Thursday's Serial: "The Pentamerone, or the Story of Stories, Fun For The Little Ones” by Giambattista Basile. (tanslated into English by John Edward Taylor) - the end

 SUN, MOON AND TALIA.

It is a well-known fact, that the cruel man is generally his own hangman; and he who throws stones at Heaven, frequently comes off with a broken head. But the reverse of the medal shows us that innocence is a shield of fig-tree wood, upon which the sword of malice is broken, or blunts its point; so that, when a poor man fancies himself already dead and buried, he revives again in bone and flesh, as you shall hear in the story which I am going to draw from the cask of memory with the tap of my tongue.

There was once a great lord, who, having a daughter born to him named Talia, commanded the seers and wise men of his kingdom to come and tell him her fortune; and after various counsellings they came to the conclusion, that a great peril awaited her from a piece of stalk in some flax. Thereupon he issued a command, prohibiting any flax or hemp, or such-like thing, to be brought into his house, hoping thus to avoid the danger.

When Talia was grown up, and was standing one day at the window, she saw an old woman pass by who was spinning; and never having seen a distaff or a spindle, and being vastly pleased with the twisting and twirling of the thread, her curiosity was so great that she made the old woman come upstairs. Then taking the distaff in her hand Talia began to draw out the thread, when by mischance a piece of stalk in the flax getting under her fingernail, she fell dead upon the ground; at which sight the old woman hobbled downstairs as quickly as she could.

When the unhappy father heard of the disaster that had befallen Talia, after paying for this cask of Asprino[1] with a barrel of tears, he placed her in that palace in the country, upon a velvet seat under a canopy of brocade; and fastening the doors, he quitted for ever that place which had been the cause of such misfortune to him, in order to drive all remembrance of it from his mind.

Now a certain king happened to go one day to the chace, and a falcon escaping from him flew in at a window of that palace. When the king found that the bird did not return at his call, he ordered his attendants to knock at the door, thinking that the palace was inhabited; and after knocking for some time, the king ordered them to fetch a vinedresser's ladder, wishing himself to scale the house and see what was inside. Then he mounted the ladder, and going through the whole palace, he stood aghast and looked just like a mummy, at not finding there any living person. At last he came to the room where Talia was lying, as if enchanted; and when the king saw her, he called to her, thinking that she was asleep, but in vain, for she still slept on, however loud he called. So, after admiring her beauty awhile, the king returned home to his kingdom, where for a long time he forgot all that had happened.

Meanwhile Talia gave birth to little twins, one a boy and the other a girl, who looked like two little jewels; and two fairies appeared in the palace, who took care of the children, and placed them at their mother's breast. But once, when they wanted to suck, not finding the breast, they seized by mistake her finger, and went on sucking until they drew out the splinter. Thereupon she seemed to awake as from a deep sleep; and when she saw those little jewels at her side, she took them to her heart, and loved them more than her life; but she wondered greatly at seeing herself quite alone in the palace with the two children, and food and refreshment brought her by unseen hands.

After a time the king, calling Talia to mind, took occasion one day when he went to the chace to go and see her; and when he found her awakened, and with two beautiful little creatures by her side, he was struck dumb with rapture. Then the king told Talia who he was, and they formed a great league and friendship, and he remained there for several days, promising as he took leave to return and fetch her.

When the king went back to his own kingdom, he was for ever repeating the names of Talia and her little ones, insomuch that, when he was eating he had Talia in his mouth, and Sun and Moon (for so he named the children); nay, even when he went to rest he did not leave off calling on them, first one and then the other.

Now the king's wife had grown suspicious at her husband’s long absence at the chace, and when she heard him calling thus on Talia, Sun and Moon, she waxed wrath, and said to the king’s secretary, "Hark-ye, friend, you stand between Scylla and Charybdis, between the hinge and the door, between the axe and the block; tell me who it is that my husband is enamoured of, and I will make you rich; but if you conceal the truth from me, I'll make you rue it."

The man, moved on the one side by fear, and on the other pricked by interest, which is a bandage to the eyes of honour, the blind of justice, and an old horseshoe to trip up good-faith, told the queen the whole truth, calling bread bread and wine wine. Whereupon she sent the secretary in the king’s name to Talia, saying that he wished to see the children. Then Talia sent them with great joy; but the queen, with the heart of a Medea, commanded the cook to kill them, and serve them up in various ways for her wretched husband to eat.

Now the cook, who had a tender heart, seeing the two pretty little golden pippins, took compassion on them, and gave them to his wife, bidding her keep them concealed: then he killed and dressed two little kids in a hundred different ways. When the king came, the queen quickly ordered the dishes to be served up; and the king fell to eating with great delight, exclaiming, "By the life of Lanfusa[2] how good this is! Oh how excellent, by the soul of my grandfather!" And the queen all the while kept saying, "Eat away! for you eat what is your own." At first the king paid no attention to what she said; but at last, hearing the music continue, he replied, "Ay, I know well enough that what I eat is my own, for you brought nothing to the house." And at last getting up in a rage, he went off to a villa at a little distance to cool his anger.

Meanwhile the queen, not satisfied with what she had done, called the secretary again, and sent him to fetch Talia, pretending that the king wished to see her. At this summons Talia went that very instant, longing to see the light of her eyes, and not knowing that only the smoke awaited her. But when she came before the queen, the latter said to her, with the face of a Nero and full of poison as a viper, "Welcome, Madam Slycheat! are you indeed the pretty mischief-maker? are you the weed that has caught my husband’s eye and given me all this trouble? So so, you are come at last to purgatory, where I'll make you pay for all the ill you have done me."

When Talia heard this she began to excuse herself; but the queen would not listen to a word; and having a large fire lighted in the courtyard, she commanded that Talia should be thrown into the flames. Poor Talia, seeing matters come to a bad pass, fell on her knees before the queen, and besought her at least to grant her time to take the clothes from off her back. Whereupon the queen, not so much out of pity for the unhappy girl, as to get possession of her dress, which was embroidered all over with gold and pearls, said to her, "Undress yourself—I allow you." Then Talia began to undress, and as she took off each garment she uttered an exclamation of grief; and when she had stripped off her cloak, her gown and her jacket, and was proceeding to take off her petticoat, they seized her and were dragging her away. At that moment the king came up, and seeing the spectacle he demanded to know the whole truth; and when he asked for the children, and heard that his wife had ordered them to be killed, in revenge for his unfaithfulness, the unhappy king gave himself up to despair, exclaiming, "Alas then, I have myself been the wolf to my little lambs! Woe is me! why did not my veins recognize that they were the fountain of their blood? Ah, renegade Turk, what barbarous act have you done? but your wickedness shall be punished; you shall do penance without being sent to the Coliseum."

So saying he ordered her to be thrown into the same fire which had been lighted for Talia, and the secretary with her, who was the handle of this cruel game and the weaver of this wicked web. Then he was going to do the same with the cook, thinking that he had killed the children; but the cook threw himself at the king's feet and said, "Truly, sir king, I would desire no other sinecure in return for the service I have done you than to be thrown into a furnace full of live coals, I would ask no other gratuity than the thrust of a spike, I would wish for no other amusement than to be roasted in the fire, I would desire no other privilege than to have the ashes of a cook mingled with those of a queen. But I look for no such great reward for having saved your children, and brought them back to you in spite of that wicked creature who wished to kill them."

When the king heard these words he was quite beside himself; he appeared to dream, and could not believe what his ears had heard. Then he said to the cook, "If it is true that you have saved the children, be assured I will take you from turning the spit, and place you in the kitchen of this breast, to turn my will as you please, rewarding you so that you shall call yourself the happiest man in the world."

As the king was speaking these words, the wife of the cook, seeing the dilemma her husband was in, brought Sun and Moon before the King, who playing at the game of three with his wife and children, went round and round kissing first one and then another. Then giving the cook a large reward, he made him his chamberlain: and he took Talia to wife, who enjoyed a long life with her husband and children, acknowledging that

 

"He who has luck may go to bed,

And bliss will rain upon his head."

 

1.       A sour Neapolitan wine.

2.       The mother of Ferraù,—see Orlando Furioso, i. 30. The habit of swearing by an object the dearest to a person is quite Spanish, as is also the use of terms of kindred out of mere tenderness or familiarity.

 

NENNILLO AND NENNELLA[1].

Woe to him who thinks to find a governess for his children by giving them a stepmother! he only brings into his house the cause of their ruin. There never yet was a stepmother who looked kindly on the children of another; or if by chance such a one were ever found, she would be regarded as a miracle[2], and be called a white crow. But beside all those of whom you may have heard, I will now tell you of another, to be added to the list of heartless stepmothers, whom you will consider well deserving the punishment she purchased for herself with ready money.

