Part 12
So he set forth at once, and somehow or other he managed to reach that distant land. And he inquired if any one wanted a gardener. He was told that the head gardener at the castle had just left, and perhaps he might have a chance of getting the place. The young man lost no time, but walked up to the castle and asked if they were in want of a gardener; and how happy he was when they agreed to take him! Now he passed most of his day in gossiping with the servants about the wealth of their masters and the wonderful things in the house. He made friends with one of the maids, who told him the history of the snuffbox, and he coaxed her to let him see it. One evening she managed to get hold of it, and the young man watched carefully where she hid it away in a secret place in the bedchamber of her mistress.
The following night, when everyone was fast asleep, he crept in and took the snuffbox. Think of his joy as he opened the lid! When it asked him, as of yore, “What do you want?” he replied: “What do I want? What do I want? Why, I want to go with my palace to the old place, and for the king and the queen and all their servants to be drowned in the Red Sea.”
He had hardly finished speaking when he found himself back again with his wife, while all the other inhabitants of the palace were lying at the bottom of the Red Sea.
THE GOLDEN BLACKBIRD
By Paul Sébillot
Once upon a time there was a great lord who had three sons. He fell very ill, sent for doctors of every kind, even bonesetters, but they none of them could find out what was the matter with him or even give him any relief. At last there came a foreign doctor, who declared that the golden blackbird alone could cure the sick man.
So the old lord dispatched his eldest son to look for the wonderful bird, and promised him great riches if he managed to find it and bring it back.
The young man began his journey and soon arrived at a place where four roads met. He did not know which to choose, and tossed his cap in the air, determining that the direction of its fall should decide him. After traveling for two or three days he grew tired of walking without knowing where or for how long, and he stopped at an inn which was filled with merrymakers and ordered something to eat and drink.
“My faith,” said he, “it is sheer folly to waste more time hunting for this bird. My father is old, and if he dies I shall inherit his goods.”
The old man, after waiting patiently for some time, sent his second son to seek the golden blackbird. The youth took the same direction as his brother, and when he came to the crossroads he too tossed up which road he should take. The cap fell in the same place as before, and he walked on till he came to the spot where his brother had halted. The latter, who was leaning out of the window of the inn, called to him to stay where he was and amuse himself.
“You are right,” replied the youth. “Who knows if I should ever find the golden blackbird, even if I sought the whole world through for it? At the worst, if the old man dies we shall have his property.”
He entered the inn and the two brothers made merry and feasted, till very soon their money was all spent. They even owed something to their landlord, who kept them as hostages till they could pay their debts.
The youngest son set forth in his turn, and he arrived at the place where his brothers where still prisoners. They called to him to stop and did all they could to prevent his going further.
“No,” he replied, “my father trusted me, and I will go all over the world till I find the golden blackbird.”
“Bah,” said his brothers, “you will never succeed any better than we did. Let him die if he wants to. We will divide the property.”
As he went his way he met a little hare, who stopped to looked at him and asked:
“Where are you going, my friend?”
“I really don’t quite know,” answered he. “My father is ill, and he cannot be cured unless I bring him back the golden blackbird. It is a long time since I set out, but no one can tell me where to find it.”
“Ah,” said the hare, “you have a long way to go yet. You will have to walk at least seven hundred miles before you get to it.”
“And how am I to travel such a distance?”
“Mount on my back,” said the little hare, “and I will conduct you.”
The young man obeyed. At each bound the little hare went seven miles, and it was not long before they reached a castle that was as large and beautiful as a castle could be.
“The golden blackbird is in a little cabin near by,” said the little hare, “and you will easily find it. It lives in a little cage, with another cage beside it made all of gold. But whatever you do, be sure not to put it in the beautiful cage, or everybody in the castle will know that you have stolen it.”
The youth found the golden blackbird standing on a wooden perch, but as stiff and rigid as if he was dead. And beside, was the beautiful cage, the cage of gold.
“Perhaps he would revive if I were to put him in that lovely cage,” thought the youth.
The moment the golden blackbird had touched the bars of the splendid cage he awoke and began to whistle, so that all the servants of the castle ran to see what was the matter, saying that he was a thief and must be put in prison.
