SECOND DAY
The Dawn had gone forth to grease the wheels of the Sun's chariot, and, with the fatigue of stirring the fat into the wheelbox with a stick, had grown as red as a rosy apple, when Taddeo, after stretching his limbs, called the Slave; and dressing themselves in a few seconds, they went down into the garden, where they found the ten women already arrived. Then, after gathering for each of them some fresh figs, which with their beggar's jacket, gallows heads and ladies' tear-drops,[1] made every one's mouth water, they began a thousand sports to cheat the time until the banquet was ready; among which they did not omit either 'Anca Nicola,' or 'Hopscotch,' or 'Look-ye, wife,' or 'Hide and seek,' or 'Comrade I'm wounded,' or 'Proclamation and command,' or 'Welcome, master,' or 'Rentinola my Rentinola,' or 'Close the cask,' or 'Jump a yard,' or 'Stone in the bosom,' or 'Sca-fish,' or 'Angel,' or 'Anola tranola,' or 'King Macebearer,' or 'Blind cat,'[2] or 'The lamp to the lamp,' or 'Draw my curtain,' or 'Long-beam,' or 'Hen and chickens,' or 'The old man is not come,' or 'Leap-frog,' or 'Ride a cheriy-stone,' or 'Mannikin leap!' or 'The Robbers,' or 'Come hither, come hither,' or 'Who has the needle and thread?' or 'Bird, bird, an iron handle,' or 'Wine or vinegar,' or Open, open the door for poor Gosshawk!'[3]
But the time being at length come for the feast, they all seated themselves at table; and when they had eaten their fill, the Prince bade Zeza bear herself like a brave woman and begin her story; whereupon Zeza, who had her head so full of stories that they overflowed from her lips, calling them over one by one, selected as the best that which I will now tell you.
1. Depicting a ripe fig, with a cracked skin, a bent stalk, and drops of juice upon it.
2. Blindman's Buff'?
3. i.e. 'Frog in the middle'?—The Neapolitan names for these games, and remarks on them, I shall probably give in the Notes to this volume.
PETROSINELLA.[1]
So great is my desire to keep the Princess amused, that the whole of the past night, when all were sound asleep and nobody stirred hand or foot, I have done nothing but turn over the old papers of my brain, and ransack all the closets of my memory, choosing from among the stories which that good soul Mistress Chiarella Usciolo, my uncle's grandmother (whom Heaven take to glory!) used to tell, such as seemed most fitting to relate to you; and unless I have put on my spectacles upside down, I fancy they will give you pleasure; or, should they not serve, as armed squadrons, to drive away tedium from your mind, they will at least be as trumpets to incite my companions here to go forth to the field, with greater power than my poor strength possesses, to supply by the abundance of their wit the deficiencies of my discourse.
There was once upon a time a woman named Pascadozzia, who was in the family way; and as she was standing one day at a window, which looked into the garden of an ogress, she saw a beautiful bed of parsley, for which she took such a longing that she was on the point of fainting away; and being unable to resist her desire, she watched until the ogress went out, and then plucked a handful of it. But when the ogress came home, and was going to cook her pottage, she found that some one had been at the parsley, and said, "Ill luck to me but I'll catch this long-fingered rogue,[2] and make him repent it, and teach him to his cost that every one should eat off his own platter, and not meddle with other folks' cups."
The poor woman went again and again down into the garden, until one morning the ogress met her, and in a furious rage exclaimed, "Have I caught you at last, you thief, you rogue! prithee do you pay the rent of the garden, that you come in this impudent way and steal my plants? by my faith, but I'll make you do penance without sending you to Rome!"
Poor Pascadozzia, in a terrible fright, began to make excuses, saying that neither from gluttony nor the craving of hunger had she been tempted by the devil to commit this fault, but from her being pregnant, and the fear she had lest the child should be born with a crop of parsley on its face; and she added that the ogress ought rather to thank her, for not having given her sore eyes.[3]
"Words are but wind," answered the ogress; "I am not to be caught with such prattle; you have closed the balance-sheet of life, unless you promise to give me the child you bring forth, girl or boy, whichever it may be."