There was once a good man named Jannuccio, who had two children, Nennillo and Nennella, whom he loved as much as his own life. But Death having with the smooth-file of Time severed the prison-bars of his wife's soul, he took to himself a cruel woman, who had no sooner set foot in his house than she began to ride the high horse, saying, "Am I come here indeed to look after other folks' children? A pretty job I have undertaken, to have all this trouble and be for ever teased by a couple of squalling brats! Would that I had broken my neck ere I ever came to this place, to have bad food, worse drink, and get no sleep at night! Here's a life to lead! Forsooth I came as a wife, and not as a servant; but I must find some means of getting rid of these creatures, or it will cost me my life: better to blush once, than to grow pale a hundred times; so I've done with them, for I am resolved to send them away, or to leave the house myself for ever."

The poor husband, who had some affection for this woman, said to her, "Softly, wife! don't be angry, for sugar is dear; and tomorrow morning, before the cock crows, I will remove this annoyance in order to please you." So the next morning, ere the Dawn had hung out the red counterpane at the window of the East to shake off the fleas, Jannuccio took the children, one by each hand; and with a good basketful of things to eat upon his arm, he led them to a wood, where an army of poplars and beech-trees were holding the shades besieged. Then Jannuccio said, "My little children, stay here in this wood, and eat and drink merrily; but if you want anything, follow this line of ashes which I have been strewing as we came along; this will be a clue to lead you out of the labyrinth and bring you straight home." Then giving them both a kiss, he returned weeping to his house.

But at the hour when all creatures, summoned by the constables of Night, pay to Nature the tax of needful repose, the two little children began to feel afraid at remaining in that lonesome place, where the waters of a river, which was thrashing the impertinent stones for obstructing its course, would have frightened even a Rodomonte. So they went slowly along the path of ashes, and it was already midnight ere they reached their home. When Pascozza, their stepmother, saw the children, she acted not like a woman, but a perfect fury, crying aloud, wringing her hands, stamping with her feet, snorting like a frightened horse and exclaiming, "What fine piece of work is this? Is there no way of ridding the house of these creatures? Is it possible, husband, that you are determined to keep them here to plague my very life out? Go, take them out of my sight! I'll not wait for the crowing of cocks and the cackling of hens: or else be assured that tomorrow morning off I'll go to my parents' house, for you do not deserve me. I have not brought you so many fine things, only to be made the slave of children who are not my own."

Poor Jannuccio, who saw the boat on a wrong tack, and matters growing rather too warm, immediately took the little ones and returned to the wood; where giving the children another basketful of food, he said to them, "You see, my dears, how this wife of mine—who is come to my house to be your ruin and a nail in my heart—hates you; therefore remain in this wood, where the trees more compassionate will give you shelter from the sun, where the river more charitable will give you drink without poison, and the earth more kind will give you a pillow of grass without danger. And when you want food, follow this little path of bran which I have made for you in a straight line, and you can come and seek what you require." So saying he turned away his face, not to let himself be seen to weep and dishearten the poor little creatures.

When Nennillo and Nennella had eaten all that was in the basket, they wanted to return home; but alas! a jackass—the son of ill-luck—had eaten up all the bran that was strewn upon the ground; so they lost their way, and wandered about forlorn in the wood for several days, feeding on acorns and chestnuts which they found fallen on the ground. But as Heaven always extends its arm over the innocent, there came by chance a prince to hunt in that wood. Then Nennillo, hearing the baying of the hounds, was so frightened that he crept into a hollow tree; and Nennella set off running at full speed, and ran until she came out of the wood, and found herself on the seashore. Now it happened that some pirates, who had landed there to get fuel, saw Nennella and carried her off: and their captain took her home with him, where he and his wife, having just lost a little girl, took her as their daughter.

Meanwhile Nennillo, who had hidden himself in the tree, was surrounded by the dogs, which made such a furious barking that the prince sent to find out the cause; and when he discovered the pretty little boy, who was so young that he could not tell who were his father and mother, he ordered one of the huntsmen to set him upon his saddle and take him to the royal palace. Then he had him brought up with great care, and instructed in various arts, and among others he had him taught that of a carver; so that, before three or four years had passed, Nennillo became so expert in his art that he could carve a joint to a hair.

Now about this time it was discovered that the captain of the ship who had taken Nennella to his house was a sea-robber, and the people wished to take him prisoner; but getting timely notice from the clerks in the law-courts, who were his friends, and whom he kept in his pay, he fled with all his family. It was decreed however, perhaps by the judgement of Heaven, that he who had committed his crimes upon the sea, upon the sea should suffer the punishment of them; for having embarked in a small boat, no sooner was he upon the open sea than there came such a storm of wind and tumult of the waves, that the boat was upset and all were drowned—all except Nennella, who having had no share in the corsair's robberies, like his wife and children, escaped the danger; for just then a large enchanted fish, which was swimming about the boat, opened its huge throat and swallowed her down.

The little girl now thought to herself that her days were surely at an end, when suddenly she found a thing to amaze her inside the fish,—beautiful fields and fine gardens, and a splendid mansion, with all that heart could desire, in which she lived like a princess. Then she was carried quickly by the fish to a rock, where it chanced that the prince had come to escape the burning heat of summer, and to enjoy the cool sea breezes. And whilst a great banquet was preparing, Nennillo had stepped out upon a balcony of the palace on the rock to sharpen some knives, priding himself greatly on acquiring honour from his office. When Nennella saw him through the fish’s throat, she cried aloud,

 

"Brother, brother, your task is done.

The tables are laid out every one;

But here in the fish I must sit and sigh.

For, O brother, without you I soon shall die!"

 

Nennillo at first paid no attention to the voice; but the prince, who was standing on another balcony and had also heard it, turned in the direction whence the sound came, and saw the fish. And when he again heard the same words, he was beside himself with amazement, and ordered a number of servants to try whether by any means they could ensnare the fish and draw it to land. At last, hearing the words "Brother, brother!" continually repeated, he asked all his servants, one by one, whether any of them had lost a sister. And Nennillo replied, that he recollected, as a dream, having had a sister when the prince found him in the wood, but that he had never since heard any tidings of her. Then the prince told him to go nearer to the fish, and see what was the matter, for perhaps this adventure might concern him. As soon as Nennillo approached the fish, it raised up its head upon the rock, and opening its throat six palms wide, Nennella stepped out, so beautiful that she looked just like a nymph in some interlude, come forth from that animal at the incantation of a magician. And when the prince asked her how it had all happened, she told him a part of her sad story, and the hatred of their stepmother; but not being able to recollect the name of their father nor of their home, the prince caused a proclamation to be issued, commanding that whoever had lost two children, named Nennillo and Nennella, in a wood, should come to the royal palace, and he would there receive joyful news of them.

Jannuccio, who had all this time passed a sad and disconsolate life, believing that his children had been devoured by wolves, now hastened with the greatest joy to seek the prince, and told him that he had lost the children. And when he had related the story, how he had been compelled to take them to the wood, the prince gave him a good scolding, calling him a blockhead for allowing a woman to put her heel upon his neck, till he was brought to send away two such jewels as his children. But after he had broken Jannuccio's head with these words, he applied to it the plaster of consolation, showing him the children, whom the father embraced and kissed for half an hour without being satisfied. Then the prince made him pull off his jacket, and had him drest like a lord; and sending for Jannuccio's wife, he showed her those two golden pippins, asking her what that person would deserve who should do them any harm and even endanger their lives. And she replied, "For my part, I would put her into a closed cask, and send her rolling down a mountain."

"So it shall be done!" said the prince: "The goat has butted at herself. Quick now! you have passed the sentence, and you must suffer it, for having borne these beautiful stepchildren such malice." So he gave orders that the sentence should be instantly executed. Then choosing a very rich lord among his vassals, he gave him Nennella to wife, and the daughter of another great lord to Nennillo; allowing them enough to live upon, with their father, so that they wanted for nothing in the world. But the stepmother, shut into the cask and shut out from life, kept on crying out through the bunghole as long as she had breath,

 

"To him who mischief seeks shall mischief fall;

There comes an hour that recompenses all."

 

The pleasure which Paola's story gave to all the listeners is not to be told; but it being now Ciommetella's turn to speak, on receiving the signal she began as follows.

 

1.       These names (Spanish Nino) signify ‘little boy’ and ‘little girl.’

2.       Se pò mettere lo spruoccolo a lo pertuso.

 

THE THREE CITRONS.

Well was it in truth said by the wise man, "Do not say all you know, nor do all you are able;" for both one and the other bring unknown danger and unforeseen ruin; as you shall hear of a certain slave (be it spoken with all reverence for my lady the Princess), who, after doing all the injury in her power to a poor girl, came off so badly in the court, that she was the judge of her own crime, and sentenced herself to the punishment she deserved.

