Monday's Illustrated Word: "The Monsters Strike!" by Unknown Writer (in English)

  art by Charlie Sultan - Adventures into the Unnown #33 - American Comics Group,  July 1952. 

 

 

 

Friday's Sung Word: "Estátua da Paciência" by Noel Rosa e Jerônimo Cabral (in Portuguese)

Seu telegrama diz:
"Regressarei brevemente"
Mas o seu trem fatalmente
Chegar não quis

Não entendi por que
O trem não traz pra cidade
A minha felicidade
Que é você

A quem acabar com a raça dos trens
Além dos meus parabéns
Eu darei como prêmio de consolação
O relógio e o prédio da estação

Eu sou na estação
A estátua da paciência
E acabei sendo agência
De informação

Sei os itinerários
Já decorei os horários
O nome dos maquinistas
E dos foguistas

Seu telegrama diz:
"Regressarei brevemente"
Mas o seu trem fatalmente
Chegar não quis

Não entendi, querida,
Porque seu trem não regressa
Amenizando depressa
A minha vida.

 

 You can listen "Estátua da Paciência" sung by Caola here.

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) - II

 DAY ONE

 

 

THE MYRTLE.

There lived in the village of Miano a man and his wife, who had no children whatever, and they longed with the greatest eagerness to have an heir. The woman, above all, was for ever saying, "O heavens! if I could but bring something into the world—I should not care, were it even a sprig of myrtle." And she repeated this song so often, and so wearied Heaven with these words, that at last her wish was granted; and at the end of nine months, instead of a little boy or girl, she placed in the hands of the midwife a fine sprig of myrtle. This she planted with great delight in a pot, ornamented with ever so many beautiful figures, and set it in the window, tending it morning and evening with more diligence than the gardener does a bed of cabbages, from which he reckons to pay the rent of his garden.

Now the king's son happening to pass by, as he was going to hunt, took a prodigious fancy to this beautiful plant, and sent to ask the mistress of the house if she would sell it, for he would give even one of his eyes for it. The woman at last, after a thousand difficulties and refusals, allured by his offers, dazzled by his promises, frightened by his threats, overcome by his prayers, gave him the pot, beseeching him to hold it dear, for she loved it more than a daughter, and valued it as much as if it were her own offspring. Then the prince had the flowerpot carried with the greatest care in the world into his own chamber, and placed it in a balcony, and tended and watered it with his own hand.

It happened one evening, when the prince had gone to bed, and had put out the candles, and all were at rest and in their first sleep, that he heard the sound of some one stealing through the house, and coming cautiously towards his bed; whereat he thought it must be some chamber-boy coming to lighten his purse for him, or some Monaciello[1] to pull the bed-clothes off him. But as he was a bold fellow, whom even the ugly devil himself could not frighten, he acted the dead cat, waiting to see the upshot of the affair. When he perceived the object approach nearer, and stretching out his hand felt something smooth, and instead of laying hold, as he expected, on the prickles of a hedgehog, he touched a little creature more soft and fine than Barbary wool, more pliant and tender than a marten's tail, more delicate than thistle-down, he flew from one thought to another, and taking her to be a fairy (as indeed she was), he conceived at once a great affection for her. The next morning, before the Sun, like a chief physician, went out to visit the flowers that are sick and languid, the unknown fair one arose and disappeared, leaving the prince filled with curiosity and wonder.

But when this had gone on for seven days, he was burning and melting with desire to know what good fortune this was that the stars had showered down on him, and what ship freighted with the graces of Love it was that had come to its moorings in his chamber. So one night, when the fair maiden was fast asleep, he tied one of her tresses to his arm, that she might not escape; then he called a chamberlain, and bidding him light the candles, he saw the flower of beauty, the miracle of women, the looking-glass and painted egg[2] of Venus, the fair bait of Love, he saw a little doll, a beautiful dove, a Fata Morgana, a banner,—he saw a golden trinket, a hunter, a falcon's eye, a moon in her fifteenth day, a pigeon's bill, a morsel for a king, a jewel,—he saw, in short, a sight to amaze one.

In astonishment he cried, "Away with you, O Cyprian goddess! go, Helen, and put a rope about your neck! back with you to Criosa, O Fiorella! for all your beauties are not worth an old shoe in comparison with this beauty with two suns, this paragon of loveliness, this perfect beauty, in which is no blemish, no mole-spot. O sleep, sweet sleep! heap poppies on the eyes of this lovely jewel; interrupt not my delight in viewing as long as I desire this triumph of beauty. O lovely tress that binds me! O lovely eyes that inflame me! O lovely lips that refresh me! O lovely bosom that consoles me! Oh where, at what shop of the wonders of Nature, was this living statue made? what India gave the gold for these hairs? what Ethiopia the ivory to form these brows? what seashore the carbuncles that compose these eyes? what Tyre the purple to die this face? what East the pearls to string these teeth? and from what mountains was the snow taken to sprinkle over this bosom?—snow contrary to nature, that nurtures the flowers and burns hearts."

So saying he made a vine of his arms, and clasping her neck, she awoke from her sleep and replied, with a gentle smile, to the sigh of the enamoured prince; who, seeing her open her eyes, said, "O my treasure, if viewing without candles this temple of love I was in transports, what will become of my life now that you have lighted two lamps? O beauteous eyes, that with a trump-card of light make the stars bankrupt, you alone have pierced this heart, you alone can make a poultice for it like fresh eggs! O my lovely physician, take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love; who, having changed the air from the darkness of night to the light of this beauty, is seized by a fever; lay your hand on this heart, feel my pulse, give me a prescription. But, my soul, why do I ask for a prescription? Apply a cupping-glass to these lips with that lovely mouth; I desire no other comfort than a touch of that little hand; for I am certain that with the cordial of that fair grace, and with the healing root of that tongue of thine, I shall be sound and well again."

At these words the lovely fairy grew as red as fire, and replied, "Not so much praise, my lord prince! I am your servant, and would do anything in the world to serve that kingly face; and I esteem it great good fortune that from a branch of myrtle, set in a pot of earth, I have become a branch of laurel hung over the inn-door of a heart of flesh[3],—of a heart in which there is so much greatness and virtue."

The prince, melting at these words like a tallow-candle, began again to embrace her; and sealing the letter with a kiss, he gave her his hand, saying, "Take my faith, you shall be my wife, you shall be mistress of my sceptre, you shall have the key of this heart, as you hold the helm of this life." After these and a hundred other ceremonies and discourses they arose. And so it went on for several days.