Poor Pascadozzia, in order to escape the peril in which she found herself, swore with one hand upon another[4] to keep the promise: so the ogress let her go free. But when her time was come, Pascadozzia gave birth to a little girl, so beautiful that she was a joy to look upon, who, from having a fine sprig of parsley on her bosom, was named Petrosinella. And the little girl grew from day to day, until when she was seven years old her mother sent her to school; and every time she went along the street and met the ogress, the old woman said to her, "Tell your mother to remember her promise." And she went on repeating this message so often, that the poor mother, having no longer patience to listen to the music, said one day to Petrosinella, "If you meet the old woman as usual, and she reminds you of the hateful promise, answer her, "Take it!"
When Petrosinella, who dreamt of no ill, met the ogress again, and heard her repeat the same words, she answered innocently as her mother had told her; whereupon the ogress, seizing her by her hair, carried her off to a wood, which the horses of the Sun never entered, not having paid the toll to the pastures of those Shades. Then she put the poor girl into a tower, which she caused to arise by her art, and which had neither gate nor ladder, but only a little window, through which she ascended and descended by means of Petrosinella's hair, which was very long, as the sailor is used to run up and down the mast of a ship.
Now it happened one day, when the ogress had left the tower, that Petrosinella put her head out of the little window, and let loose her tresses in the sun; and the son of a prince passing by saw those two golden banners, which invited all souls to enlist under the standard of Love; and beholding with amazement in the midst of those gleaming waves a siren's face, that enchanted all hearts, he fell desperately in love with such wonderful beauty; and sending her a memorial of sighs, she decreed to receive him into favour. Matters went on so well with the prince, that there was soon a nodding of heads and a kissing of hands, a winking of eyes and bowing, thanks and offerings, hopes and promises, soft words and compliments. And when this had continued for several days, Petrosinella and the prince became so intimate that they made an appointment to meet, and agreed that it should be at night, when the Moon plays at hide-and-seek[5] with the Stars; and that Petrosinella should give the ogress some poppy-juice, and draw up the prince with her tresses. So when the appointed hour came, the prince went to the tower, where Petrosinella, letting fall her hair at a given signal, he seized it with both his hands, and cried, "Draw up!" And when he was drawn up, he crept through the little window into the chamber.
The next morning, before the Sun taught his steeds to leap through the hoop of the Zodiac, the prince descended by the same golden ladder, to go his way home. And having repeated these visits many times, a gossip of the ogress, who was for ever prying into things that did not concern her, and poking her nose into every corner, got to find out the secret, and told the ogress to be upon the look-out, for that Petrosinella made love with a certain youth, and she suspected that matters would go further; adding, that she saw what was going on, and feared they would be off and away before May.[6] The ogress thanked her gossip for the information, and said she would take good care to stop up the road; and as to Petrosinella, it was moreover impossible for her to escape, as she had laid a spell upon her, so that, unless she had in her hand the three gallnuts which were in a rafter in the kitchen, it would be labour lost to attempt to get away.
Whilst they were talking thus together, Petrosinella, who stood with her ears wide open, and had some suspicion of the gossip, overheard all that passed. And when Night had spread out her black garments to keep them from the moth, and the prince had come as usual, she made him climb on to the rafters and find the gallnuts, knowing well what effect they would have, as she had been enchanted by the ogress. Then, having made a rope-ladder, they both descended to the ground, took to their heels, and scampered off towards the city. But the gossip happening to see them come out, set up a loud halloo, and began to shout and make such a noise that the ogress awoke; and seeing that Petrosinella had fled, she descended by the same ladder, which was fastened to the window, and set off running after the lovers, who, when they saw her coming at their heels faster than a horse let loose, gave themselves up for lost. But Petrosinella, recollecting the gallnuts, quickly threw one on the ground, and lo! instantly a Corsican bulldog started up,—O mother, such a terrible beast!—which with open jaws and barking loud flew at the ogress as if to swallow her at a mouthful. But the old woman, who was more cunning and spiteful than the devil, put her hand into her pocket, and pulling out a piece of bread, gave it to the dog, which made him hang his tail and allay his fury. Then she turned to run after the fugitives again; but Petrosinella, seeing her approach, threw the second gallnut on the ground, and lo! a fierce lion arose, who, lashing the earth with his tail, and shaking his mane, and opening wide his jaws a yard apart, was just preparing to make a slaughter of the ogress; when, turning quickly back, she stripped the skin off an ass that was grazing in the middle of a meadow, and ran at the lion, who, fancying it a real jackass, was so frightened that he bounded away as fast as he could.