The king of Long-Tower had once a son, who was the apple of his eye, and on whom he had built all his hopes; and he longed impatiently for the time when he should find some good match for him, and hear himself called grandpapa. But the prince was so averse to marriage and so obstinate, that whenever a wife was talked of he shook his head and wished himself a hundred miles off, so that the poor king, finding his son stubborn and perverse, and foreseeing that his race would come to an end, was more vexed and melancholy, cast down and out of spirits, than a merchant whose correspondent has become bankrupt, or a peasant whose ass has died. Neither could the tears of his father move the prince, nor the entreaties of the courtiers soften him, nor the counsel of wise men make him change his mind; in vain they set before his eyes the wishes of his father, the wants of the people, and his own interest, representing to him that he was the full-stop in the line of the royal race; for with the obstinacy of Carella[1] and the stubbornness of an old mule with a skin four fingers thick, he had planted his foot resolutely, stopped his ears, and closed his heart against all assaults. But as frequently more comes to pass in an hour than in a hundred years, and no one can say, Stop here or go there, it happened that one day, when all were at table, and the prince was cutting a piece of new-made cheese, whilst listening to the chit-chat that was going on, he accidentally cut his finger; and two drops of blood, falling upon the cheese, made such a beautiful mixture of colours, that—either it was a punishment inflicted by Love, or the will of Heaven to console the poor father,—the whim seized the prince to find a woman exactly as white and red as that cheese tinged with his blood. Then he said to his father, "Sir, unless I have a wife as white and red as this cheese, it is all over with me: so now resolve, if you wish to see me alive and well, to give me all I require to go through the world in search of a beauty exactly like this cheese, or else I shall end my life and die by inches."

"When the king heard this mad resolution, he thought the house was falling about his ears; his colour came and went, but as soon as he recovered himself and could speak, he said, "My son, the life of my soul, the core of my heart, the prop of my old-age, what mad-brained fancy has made you take leave of your senses? Have you lost your wits? You want either all or nothing: first you wish not to marry, on purpose to deprive me of an heir, and now you are impatient to drive me out of the world. Whither, O whither would you go wandering about, wasting your life? and why leave your house, your hearth, your home? You know not what toils and perils he brings on himself who goes rambling and roving. Let this whim pass, my son; be sensible, and do not wish to see my life worn out, this house fall to the ground, my household go to ruin."

But these and other words went in at one ear and out at the other, and were all cast upon the sea; and the poor king, seeing that his son was as immoveable as a rook upon a belfry[2], gave him a handful of dollars, and two or three servants; and bidding him farewell, he felt as if his soul was torn out of his body. Then weeping bitterly, he went to a balcony, and followed his son with his eyes until he was lost to sight.

The prince departed, leaving his unhappy father to his grief, and hastened on his way through fields and woods, over mountain and valley, hill and plain, visiting various countries, and mixing with various peoples, and always with his eyes wide awake to see whether he could find the object of his desire. At the end of several months he arrived at the coast of France, where, leaving his servants at an hospital with sore feet, he embarked alone in a Genoese boat, and set out toward the Straits of Gibraltar. There he took a larger vessel and sailed for the Indies, seeking everywhere, from kingdom to kingdom, from province to province, from country to country, from street to street, from house to house, in every hole and corner, whether he could find the original likeness of that beautiful image which he had pictured to his heart. And he wandered about and about, until at length he came to the Island of the Ogresses, where be cast anchor and landed. There he found an old old woman, withered and shrivelled up, and with a hideous face, to whom be related the reason that had brought him to that country. The old woman was beside herself with amazement when she heard the strange whim and the fanciful chimera of the prince, and the toils and perils he had gone through to satisfy himself; then she said to him, "Hasten away, my son! for if my three daughters meet you, I would not give a farthing for your life; half alive and half roasted, a frying-pan would be your bier and a belly your grave. But away with you as fast as a hare! and you will not go far before you find what you are seeking."

When the prince heard this, frightened, terrified and aghast, he set off running at full speed, and ran till he came to another country, where he again met an old woman, more ugly even than the first, to whom he told all his story. Then the old woman said to him in like manner, "Away with you! unless you wish to serve for a breakfast to the little ogresses my daughters; but go straight on, and you will soon find what you want."

The prince, hearing this, set off running as fast as a dog with a kettle at its tail; and he went on and on, until he met another old woman, who was sitting upon a wheel, with a basket full of little pies and sweetmeats on her arm, and feeding a number of jackasses, which thereupon began leaping about on the bank of a river and kicking at some poor swans. When the prince came up to the old woman, after making a hundred salaams[3], be related to her the story of his wanderings; whereupon the old woman, comforting him with kind words, gave him such a good breakfast that he licked his fingers after it. And when he had done eating, she gave him three citrons, which seemed to be just fresh gathered from the tree; and she gave him also a beautiful knife, saying, "You are now free to return to Italy, for your labour is ended, and you have what you were seeking. Go your way therefore, and when you are near your own kingdom, stop at the first fountain you come to and cut a citron. Then a fairy will come forth from it, and will say to you, 'Give me to drink!' Mind and be ready with the water, or she will vanish like quicksilver. But if you are not quick enough with the second fairy, have your eyes open and be watchful that the third does not escape you, giving her quickly to drink, and you shall have a wife after your own heart."

The prince, overjoyed, kissed the old woman's hairy hand a hundred times, which seemed just like a hedgehog's back. Then taking his leave he left that country, and coming to the seashore sailed for the Pillars of Hercules, and arrived at our Sea; and after a thousand storms and perils, he entered port a day's distance from his own kingdom. There he came to a most beautiful grove, where the Shades formed a palace for the Meadows, to prevent their being seen by the Sun; and dismounting at a fountain, which with a crystal tongue was inviting the people to refresh their lips, he seated himself on a Syrian carpet formed by the plants and flowers. Then he drew his knife from the sheath and began to cut the first citron, when lo! there appeared like a flash of lightning a most beautiful maiden, white as milk and red as a strawberry, who said, "Give me to drink!" The prince was so amazed, bewildered and captivated with the beauty of the fairy, that he did not give her the water quickly enough, so she appeared and vanished at one and the same moment. Whether this was a rap on the prince's head, let any one judge who, after longing for a thing, gets it into his hands and instantly loses it again.

Then the prince cut the second citron, and the same thing happened again; and this was a second blow he got on his pate; so making two little fountains of his eyes, he wept, face to face, tear for tear, drop for drop, with the fountain, and sighing he exclaimed, "Good heavens, how is it that I am so unfortunate? twice I have let her escape, as if my hands were tied; and here I sit like a rock, when I ought to run like a greyhound. Faith indeed I have made a fine hand of it! But courage, man! there is still another, and three is the lucky number[4]; either this knife shall give me the fay, or it shall take my life away." So saying he cut the third citron, and forth came the third fairy, who said like the others, "Give me to drink!" Then the prince instantly handed her the water, and behold there stood before him a delicate maiden, white as a junket with red streaks, who looked like an Abruzzi ham or a Nola sausage,—a thing never before seen in the world, with a beauty without compare, a fairness beyond the beyonds, a grace more than the most. On that hair Jove had showered down gold[5], of which Love made his shafts to pierce all hearts; that face the god of Love had tinged with red, that some innocent soul should be hung on the gallows of desire; at those eyes the sun had lighted two fireworks, to set fire to the rockets of sighs in the breast of the beholder; to the roses on those lips Venus had given their colour, to wound a thousand enamoured hearts with their thorns; on that breast Juno had shed her milk, to nurture human desires. In a word she was so beautiful from head to foot, that a more exquisite creature was never seen. The prince knew not what had happened to him, and stood lost in amazement, gazing on such a beautiful offspring of a citron; and he said to himself, "Are you asleep or awake, Ciommetiello? are your eyes bewitched, or are you blind? What fair white creature is this come forth from a yellow rind? what sweet dough, from the sour juice of a citron? what lovely maiden sprung from a citron-pip?" At length, seeing that it was all true and no dream, he embraced the fairy, giving her a hundred and a hundred kisses; and after a thousand tender words had passed between them—words which, as a cantofermo, had an accompaniment of sugared kisses—the prince said, "My soul, I cannot take you to my father's kingdom without handsome raiment worthy of so beautiful a person, and an attendance befitting a queen: therefore climb up into this oak-tree, where Nature seems purposely to have made for us a hiding—place in the form of a little room, and here await my return; for I will come back on wings, before a tear can dry, with dresses and servants, and carry you off to my kingdom." So saying, after the usual ceremonies he departed.

Now a black slave, who was sent by her mistress with a pitcher to fetch water, came to that well, and seeing by chance the reflection of the fairy in the water, she thought it was herself, and exclaimed in amazement, "Poor Lucia, what do I see? me so pretty and fair, and mistress send me here! No, me will no longer bear." So saying she broke the pitcher and returned home; and when her mistress asked her, "Why have you done this mischief?" she replied, "Me go to the well alone, pitcher break upon a stone." Her mistress swallowed this idle story, and the next day she gave her a pretty little cask, telling her to go and fill it with water. So the slave returned to the fountain, and seeing again the beautiful image reflected in the water, she said with a deep sigh, "Me no ugly slave, me no broad-foot goose! but pretty and fine as mistress mine, and me not go to the fountain!" So saying, smash again! she broke the cask into seventy pieces, and returned grumbling home, and said to her mistress, "Ass come past, tub fell, down at the well, and all was broken in pieces." The poor mistress, on hearing this, could contain herself no longer, and seizing a broomstick she beat the slave so soundly that she felt it for many days; then giving her a leather bag, she said, "Run, break your neck, you wretched slave, you grasshopper-legs, you black beetle! run and fetch me this bag full of water, or else I'll hang you like a polyp and give you a good thrashing."