But as spoil-sport, marriage-parting Fate is always a hindrance to the steps of Love, it fell out that the prince was summoned to hunt a great wild boar which was ravaging that country. So he was forced to leave his wife, or rather to leave two-thirds of his heart. But as he loved her more than his life, and saw that she was beautiful beyond all beautiful things, from this love and beauty there sprung up the feeling of jealousy, which is a tempest in the sea of love, a piece of soot that falls into the pottage of the bliss of lovers,—which is a serpent that bites, a worm that gnaws, a gall that poisons, a frost that kills,—making life always restless, the mind unstable, the heart ever suspicious. So, calling the fairy, he said to her, "I am obliged, my heart, to be away from home for two or three days; Heaven knows with how much grief I tear myself from you, who are my soul; and Heaven knows too whether, ere I set out, my life may not end; but as I cannot help going, to please my father, I must leave you. I therefore pray you, by all the love you bear me, to go back into the flowerpot, and not to come out of it till I return, which will be as soon as possible."

"I will do so," said the fairy, "for I cannot and will not refuse what pleases you. Go therefore, and may the mother of good luck go with you, for I will serve you to the best of my power[4]. But do me one favour; leave a thread of silk with a bell tied to the top of the myrtle, and when you come back pull the thread and ring, and immediately I will come out and say, Here I am!"

The prince did so, and then calling a chamberlain said to him, "Come hither, come hither, you! open your ears and mind what I say. Make this bed every evening, as if I were myself to sleep in it. Water this flowerpot regularly, and mind, I have counted the leaves, and if I find one missing, I will take from you the means of earning your bread." So saying he mounted his horse, and went, like a sheep that is led to the slaughter, to follow a boar. In the meanwhile seven wicked women, with whom the prince had been acquainted, began to grow jealous; and being curious to pry into the secret, they sent for a mason, and for a good sum of money got him to make an underground passage from their house into the prince's chamber. Then these cunning jades went through the passage, in order to explore. But finding nothing, they opened the window; and when they saw the beautiful myrtle standing there, each of them plucked a leaf from it; but the youngest took off the entire top, to which the little bell was hung; and the moment it was touched the bell tinkled, and the fairy, thinking it was the prince, immediately came out.

As soon as the wicked women saw this lovely creature, they fastened their talons on her, crying, "You are she who turns to your own mill the stream of our hopes! you it is who have stolen the favour of the prince! but you are come to an end of your tricks, my fine lady! you are nimble enough in running off[5]; but you are caught in your tricks this time, and if you escape, you were not born in nine months."

So saying they flew upon her, and instantly tore her in pieces, and each of them took her part. But the youngest would not join in this cruel act; and when she was invited by her sisters to do as they did, she would take nothing but a lock of those golden hairs. So when they had done, they went quickly away by the passage through which they had come.

Meanwhile the chamberlain came to make the bed, and water the flowerpot, according to his master's orders; and seeing this pretty piece of work, he had like to have died with terror. Then, biting his nails with vexation, he set to work, gathered up the remains of the flesh and bones that were left, and scraping the blood from the floor, he piled them all up in a heap in the pot; and having watered it, he made the bed, locked the door, put the key under the door, and taking to his heels ran away out of the town.

When the prince came back from the chase, he pulled the silken string, and rung the little bell; but ring as he would, it was all lost time[6]; he might sound the tocsin, and ring till he was tired, for the fairy gave no heed. So he went straight to the chamber, and not having patience to call the chamberlain and ask for the key, he gave the lock a kick, burst open the door, went in, opened the window, and seeing the myrtle stript of its leaves, he fell to making a most doleful lamentation, crying, shouting and bawling, "O wretched me! unhappy me! O miserable me! who has played me this trick[7]? and who has thus trumped my card? O ruined, banished and undone prince! O my leafless myrtle! my lost fairy! O my wretched life! my joys vanished into smoke! my pleasures turned to vinegar! What will you do, unhappy Cola Marchione[8]? Leap quickly over this ditch! you have fallen from all happiness, and will you not cut your throat? you are robbed of every treasure, and will you not open a vein? you are expelled from life, and do you not go mad? Where are you? where are you, my myrtle? and what soul more hard than marble has destroyed this beautiful flowerpot? O cursed chase, that has chased me from all happiness! Alas! I am done for, I am overthrown, I am ruined, I have ended my days: it is not possible for me to get through life without my life; I must stretch my legs[9], since without my love sleep will be lamentation, food poison, pleasure insipid, and life sour."

These and many other exclamations, that would move the very stones in the streets, were uttered by the prince; and after repeating them again and again, and wailing bitterly, full of sorrow and woe, never shutting an eye to sleep, nor opening his mouth to eat, he gave such way to grief, that his face, which was before of oriental vermillion, became of gold paint, and the ham of his lips became rusty bacon.

The fairy, who had sprouted up again from the remains that were put in the pot, seeing the misery and tribulation of her poor lover, and how he was turned in a second to the colour of a sick Spaniard, of a venomous lizard, of the sap of a leaf, of a jaundiced person, of a dried pear, of a beccaficco's tail, was moved with compassion; and springing out of the pot, like the light of a candle shooting out of a dark lantern, she stood before Cola Marchione, and embracing him in her arms she said, "Take heart, take heart, my prince! have done now with this lamenting, wipe your eyes, quiet your anger, smooth your face: behold me alive and handsome, in spite of those wicked women, who split my head and treated me as Tesone did the poor friar[10]."

The prince, seeing this when he least expected it, arose again from death to life, and the colour returned to his cheeks, warmth to his blood, breath to his breast. After giving her a thousand caresses and embraces, he desired to know the whole affair from head to foot; and when he found that the chamberlain was not to blame, he ordered him to be called, and giving a great banquet, he, with the full consent of his father, married the fairy. And he invited all the great people of the kingdom, but, above all others, he would have present those seven serpents who had committed the slaughter of that sweet sucking-calf.

And as soon as they had done eating, the prince asked all the guests, one after another, what he deserved who had injured that beautiful maiden—pointing to the fairy, who looked so lovely that she shot hearts like a sprite and drew souls like a windlass.

Then all who sat at table, beginning with the king, said, one that he deserved the gallows, another that he merited the wheel, a third the pincers, a fourth to be thrown from a precipice; in short one proposed this punishment, and another that. At last it came to the turn of the seven wicked women to speak, who, although they did not much relish this conversation, yet, as the truth comes out when the wine goes about, answered, that whoever had the heart basely to touch only this quintessence of the charms of love deserved to be buried alive in a dungeon.

"As you have pronounced this sentence with your own lips," said the prince, "you have yourselves judged the cause, you have yourselves signed the decree. It remains for me to cause your order to be executed, since it is you who with the heart of a negro[11], with the cruelty of Medea, made a fritter of this beautiful head, and chopped up these lovely limbs like sausage-meat. So quick! make haste, lose not a moment! throw them this very instant into a large dungeon, where they shall end their days miserably."

