 CHAPTER 9 THE ENCHANTED DO great is the power of friendship, which makes us willingly bear toils and perils to serve a friend. We value our wealth as a trifle and life as a straw, when we can give them for a friend's sake. Fables teach us this, and history is full of instances of it, and I will give you an example which my grandmother used to relate to me. So open your ears and shut your mouths, and hear what I shall tell you. There was once a certain king of Longtrellis, named Ioannone, who, desiring greatly to have children, continually made prayers to the gods that they would grant his wish, and, in order to incline them the more to his petition, he was so charitable to beggars and pilgrims that he shared with them all he possessed. But seeing at last that these things availed him nothing, and that there was no end to putting his hand into his pocket, he bolted fast to his door, and shot with a crossbow at all who came near. Now it happened one day that a long-bearded pilgrim was passing that way, and not knowing that the king had turned over a new leaf, or perhaps knowing it and wishing to make him change his mind again, he went to Ioannone and begged for shelter in his house. But with a fierce look and a terrible growl, the king said to him, If you have no other candle than this, you may go to bed in the dark, the kittens have their eyes open, and I am no longer a child. And when the old man asked what was the cause of this change, the king replied, To further my desire for children, I have spent and lent to all who came and all who went, and have squandered all my treasure. At last, seeing the beard was gone, I stopped shaving and laid aside the razor. If that be all, replied the pilgrim, You may set your mind at rest, for I promise that your wish shall forthwith be fulfilled on pain of losing my ears. Be it so, said the king, I pledge my word that I will give you one half of my kingdom. And the man answered, Listen now to me, if you wish to hit the mark, you have only to get the heart of a sea dragon, and have it cooked and eaten by the queen, and you will see that what I say will speedily come to pass. That hardly seems possible, said the king, But at the worst I lose nothing by the trial, so I must this very moment get the dragon's heart. So he sent a hundred fishermen out, and they got ready all kinds of fishing tackle, drag nets, casting nets, sane nets, bone nets, and fishing lines, and they tacked and turned and cruised in all directions, until at last they caught a dragon. Then they took out its heart and brought it to the king, who gave it to the queen to cook and eat. And when she had eaten it, there was great rejoicing for the king's desire was fulfilled, and he became the father of two sons, so like the other that nobody but the queen could tell which was which. And the boys grew up together in such love for one another, that they could not be parted for a moment. Their attachment was so great that the queen began to be jealous, at seeing that the son whom she destined to be heir to his father, and whose name was Fonso, testified more affection for his brother, Kenalorro, than he did for herself. As she knew not in what way to remove this thorn from her eyes. Now one day Fonso wished to go hunting with his brother, so he had a fire lighted in his chamber, and began to melt lead to make bullets. And being in want of, I know not what, he went himself to look for it. Meanwhile the queen came in, and finding no one there but Kenalorro, she thought to put him out of the world. So stooping down, she flung the hot bullet mould at his face, which hit him over the brow and made an ugly wound. She was just going to repeat the blow when Fonso came in. So pretending that she was only come in to see how he was, she gave him some caresses and went away. Kenalorro, pulling his hat down on his forehead, said nothing of his wound to Fonso, but stood quite quiet though he was burning with the pain. But as soon as they had done making the bowls, he told his brother that he must leave him. Fonso, all in amazement at this new resolution, asked him the reason. But he replied, inquire no more my dear Fonso, let it suffice that I am obliged to go away and part with you, who are my heart and my soul and the breath of my body, since it cannot be otherwise, farewell, and keep me in remembrance. Then after embracing one another and shedding many tears, Kenalorro went to his own room. He put on a suit of armour and a sword and armed himself from top to toe. And having taken a horse out of the stable, he was just putting his foot into the syrup when Fonso came weeping and said, since you are resolved to abandon me, you should at least leave me some token of your love to diminish my anguish for your absence. Thereupon Kenalorro struck his dagger into the ground and instantly a fine fountain rose up. Then he said to his twin brother, this is the best memorial I can leave you. By the flowing of this fountain you will follow the course of my life. If you see it run clear, know that my life is likewise clear and tranquil. If it is turbid, think that I am passing through troubles. And if it is dry, depend on it that the oil of my life is all consumed, and that I have paid the toll which belongs to nature. Then he drove his sword into the ground, and immediately a myrtle tree grew up, when he said, as long as this myrtle is green, know that I too am green as a leek. If you see it wither, think that my fortunes are not the best in this world, but if it becomes quite