Away ran the slave heels over head, for she had seen the flash and dreaded the thunder; and while she was filling the leather bag, she turned to look again at the beautiful image, and said, "Me fool to fetch water! better live by one's wits: such a pretty girl indeed to serve a bad mistress!" So saying, she took a large pin which she wore in her hair, and began to prick holes in the leather bag, which looked like an open place in a garden with the rose of a watering-pot[6] making a hundred little fountains. When the fairy saw this she laughed outright; and the slave hearing her, turned and espied her hiding-place up in the tree; whereat she said to herself, "O ho! you make me be beaten? but never mind!" Then she said to her, "What you doing up there, pretty lass?" And the fairy, who was the very mother of courtesy, told her all she knew, and all that had passed with the prince, whom she was expecting from hour to hour and from moment to moment, with fine dresses and servants, to take her with him to his father's kingdom, where they should live happy together.

When the slave, who was full of spite, heard this, she thought to herself that she would get this prize into her own hands; so she answered the fairy, "You expect your husband,—me come up and comb your locks, and make you more smart." And the fairy said, "Ay, welcome as the first of May!" So the slave climbed up the tree, and the fairy held out her white hand to her, which looked in the black paws of the slave like a crystal mirror in a frame of ebony. But no sooner did the slave begin to comb the fairy's locks, than she suddenly stuck a hair-pin into her head. Then the fairy, feeling herself pricked, cried out, "Dove, dove!" and instantly she became a dove and flew away; whereupon the slave stripped herself, and making a bundle of all the rags that she had worn, she threw them a mile away: and there she sat, up in the tree, looking like a statue of jet in a house of emerald.

In a short time the prince returned with a great cavalcade, and finding a cask of caviar where he had left a pan of milk, he stood for awhile beside himself with amazement. At length he said, "Who has made this great blot of ink on the fine paper upon which I thought to write the brightest days of my life? Who has hung with mourning this newly whitewashed house, where I thought to spend a happy life? How comes it that I find this touchstone, where I left a mine of silver, that was to make me rich and happy?" But the crafty slave, observing the prince's amazement, said, "Do not wonder, my prince; for me turned by a wicked spell from a white lily to a black coal."

The poor prince, seeing that there was no help for the mischief, drooped his head and swallowed this pill; and bidding the slave come down from the tree, he ordered her to be clothed from head to foot in new dresses. Then sad and sorrowful, cast-down and woebegone, he took his way back with the slave to his own country, where the king and queen, who had gone out six mile to meet them, received them with the same pleasure as a prisoner feels at the announcement of a sentence of Suspendatur[7], seeing the fine choice their foolish son had made, who after travelling about so long to find a white dove had brought home at last a black crow. However, as they could do no less, they gave up the crown to their children, and placed the golden tripod upon that face of coal.

Now whilst they were preparing splendid feasts and banquets, and the cooks were busy plucking geese, killing little pigs, flaying kids, basting the roast-meat, skimming pots, mincing meat for dumplings, larding capons, and preparing a thousand other delicacies, a beautiful dove came flying to the kitchen window, and said,

 

"O cook of the kitchen, tell me, I pray,

What the king and the slave are doing today."

 

The cook at first paid little heed to the dove; but when she returned a second and a third time, and repeated the same words, he ran to the dining-hall to tell the marvellous thing. But no sooner did the lady hear this music, than she gave orders for the dove to be instantly caught and made into a hash. So the cook went, and he managed to catch the dove, and did all that the slave had commanded. And having scalded the bird, in order to pluck it, he threw the water with the feathers out from a balcony on to a garden-bed, on which before three days had passed there sprung up a beautiful citron-tree, which quickly grew to its full size.

Now it happened that the king, going by chance to a window that looked upon the garden, saw the tree, which he had never observed before; and calling the cook, he asked him when and by whom it had been planted. No sooner had he heard all the particulars from Master Pot-ladle, than he began to suspect how matters stood; so he gave orders, under pain of death, that the tree should not be touched, but that it should be tended with the greatest care.

At the end of a few days three most beautiful citrons appeared, similar to those which the ogress had given Ciommetiello; and when they were grown larger, he plucked them; and shutting himself up in a chamber, with a large basin of water and the knife which he always carried at his side, he began to cut the citrons. Then it all fell out with the first and second fairy just as it had done before; but when at last he cut the third citron, and gave the fairy who came forth from it to drink, behold there stood before him the self-same maiden whom he had left up in the tree, and who told him all the mischief that the slave had done.

Who now can tell the least part of the delight the king felt at this good turn of fortune? Who can describe the shouting and leaping for joy that there was? for the king was swimming in a sea of delight, and was wafted to heaven on a tide of rapture. Then he embraced the fairy, and ordered her to be handsomely drest from head to foot; and taking her by the hand he led her into the middle of the hall, where all the courtiers and great folks of the city were met to celebrate the feast. Then the king called on them one by one, and said, "Tell me, what punishment would that person deserve who should do any harm to this beautiful lady?" And one replied that such a person would deserve a hempen collar—another, a breakfast of stones—a third, a good beating on his stomach—a fourth, a draught of scammony—a fifth, a millstone for a brooch; in short, one said this thing and another that. At last he called on the black queen, and putting the same question, she replied, "Such a person would deserve to be burned, and that her ashes should be thrown from the roof of the castle."

When the king heard this he said to her, "You have struck your own foot with the axe, you have made your own fetters, you have sharpened the knife and mixed the poison, for no one has done this lady so much harm as yourself, you good-for-nothing creature! Know you that this is the beautiful maiden whom you wounded with the hair-pin? Know you that this is the pretty dove which you ordered to be killed and cooked in a stewpan? What say you now? it is all your own doing, and one who does ill may expect ill in return." So saying he ordered the slave to be seized and cast alive on to a large burning pile of wood, and her ashes were thrown from the top of the castle to all the winds of heaven, verifying the truth of the saying, that

 

"He who sows thorns should not go barefoot."

 

All sat listening attentively to Ciommetella's story; and some praised the skill with which she had related it, whilst others murmured at her indiscretion, saying that she ought not in the presence of the Princess slave to have exposed to blame the ill deeds of another slave, and run the risk of stopping the game. But Lucia sat upon thorns, and kept turning and twisting herself about all the time the story was related; insomuch that the restlessness of her body betrayed the storm which was in her heart, at seeing in the history of another slave the exact image of her own tricks. Gladly would she have dismissed the whole company, but that, owing to the desire which the doll had given her to hear stories, she could no more do without them than a man bitten by a tarantula can dispense with music; and partly also not to give Taddeo cause for suspicion, she swallowed this bitter pill, intending to take a good revenge in proper time and place. But Taddeo, who had grown quite fond of this amusement, made a sign to Zoza to relate her story, and after making her curtsey she began.

 

1.       A person who was proverbially obstinate.

2.       Na ciaola de canpanaro.

3.       Liccaralemme—the Alecum-salam or salutation of the Arabs.

4.       In the original, 'A le ttrè vence lo Rrè.'

5.       Alluding to Danse.

6.       Co l'acqua a trademiento.

7.       i.e. 'Let him be hanged.’

Thursday's Serial: "The Pentamerone, or the Story of Stories, Fun For The Little Ones” by Giambattista Basile. (tanslated into English by John Edward Taylor) - IX

 FIFTH DAY.

 

Already had the birds related to the ambassadress of the Sun all the tricks and intrigues that had been perpetrated during the night, when the Prince Taddeo and the Princess Lucia repaired early in the morning to the accustomed spot, where nine women out of the ten were already assembled. Then the Prince inquired why Jacova had not come; and on being told that she had taken a cold in her head, he commanded that another woman should be found to supply her place. So they summoned Zoza, who lived opposite to the royal palace; and she was received by Taddeo with great compliments, both on account of the obligations he owed her and the affection he felt for her.