So this order was instantly carried into execution. The prince married the youngest sister of these wicked creatures to the Chamberlain, and gave her a good portion. And giving also to the father and mother of the myrtle wherewithal to live comfortably, he himself spent his days happily with the fairy; while the wicked women ended their lives in bitter anguish, and thus verified the proverb of the wise men of old—

 

"The lame goat will hop

If he meets with no stop."

 

All present were highly delighted at the consolation which the poor prince received, and the punishment of the wicked women. But as it was now Meneca's turn to speak, an end was put to the chattering, and she began the following story.

 

1.       A little Neapolitan sprite or kobold. Observe its nationality-'the little monk.'

2.       Cuccopinto—applied to anything beautiful—from the painted eggs at Easter.

3.       Whenever any one has wine to sell, he hangs a branch of laurel over his door.

4.       Te servo a la coscia—meaning, 'I help you to the best part,'—a common saying in Naples, taken from the butcher's shop.

5.       Aje pegliato vajano. Vajano is a village near Naples, and from its similarity of sound to vai, va, has arisen the saying, pigliar vajano, (se ne andare), to go away.

6.       Sona ca piglie quaglie,—sona ca passa lo Piscopo—literally, 'Ring, for they're catching quails—ring, for the bishop is going by.'

7.       Chi m' ha fatto sta varva de stoppa—literally, 'Who has made me this beard of tow?' a common expression in Naples when any one comes in late to a dinner-party.

8.       The prince's name: Cola is Nicola.

9.       Stennere li piedi—i. e. to die.

10.   This alludes to a Neapolitan romance.

11.   Actually the original 1634 edition reads: co 'no core de Nerone—"with a heart of Nero". Taylor must have been working from one of the later editions that read Nigrone or Negrone.

 

 

PERUONTO.

A good deed is never lost: he who sows courtesy reaps benefit, and he who plants kindness gathers love. Pleasure bestowed upon a grateful mind was never sterile, but generates gratitude, and begets reward. In stances of this occur continually in the actions of men, and you will see an example of it in the story which I will tell you.

A good woman at Casoria[1], named Ceccarella, had a son called Peruonto, who was the most hideous figure, the greatest fool and the most doltish idiot that Nature had ever created. So that the heart of his unhappy mother was blacker than a dish-clout, and a thousand times a day did she bestow a hearty curse on all who had a hand in bringing into the world such a blockhead, who was not worth a dog's mess. For the poor woman might scream at him till she burst her throat, and yet the moon-calf would not stir to do the slightest hand's turn for her[2].

At last, after a thousand dinnings at his brain, and a thousand splittings of his head, and a thousand "I tell you" and "I told you," bawling today and yelling tomorrow, she got him to go to the wood for a faggot, saying, "Come now, it is time for us to get a morsel to eat; so run off for some sticks, and don't forget yourself on the way, but come back as quick as you can, and we will boil ourselves some cabbage, to keep the life in us."

Away went Peruonto, the blockhead, and he went just like one that was going to the gallows[3]: away he went, and he moved as if treading on eggs, with the gait of a jackdaw, and counting his steps, going fair and softly, at a snail's gallop, and making all sorts of zig-zags and circumbendibuses on his way to the wood, to come there after the fashion of the raven[4]. And when he reached the middle of a plain, through which a river ran, growling and murmuring at the want of manners in the stones that were stopping his way, he met three youths, who had made themselves a bed of the grass, and a pillow of a flint stone, and were lying dead asleep under the blaze of the Sun, who was shooting his rays down point blank. When Peruonto saw these poor creatures, who were made a fountain of water in the midst of a furnace of fire, he felt pity for them, and cutting some branches of an oak he made a handsome arbour over them. Meanwhile the youths, who were the sons of a fairy, awoke, and seeing the kindness and courtesy of Peruonto, they gave him a charm, that everything he asked for should be done.

Peruonto, having performed this good action, went his ways towards the wood, where he made up such an enormous faggot that it would require an engine to drag it; and seeing that it was all nonsense for him to think of carrying it on his back, he got astride on it, and cried, "Oh what a lucky fellow I should be if this faggot would carry me riding a-horseback!" And the word was hardly out of his mouth, when the faggot began to trot and to gallop like a Bisignanian horse[5]; and when it came in front of the king's palace, it pranced and capered and curveted in a way that would amaze you. The ladies, who were standing at one of the windows, on seeing such a wonderful sight, ran to call Vastolla, the daughter of the king, who, going to the window and observing the caracoles of a faggot and the bounds of a bundle of wood, burst out a-laughing,—a thing which, owing to a natural melancholy, she never remembered to have done before. Peruonto raised his head, and seeing that it was at him they were laughing, exclaimed, "O Vastolla, I wish you were with child!" and so saying, he struck his heels into the flanks of his faggot, and in a dashing faggoty gallop he was at home before many minutes, with such a train of little boys at his heels, bawling and shouting after him, that if his mother had not been quick to shut the door, they would have killed him with rotten fruit and vegetables.

'Meanwhile Vastolla began to feel certain qualms, and a palpitation of the heart, and other symptoms, which convinced her that she was in the family way. She did all in her power to keep her condition concealed, but at length the matter could no longer be a secret. The king, when he discovered it, was like a bedlamite[6]; and he summoned his council, and said, "Ye know by this time that the moon of my honour has got horns: ye know by this time that my daughter has provided me with matter for having chronicles, or rather cornicles, of my shame written; so now speak, and advise me. My own opinion would be, to make her bring forth her soul before she brought forth an ill breed. I should be for making her feel the pangs of death before she felt the pains of labour; it would be my wish to put her out of the world before she brought any offspring into it."

The councillors, who had in their time consumed more oil than wine[7], said, "Of a truth she deserves to be severely punished; and the haft of the knife which should take away her life ought to be made of the horns that she has placed on your brows. Nevertheless, if we put her to death before the child is born, that audacious scoundrel who, to put you into a battle of annoyances, has armed both your left and your right wing[8]— who, to teach you the policy of Tiberius[9], has set a Cornelius Tacitus before you—who, to represent to you a true dream of infamy, has made you come out through the gate of horn[10]—he will escape through the broken meshes of the net. Let us wait then till it comes to light, and we discover the root of this disgrace, and then we will think it over, and resolve cum grano salis what were best to be done." This counsel pleased the king; for he saw that they spoke like sensible, prudent men: so he held his hand, and said, "Let us wait and see the end of this business."