dried up, you may mourn for your Kenalorro. So saying, after embracing one another again, Kenalorro set out on his travels journeying on and on, with many adventures which it would be too long to recount. He at length arrived at the kingdom of clear water, just at the time when they were holding a most splendid tournament, the hand of the king's daughter being promised to the victor. Here Kenalorro presented himself and bore him so bravely that he overthrew all the nights who were come from diverse parts to gain a name for themselves, whereupon he married the Princess Venetia, and a great feast was made. When Kenalorro had been there some months in peace and quiet, an unhappy fancy came into his head for going to the chase. He told it to the king who said to him, take care my son-in-law, do not be deluded, be wise and keep open your eyes, for in these woods is a most wicked ogre who changes his form every day, one time appearing like a wolf, at another like a lion, now like a stag, now like an ass, like one thing, and now like another. By a thousand stratagens he decoys those who are so unfortunate as to meet him into a cave where he devours them. So, my son, do not put your safety into peril, or you will leave your rags there. Kenalorro, who did not know what fear was, paid no heed to the advice of his father-in-law. As soon as the sun with the broom of his rays had cleared away the soot of the night, he set out for the chase, and on his way he came to a wood-ware beneath the awning of the leaves, the shades had assembled to maintain their sway, and to make a conspiracy against the sun. The ogre seeing him coming, turned himself into a handsome doe, which as soon as Kenalorro perceived he began to give chase to her. Then the doe doubled and turned, and led him about hither and thither at such a rate that at last she brought him into the very heart of the wood, where she raised such a tremendous snowstorm that it looked as if the sky was going to fall. Kenalorro, finding himself in front of a cave, went into it to seek for shelter, and being benumbed with the cold, he gathered some sticks which he found within it, and pulling his steel from his pocket, he kindled a large fire. As he was standing by the fire to dry his clothes, the doe came to the mouth of the cave and said, Sir Knight, pray give me leave to warm myself a little while, for I am shivering with the cold. Kenalorro, who was of a kindly disposition, said to her, draw near and welcome. I would gladly reply the doe, but I am afraid you would kill me. Fear nothing, answered Kenalorro, trust to my word. If you wish me to enter, rejoined the doe, tie up those dogs that they may not hurt me, and tie up your horse that he may not kick me. So Kenalorro tied up his dogs and hobbled his horse, and the doe said, I am now half assured, but unless you bind fast to your sword, I dare not come in. Then Kenalorro, who wished to become friends with the doe, bound his sword as a countryman does when he carries it in the city for fear of the constables. As soon as the ogre saw Kenalorro defenseless, he retook his own form, and laying hold on him, flung him into a pit at the bottom of the cave, and covered it up with a stone to keep him to eat. But Fonzo, who, morning and evening, visited the Myrtle and the Fountain to learn news of the fate of Kenalorro, finding the one withered and the other troubled, instantly thought that his brother was undergoing his fortunes. So, to help him, he mounted his horse without asking leave of his father or mother, and arming himself well, and taking two enchanted dogs, he went rambling through the world. He roamed and rambled here, there, and everywhere, until, at last, he came to clear water, which he found all in mourning for the supposed death of Kenalorro. And scarcely was he come to the court, when everyone, thinking, from the likeness he bore him, that it was Kenalorro, hastened to tell Fenicia the good news, who ran leaping down the stairs, and embracing Fonzo, cried, My husband, my heart, where have you been all this time? Fonzo immediately perceived that Kenalorro had come to this country and had left it again, so he resolved to examine the matter adroitly, to learn from the princess's discourse where his brother might be found, and hearing her say that he had put himself in great danger by that accursed hunting, especially if the cruel ogre should meet him, he had once concluded that Kenalorro must be there. The next morning, as soon as the sun had gone forth to give the gilded frills to the sky, he jumped out of bed, and neither the prayers of Fenicia, nor the commands of the king, could keep him back, but he would go to the chase. So, mounting his horse, he went with the enchanted dogs to the wood, where the same thing befell him that had befallen Kenalorro. And entering the cave, he saw his brother's arms and dogs and horse fast bound, by which he became assured of the nature of the snare. Then the doe told him, in like manner to tie his arms, dogs and horse, but he instantly set them upon her, and they tore her to pieces. And as he was looking about for some traces of his brother, he heard his voice down in the pit. So, lifting up the stone, he drew out Kenalorro, with all the others whom the ogre had buried alive to fatten. Then embracing each other with great joy, the twin brothers went home, where Fenicia, seeing them so much alike, did not know which to choose for her husband, until Kenalorro took off his cap, and she saw the mark of the old wound and