The ogress, having leaped over this second ditch, turned again to pursue the poor lovers, who, hearing the clatter of her heels and seeing the cloud of dust that rose up to the sky, conjectured that she was coming again. But the old woman, who was every moment in dread lest the lion should pursue her, had not taken off the ass's skin; and when Petrosinella now threw down the third gallnut, there sprang up a wolf, who, without giving the ogress time to play any new trick, gobbled her up just as she was, in the shape of a jackass. So the lovers, being now freed from danger, went their way leisurely and quietly to the kingdom of the prince, where, with his father's free consent, he took Petrosinella to wife; and thus, after all these storms of fate, they experienced the truth, that
"One hour in port, the sailor freed from fears
Forgets the tempests of a hundred years."
Zeza's story was listened to with such delight to the end, that, had it even continued for an hour longer, the time would have appeared only a moment. But it now being Cecca's turn, she began as follow.
1. Parsley.
2. Literally—'the handle of this hook.'
3. It is the common belief in Naples, that if a person leaves any wish which a pregnant woman expresses ungratified, this disease of the eyes (agliarulo) is the punishment.
4. Making the sign of the cross. The Irish cross their fingers in the same way.
5. Passara muta—a Neapolitan game, in which the children follow one another slowly in a line.
6. In Naples removals invariably take place in May.
THE THREE SISTERS.[1]
It is a great truth, if we make the saying good, that from the same wood are formed the statues of idols and the rafters of the gallows, kings' thrones and cobblers’ stalls; and another strange thing is, that from the same rags is made the paper on which the wisdom of sages is recorded, and the crown which is placed on the head of a fool,—a thing that would puzzle the cleverest astrologer in the world. The same too may be said of a mother, who brings forth one good daughter and another bad, one an idle hussy, another a good housewife; one fair, another ugly; one spiteful, another kind; one unfortunate, another born to good luck,—who, all being of one family, ought to be of one nature. But leaving this subject to those who know more about it, I will merely give you an example of what I have said, in the story of three daughters of one and the same mother, wherein you will see the difference of manners, which brought the wicked daughters into a ditch, and the good daughter to the top of the wheel of fortune.
There was one time a woman who had three daughters, two of whom were so unlucky that nothing ever succeeded with them; all their projects went wrong, all their hopes were turned to chaff. But the youngest, who was named Nella, was born to good luck, and I verily believe that at her birth all things conspired to bestow on her the best and choicest gifts in their power: the Sky gave her the perfection of its light, Venus a matchless beauty of form, Love the first dart of his power, Nature the flower of manners. She never set about any work, that it did not go off to a nicety; she never took anything in hand, that it did not succeed to a hair; she never stood up to dance, that she did not sit down with applause. On which account she was envied by her jealous sisters, and yet not so much as she was loved and wished well to by all others; and greatly as her sisters desired to put her underground, still much more did other folks carry her on the palms of their hands.
Now there was in that country an enchanted prince, who sailed along the sea of her beauty, and flung out the hook of amorous servitude to this beautiful goldfish, until at length he caught her by the gills of affection and made her his own. And in order that they might enjoy one another's company without exciting the suspicion of the mother, who was a wicked woman, the prince made a crystal passage, which led from the royal palace directly into Nella's apartment, although it was eight miles distant; and giving her a certain powder, he said, "Every time you wish to feed me, like a sparrow, with a sight of your charming beauty, throw a little of this powder into the fire, and instantly I will come through the passage as quick as a bird, running along a crystal road to gaze upon this face of silver."