But, as Heaven would have it, the hour of the birth came, and Vastolla brought into the world two little boys, like two golden apples. The king, who was still full of wrath, summoned his councillors to advise with him; and he said, "Well, now my daughter is brought to bed, it is time for us to follow up the business by knocking out her brains." "No," said those wise old men, (and it was all to give time to Time,) let us wait till the little ones grow big enough to enable us to discover the features of their father." The king, who never wrote without having the ruled-lines of his council to prevent his writing crooked, shrugged up his shoulders, but had patience, and waited till the children were seven years old. At which time, summoning his councillors anew, he urged them to make an end of the business: then one of them said, "Since you have not been able to draw the secret out of your daughter, and find out who the false coiner is that has altered the crown on your image, we will now hunt out the stain. Order then a great banquet to be prepared, and let every nobleman and every man of rank in the city come to it; and let us be on the watch, and, with our eyes on the alert[11], see to whom the little children shall turn most willingly, moved thereto by nature; for beyond doubt that will be the father, and we will instantly lay hold on him and put him out of the way."

The king was pleased with this counsel, and ordering the banquet to be got ready, he invited all the people of rank and note. And when they had done feasting, he had them all placed in a row, and made the children pass before them; but the children took no more notice of them than Alexander's bull-dog did of the rabbits; so that the king was outrageous, and bit his lips; and though he did not want for shoes, yet this pump of grief was so tight for him that he stamped his feet on the ground. But the councillors said to him, "Softly, softly, your Majesty! quiet your wrath. Let us make another banquet tomorrow, not for people of condition, but for the lower sort; maybe, as a woman always attaches herself to the worst, we shall find among the cutlers, and bead-makers, and comb-sellers, the root of your anger, which we have not discovered among the cavaliers."

This reasoning jumped with the humour of the king, and he ordered a second banquet to be prepared; to which, on proclamation being made, came all the riff-raff and tag-rag-and-bobtail of the city, such as rogues, scavengers, tinkers, pedlars, penny-boys, sweeps, beggars, and such-like rabble, who were all in high glee; and taking their seats, like noblemen, at a great long table, they began to feast and gobble away.

Now when Ceccarella heard this proclamation, she began to urge Peruonto to go there too, until at last she got him to set out for the feast. And scarcely had he arrived there, when the pretty little children came running round him, and began to caress him, and to fawn upon him beyond the beyonds[12]. When the king saw this he tore his beard, seeing that the bean of this cake[13], the prize in this lottery, had fallen to an ugly beast, the very sight of whom was enough to make one sick; who, besides having a shaggy head, owls' eyes, a parrot's nose, a deer's mouth, was bandy- and bare-legged; so that, without reading Fioravanti[14], you might see at once what he was. Then heaving a deep sigh, the king said, "What can that jade of a daughter of mine have seen to make her take a fancy to this sea-ogre, or strike up a dance with this hairy-foot? Ah vile, false creature, what metamorphosis is this? But why do we delay? let her suffer the punishment she deserves: let her undergo the penalty that shall be decreed by you; and take her from my presence, for I cannot endure the sight of her."

Then the councillors consulted together, and they resolved that she, as well as the malefactor and the children, should be shut up in a cask, and thrown into the sea; so that, without the king's dipping his hands in his own blood, they might put a full stop to the sentence of their lives. No sooner was the judgement pronounced, than the cask was brought, and all four were put into it; but before they coopered it up, some of Vastolla's ladies, crying and sobbing as if their hearts would break, put into it a little basket of raisins and dried figs, that she might have wherewithal to live on for some little time. And when the cask was closed up, it was carried and flung into the open sea, along which it went floating as the wind drove it.

Meanwhile Vastolla, weeping and making two rivers of her eyes, said to Peruonto, "What a sad misfortune is this of ours, to have the cradle of Bacchus for our coffin! Oh, if I but knew who has played me this trick, to have me caged in this dungeon! Alas, alas! to find myself in this plight without knowing how. Tell me, tell me, O cruel man, what incantation was it you made, and what wand did you employ, to bring me within the circle of this cask?" Peruonto, who had been for some time lending her a chapman's car, at last said, "If you want me to tell you, you must give me some figs and raisins." So Vastolla, to draw the secret out of him, gave him a handful of both; and as soon as he had his gullet full, he told her accurately all that had befallen him with the three youths, and then with the faggot, and then with herself at the window; which when the poor lady heard, she took heart, and said to Peruonto, "Brother of mine, shall we then let our lives run out in a cask? Why don't you cause this tub to be changed into a fine ship, and run into some good harbour to escape this danger?" And Peruonto replied,

 

"If you would have me say the spell,

With figs and raisins stuff me well."

 

So Vastolla, to make him open his throat, instantly filled his throat; and, like a fisherwoman at the Carnival[15], with the figs and raisins she fished the words fresh out of his mouth. And lo! as soon as Peruonto had said what she desired, the cask was turned into a ship, with all the rigging necessary for sailing, and with all the sailors required for working the vessel. There you might see one pulling at a sheet, another mending the rigging, one taking the helm, another setting the sails, another mounting to the round-top, one crying 'Larboard!' and another 'Starboard!' one sounding a trumpet, another firing the guns, one doing one thing and one another; so that Vastolla was in the ship, and was swimming in a sea of delight.

It being new the hour when the Moon begins to play at see-saw with the Sun[16], Vastolla said to Peruonto, "My fine lad, now make this ship be changed into a beautiful palace, for we shall then be more secure: you know the saying, Praise the sea, but keep to the land." And Peruonto replied,

 

"If you would have me say the spell,

With figs and raisins stuff me well."

 

So Vastolla instantly repeated the operation; and Peruonto, swallowing them down, asked what was her pleasure; and immediately the ship came to land, and was changed into a beautiful palace, fitted up in a most complete manner, and so full of furniture, and curtains, and hangings, that there was nothing left to desire. So that Vastolla, who a little before would have given her life for a farthing[17], would not now change places with the greatest lady in the world, seeing herself served and treated like a queen. Then, to put the seal to all her good fortune, she besought Peruonto to obtain grace to become handsome and polished in his manners, that they might live happy together; for though the proverb says, 'Better to have a pig for a husband than an emperor for a lover,' still, if his appearance were changed, she should consider it the most fortunate thing in the world. And Peruonto replied as before,

 

"If you would have me say the spell,

With figs and raisins stuff me well."

 

Then Vastolla quickly removed the stoppage of his speech; and scarcely had he spoken the word, when he was changed from an owl into a nightingale, from an ogre into a Narcissus, from a scarecrow into a dapper little doll. Vastolla, seeing such a transformation, clasped him in her arms, and was almost beside herself with joy.