Then the women all gathered flowers, one blossoming mint, another spikenard, another the five-leaved rue, in short one this plant and another that. And one made herself a garland as if she were going to recite a farce, another a nosegay, a third stuck a full-blown rose in her bosom, a fourth put a variegated carnation in her mouth. But as it wanted nearly four hours to midday, the Prince commanded, in order to pass the time pleasantly till dinner, that some game should be played for the amusement of his wife: and giving the hint to Cola Jacovo the carver, a man of great ingenuity, Cola, as if he had a pocketful of inventions, quickly found one, saying, "Those pleasures, my lord, have ever been insipid which are not connected with some object of usefulness; entertainments and evening parties were not invented for useless pleasure, but rather for pleasurable profit; for this kind of amusement not only affords pastime, but the wits are sharpened and rendered quick in determining and answering the questions put; and this is just the case with that game of games which is played in the following manner. I will propose some game to one of these ladies, who, without taking thought, has to tell me instantly that it does not please her, and the reason why; and she who hesitates to reply, or replies in an inappropriate manner, has to pay a forfeit, which the Princess shall appoint. So, to start the game, I should like to play with Signora Zeza a hand at trumps for half a crown." And Zeza instantly replied, "I'll not play at that, for I am no robber."

"Bravo!" said Taddeo; "for he who robs is too often a knave of trumps."

"Well, then," replied Cola Jacovo, "Signora Cecca will play with me a game at Bankrupt."—"You'll not catch me at that," answered Cecca, "for I am no merchant."

"She is right," said Taddeo, "for that game is made for them."

"At all events, Signora Popa," continued Cola Jacovo, "let us play at 'Twenty-figures', and I'll give you the lead."—"By no means," replied Popa, "for that is a game which flatterers play."

"Spoken like Orlando!" said Taddeo; "for they make twenty and even thirty figures, transforming themselves whenever they like, to put a poor prince in a sack."

"The deuce take it!" continued Cola Jacovo, "I see that the time will pass away without my having any sport, unless Signora Ciulla will play with me the game of 'Call' for a pint of beans."—"Do you take me for a constable?" replied Ciulla: and Taddeo quickly rejoined, "In truth she has said wisely, for it is the business of the sheriffs and constables to call folks to the court."

"Come now. Signora Paola," rejoined Cola Jacovo, "let us play at piquet for a penny."—"Wrong again," replied Paola, "for I am no courtier."

"She's a doctor in woman’s clothes!" answered the Prince; for there is no place where people's reputation is more picked at than in our courts."

"Well," said Cola Jacovo, "I cannot believe that Signora Zoza will refuse my invitation like the rest; she will give me the pleasure of playing with her a game of 'Beg of my neighbour'[1]."—"Eh indeed!" replied Zoza; "that's a game for children."

"A forfeit, a forfeit!" exclaimed Taddeo; "for this is a game which all folks play at, down to old people; and therefore, Signora Lucia, it remains for you to name the punishment."

Then Zoza rising from her seat went and knelt before the Princess, who commanded her by way of penance to sing a Neapolitan Villanella. Whereupon Zoza, calling for the tambourine, whilst the Prince's coachman played on the citern, sang a Canzona, which was listened to with the greatest pleasure, and was finished just as the tables were laid out, on which was spread plenty to eat and drink. When all had eaten their fill and the cloth was removed, the command was given to Cecca to open the conclusion of the Stories, and she began as follows.

 

1.       I have substituted this game, and abridged the whole of this introduction to the Fifth Day.

 

 

THE MONTHS.

It is a saying worthy to be written in letters as big as those on a catafalque, that silence never harmed any one: and let it not be imagined that those slanderers who never speak well of others, but are always cutting and stinging, and pinching and biting, ever gain anything by their malice; for when the bags come to be shaken out, it has always been seen, and is so still, that whilst a good word gains love and profit, slander brings enmity and ruin; and when you shall have heard how this happens, you will say I speak with reason.

Once upon a time there were two brothers,—Cianne, who was as rich as a lord, and Lise, who had barely enough to live upon: but poor as one was in fortune, so pitiful was the other in mind, for he would not have given his brother a farthing were it to save his life; so that poor Lise in despair left his country, and set out to wander over the world. And he wandered on and on, till one wet and cold evening he came to an inn, where he found twelve youths seated around a fire, who when they saw poor Lise benumbed with cold, partly from the severe season and partly from his ragged clothes, invited him to sit down by the fire.

Lise accepted the invitation, for he needed it greatly, and began to warm himself. And as he was warming himself, one of the young men, whose face was such a picture of moroseness as to make you die of affright, said to him, “What think you, countryman, of this weather?”

“What do I think of it?” replied Lise; “I think that all the months of the year perform their duty; but we, who know not what we would have, wish to give laws to Heaven; and wanting to have things our own way, we do not fish deeply enough to the bottom, to find out whether what comes into our fancy be good or evil, useful or hurtful. In winter, when it rains, we want the sun in Leo, and in the month of August the clouds to discharge themselves; not reflecting, that were this the case, the seasons would be turned topsy-turvy, the seed sown would be lost, the crops would be destroyed, the bodies of men would faint away, and Nature would go head over heels. Therefore let us leave Heaven to its own course; for it has made the tree to mitigate with its wood the severity of winter, and with its leaves the heat of summer.”

“You speak like Samson!” said the youth; “but you cannot deny that this month of March, in which we now are, is very impertinent to send all this frost and rain, snow and hail, wind and storm, these fogs and tempests and other troubles, that make one's life a burden.”

“You tell only the ill of this poor month,” replied Lise, “but do not speak of the benefits it yields us; for, by bringing forward the Spring, it commences the production of things, and is alone the cause that the Sun proves the happiness of the present time, by leading him into the house of the Ram.”

The youth was greatly pleased at what Lise said, for he was in truth no other than the month of March itself, who had arrived at that inn with his eleven brothers; and to reward Lise's goodness, who had not even found anything ill to say of a month so sad that the shepherds do not like to mention it, he gave him a beautiful little casket, saying, “Take this, and if you want anything, only ask for it, and opening this box you will see it before you.” Lise thanked the youth, with many expressions of respect, and laying the little box under his head by way of a pillow, he went to sleep.

As soon however as the Sun, with the pencil of his rays, had retouched the dark shadows of Night, Lise took leave of the youths and set out on his way. But he had hardly proceeded fifty steps from the inn, when, opening the casket, he said, “Ah, my friend, I wish I had a litter lined with cloth, and with a little fire inside, that I might travel warm and comfortable through the snow!” No sooner had he uttered the words, than there appeared a litter, with bearers, who lifting him up placed him in it; whereupon he told them to carry him home.

When the hour was come to set the jaws to work, Lise opened the little box and said, “I wish for something to eat.” And instantly there appeared a profusion of the choicest food, and there was such a banquet that ten crowned kings might have feasted on it.

One evening having come to a wood, which did not give admittance to the Sun because he came from suspected places[1], Lise opened the little casket, and said, “I should like to rest tonight on this beautiful spot, where the river is making counterpoint upon the stones as accompaniment to the canto-fermo of the cool breezes.” And instantly there appeared, under an oil-cloth tent, a couch of fine scarlet, with down mattresses, covered with a Spanish counterpane and sheets as light as a feather. Then he asked for something to eat, and in a trice there was set out a sideboard covered with silver and gold, fit for a prince, and under another tent a table was spread with viands, the savoury smell of which extended a hundred miles.

When he had eaten enough, he laid himself down to sleep; and as soon as the Cock, who is the spy of the Sun, announced to his master that the Shades of Night were worn and wearied, and it was now time for him, like a skilful general, to fall upon their rear and make a slaughter of them, Lise opened his little box and said, “I wish to have a handsome dress, for today I shall see my brother, and I should like to make his mouth water.” No sooner said than done: immediately a princely dress of the richest black velvet appeared, with edgings of red camlet and a lining of yellow cloth embroidered all over, which looked like a field of flowers. So dressing himself, Lise got into the litter and soon reached his brother’s house.

When Cianne saw his brother arrive, with all this splendour and luxury, he wished to know what good fortune had befallen him. Then Lise told him of the youths whom he had met in the inn, and of the present they had made him; but he kept to himself his conversation with the youths.

Cianne was now all impatience to get away from his brother, and told him to go and rest himself, as he was no doubt tired: then he started post-haste, and soon arrived at the inn, where, finding the same youths, he fell into chat with them. And when the youth asked him the same question, what he thought of that month of March, Cianne, making a big mouth, said, “Confound the miserable month!—the enemy of the shepherds, which stirs up all the ill-humours and brings sickness to our bodies,—a month of which, whenever we would announce ruin to a man, we say, ‘Go, March has shaved you!’—a month of which, when you want to call a man presumptuous, you say, ‘What cares March?’[2]—a month in short so hateful, that it would be the best fortune for the world, the greatest blessing to the earth, the greatest gain to men, were it excluded from the band of brothers.”

March, who heard himself thus slandered, suppressed his anger till the morning, intending then to reward Cianne for his calumny; and when Cianne wished to depart, he gave him a fine whip, saying to him, “Whenever you wish for anything, only say, ‘Whip, give me a hundred!’ and you shall see pearls strung upon a rush.”