Having arranged it thus, not a night passed that the prince did not go in and out, backwards and forwards, along the crystal passage; until at last the sisters, who were spying the actions of Nella, found out the secret, and laid a plan to put a stop to the sport. And in order to cut the thread at once, they went and broke the passage here and there; so that when the unhappy girl threw the powder into the fire, to give the signal to her lover, the prince, who used always to come running in furious haste, hurt himself in such a manner against the broken crystal that it was truly a pitiable sight to see. And being unable to pass further on, he turned back, all cut and slashed like a Dutchman's breeches. Then he laid himself in his bed, and sent for all the doctors in the town; but as the crystal was enchanted, the wounds were mortal, and no human remedy availed. When the king saw this, despairing of his son's condition, he sent out a proclamation, that whoever would cure the wounds of the prince,—if a woman, she should have him for her husband,—if a man, he should have half his kingdom.
Now when Nella, who was pining away for the loss of the prince, heard this, she dyed her face, and disguised herself, and unknown to her sisters she left home, to go and see him before his death. But as by this time the Sun's gilded balls, with which he plays in the fields of Heaven, were running towards the west, night overtook her in a wood, close to the house of an ogre, where, in order to get out of the way of danger, she climbed up into a tree. Meanwhile the ogre and his wife were sitting at table, with the windows open, in order to enjoy the fresh air while they ate; and as soon as they had emptied their cups, and put out the lamps, they began to chat of one thing and another; so that Nella, who was as near to them as the mouth to the nose, heard every word they spoke.
Among other things, the ogress said to her husband, "My pretty Hairy-hide, tell me, what news? what do they say abroad in the world?" And he answered, "Trust me there's not a hand's-breadth clean; everything is going topsy-turvy and awry."—"But what is it?" replied his wife.—"Why, I could tell pretty stories of all the confusion that is going on," said the ogre; "for one hears things that are enough to drive one mad, such as buffoons rewarded with gifts, rogues esteemed, cowards honoured, robbers and assassins protected, and honest men little thought of and less prized. But as these things are enough to make one burst with vexation, I will merely tell you what has befallen the king's son. He had made a crystal path, along which he used to go to visit a pretty lass; but by some means or other, I know not how, all the road has been broken; and as he was going along the passage as usual he has wounded himself in such a manner, that before he can stop the leak the whole conduit of his life will run out. The king has indeed issued a proclamation, with great promises to whoever cures his son; but it is all labour lost, and the best thing he can do is quickly to get ready mourning and prepare the funeral."
When Nella heard the cause of the prince's illness, she sobbed and wept bitterly, and said to herself, "Who is the wicked soul that has broken the passage along which my painted bird used to pass, so that the channel through which my spirits run may break?" But as the ogress now went on speaking, Nella was as silent as a mouse and listened.
"And is it possible," said the ogress, "that the world is lost to this poor prince, and that no remedy can be found for his malady? Bid physic then creep into the oven—bid the doctors put a halter round their necks—bid Galen and Mesue[2] return the money to their pupils, since they cannot find any effectual recipe to restore health to the prince."
"Hark-ye, Granny," replied the ogre, "the doctors are not called upon to find remedies that may pass the bounds of nature. This is no common cholic that an oil-bath might remove; it is not a boil to be cured with fig-poultices, nor a fever that will yield to medicine and diet; much less are these ordinary wounds which require pledgets of lint and oil of hypericon; for the charm that was on the broken glass produces the same effect as onion-juice does on the iron heads of arrows, which makes the wound incurable. There is one thing only that could save his life; but don't ask me to tell it you, for it is a thing of importance." "Do tell me, dear old Long-tusk!" cried the ogress; "tell me, if you would not see me die." "Well then," said the ogre, "I will tell you, provided you promise me not to confide it to any living soul; for it would be the ruin of our house and the destruction of our lives." "Fear nothing, my dear sweet little husband," replied the ogress; "for you shall sooner see pigs with horns, apes with tails, moles with eyes, than a single word shall pass my lips." And so saying she put one hand upon the other and swore to it. "You must know then," said the ogre, "that there is nothing under the sky nor above the ground that can save the prince from the snares of death but our fat: if his wounds are anointed with this, his soul will be arrested which is just on the point of leaving the dwelling of his body."