Meantime the king, who from the day that this calamity befell him had been full up to the very throat with 'Let-me-alone,' was one day for amusement brought out to hunt by his courtiers. Night overtook them, and seeing a light in the window of that palace, he sent a servant to inquire if they would entertain him; and he was answered, that he might not merely break a glass but even smash a jug there. So the king went to the palace; and going up the staircase, and passing through the chambers, he saw no living being save the two little boys, who skipped about him, crying, "Grandpapa! grandpapa!" The king, surprised and astonished, stood like one that was enchanted; and sitting down to rest himself at a table, to his amazement he saw invisibly spread on it a Flanders tablecloth, with dishes full of roast meats, and viands of various kinds; so that he feasted in truth like a king, waited on by those beautiful children: and all the while he sat at table, a concert of lutes and tambourines never ceased,—such delicious music that it went to the very tips of his fingers and toes. When he had done eating, a bed suddenly appeared, all made of gold; and having his boots taken off, he went to rest, and all his courtiers did the same, after having feasted heartily at a hundred tables, which were laid out in the other rooms.

When morning came, and the king was about to depart, he wished to take with him the two little children. But Vastolla now made her appearance with her husband, and casting herself at his feet, she asked his pardon, and related to him her whole story. The king, seeing that he had found two grandsons who were two jewels, and a son-in law who was a fay[18], embraced first one and then the other, and taking the children up in his arms, he carried them with him to the city. Then he made a great feast, that lasted for many days, on account of this good luck, solemnly confessing to his whole court that

 

"Man proposes,

But God disposes."

 

When Meneca had ended her story, which was considered no less beautiful than the former one, from the number of curious adventures, which kept the attention of the hearers awake to the very end, Tolla, at the command of the Prince, began the following story.

 

1.       A village near Naples. Ceccarella is Fanny.

2.       No marditto servitio—literally, 'a cursed service.'

3.       Comme và chillo che stà mmiezzo a li confrate: that is, 'among the friars who attend criminals to the gallows.'

4.       Pe ffare la venuta de la cuorvo. A common expression in Naples, when a person has gone away not to return, is, 'Ha fatto l'andata del cuorvo.'

5.       The prince of Bisignano (in Apulia) had a famous breed of horses. The Apulian horses were celebrated in the Middle Ages.

6.       Facenno cosa dell' autro munno,—'doing things of the other world.'

7.       That is, had studied much and drunk little.

8.       In the military language of the Romans, the wings were called cornua.

9.       That is, 'to teach you cruelty.' Observe the allusion to horns in Cornelius.

10.   Alluding to the Odyssey, T. 562; and Æneid, vi. 594.

11.   Literally, 'on the chopping-block,' tagliero;—to 'keep one's eyes upon it, is to watch the cats, that they run away with nothing.

12.   Literally—fora de li fora.

13.   It is the custom in Italy and France to make a cake on the Epiphany, in which a bean is put; the cake is broken and divided, and the person who gets the bean is king for the evening. I believe the custom exists in parts of England. In Ireland a ring in put into the twelfth cake.

14.   A writer on physiognomy.

15.   At the carnival persons are sometimes drest like fisherwomen, standing with an angling-rod and line baited with bon-bons.

16.   A histe e veniste e lo luoco te perdisse. The name of a popular game at Naples: it seems to answer to a game we have, in which the fun consists in a scramble for seats, one person being always left out. See-saw is more properly the Neapolitan Sciunnola. Scarica-a-barile is Leap-frog.

17.   Pe tre cavalle—literally, 'for three horses.' The Horse is the arms of Naples, and is impressed on a small piece of money, worth about one-thirtieth of an English penny. The lowest coin now used at Naples is a piece of Sei cavalli.

18.   No fato,—the masculine of fata, fairy.

 

 

VARDIELLO.

If Nature had given to animals the necessity of clothing themselves, and of buying their food, the race of quadrupeds would inevitably be destroyed. Therefore it is that they find their food without trouble,—without gardener to gather it, purchaser to buy it, cook to prepare it, or carver to cut it up; whilst their skin defends them from the rain and snow, without the merchant giving them cloth, the tailor making the dress, or the errand-boy begging for a drink-penny. To man however, who has intelligence, Nature did not care to grant these indulgences, since he is able to procure for himself what he wants. This is the reason that we commonly see clever men poor, and blockheads rich; as you may gather from the story which I am going to tell you.

Grannonia of Aprano was a woman of great sense and judgement, but she had a son named Vardiello[1], who was the greatest booby and simpleton in the whole country round about. Nevertheless, as a mother's eyes are bewitched and see what does not exist, she doted upon him so much, that she was for ever caressing and fondling him as if he were the handsomest creature in the world.

Now Grannonia kept a brood-hen, that was sitting upon a nest of eggs, in which she placed all her hope, expecting to have a fine brood of chickens, and to make a good profit of them. And having one day to go out on some business, she called her son, and said to him, "My pretty son of your own mother, listen to what I say; keep your eye upon the hen, and if she should get up to scratch and pick, look sharp and drive her back to the nest; for otherwise the eggs will grow cold, and then we shall have neither eggs nor chickens."

"Leave it to me," replied Vardiello, "you are not speaking to deaf ears."

"One thing more," said his mother; "look-ye, my blessed son, in yon cupboard is a pot full of certain poisonous things; take care that ugly Sin does not tempt you to touch them, for they would make you stretch your legs in a trice."

"Heaven forbid!" replied Vardiello; "poison indeed will not tempt me; but you have done wisely to give me the warning; for if I had got at it, I should certainly have eaten it all up."

Thereupon the mother went out, but Vardiello staid behind; and, in order to lose no time, he went into the garden to dig holes, which he covered with boughs and earth, to catch the little thieves who come to steal the fruit. And as he was in the midst of his work, he saw the hen come running out of the room; whereupon he began to cry, "Hish, hish! this way, that way!" But the hen did not stir a foot; and Vardiello, seeing that she had something of the donkey in her, after crying "Hish, hish," began to stamp with his feet; and after stamping with his feet, to throw his cap at her, and after the cap a cudgel, which hit her just upon the pate, and made her quickly stretch her legs.

When Vardiello saw this sad accident, he bethought himself how to remedy the evil; and making a virtue of necessity, in order to prevent the eggs growing cold, he set himself down upon the nest; but in doing so, he gave the eggs an unlucky blow, and quickly made an omelet of them. In despair at what he had done, he was on the point of knocking his head against the wall: at last however, as all grief turns to hunger, feeling his stomach begin to grumble, he resolved to eat up the hen. So he plucked her, and sticking her upon a spit, he made a great fire, and set to work to roast her. And when she was cooked, Vardiello, to do everything in due order, spread a clean cloth upon an old chest; and then, taking a flagon, he went down into the cellar to draw some wine. But just as he was in the midst of drawing the wine, he heard a noise, a disturbance, an uproar in the house, which seemed like the clattering of horses' hoofs. Whereat starting up in alarm, and turning his eyes, he saw a big tom-cat, which had run off with the hen, spit and all; and another cat chasing after him, mewing, and crying out for a part.