“No,” he answered, “I am not a thief. If I have taken the golden blackbird, it is only that it may cure my father, who is ill, and I have traveled more than seven hundred miles in order to find it.”
“Well,” they replied, “we will let you go, and will even give you the golden blackbird if you are able to bring us the porcelain maiden.”
The youth departed, weeping, and met the little hare, who was munching wild thyme.
“What are you crying for, my friend?” asked the hare.
“It is because,” he answered, “the castle people will not allow me to carry off the golden blackbird without giving them the porcelain maiden in exchange.”
“You have not followed my advice,” said the little hare. “And you have put the golden blackbird into the fine cage.”
“Alas! yes!”
“Don’t despair. The porcelain maiden is a young girl, beautiful as Venus, who dwells two hundred miles from here. Jump on my back and I will take you there.”
The little hare, who took seven miles in a stride, was there in no time at all, and he stopped on the borders of a lake.
“The porcelain maiden,” said the hare to the youth, “will come here to bathe with her friends. Keep yourself out of sight behind the thicket, while I just eat a mouthful of thyme to refresh me. When she is in the lake be sure you hide her clothes, which are of dazzling whiteness, and do not give them back to her unless she consents to follow you.”
The little hare left him, and almost immediately the porcelain maiden arrived with her friends. She undressed herself and got into the water. Then the young man glided up noiselessly and laid hold of her clothes, which he hid under a rock at some distance.
When the porcelain maiden was tired of playing in the water she came out to dress herself, but though she hunted for her clothes high and low she could find them nowhere. Her friends helped her in the search, but, seeing at last that it was of no use, they left her alone on the bank, weeping bitterly.
“Why do you cry?” said the young man, approaching her.
“Alas!” answered she, “while I was bathing some one stole my clothes, and my friends have abandoned me.”
“I will find your clothes if you will only come with me.”
And the porcelain maiden agreed to follow him, and after having given up her clothes the young man bought a small horse for her which went like the wind. The little hare brought them both back to seek for the golden blackbird, and when they drew near the castle where it lived the little hare said to the young man:
“Now, do be a little sharper than you were before, and you will manage to carry off both the golden blackbird and the porcelain maiden. Take the golden cage in one hand and leave the bird in the old cage where he is, and bring that away too.”
The little hare then vanished. The youth did as he was bid, and the castle servants never noticed that he was carrying off the golden blackbird. When he reached the inn where his brothers were detained he delivered them by paying their debt. They set out all together, but as the two elder brothers were jealous of the success of the youngest, they took the opportunity as they were passing by the shores of a lake to throw themselves upon him, seize the golden blackbird, and fling him in the water. Then they continued their journey, taking with them the porcelain maiden, in the firm belief that their brother was drowned. But happily he had snatched in falling at a tuft of rushes and called loudly for help. The little hare came running to him and said: “Take hold of my leg and pull yourself out of the water.”
When he was safe on shore the little hare said to him:
“Now, this is what you have to do: dress yourself like a Breton seeking a place as stableboy, and go and offer your services to your father. Once there, you will easily be able to make him understand the truth.”
The young man did as the little hare bade him, and he went to his father’s castle and inquired if they were not in want of a stableboy.
“Yes,” replied his father, “very much indeed. But it is not an easy place. There is a little horse in the stable which will not let anyone go near it, and it has already kicked to death several people who have tried to groom it.”
“I will undertake to groom it,” said the youth. “I never saw the horse I was afraid of yet.”
The little horse allowed itself to be rubbed down without a toss of its head and without a kick.
“Good gracious!” exclaimed the master. “How is it that he lets you touch him when no one else can go near him?”
“Perhaps he knows me,” answered the stableboy.
Two or three days later the master said to him: “The porcelain maiden is here; but though she is as lovely as the dawn, she is so wicked that she scratches every one that approaches her. Try if she will accept your services.”
When the youth entered the room where she was the golden blackbird broke forth into a joyful song, and the porcelain maiden sang too and jumped for joy.
“Good gracious!” cried the master.” The porcelain maiden and the golden blackbird know you too?”
“Yes,” replied the youth, “and the porcelain maiden can tell you the whole truth if she only will.”