Nella, who overheard all that passed, gave time to Time, to let them finish their chat; and then getting down from the tree, and taking heart, she knocked at the ogre's door, crying, "Ah! my good ogrish masters, I pray you for charity, alms, some sign of compassion! have a little pity on a poor, miserable, wretched creature, who is banished by fate far from her own country and deprived of all human aid, who has been overtaken by night in this wood and is dying of cold and hunger." And crying thus, she went on knocking and knocking at the door.
Upon hearing this deafening noise, the ogress was going to throw her half a loaf and send her away; but the ogre, who was more greedy of christian flesh than the squirrel is of nuts, the bear of honey, the cat of fish, the sheep of salt, or the ass of bran, said to his wife, "Let the poor creature come in; for if she sleeps in the fields, who knows but she may be eaten up by some wolf." In short he talked and talked so much that his wife at length opened the door for Nella; whilst, with all his pretended charity, he was all the time reckoning on making four mouthfuls of her. But the glutton counts one way and the host another; for the ogre and his wife having drunk till they were fairly tipsy and lain down to sleep, Nella took a knife from a cupboard and made a hash of them in a trice; then she put all the fat into a phial, and went straight to the court, where presenting herself before the king she offered to cure the prince. At this the king was overjoyed, and led her to the chamber of his son; and no sooner had she anointed him well with the fat, than the wound closed in a moment, just as if she had thrown water on a fire, and he became as sound as a fish.
When the king saw this, he said to his son, "This good woman deserves the reward promised by the proclamation, and that you should take her to wife." But the prince replied, "It is hopeless, for I have no storeroom full of hearts in my body to share among so many; my heart is already disposed of, and another woman is the mistress of it." Nella, hearing this, replied, "You should no longer think of her who has been the cause of all your misfortune."—"My misfortune has been brought on me by her sisters," answered the prince, "and they shall repent it."—"Then do you really love her?" said Nella: and the prince replied, "More than my own life." "Embrace me then," said Nella, "for I am the fire of your heart." But the prince, seeing the dark hue of her face, answered, "I should sooner take you for the coal than the fire; so keep off—don't blacken me." Whereupon Nella, perceiving that he did not know her, called for a basin of clean water and washed her face; and as soon as the cloud of soot was removed, the sun shone forth; and the prince recognizing her, pressed her to his heart like a polype, and took her for his wife. Then he had her sisters thrown into an oven, that like leeches they might discharge in the ashes their blood, that was corrupted by envy, thus proving the truth of the old saying,
"No evil ever went without punishment."
This story went to the hearts of all who heard it, and they praised the prince a thousand times for his conduct to Nella's sisters, and his taking the measure of their jacket; while they lauded to the stars the deep love of the maiden, who had with such pains cured the prince's wounds. But Taddeo, making a sign for all to be silent, now commanded Meneca to do her part, and she consequently paid the debt in the following manner.
1. The title of this story is "Verde Prato,"—Green Meadow; but as this name seems to have no connection with the story, I have changed it.
2. There were two famous physicians of this name; one physician to the Khalif Haroun al Raschid in the ninth century; the other lived at Cahira in the eleventh century.—L.
VIOLET.
Envy is a wind which blows with such violence, that it throws down the props of the reputation of good men, and levels with the ground the crops of good fortune. But very often, as a punishment from Heaven, when this envious blast seems as if it would cast a person flat on the ground, it aids him instead to attain the happiness he is expecting sooner even than he hoped; as you will hear in the story which I shall now tell you.
