
 On reaching the place of rendezvous, each was eagerly 
 questioned by her companions. Adolf listened with de- 
 light to the soft murmur of their voices, sweeter than the 
 babbling of the forest brooks. 
 
 " Where have you been, sister, where have you been?" 
 
 ■V?- 
 
 '* I have been to the red house, where poor old Bridget had 
 fa^en asleep over her spinning-wheel, exhausted with toil, 
 and forgetting that she would have no bread for to-morrow 
 
The Eve of St. Mark 375 
 
 if her task was not done. I sat in iier lap, took her distaff 
 in my hand, turned her wheel, and spun thread enough for a 
 whole week." 
 
 " Where have you been, sister \ where have you been ?" 
 " I have been to the little cabin by the sea-shore, where a 
 poor woman has been waiting for a year for her husband to 
 come home from sea. Yesterday I spied his ship off the 
 coast ; I showed him to her in a dream, smiling, and saying, 
 * Patience, dear love, in three days I will be in your arms.' " 
 " Where have you been, sister ; where have you been ?" 
 " I have been to the shop of Harold, the money-lender. 
 For three nights past I have scratched on the wall like a 
 mouse, and cried in his ear, 'Look to your treasure, the 
 robbers are here ! ' He shall not sleep who shows no pity 
 to the poor." 
 
 " Where have you been, sister ; where have you been ?" 
 " I have been to the cottage of Wilhelm, the gamekeeper. 
 The poor man lost his wife nine months ago, and when he 
 makes his rounds at night, the house is left alone. I found 
 the baby crying, and about to fall from its bed. I took it 
 in my arms and sung it a lullaby, upon which it smiled at 
 me as if I had been its mother, and fell asleep." 
 
 " Where have you been, sister ; where have you been ?" 
 " I have been to the house of the rich Gustaf, who has no 
 mercy on his tenants. I found him snoring in an arm-chair, 
 drunk with wine and his newly-gotten wealth. I set all the 
 candles ablaze, upon which he tumbled on the floor in af- 
 fright, crying * Fire !' Let his castle burn ; it will teach him 
 that the great have need of the small here below." 
 
 " Where have you been, sister ; where have you been ?" 
 " I have been to the green cottage, where Matilda is mourn- 
 ing the loss of her child. I gave it back to her in a dream, 
 and she will hold it in her arms until daybreak. When she 
 
376 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 awakes, she will doubtless weep ; but she will know that her 
 child is still living in the unseen world, and hope will spring 
 up anew in her heart." 
 
 At this moment the nightingale greeted the moon at the 
 zenith with his sweetest song. The fairies joined hands in 
 a circle, and danced around, singing, in low tones, 
 
 *♦ When summer days die, 
 All who breathe, all who sigh, 
 Come under our sceptre, 
 
 The dark world we keep. 
 Then mortals, poor children, 
 Wake not nor weep, 
 Sleep, all of you, sleep ; 
 We will watch over you, 
 
 Watch we will keep ! 
 
 " Silence rules the vast land 
 While we dance, hand in hand, 
 And through the dance murmur 
 
 Our songs soft and deep. 
 Then mortals, poor children, 
 Wake not nor weep, 
 Sleep, all of you, sleep ; 
 We will watch over you. 
 
 Watch we will keep." 
 
 The round finished, the fairies separated into different 
 groups. Some seated themselves on the grass, and gathered 
 the violets, primroses, and white strawberry blossoms that 
 grew about them ; while others danced in couples, to the 
 music of their companions' song : 
 
 " We are the voices. 
 And all the sweet noises. 
 
 Of the wind in the tree ; 
 And where perfumes and shad( v?s 
 Chase over the meadows. 
 The zephyrs are we. 
 
The Eve of SL Mark. 377 
 
 ** We are the lightning 
 That, darkling and brightening, 
 
 Furrows all the thick night. 
 And the marsh fires we are, 
 That, glancing afar. 
 
 Shake the shepherd with fright 
 
 ♦* In the starbeam that nightly 
 Some great sail leads lightly 
 
 O'er the bitter, salt wave, 
 Our torches are burning. 
 To clear lustre turning 
 
 Seas dark as the grave. 
 
 ** In bell tones whose sweetness 
 Clangs out day's completeness 
 
 We dwell with delight ; 
 We the plash of the stream, 
 And we, too, the dream 
 That is born of the night. 
 
 " We, murmurs eternal, 
 We, whispers supernal, 
 
 We, smiles of the skies. 
 Charm all sadness away 
 From a world far too gray, 
 
 Far too old, far too wise !" 
 
 Intoxicated by these magic songs and dances, Adolf, for- 
 getting all prudence, quitted his retreat and approached the 
 fairies. One of them — the most graceful of all — passed so 
 near him that she touched him with her dress. Adolf madly 
 seized her hand. The fairy turned round sharply, but sadly 
 smiled on seeing the trembling youth. 
 
 "Poor child," she murmured, "you would have it so." 
 Leaving her hand in Adolf s, she looked at him, burst into 
 tears, and kissed his forehead. He felt a thrill run through 
 his veins, and swooned away. 
 