Cianne, thanking the youth, went his way in great haste, not wishing to make trial of the whip until he reached home. But hardly had he set foot in the house, when he went into a secret chamber, intending to hide the money which he expected to receive from the whip. Then he said, “Whip, give me a hundred!” and thereupon the whip gave him more than he looked for, making counterpoint on his legs and face like a musical composer, so that Lise, hearing his cries, came running to the spot; and when he saw that the whip, like a runaway horse, could not stop itself, he opened the little box and brought it to a stand-still. Then he asked Cianne what had happened to him, and upon hearing his story, he told him he had no one to blame but himself; for like a blockhead he alone had caused his own misfortune, acting like the camel, that wanted to have horns and lost its ears; but he bade him mind another time and keep a bridle on his tongue, which was the key that had opened to him the storehouse of misfortune; for if he had spoken well of the youths, he would perhaps have had the same good fortune, especially as to speak well of any one is a merchandise that costs nothing, and usually brings profit that is not expected. In conclusion Lise comforted him, bidding him not seek more wealth than Heaven had given him, for his little casket would suffice to fill the houses of thirty misers, and Cianne should be master of all he possessed, since to the generous man Heaven is treasurer; and he added that, although another brother might have borne Cianne ill-will for the cruelty with which he had treated him in his poverty, yet he reflected that his avarice had been a favourable wind which had brought him to this port, and therefore wished to show himself grateful for the benefit.

When Cianne heard these things, he begged his brother's pardon for his past unkindness, and entering into partnership they enjoyed together their good fortune, and from that time forward Cianne spoke well of everything, however bad it might be; for

 

“The dog that is scalded with hot water, has ever

⁠after a dread of cold water.”

 

When Cecca had finished her story, with which all were extremely pleased, Meneca, who was on thorns to disburden hers, seeing that all present were listening attentively, began as follows.

 

1.       Alluding to the quarantine which ships were subject to coming from the East.—L.

2.       Che ceusa Marzo? I do not understand this.

 

 

 

 

PINTOSMALTO[1].

It has always been more difficult for a man to keep than to get; for in the one case fortune aids, which often assists injustice, but in the other case sense is required. Therefore we frequently find a person deficient in cleverness rise to wealth, and then, from want of sense, roll head over heels to the bottom; as you will see clearly from the story I am going to tell you, if you are quick of understanding.

A merchant once had an only daughter, whom he wished greatly to see married; but as often as he struck this note, he found her a hundred miles off from the desired pitch; for the foolish girl would never consent to marry, and the father was in consequence the most unhappy and miserable man in the world. Now it happened one day that he was going to a fair; so he asked his daughter, who was named Betta, what she would like him to bring her on his return. And she said, "Papa, if you love me, bring me half a hundredweight of Palermo sugar, and as much again of sweet almonds, with four to six bottles of scented water, and a little musk and amber, also forty pearls, two sapphires, a few garnets and rubies, with some gold thread, and above all a trough and a little silver trowel." Her father wondered at this extravagant demand; nevertheless he would not refuse his daughter; so he went to the fair, and on his return brought her all that she had requested.

As soon as Betta received these things, she shut herself up in a chamber, and began to make a great quantity of paste of almonds and sugar, mixed with rose-water and perfumes, and set to work to form a most beautiful youth, making his hairs of gold thread, his eyes of sapphires, his teeth of pearls, his lips of rubies; and she gave him such grace, that speech alone was wanting to him. When she had done all this, having heard say that at the prayers of a certain king of Cyprus[2] a statue had once come to life, she prayed to the goddess of Love so long that at last the statue began to open its eyes; and increasing her prayers, it began to breathe; and after breathing, words came out; and at last disengaging all its limbs, it began to walk.

With a joy far greater than if she had gained a kingdom, Betta embraced and kissed the youth, and taking him by the hand she led him before her father, and said, "My lord and father, you have always told me that you wished to see me married, and in order to please you I have now chosen a husband after my own heart." When her father saw the handsome youth come out of his daughter's room, whom he had not seen enter it, he stood amazed, and at the sight of such beauty, which folks would have paid a halfpenny ahead to gaze at, he consented that the marriage should take place. So a great feast was made, at which, among the other ladies present, there appeared a great unknown queen, who seeing the beauty of Pintosmalto (for that was the name Betta gave him), fell desperately in love with him. Now Pintosmalto, who had only opened his eyes on the wickedness of the world three hours before, and was as innocent as a babe, accompanied the strangers who had come to celebrate his nuptials to the stairs, as his bride had told him; and when he did the same with this queen, she took him by the hand and led him quietly to her coach, drawn by six horses, which stood in the courtyard; then taking him into it, she ordered the coachman to drive off and away to her country, where the simple Pintosmalto, not knowing what had happened, became her husband.

After Betta had waited awhile, in vain expecting Pintosmalto to return, she sent down into the courtyard to see whether he were speaking with any one there; then she sent up on to the roof, to see if he had gone to take fresh air; but finding him nowhere, she directly imagined that, on account of his great beauty, he had been stolen from her. So she ordered the usual proclamations to be made; but at last, as no tidings of him were brought, she formed the resolution to go all the world over in search of him; and dressing herself as a poor girl, she set out on her way. After some months she came to the house of a good old woman, who received her with great kindness; and when she had heard Betta's misfortune, she took compassion on her, and taught her three sayings: the first was, "Tricche varlacche, the house rains!" the second, "Anola tranola, the fountain plays!" the third, "Scatola matola, the sun shines"—telling her to repeat these words whenever she was in trouble, and they would be of good service to her.

Betta wondered greatly at this present of chaff; nevertheless she said to herself, "He who blows into your mouth[3] does not wish to see you dead, and the plant that strikes root does not wither; everything has its use; who knows what good fortune may be contained in these words?" So saying, she thanked the old woman, and set out upon her way. And after a long journey she came to a beautiful city called Round-Mount, where she went straight to the royal palace, and begged for the love of Heaven a little shelter in the stable. So the ladies of the court ordered a small room to be given her on the stairs; and while poor Betta was sitting there, she saw Pintosmalto pass by, whereat her joy was so great that she was on the point of slipping down from the tree of life. But seeing the trouble she was in, Betta wished to make proof of the first saying which the old woman had told her; and no sooner had she repeated the words, "Tricche varlacche, the house rains," than instantly there appeared before her a beautiful little coach of gold set all over with jewels, which ran about the chamber of itself and was a wonder to behold.

When the ladies of the court saw this sight, they went and told the queen, who without loss of time ran to Betta's chamber; and when she saw the beautiful little coach, she asked her whether she would sell it, and offered to give whatever she might demand. But Betta replied that, although she was poor, she would not sell it for all the gold in the world; but if the queen wished for the little coach, she must allow her to pass one night at the door of her husband's chamber.

The queen was amazed at the folly of the poor girl, who although she was all in rags would nevertheless give up such riches for a mere whim; however she resolved to take the good mouthful offered her, and, by giving Pintosmalto a sleeping-draught, to satisfy the poor girl but pay her in bad coin.

As soon as the Night was come, when the stars in the sky and the glowworms on the earth were to pass in review, the queen gave a sleeping-draught to Pintosmalto, who did everything he was told, and sent him to bed. And no sooner had he thrown himself on the mattress, than he fell as sound asleep as a dormouse. Poor Betta, who thought that night to relate all her past troubles, seeing now that she had no audience, fell to lamenting beyond measure, blaming herself for all that she had done for his sake; and the unhappy girl never closed her mouth, nor did the sleeping Pintosmalto ever open his eyes, until the Sun appeared with the aqua regia of his rays to separate the shades from the light, when the queen came down, and taking Pintosmalto by the hand said to Betta, "Now be content."

"May you have such content all the days of your life!" replied Betta in an under tone; "for I have passed so bad a night that I shall not soon forget it."

The poor girl however could not resist her longing, and resolved to make trial of the second saying: so she repeated the words, "Anola tranola, the fountain plays!" and instantly there appeared a golden cage, with a beautiful bird made of precious stones and gold, which sang like a nightingale. When the ladies saw this, they went and told it to the queen, who wished to see the bird; then she asked the same question as about the little coach, and Betta made the same reply as before; whereupon the queen, who perceived, as she thought, what a silly creature Betta was, promised to grant her request, and took the cage with the bird. And as soon as night came, she gave Pintosmalto a sleeping-draught as before, and sent him to bed. When Betta saw that he slept like a dead person, she began again to wail and lament, saying things that would have moved a flint-stone to compassion; and thus she passed another night, full of trouble, weeping and wailing and tearing her hair. But as soon as it was day, the queen came to fetch her husband, and left poor Betta in grief and sorrow, and biting her hands with vexation at the trick that had been played her.

In the morning, when Pintosmalto went to a garden outside the city-gate to pluck some figs, he met a cobbler, who lived in a room close to where Betta lay, and had not lost a word of all she had said. Then he told Pintosmalto of the weeping, lamentation and crying of the unhappy beggar-girl; and when Pintosmalto, who already began to get a little more sense, heard this, he guessed how matters stood, and resolved that, if the same thing happened again, he would not drink what the queen gave him.