There was once upon a time a good kind of man named Cola Aniello, who had three daughters, Rose, Pink and Violet; the last of whom was so beautiful that her very look was a syrup of love, which relieved the hearts of beholders of all uneasiness. Ciullone, the king's son, was burning with love of her, and every time he passed by the little cottage where these three sisters sat at work, he took off his cap and said, "Good day, good day, Violet!" and she replied, "Good day, king's son! I know more than you." At these words her sisters grumbled and murmured, saying, "You are an ill-bred creature, and will make the prince in a fine rage!" But as Violet paid no heed to what they said, they made a spiteful complaint of her to their father, telling him that she was too bold and forward, and that she answered the prince without any respect, as if she were just as good as he, and that some day or other she would get into trouble, and suffer the just punishment of her offence. So Cola Aniello, who was a prudent man, in order to prevent any mischief, sent Violet to stay with an aunt named Cuccepannella, to be set to work.
Now the prince, when he passed by the house as usual, no longer seeing the object of his love, was for some days like a nightingale that does not find her young ones in the nest, and goes from leaf to leaf wailing and lamenting her loss; but he put his ear so often to the chink, that at last he discovered where Violet lived. Then he went to the aunt, and said to her, "Madam, you know who I am, and what power I have; so, between ourselves, do me a favour, and then ask me for whatever you wish." "If I can do anything to serve you," replied the old woman, "I am entirely at your command." "I ask nothing of you," said the prince, "but to let me give Violet a kiss." "If that's all," answered the old woman, "go and hide yourself in the room downstairs in the garden, and I will find some pretence or another for sending Violet to you."
As soon as the prince heard this, he stole into the room without loss of time, and the old woman, pretending that she wanted to cut a piece of cloth, said to her niece, "Violet, if you love me, go down and fetch me the yard-measure." So Violet went, as her aunt bade her; but when she came to the room, she perceived the ambush, and taking the yard-measure she slipped out of the room as nimbly as a cat, leaving the prince with his nose lengthened out of pure shame and bursting with vexation.
When the old woman saw Violet come running so fast, she suspected that the trick had not succeeded; so presently after she said to the girl, "Go downstairs, niece, and fetch me the ball of Brescian thread that is on the top shelf in the cupboard." So Violet ran, and taking the thread slipped like an eel out of the hands of the prince. But after a little while the old woman said again, "Violet, my dear, if you do not go downstairs and fetch me the scissors, I am totally undone." Then Violet went down again, but she sprang as vigorously as a dog out of the trap; and when she came upstairs, she took the scissors and cut off one of her aunt's ears, saying, "Take that, madam, as a reward for your pains—every deed deserves its meed; and if I don't cut off your nose, it is only that you may smell the bad odour of your reputation." So saying she went her way home with a hop, skip and jump, leaving her aunt eased of her car, and the prince full of Let-me-alone.
Not long afterwards the prince again passed by the house of Violet's father, and seeing her at the window where she was used to stand, he began to his old tune, "Good day, good day, Violet!" whereupon she answered as quickly as a good parish-clerk[1], "Good day, king's son! I know more than you." But Violet's sisters could no longer bear this behaviour, and they plotted together how to get rid of her. Now one of the windows looked into the garden of an ogre; so they proposed to drive the poor girl away through this; and letting fall from it a skein of thread, with which they were working a door-curtain for the queen, they cried, "Alas, alas! we are ruined and undone, and shall not be able to finish the work in time, if Violet, who is the smallest and lightest of us, does not let herself down by a cord and pick up the thread that has fallen."
Violet could not bear to see her sisters grieving thus, and instantly offered to go down; so tying a cord to her, they lowered her into the garden; but no sooner did she reach the ground, than they let go the rope. It happened that just at that time the ogre came out to take a look at his garden; and having caught cold from the dampness of the ground, he gave such a tremendous sneeze, with such a noise and explosion, that Violet screamed out with terror, "O mother, help me!" Thereupon the ogre turned round, and seeing the beautiful maiden behind him, he received her with the greatest kindness and affection; and treating her as his own daughter, he gave her in charge to three fairies, bidding them take care of her, and rear her up on cherries.