37S 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 
 VI. 
 
 When he regained consciousness, the sun was high in the 
 heavens. He looked around him with astonishment. On 
 his left was Csesar, trying to warm him with his breath ; on 
 his right sat Mustache, washing his own face. 
 
 " Imprudent boy," cried Caesar, " why did you stay so late 
 OD the marsh ? The night cold has chilled you through. If 
 you knew how anxious your father is about you !" 
 
 " Caesar, my good Caesar," exclaimed Adolf, " where are 
 the fairies ? I must see them again." 
 
 " He is raving," said the grave Mustache. " Just as I 
 expected. It is the effort of nature to bring back the 
 warmth by an increase of the vital force." 
 
The Eve of St Mark, 379 
 
 « Mustache," cried Adolf, « where are the fairies ? I have 
 seen them ; I must see them again." 
 " What fairies ?" 
 
 " The fairies of the night ; 
 
 the invisible ones." 
 
 -? ^^ " How can you see what 
 
 ^'' I / ^^ invisible ?" returned the 
 
 cat ; " the idea is unphilo- 
 
 sophical." 
 
 " Caesar, my friend," said 
 
 Adolf, " let us return to my 
 
 father ; he alone 
 
 can understand 
 
 my trouble." 
 
 " I will run 
 
 and tell my master to send some way of carrying you home," 
 exclaimed Mustache; "for, judging by your pale face, my 
 poor boy, you are not able to set one foot before the other. 
 
380 Last Fairy Tales, 
 
 If you had had the wisdom to listen to my lessons in phi- 
 losophy, you would never have lost yourself in the woods, 
 chasing a will-o'-the-wisp ; you would have — " 
 
 " Adolf," said Caesar, " put your arms round my neck, 
 and try to climb on my back, as you used to do when a 
 child. Perhaps I shall have strength enough to carry you 
 home." 
 
 It was in this style that our hero returned to the old 
 manor, and was deposited in the sorcerer's great arm-chair. 
 His father felt very much like scolding him, but was 
 seized with deep anxiety on seeing him so trembling and 
 dejected. 
 
 " What is the matter, my son ?" cried he, folding him in 
 his arms. 
 
 " Father, where are the fairies ? I have seen them, and I 
 must see them again." 
 
 " Curses on them I" cried the sorcerer \ " they have stolen 
 away my child ! My dear Adolf, ask anything my art can 
 procure. Would you have gold? I will make you so rich 
 that men will grovel on their knees before you and kiss the 
 ground you tread on. Are you ambitious ? I will give you 
 a kingdom ; twenty of them, if you like. You shall be sur- 
 rounded with smiling faces \ men shall applaud all your 
 whims, and women shall crowd around you to win a glance 
 from your eyes. The world is mine ; it shall be yours ; I 
 lay it at your feet \ but my power does not extend beyond 
 this world ; do not ask me for what belongs to another." 
 
 " Father, I want but one thing — again to see the invisible 
 fairies." 
 
 " Alas !" cried the sorcerer, " of what use is all my power 
 and knowledge ? The heart of a child has desires that the 
 empire of the world will not satisfy." 
 
 " Father 1" cried the youth, " I see them ! I hear them I 
 
The Eve of St. Mark, 381 
 
 Listen to the heavenly melodies." And he murmured in a 
 
 faint voice : 
 
 " Then mortals, poor children, 
 "Wake not nor weep. 
 Sleep, all of you, sleep ; 
 We will watch over you, 
 Watch we will keep !" 
 
 " Adolf, my child, be yourself again !" cried the old man, 
 pressing his son to his heart. 
 
 " Look, father, she is there ! Do you see her ? She 
 smiles on me ; she calls me ! This time, she herself stretches 
 out her hand to me. 'Poor child!' she says, 'you would 
 have it so.' Yes, I would indeed. Oh, fairies, my sisters, I 
 cannot live without you. Wait for me ; I am coming, I am 
 coming !" 
 
 A smile flitted over his pale face, he stretched out his 
 arms and tried to rise, then his head fell back in the chair, 
 and all was over, 
 
 VIL 
 
 The old manor has long been in ruins. The ivy has in- 
 vaded everything, even to the dilapidated roof, and a great 
 oak has pushed its boughs through the front steps. For 
 more than a century this gloomy abode has been inhabited 
 only by flocks of ravens, with here and there a solitary os- 
 prey ; yet the peasants never willingly pass its abandoned 
 walls after nightfall. It is said that groans are heard to is- 
 sue from the turrets at night, and that fiery eyes blaze there 
 through the darkness. The sorcerer is not forgotten, and at 
 evening, when the doors are closed, men still talk of Adolf 
 and the fairies whose sight was death to him. Whether this 
 is history or legend, he would be bold, indeed, who would 
 venture to aver. The sages of our day believe only in what 
 
382 
 
 Last Fairy Tales. 
 
 they can see or touch. For my part, not being a sage, all 
 that a long life has taught me is that there is nothing true in 
 this world but what we do not see. God grant that, like 
 Adolf, I may some day behold the unseen, were it only to 
 forget for a moment what I cannot avoid seeing here on 
 <iarth. 
 
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