Vardiello, in order to set this mishap to rights, darted upon the cat like an unchained lion, and in his haste he left the tap of the barrel running. And after chasing the cat through every hole and corner of the house, he recovered the hen; but the cask had meanwhile all run out; and when Vardiello returned, and saw the wine running about, he let the cask of his soul empty itself through the tap-holes of his eyes. But at last judgement came to his aid, and he hit upon a plan to remedy the mischief, and prevent his mother's finding out what had happened: so taking a sack of flour, filled full to the mouth, he sprinkled it over the wine on the floor.

But when he meanwhile reckoned up on his fingers all the disasters he had met with, and thought to himself that, from the number of fooleries he had committed, he must have lost the game in the good graces of Grannonia, he resolved in his heart not to let his mother see him again alive. So thrusting his hand into the jar of pickled walnuts, which his mother had said contained poison, he never stopped eating until he came to the bottom; and when he had right well filled his stomach, he went and hid himself in the oven.

In the meanwhile his mother returned, and stood knocking for a long time at the door; but at last, seeing that no one came, she gave it a kick; and going in, she called her son at the top of her voice. But as nobody answered, she imagined that some mischief must have happened, and with increased lamentation she went on crying louder and louder, "Vardiello! Vardiello! are you deaf, that you don't hear? have you the cramp, that you don't run? have you the pip, that you don't answer? Where are you, you gallows-faced rogue? where are you hidden, you naughty fellow? Oh that I had strangled you when I brought you forth!"

Vardiello, on hearing all this hubbub and abuse, cried out at last with a piteous voice, "Here I am! here I am in the oven; but you will never see me again, mother!"

"Why so?" said the poor mother.

"Because I am poisoned," replied the son.

"Alas! alas!" cried Grannonia, "how came you to do that? what cause have you had to commit this homicide? and who has given you the poison?" Then Vardiello told her, one after another, all the pretty things he had done; on which account he wished to die, and not to remain any longer a laughing-stock in the world.

The poor woman, on hearing all this, was miserable and wretched, and she had enough to do and to say to drive this melancholy whimsey out of Vardiello's head. And being infatuated and dotingly fond of him, she gave him some nice sweetmeats, and so put the affair of the pickled walnuts out of his head, and convinced him that they were not poison, but good and comforting to the stomach. And having thus pacified him with cheering words, and showered on him a thousand caresses, she drew him out of the oven. Then giving him a fine piece of cloth, she bade him go and sell it, but cautioning him not to do business with folks of too many words.

"Tut, tut!" said Vardiello; "let me alone,—I know what I'm about, never fear." So saying he took the cloth, and went his way through the city of Naples, crying, "Cloth! cloth!" But whenever any one asked him, "What cloth have you there?" he replied, "You are no customer for me—you are a man of too many words." And when another said to him, "How do you sell your cloth?" he called him a chatterbox, who deafened him with his noise. At length he chanced to espy, in the courtyard of a house which was deserted on account of the Monaciello, a plaster statue; and being tired out, and wearied with going about and about, he sat himself down upon a bench. But not seeing any one astir in the house, which looked like a sacked village, he was lost in amazement, and said to the statue, "Tell me, comrade, does no one live in this house?" Vardiello waited awhile; but as the statue gave no answer, he thought this surely was a man of few words. So he said, "Friend, will you buy my cloth? I'll sell it you cheap." And seeing that the statue still remained dumb, he exclaimed, "'Faith then I've found my man at last! there, take the cloth, examine it, and give me what you will; tomorrow I'll return for the money."

So saying, Vardiello left the cloth on the spot where he had been sitting, and the first mother's son who passed that way found the prize and carried it off.

When Vardiello returned home without the cloth, and told his mother all that had happened, she well-nigh swooned away, and said to him, "When will you put that headpiece of yours in order? See now what tricks you have played me—only think! but I am myself to blame, for being too tender-hearted, instead of having given you a good beating at first; and now I perceive, that a pitiful doctor only makes the wound incurable. But you'll go on with your pranks, until at last we come to a serious falling out, and then there will be a long reckoning, my lad!"

"Softly, mother," replied Vardiello; "matters are not so bad as they seem: do you want more than crown-pieces bran new from the mint? do you think me a fool, and that I don't know what I am about? Tomorrow is not yet here—wait awhile, and you shall see whether I know how to fit a handle to a shovel."

The next morning, as soon as the shades of Night, pursued by the constables of the Sun, had fled the country, Vardiello repaired to the courtyard where the statue stood, and said, "Good-day, friend! can you give me those few pence you owe me? come, quick, pay me for the cloth!" But when he saw that the statue remained speechless, he took up a stone, and hurled it at its breast with such force that it burst a vein, which proved indeed the cure to his own malady; for some pieces of the statue falling off, he discovered a pot full of golden crown-pieces. Then taking it in both his hands, off he ran home, head over heels, as fast as he could scamper, crying out, "Mother, mother! see here, what a lot of red lupins I've got! how many, how many!"

His mother, seeing the crown-pieces, and knowing very well that Vardiello would soon make the matter public, told him to stand at the door, until the man with milk and new-made cheese came past, as she wanted to buy a pennyworth of milk. So Vardiello, who was a great glutton, went quickly and seated himself at the door; and his mother showered down from the window above raisins and dried figs for more than half an hour. Whereupon Vardiello, picking them up as fast as he could, cried aloud, "Mother, mother! bring out some baskets, give me some bowls! here, quick with the tubs and buckets! for if it goes on to rain thus we shall be rich in a trice." And when he had eaten his fill Vardiello went up to sleep.

It happened one day that two countrymen—the food and life-blood of the law-courts—fell out, and went to law about a gold crown-piece which they had found on the ground; and Vardiello passing by said, "What jackasses you are to quarrel about a red lupin like this! for my part I don't value it at a pin's head, for I've found a whole potfull of them."

When the judge heard this he opened wide his eyes and ears, and examined Vardiello closely, asking him how, when and where he had found the crowns. And Vardiello replied, "I found them in a palace, inside a dumb man, when it rained raisins and dried figs." At this the judge stared with amazement; but instantly seeing how the matter stood, he decreed that Vardiello should be sent to a madhouse, as the most competent tribunal for him. Thus the stupidity of the son made the mother rich, and the mother's wit found a remedy for the foolishness of the son: whereby it is clearly seen that

 

"A ship when steered by a skilful hand

Will seldom strike upon rock or sand."

 

The Prince and the Slave laughed till they were ready to burst at Vardiello's stupidity, and praised the cleverness of his mother, who had the wit to foresee and provide against his folly. But when all the others had turned the key on their chattering, Popa, being requested to tell a story, began as follows.