The prince, no longer seeing Violet, and hearing no news of her, good or bad, fell into such grief, that his eyes became swollen like a bladder, his face grew pale as ashes, his lips livid, and he neither ate a morsel to get flesh on his body, nor slept a wink to get any rest to his mind. But trying all possible means, and offering large rewards, he went about spying and inquiring everywhere, until at last he discovered where Violet was. Then he sent for the ogre, and told him that, finding himself ill (as he might see was the case), he begged of him permission to spend a single day and night in his garden, adding that a small chamber would suffice for him to repose in. Now, as the ogre was a subject of the prince's father, he could not refuse him this trifling pleasure; so he offered him all the rooms in his house, if one was not enough, and his very life itself. The prince thanked him, and chose a room which by good luck was near to Violet's; and as soon as Night came out to play at 'Stretch-my-curtain'[2] with the Stars, the prince, finding that Violet had left her door open, as it was summer-time and the place was safe, stole softly into the room, and taking Violet's arm he gave her two pinches. Thereupon she awoke, and exclaimed, "O father, father, what a quantity of fleas!" Then she went to another bed, and the prince did the same again, and Violet cried out in the same way; then she changed first the mattress, and afterwards the sheet, and so the sport went on the whole night long, until the Dawn, having brought news that the Sun was alive, the mourning that was hung around the sky was all removed.
As soon as it was day, the prince passing by that house, and seeing the maiden at the door, said as he was wont to do, "Good day, good day, Violet!" and when Violet replied, "Good day, king’s son! I know more than you," the prince answered, "O father, father, what a quantity of fleas!"
The instant Violet felt this shot, she guessed at once that the prince had been the cause of her annoyance in the past night; so off she ran and told it to the fairies. "If it be he," said the fairies, "we will soon give him tit for tat and as good in return; and if this dog has bitten you, we will contrive to get a hair from him: he has given you one, and we will give him back one and a half. Only get the ogre to make you a pair of slippers covered with little bells, and leave the rest to us: we will take care to pay him in good coin."
Violet, who was eager to be revenged, instantly got the ogre to make the slippers for her; and waiting until the Sky, like a Genoese woman, had wrapped the black taffety about her face, they went all four together to the house of the prince, where the fairies and Violet hid themselves in the chamber. And as soon as ever the prince had closed his eyes, the fairies made a great noise and racket, and Violet began to stamp with her feet at such a rate that, what with the clatter of her heels and the jingling of the bells, the prince awoke in great terror and cried out, "O mother, mother, help me!" And after repeating this two or three times, they slipped away home.
The next morning the prince, having taken some citron-juice and other cordials to relieve his fear, went to take a walk in the garden; for he could not live a moment without the sight of Violet, who was a pink of pinks. And seeing her standing at the door, he said, "Good day, good day, Violet!" and Violet answered, "Good day, king's son! I know more than you." Then the prince said, "O father, father, what a quantity of fleas!" but Violet replied, "O mother, mother, help me!"
When the prince heard this, he said to Violet, "You have won—you have outwitted me: I yield—you have conquered; and now that I see you really know more than I do, I will marry you without further ado." So he called the ogre, and asked her of him for his wife; but the ogre said it was not his affair, for he had learnt that very morning that Violet was the daughter of Cola Aniello. So the prince ordered her father to be called, and told him of the good fortune that was in store for his daughter; whereupon the marriage feast was celebrated with great joy, and the truth of the saying was seen, that
"A fair maiden soon gets married."
The delight is unspeakable which all felt at the good fortune which Violet had obtained by her cleverness, in spite of the malice of her sisters, who, the enemies of their own blood and kindred, played her so many tricks on purpose to make her break her neck. But it being now time for Paola to pay the debt she owed, she disbursed from her mouth the golden money of her beautiful discourse, and thus cleared her account.
1. Da buono Jacono—'like a good deacon.' Occasionally (but rarely) I substitute a purely English allusion, as in this instance, where it best translates the point or meaning of the original,—departing from the letter, to retain the sense.
2. A Neapolitan game.
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