Then she told all that had happened, and how she had consented to follow the young man who had captured the golden blackbird.
“Yes,” added the youth, “I delivered my brothers, who were kept prisoners in an inn, and as a reward they threw me into a lake. So I disguised myself and came here in order to prove the truth to you.
So the old lord embraced his son and promised that he should inherit all his possessions, and he put to death the two elder ones, who had deceived him and had tried to slay their own brother.
The young man married the porcelain maiden and had a splendid wedding feast
THE HALF-CHICK
Retold by Andrew Lang
Once upon a time there was a handsome black Spanish hen who had a large brood of chickens. They were all fine, plump little birds except the youngest, who was quite unlike his brothers and sisters. Indeed, he was such a strange, queer-looking creature that when he first clipped his shell his mother could scarcely believe her eyes, he was so different from the twelve other fluffy, downy, soft little chicks who nestled under her wings. This one looked just as if he had been cut in two. He had only one leg, and one wing, and one eye, and he had half a head and half a beak. His mother shook her head sadly as she looked at him and said:
“My youngest born is only a half-chick. He can never grow up a tall, handsome cock like his brothers. They will go out into the world and rule over poultry yards of their own; but this poor little fellow will always have to stay at home with his mother.” And she called him Medio Pollito, which is Spanish for half-chick.
Now, though Medio Pollito was such an odd, helpless-looking little thing, his mother soon found that he was not at all willing to remain under her wing and protection. Indeed, in character he was as unlike his brothers and sisters as he was in appearance. They were good, obedient chickens, and when the old hen chicked after them they chirped and ran back to her side. But Medio Pollito had a roving spirit in spite of his one leg, and when his mother called to him to return to the coop, he pretended that he could not hear, because he had only one ear.
When she took the whole family out for a walk in the fields, Medio Pollito would hop away by himself and hide among the corn. Many an anxious minute his brothers and sisters had looking for him, while his mother ran to and fro cackling in fear and dismay.
As he grew older he became more self-willed and disobedient, and his manner to his mother was often very rude and his temper to the other chickens very disagreeable.
One day he had been out for a longer expedition than usual in the fields. On his return he strutted up to his mother with the peculiar little hop and kick which was his way of walking, and cocking his one eye at her in a very bold way, he said:
“Mother, I am tired of this life in a dull f farmyard, with nothing but a dreary maize-field to look at. I’m off to Madrid to see the king.”
“To Madrid, Medio Pollito!” exclaimed his mother. “Why, you silly chick, it would be a long Journey for a grown-up cock, and a poor little thing like you would be tired out before you had gone half the distance. No, no, stay at home with your mother, and some day, when you are bigger, we will go a little journey together.”
But Medio Pollito had made up his mind, and he would not listen to his mother’s advice nor to the prayers and entreaties of his brothers and sisters.
“What is the use of our all crowding each other up in this poky little place?” he said. “When I have a fine courtyard of my own at the king’s palace, I shall perhaps ask some of you to come and pay me a short visit.”
And scarcely waiting to say good-by to his family, away he stumped down the high road that led to Madrid.
“Be sure that you are kind and civil to every one you meet,” called his mother, running after him; but he was in such a hurry to be off that he did not wait to answer her or even to look back.
A little later in the day, as he was taking a short cut through a field, he passed a stream. Now, the stream was all choked up and overgrown with weeds and water-plants, so that its waters could not flow freely.
“Oh! Medio Pollito,” it cried as the half-chick hopped along its banks, “do come and help me by clearing away these weeds.”
“Help you, indeed!” exclaimed Medio Pollito, tossing his head and shaking the few feathers in his tail. “Do you think I have nothing to do but to waste my time on such trifles? Help yourself and don’t trouble busy travelers. I am off to Madrid to see the king,” and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito.
A little later he came to a fire that had been left by some gypsies in a wood. It was burning very low and would soon be out.
“Oh! Medio Pollito,” cried the fire in a weak, wavering voice as the half-chick approached, “in a few minutes I shall go quite out unless you put some sticks and dry leaves upon me. Do help me or I shall die!”
“Help you, indeed!” answered Medio Pollito. “I have other things to do. Gather sticks for yourself and don’t trouble me. I am off to Madrid to see the king,” and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito.