 

1.       From the Latin bardus, stupid.

 

 

THE FLEA.

Resolutions taken without thought bring disasters without remedy. He who behaves like a fool, repents like a wise man; as happened to the King of High-Hill, who, through unexampled folly, committed an act of madness, putting in jeopardy both his daughter and his honour.

Once upon a time the King of High-Hill, being bitten by a flea, caught him by a wonderful feat of dexterity; and seeing how handsome and stately he was, he could not in conscience pass sentence on him upon the bed of his nail. So he put him into a bottle, and feeding him every day with the blood of his own arm, the little beast grew at such a rate, that at the end of seven months it was necessary to shift his quarters, for he was grown bigger than a sheep. When the king saw this, he had him flayed, and the skin dressed. Then he issued a proclamation, that whoever could tell to what animal this skin had belonged should have his daughter to wife.

As soon as this decree was made known, the people all flocked in crowds, and they came from the ends of the world to be present at the scrutiny, and to try their luck. One said that it belonged to an ape, another to a lynx, a third to a crocodile, and in short some gave it to one animal, and some to another; but they were all a hundred miles from the truth, and not one hit the nail on the head. At last there came to this anatomical trial an ogre, who was the most frightfully ugly being in the world, the very sight of whom would make the boldest man tremble and quake with fear. But no sooner had he come, and turned the skin round and smelt it, than he instantly guessed the truth, saying, "This skin belongs to the arch-rascal of the fleas!"

Now the king saw that the ogre had hit the apple; but, not to break his word, he ordered his daughter Porziella to be called. Porziella had a face like milk and blood, and was such a miracle of beauty that you could devour her with your eyes, she was so lovely. And the king said to her, My daughter, thou knowest the proclamation I have issued, and thou knowest who I am; in short, I cannot go back from my promise,— either a king or a beggar[1]. My word is given; I must keep it, though my heart should break. Who could ever have imagined that this prize would have fallen to an ogre? But since not a leaf shakes without the will of Heaven, we must believe that this marriage has been made first there above, and then here below. Have patience then, and if thou art a good and dutiful girl do not oppose thy father, for my heart tells me that thou wilt be happy, since treasures are often found inside a rough earthen jar."

When Porziella heard this sad resolution, her eyes grew dim, her face turned yellow, her lips fell, her legs trembled, and she was on the point of letting fly the falcon of her soul after the quail of grief. At last, bursting into tears, she said to her father, "What crime have I committed that I should be punished thus? How have I acted ill toward you, that I should be given up to this monster? O wretched Porziella, behold you are running like a weasel into the toad's throat of your own accord! like an unfortunate sheep you are the prey of a ravenous wolf! Is this, O father, the affection you bear your own blood? is this the love you show to her whom you used to call the joy of your soul? do you thus tear from your heart her who is a part of your blood? do you drive from your sight her who is the apple of your eye? O father, O cruel father! you surely are not born of human flesh; the sea-orks gave you blood, the wild-cats suckled you[2]. But why do I talk of beasts of the land and sea? for every animal loves its young; you alone loathe and hate your own offspring, you alone hold your daughter in abhorrence. Oh, better had it been if my mother had strangled me at my birth, if my cradle had been my deathbed, my nurse's breast a bottle of poison, my swaddling-clothes a halter, and the whistle they tied round my neck a millstone; since I have lived to see this evil day, to see myself caressed by the hand of a harpy, embraced by two bear's paws, and kissed by two boar's tusks."

Porziella was going on to say more, when the king, in a furious rage, exclaimed, "Stay your anger, for sugar is dear! fair and softly, for appearances deceive[3]! stop, stop, for the lees are running out; hold your tongue, you ill-mannered chatterbox! what I do is well done. Is it for a girl to teach her father forsooth? have done, I say, and don't drive the mustard up into my nose[4]; for if I lay these hands upon you, I'll not leave a whole bone in your skin, and will make you bite the dust. Prithee how long has a child, with the milk still upon her lips, dared to oppose my will? Quick then, I say! take his hand, and set off with him home this very instant; for I will not have that saucy, impudent face a minute longer in my sight."

Poor Porziella, seeing herself thus caught in the net, with the face of a person condemned to death, with the eye of one possessed, with the mouth of one who has taken an emetic[5], with the heart of a person whose head is lying between the axe and the block, took the hand of the ogre, who dragged her off, without any one accompanying them, to a wood, where the trees made a palace for the meadow, to prevent its being discovered by the sun, and the brooks murmured at having knocked against the stones in the dark, whilst the wild-beasts wandered where they liked without paying toll, and went safely through the thicket, whither no man ever came unless he had lost his way. Upon this spot, which was as black as an unswept chimney, and hideous as the face of hell, stood the ogre's house, ornamented and hung all round with the bones of men whom he had devoured. Think but for a moment, good Christians, on the trembling, the quivering, the horror and affright which the poor girl endured! depend upon it there did not remain a drop of blood in her body.

But all this was nothing at all in comparison with what was to come. Before dinner she had peas, and after dinner parched beans. Then the ogre went out to hunt, and returned home laden with the quarters of men whom he had killed, saying, "Now, wife, you cannot complain that I don't take good care of you; here's a fine store of eatables for you; take and make merry, and love me well, for the sky will fall before I let you want for food."

Poor Porziella was sick at this horrible sight, and turned her face away. But when the ogre saw this, he cried, "Ha! this is throwing sweetmeats before swine: no matter however; only have patience till tomorrow morning; for I have been invited to a wild-boar hunt, and will bring you home a couple of boars, and we'll make a grand feast with our kinsfolk, and celebrate our wedding." So saying, away he went into the forest.

Now as Porziella stood weeping at the window, it chanced that an old woman passed by, who, being famished with hunger, begged some refreshment of her. Ah, my good woman!" said Porziella, Heaven knows I am in the power of a devil, who brings me home nothing but quarters and pieces of men he has killed; indeed I know not how it is that I have the stomach even to look upon such odious things. I pass the most miserable life that ever a Christian soul led; and yet I am the daughter of a king, and have been reared on dainties[6], and passed my life in plenty." And so saying, she began to cry like a little girl who sees her bread and butter taken away from her.