Betta now wished to make the third trial; so she said the words, "Scatola matola, the sun shines!" and instantly there appeared a quantity of stuffs of silk and gold, and embroidered scarfs, with a golden cup; in short the queen herself could not have brought together so many beautiful ornaments. When the ladies saw these things, they told their mistress, who endeavoured to obtain them as she had done the others; but Betta replied as before, that if the queen wished to have them she must let her spend the night at the door of the chamber. Then the queen said to herself, "What can I lose by satisfying this silly girl, in order to get from her these beautiful things?" So taking all the treasures which Betta offered her, as soon as Night appeared, the instrument for the debt contracted with Sleep and Repose being liquidated, she gave the sleeping-draught to Pintosmalto; but this time he did not swallow it, and making an excuse to leave the room, he spat it out again, and then went to bed.

Betta now began to the same tune again, saying how she had kneaded him with her own hands of sugar and almonds, how she had made his hair of gold, and his eyes and mouth of pearls and precious stones, and how he was indebted to her for his life, which the gods had granted to her prayers, and lastly how he had been stolen from her, and she had gone seeking him with such toil and trouble. Then she went on to tell him how she had watched two nights at the door of his room, and, for leave to do so, had given up two treasures, and yet had not been able to hear a single word from him, so that this was the last night of her hopes and the conclusion of her life.

When Pintosmalto, who had remained awake, heard these words, and called to mind as a dream all that had passed, he rose and embraced her; and as Night had just come forth with her black mask to direct the dance of the Stars, he went very quietly, into the chamber of the queen, who was in a deep sleep, and took from her all the things that she had taken from Betta, and all the jewels and money which were in a desk, to repay himself for his past troubles. Then returning to his wife, they set off that very hour, and travelled on and on until they arrived at her father's house, where they found him alive and well; and from the joy of seeing his daughter again he became like a boy of fifteen years. But when the queen found neither husband, nor beggar-girl, nor jewels, she tore her hair and rent her clothes, and called to mind the saying,

 

"He who cheats must not complain if he be cheated."

 

More than one of those present would have given a finger to have had the power of making a husband or a wife at pleasure,—especially the Prince, who would then have seen a paste of sugar at his side, where he now had a mass of poison. But it being Tolla's turn to carry on the game, she did not wait for an execution to make her pay the debt, but spoke as follows.

 

1.       Anglice—'Painted Smalt.'

2.       Pygmalion.

3.       To restore breath to a person.

 

 

 

 

THE GOLDEN ROOT[1].

A person who is over-curious, and wants to know more than he ought, always carries the match in his hand to set fire to the powder-room of his own fortunes; and he who pries into others' affairs is frequently a loser in his own; for generally he who digs holes to search for treasures, comes to a ditch, into which he himself falls; as happened to the daughter of a gardener in the following manner.

There was once a gardener, who was so very very poor that, however hard he worked, he could not manage to get bread for his family: so he gave three little pigs to three daughters whom he had, that they might rear them, and thus get something for a little dowry. Then Pascuzza and Cice, who were the eldest, drove their little pigs to feed in a beautiful meadow, but they would not let Parmetella, who was the youngest daughter, go with them, and drove her away, telling her to go and feed her pig somewhere else. So Parmetella drove her little animal into a wood, where the Shades were holding out against the assaults of the Sun; and coming to a pasture, in the middle of which flowed a fountain, that like the hostess of an inn where cold water is sold, was inviting the passers-by with its silver tongue, she found a certain tree with golden leaves. Then plucking one of them, she took it to her father, who with great joy sold it for more than twenty ducats, which served to stop up a hole in his affairs. And when he asked Parmetella where she had found it, she said, "Take it, sir, and ask no questions, unless you would spoil your good fortune." The next day she returned and did the same, and she went on plucking the leaves from the tree until it was entirely stript, as if it had been plundered by the winds of Autumn. Then she perceived that the tree had a large golden root, which she could not pull up with her hands; so she went home, and fetching an axe set to work to lay bare the root around the foot of the tree; and raising the trunk as well as she could, she found under it a beautiful porphyry staircase.

Parmetella, who was curious beyond measure, went down the stairs, and walking through a large and deep cavern, she came to a beautiful plain, on which was a splendid palace, where nothing but gold and silver were trodden underfoot, and pearls and precious stones everywhere met the eye. And as Parmetella stood wondering at all these splendid things, not seeing any person moving among so many beautiful fixtures, she went into a chamber, in which were a number of pictures; and on them were seen painted various beautiful things, especially the ignorance of a man esteemed wise, the injustice of him who held the scales, and the injuries avenged by Heaven,—things truly to amaze one: and in the same chamber also was a splendid table, set out with things to eat and to drink.

Seeing no one, Parmetella, who was very hungry, sat down at table to eat like a fine count; but while she was in the midst of the feast, behold a handsome slave entered, who said, "Stay! do not go away, for I will have you for my wife, and will make you the happiest woman in the world." In spite of her fear Parmetella took heart at this good offer, and consenting to what the Slave proposed, a coach of diamonds was instantly given her, drawn by four golden steeds, with wings of emeralds and rubies, who carried her flying through the air, to take an airing; and a number of apes clad in cloth-of-gold were given to attend on her person, who forthwith arrayed her from head to foot, and adorned her[2] so that she looked just like a queen.

When night was come, and the Sun, desiring to sleep on the banks of the river of India untroubled by gnats, had put out the light, the Slave said to Parmetella, "My dear, now go to rest in this bed; but remember first to put out the candle, and mind what I say, or ill will betide you." Then Parmetella did as he told her; but no sooner had she closed her eyes, than the blackamoor, changing to a handsome youth, lay down to sleep. But the next morning, ere the Dawn went forth to seek fresh eggs in the fields of the sky, the youth arose and took his other form again, leaving Parmetella full of wonder and curiosity.

And again the following night, when Parmetella went to rest, she put out the candle as she had done the night before, and the youth came as usual and lay down to sleep. But no sooner had he shut his eyes, than Parmetella arose, took a steel which she had provided, and lighting the tinder applied a match: then taking the candle, she raised the coverlet, and beheld the ebony turned to ivory, the caviar to milk and cream, and the coal to chalk. And whilst she stood gazing with open mouth, and contemplating the most beautiful pencilling that Nature had ever given upon the canvas of Wonder, the youth awoke, and began to reproach Parmetella, saying, "Ah, woe is me! for your prying curiosity I have to suffer another seven years this accursed punishment: but begone! run, scamper off, take yourself out of my sight! you know not what good fortune you lose." So saying he vanished like quicksilver.

The poor girl left the palace, cold and stiff with affright, and with her head bowed to the ground; and when she had come out of the cavern she met a fairy, who said to her, "My child, how my heart grieves at your misfortune! Unhappy girl, you are going to the slaughter-house, where you will pass over the bridge no wider than a hair[3]; therefore, to provide against your peril, take these seven spindles, with these seven figs, and a little jar of honey, and these seven pair of iron shoes, and walk on and on without stopping until they are worn out; then you will see seven women standing upon a balcony of a house, and spinning from above down to the ground, with the thread wound upon the bone of a dead person. Remain quite still and hidden, and when the thread comes down, take out the bone and put in its place a spindle besmeared with honey, with a fig in the place of the little button. Then as soon as the women draw up the spindles, and taste the honey, they will say, 'He who has made my spindle sweet, shall in return with good fortune meet!' And after repeating these words, they will say one after another, 'O you who have brought us these sweet things, appear!' Then you must answer, 'Nay, for you will eat me.' And they will say, 'We swear by our spoon that we will not eat you!' But do not stir; and they will continue, 'We swear by our spit that we will not eat you!' But stand firm, as if rooted to the spot; and they will say, 'We swear by our broom that we will not eat you!' Still do not believe them; and when they say, 'We swear by our pail that we will not eat you!' shut your mouth, and say not a word, or it will cost you your life. At last they will say, 'We swear by Thunder-and-Lightning that we will not eat you!' Then take courage and mount up, for they will do you no harm."

When Parmetella heard this, she set off and walked over hill and dale, until at the end of seven years the iron shoes were worn out; and coming to a large house, with a projecting balcony, she saw the seven women spinning. So she did as the fairy had advised her, and after a thousand wiles and allurements, they swore by Thunder-and-Lightning, whereupon she showed herself and mounted up. Then they all seven said to her, "Traitress, you are the cause that our brother has lived twice seven long years in the cavern, far away from us, in the form of a blackamoor! But never mind—although you have been clever enough to stop our throat with the oath, you shall on the first opportunity pay off both the old and the new reckoning. But now hear what you must do: hide yourself behind this trough, and when our mother comes, who would swallow you down at once, rise up and seize her behind her back; hold her fast, and do not let her go until she swears by Thunder-and-Lightning not to harm you."