The next morning, as he was getting near Madrid, he passed a large chestnut tree, in whose branches the wind was caught and entangled.
“Oh! Medio Pollito,” called the wind, “do hop up here and help me to get free of these branches. I cannot come away and it is so uncomfortable.”
“It is your own fault for going there,” answered Medio Pollito. “I can’t waste all my morning stopping here to help you. Just shake yourself off, and don’t hinder me, for I am off to Madrid to see the king,” and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito in great glee, for the towers and roofs of Madrid were now in sight. When he entered the town he saw before him a great, splendid house, with soldiers standing before the gates. This he knew must be the king’s palace, and he determined to hop up to the front gate and wait there until the king came out. But as he was hopping past one of the back windows the king’s cook saw him.
“Here is the very thing I want,” he exclaimed, “for the king has just sent a message to say that he must have chicken broth for his dinner.” Opening the window he stretched out his arm, caught Medio Pollito, and popped him into the broth pot that was standing near the fire. Oh! how wet and clammy the water felt as it went over Medio Pollito’s head, making his feathers cling to him.
“Water! water!” he cried in his despair, “do have pity upon me and do not wet me like this.”
“Ah! Medio Pollito,” replied the water, “you would not help me when I was a little stream away on the fields. Now you must be punished.”
Then the fire began to burn and scald Medio Pollito, and he danced and hopped from one side of the pot to the other, trying to get away from the heat and crying out in pain:
“Fire! fire! do not scorch me like this; you can’t think how it hurts.”
“Ah! Medio Pollito,” answered the fire, “you would not help me when I was dying away in the wood. You are being punished.”
At last, just when the pain was so great that Medio Pollito thought he must die, the cook lifted up the lid of the pot to see if the broth was ready for the king’s dinner.
“Look here!” he cried in horror, “this chicken is quite useless. It is burned to a cinder. I can’t send it up to the royal table.” And opening the window he threw Medio Pollito out in the street. But the wind caught him up and whirled him through the air so quickly that Medio Pollito could scarcely breathe, and his heart beat against his side till he thought it would break.
“Oh, wind I” at last he gasped out, “if you hurry me along like this you will kill me. Do let me rest a moment, or—”
But he was so breathless that he could not finish his sentence.
“Ah! Medio Pollito,” replied the wind, “when I was caught in the branches of the chestnut tree you would not help me. Now you are punished.” And he swirled Medio Pollito over the roofs of the houses till they reached the highest church in the town, and there he left him fastened to the top of the steeple.
And there stands Medio Pollito to this day. And if you go to Madrid and walk through the streets till you come to the highest church, you will see Medio Pollito perched on his one leg on the steeple, with his one wing drooping at his side and gazing sadly out of his one eye over the town.
THE THREE BROTHERS
By Hermann R. Kletke
There was once upon a time a witch who in the shape of a hawk used every night to break the windows of a certain village church. In the same village there lived three brothers, who were all determined to kill the mischievous hawk. But in vain did the two eldest mount guard in the church with their guns; as soon as the bird appeared high above their heads sleep overpowered them, and they only awoke to hear the windows crashing in.
Then the younger brother took his turn of guarding the windows, and to prevent his being overcome by sleep he placed a lot of thorns under his chin, so that if he felt drowsy and nodded his head they would prick him and keep him awake.
The moon was already risen and it was as light as day, when suddenly he heard a fearful noise, and at the same time a terrible desire to sleep overpowered him.
His eyelids closed and his head sank on his shoulders, but the thorns ran into him and were so painful that he awoke at once. He saw the hawk swooping down upon the church, and in a moment he had seized his gun and shot at the bird. The hawk fell heavily under a big stone, severely wounded in its right wing. The youth ran to look at it and saw that a huge abyss had opened below the stone. He went at once to fetch his brothers, and with their help dragged a lot of pine wood and ropes to the spot. They fastened some of the burning pine wood to the end of the rope and let it slowly down to the bottom of the abyss. At first it was quite dark, and the flaming torch only lit up dirty gray stone walls. But the youngest brother determined to explore the abyss, and letting himself down by the rope he soon reached the bottom. Here he found a lovely meadow full of green trees and exquisite flowers.