The old woman's heart was softened at this sight, and she said to Porziella, "Be of good heart, my pretty girl; do not spoil your beauty with crying, for you have fallen in with luck; I can help you to both saddle and trappings. Listen now, I have seven sons, who, you see, are seven oaks, seven giants,—Mase, Nardo, Cola, Micco, Petrullo, Ascaddeo and Ceccone[7],—who have more virtues than rosemary, especially Mase; for every time he lays his ear to the ground, he hears all that is passing within thirty miles around: Nardo, every time he spits, makes a great sea of soap-suds: every time that Cola throws a bit of iron on the ground, he makes a field of sharp razors: Micco, every time he flings down a little stick, makes a tangled wood spring up: Petrullo, whenever he throws on the ground a drop of water, makes a terrific river: Ascaddeo, every time he flings a stone, causes a strong tower to spring up; and Ceccone shoots so straight with a cross-bow, that he can hit a hen's eye a mile off. Now with the help of my sons, who are all courteous and friendly, and who will all take compassion on your condition, I will contrive to free you from the claws of the ogre; for such a delicate morsel is not food for the huge throat of this monster."

"No time is better than now," replied Porziella; "for that evil shadow of a husband of mine is gone out, and will not return this evening, and we shall have time to slip off and run away."

"It cannot be this evening," replied the old woman; "for I live a long way off; but I promise you that tomorrow morning I and my sons will all come together and help you out of your trouble."

So saying the old woman departed, and Porziella went to rest with a light heart, and slept soundly all night. But as soon as the birds began to cry, "Long live the Sun!" lo and behold there was the old woman with her seven sons; and placing Porziella in the midst of them, they proceeded towards the city. But they had not gone above half a mile when Mase put his ear to the ground, and cried, "Hollo, have a care! here's the fox! The ogre is come home, and not finding his wife, he is hastening after us with his cap under his arm."

No sooner did Nardo hear this, than he spat upon the ground, and made a sea of soap; and when the Ogre came, and saw all the suds, he ran home, and fetching a sack of bran, he strewed it about, and worked away, treading it down with his feet, until at last he got over this obstacle, though with great difficulty.

But Mase put his ear once more to the ground, and exclaimed, "Look sharp, comrade! here he comes!" Thereupon Cola flung the piece of iron on the ground, and instantly a field of razors sprung up. When the ogre saw the path stopped, he ran home again, and clad himself in iron from head to foot, and then returned, and got over this peril.

Then Mase, again putting his ear to the ground, cried, "Up, up, to arms! to arms! for see here is the ogre coming at such a rate that he is actually flying." But Micco was ready with his little stick, and in an instant he caused a terrible wood to rise up, so thick that it was quite impenetrable. When the ogre came to this difficult pass, he laid hold of a Carrara knife that he wore at his side, and began to fell the poplars and oaks right and left, to tumble down the pine-trees and cornel-trees; insomuch that with four or five strokes he laid the whole forest on the ground, and got clear out of the maze.

Presently Mase, who kept his ears on the alert like a hare, again raised his voice and cried, "Now we must be off, for the ogre has put on wings, and see here he is at our heels!" As soon as Petrullo heard this, he took a sip of water from a little fountain that was spurting out of a stone basin, squirted it on the ground, and in the twinkling of an eye a large river rose up on the spot. When the ogre saw this new obstacle, and that he could not make holes as fast as they found bungs to stop them, he stripped himself stark naked, and swam across to the other side of the river with his clothes upon his head.

Mase, who put his ear to every chink, heard the ogre coming, and exclaimed, "Alas! matters go ill with us now; I already hear the clatter of the ogre's heels: Heaven help us! So let us be upon our guard, and prepare to meet this storm, or else we are done for."

"Never fear," said Ascaddeo, "I will soon settle this ugly ragamuffin." So saying he flung a pebble on the ground, and instantly up rose a tower, in which they all took refuge without delay and barred the door. But when the ogre came up, and saw that they had betaken themselves to a place of safety, he ran home, got a vine-dresser's ladder, and hied with it on his shoulder back to the tower.

Now Mase, who kept his ears hanging down, heard at a distance the approach of the ogre, and cried, "We are now at the butt-end of the candle of hope! Ceccone is our last resource, for the ogre is coming back in a terrible fury. Alas, how my heart beats, for I foresee an evil day!"

"You coward!" answered Ceccone; "let little Dominick alone[8], and I will hit him with a ball.

As Ceccone was speaking, the ogre came, planted his ladder, and began to climb up; but Ceccone, taking aim at him, shot out one of his eyes, and laid him at full length on the ground, like a pear dropped from the tree: then he went out of the tower, and cut off the ogre's head with the big knife he carried about him, just as if it had been new-made cheese[9]. Thereupon they took the head with great joy to the king, who rejoiced at recovering his daughter, for he had repented a hundred times having given her to an ogre. And not many days after, the king procured a handsome husband for Porziella, and he heaped riches on the seven sons and their mother, who had delivered his daughter from such a wretched life. Nor did he omit to call himself a thousand times to blame for his conduct to Porziella, and having out of mere caprice exposed her to such peril, without thinking what an error he commits who goes looking for wolf's eggs.

The auditors looked like statues, as they sat listening to the story of the Flea, and they declared one and all that King Stupid was an ass, to put in peril the welfare of his own flesh and blood, and the inheritance of his kingdom, for just nothing at all. When they had all shut their mouths again, Antonella opened hers, and began the following story.

 

1.   Scorza de chiupo—literally, 'piece of poplar-bark.'

2.       See Iliad, 16, 33, sqq. and Æneid, 4, 36S, sqq.

3.       Ca li brocchiere so de chiuppe—'for the shields are of poplar.'

4.       i.e. 'make me in a rage.'

5.       Chi ha pigliato lo Domene Agostino—a common expression.

6.       So cresciuta a pappalardiello—i. e. fed on bread and lard,—a dainty to the poor; thence the saying.

7.       Mase is Thomas—Nardo, Leonard—Cola, Nicholas—Micco, Dominick—Petrullo, Peter—Ascaddeo, Thadeus—Ceccone, Frank.

8.       Lassa fare a Menechiello—a common saying for 'Trust to me.' Menechiello is the diminutive of Domenico; the expression originated with a person of that name in Naples who pretended to know everything.

9.       Caso-recotta—see Keightley's Notes on Virgil, p. 341.

Prayer to Our Lady Against Epidemics by Unknown Writer (translated into Portuguese)

          You can read about the discovery of this prayer here (in Portuguese).

 

     “Estrela do céu, que amamentastes o Senhor e derrotastes a praga mortal plantada pelo primeiro pai dos homens! Que esta estrela se digne agora reter os corpos celestes cujas batalhas afligem o povo pelas cruéis feridas da morte. Ó mais piedosa estrela do mar, salvai-nos da epidemia. Ouvi-nos, Nossa Senhora, porque o vosso filho que vos honra não vos pode recusar nada. Salvai-nos, ó Jesus, por quem a Virgem Mãe vos reza. Rogai por nós, piedosa Mãe de Deus! Vós, que quebrastes a cabeça da serpente, socorrei-nos”.