Parmetella did as she was bid, and after the ogress had sworn by the fireshovel, by the spinning-wheel, by the reel, by the sideboard and by the peg, at last she swore by Thunder-and-Lightning; whereupon Parmetella let go her hold, and showed herself to the ogress, who said, "You have caught me this time; but take care, traitress! for at the first shower I'll send you to the Lava[4]."

One day the ogress, who was on the look-out for an opportunity to devour Parmetella, took twelve sacks of various seeds—peas, chick-peas, lentils, vetches, kidney-beans, beans and lupins—and mixed them all together; then she said to her, "Traitress, take these seeds and sort them all, so that each kind may be separated from the rest; and if they are not all sorted by this evening, I'll swallow you like a penny tart."

Poor Parmetella sat down beside the sacks, weeping, and said, "O mother, mother, how will this golden root prove a root of woes to me! Now is my misery completed; by seeing a black face turned white, all has become black before my eyes. Alas! I am ruined and undone—there is no help for it: I already seem as if I were in the throat of that horrid ogress; there is no one to help me, there is no one to advise me, there is no one to comfort me!"

As she was lamenting thus, lo! Thunder-and-Lightning appeared like a flash, for the banishment laid upon him by the spell had just ended. Although he was angry with Parmetella, yet his blood could not turn to water, and seeing her grieving thus he said to her, "Traitress, what makes you weep so?" Then she told him of his mother's ill-treatment of her, and her wish to make an end of her and eat her up. But Thunder-and-Lightning replied, "Calm yourself and take heart, for it shall not be as she said." And instantly scattering all the seeds on the ground, he made a deluge of ants spring up, who forthwith set to work to heap up all the seeds separately, each kind by itself, and Parmetella filled the sacks with them.

When the ogress came home and found the task done, she was almost in despair, and cried, "That dog Thunder-and-Lightning has played me this trick; but you shall not escape thus! So take these pieces of bed-tick, which are enough for twelve mattresses, and mind that by this evening they are filled with feathers, or else I will make mincemeat of you."

The poor girl took the bed-ticks, and sitting down upon the ground began to weep and lament bitterly, making two fountains of her eyes. But presently Thunder-and-Lightning appeared, and said to her, "Do not weep, traitress,—leave it to me, and I will bring you to port: so let down your hair, spread the bed-ticks upon the ground, and fall to weeping and wailing, and crying out that the king of the birds is dead; then you'll see what will happen."

Parmetella did as she was told, and behold a cloud of birds suddenly appeared that darkened the air; and flapping their wings they let fall their feathers by baskets-full, so that in less than an hour the mattresses were all filled. When the ogress came home and saw the task done, she swelled up with rage till she almost burst, saying, "Thunder-and-Lightning is determined to plague me, but may I be dragged at an ape's tail if I let her escape!" Then she said to Parmetella, "Run quickly to my sister's house, and tell her to send me the musical instruments; for I have resolved that Thunder-and-Lightning shall marry, and we will make a feast fit for a king." At the same time she sent to bid her sister, when the poor girl came to ask for the instruments, instantly to kill and cook her, and she would come and partake of the feast.

Parmetella, hearing herself ordered to perform an easier task, was in great joy, thinking that the weather had begun to grow milder. Alas, how crooked is human judgement! On the way she met Thunder-and-Lightning, who, seeing her walking at a quick pace, said to her, "Whither are you going, wretched girl? see you not that you are on the way to the slaughter, that you are forging your own fetters, and sharpening the knife and mixing the poison for yourself, that you are sent to the ogress for her to swallow you? But listen to me and fear not: take this little loaf, this bundle of hay, and this stone; and when you come to the house of my aunt, you will find a bulldog, which will fly barking at you to bite you; but give him this little loaf, and it will stop his throat. And when you have passed the dog, you will meet a horse running loose, which will run up to kick and trample on you; but give him the hay, and you will clog his feet. At last you will come to a door, banging to and fro continually; put this stone before it, and you will stop its fury. Then mount upstairs, and you will find the ogress, with a little child in her arms, and the oven ready heated to bake you. Whereupon she will say to you, 'Hold this little creature, and wait here till I go and fetch the instruments.' But mind—she will only go to whet her tusks, in order to tear you in pieces. Then throw the little child into the oven without pity, take the instruments which stand behind the door, and hie off before the ogress returns, or else you are lost. The instruments are in a box, but beware of opening it, or you will repent."

Parmetella did all that Thunder-and-Lightning told her; but on her way back with the instruments she opened the box, and lo and behold! they all flew out and about—here a flute, there a flageolet, here a pipe, there a bagpipe, making a thousand different sounds in the air, whilst Parmetella stood looking on and tearing her hair in despair.

Meanwhile the ogress came downstairs, and not finding Parmetella, she went to the window, and called out to the door, "Crush that traitress!" But the door answered, "I will not use the poor girl ill, for she has made me at last stand still." Then the ogress cried out to the horse, "Trample on the thief!" But the horse replied, "Let the poor girl go her way, for she has given me the hay." And lastly the ogress called to the dog, saying, "Bite the rogue!" But the dog answered, "I'll not hurt a hair of her head, for she it was who gave me the bread."

Now as Parmetella ran crying after the instruments, she met Thunder-and-Lightning, who scolded her well, saying, "Traitress, will you not learn at your cost that by your fatal curiosity you are brought to this plight?" Then he called back the instruments with a whistle, and shut them up again in the box, telling Parmetella to take them to his mother. But when the ogress saw her, she cried aloud, "O cruel fate! even my sister is against me, and refuses to give me this pleasure."

Meanwhile the new bride arrived—a hideous pest, a compound of ugliness, a harpy, an evil shade, a horror, a monster, a large tub, who with a hundred flowers and boughs about her looked like a newly opened inn. Then the ogress made a great banquet for her; and being full of gall and malice, she had the table placed close to a well, where she seated her seven daughters, each with a torch in one hand; but she gave two torches to Parmetella, and made her sit at the edge of the well, on purpose that, when she fell asleep, she might tumble to the bottom.

Now whilst the dishes were passing to and fro, and their blood began to get warm, Thunder-and-Lightning, who turned quite sick at the sight of the new bride, said to Parmetella, "Traitress, do you love me?" "Ay, to the top of the roof," she replied. And he answered, "If you love me, give me a kiss.” "Nay," said Parmetella, "you indeed, who have such a pretty creature at your side! Heaven preserve her to you a hundred years in health and with plenty of sons[5]!" Then the new bride answered, "It is very clear that you are a simpleton, and would remain so were you to live a hundred years, acting the prude as you do, and refusing to kiss so handsome a youth, whilst I let a herdsman kiss me for a couple of chestnuts."

At these words the bridegroom swelled with rage like a toad, so that his food remained sticking in his throat; however he put a good face on the matter, and swallowed the pill, intending to make the reckoning and settle the balance afterwards. But when the tables were removed, and the ogress and his sisters had gone away, Thunder-and-Lightning said to the new bride, "Wife, did you see this proud creature refuse me a kiss?" "She was a simpleton," replied the bride, "to refuse a kiss to such a handsome young man, whilst I let a herdsman kiss me for a couple of chestnuts."

Thunder-and-Lightning could contain himself no longer; the mustard got up into his nose, and with the flash of scorn and the thunder of action, he seized a knife and stabbed the bride, and digging a hole in the cellar he buried her. Then embracing Parmetella he said to her, "You are my jewel, the flower of women, the mirror of honour! Then turn those eyes upon me, give me that hand, put out those lips, draw near to me, my heart! for I will be yours as long as the world lasts."

The next morning, when the Sun aroused his fiery steeds from their watery stable, and drove them to pasture on the fields sown by the Dawn, the ogress came with fresh eggs for the newly-married couple, that the young wife might be able to say, "Happy is she who marries and gets a mother-in-law!" But finding Parmetella in the arms of her son, and hearing what had passed, she ran to her sister, to concert some means of removing this thorn from her eyes without her son's being able to prevent it. But when she found that her sister, out of grief at the loss of her daughter, had crept into the oven herself and was burnt, her despair was so great, that from an ogress she became a ram, and butted her head against the wall until she broke her pate. Then Thunder-and-Lightning made peace between Parmetella and her sisters-in-law, and they all lived happy and content, finding the saying come true, that

 

"Patience conquers all."

 

The fate of the ogress, instead of exciting any compassion, was only the cause of pleasure, every one rejoicing that matters turned out with Parmetella much better than was expected. This story being ended, Popa, whose turn it now was to speak, and who had her foot already in the stirrup, began as follows.

 

1.       Lo Turzo d'Oro—'the Trunk of Gold'—here, the part of the trunk where the roots begin.

2.       La mesero nforma de ragno. Literally, 'put her in spider-form.'

3.       Perhaps alluding to the bridge in the Koran.—L.

4.       An impetuous watercourse in Naples in the Strada della Vergine.

5.       A common salutation in Naples—"Sanitate e figlie mascole!"