recognized him. Fonso stayed there a month, taking his pleasure, and then wished to return to his own country. And Kenalorro wrote by him to his mother, bidding her lay aside her enmity, and come and visit him, and partake of his greatness, which she did. But from that time forward, he never would hear of dogs or of hunting, recollecting the saying, unhappy as he who corrects himself at his own cost. Chapter 10 Parsley This is one of the stories which that good soul, my uncle's grandmother, whom heaven taped to glory, used to tell, and unless I have put on my spectacles upside down, I fancy it will give you pleasure. There was, once upon a time, a woman named Pascadosia, and one day, when she was standing at her window, she looked into the garden of an ogreess. She saw such a fine bed of parsley, that she almost fainted away with desire for some. So when the ogreess went out, she could not restrain herself any longer, but plucked a handful of it. The ogreess came home and was going to cook a potage, when she found that someone had been stealing the parsley, and said, ill luck to me, but I'll catch this long-fingered rogue and make him repent it. I'll teach him to his cost that everyone should eat off his own platter and not meddle with other folk's cups. The poor woman went out again and again down into the garden, until one morning the ogreess 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 I'll make you do penance without sending you to Rome. Poor Pascadosia, 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 fear lest her child should be born with a crop of parsley on its face. Words about wind, answered the ogreess, 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, girl or boy, whichever it may be. The poor woman, in order to escape the peril in which she found herself, saw with one hand upon the other to keep the promise, and so the ogreess let her go free. But when the baby came it was a little girl, so beautiful that she was a joy to look upon, who was named Parsley. 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 ogreess, 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 refrain, said one day to Parsley, If you meet the old woman as usual, and she reminds you of the hateful promise, answer her, take it. When Parsley, who dreamt of no ill, met the ogreess again, and heard her repeat the same words, she answered innocently as her mother had told her, whereupon the ogreess 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 pastors of those shades. Then she put the poor girl into a tower which she caused to arise by her art, having neither gate nor ladder, but only a little window through which she ascended and descended by means of Parsley's hair, which was very long, just as sailors climb up and down the mast of a ship. Now it happened one day when the ogreess had left the tower, that Parsley put her head out of the little window, and let loose her tresses in the sun, and the sun of a prince passing by saw those two golden banners which invited all souls to enlist under the standard of beauty, and beholding with amazement in the midst of those gleaming waves, a face that enchanted all hearts, he fell desperately in love with such wonderful beauty, and sending her a memorial of size, she decreed to receive him into favour. She told him her troubles, and implored him to rescue her. But a gossip of the ogreess, who was forever prying into things that did not concern her, and poking her nose into every corner, overheard the secret, and told the wicked woman to be on the lookout, for Parsley had been seen talking with a certain youth, and she had her suspicions. The ogreess thanked her gossip for the information, and said that she would take good care to stop up the road. As to Parsley 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 gornuts which were in a rafter in the kitchen, it would be labour lost to attempt to get away. While they were thus talking together, Parsley, who stood with her ears wide open, and had some suspicion of the gossip, overheard all that had passed, and when night had spread out her black garments to keep them from the moth, and the prince had come as they had appointed, she let fall her hair. He seized it with both hands and cried, Draw up! When he was drawn up, she made him first climb onto the rafters, and find the gornuts, knowing well what effect they would have as she had been enchanted by the ogreess. Then, having made a rope ladder, they both descended to the ground, took to their heels, and ran off towards the city. But the gossip, happening to see them come out, set up a loud halloe, and began to shout and make such a noise that the ogreess awoke, and seeing that Parsley had run away, she descended by the same ladder, which was still fastened to the window, and set off after the couple. Who, when they saw her coming at their heels faster than a horse let loose, gave themselves up for lost. But Parsley, recollecting the gornuts, quickly threw one of 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 ogreess as if to swallow her at a mouthful. But the old woman, who was more cunning and spiteful than ever, 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 Parsley, seeing her approach, threw the second gornut 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 ogreess when, turning quickly back, she stripped the skin off an ass which 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 ogreess having leapt over the second ditch turned again to pursue the poor lovers, who, hearing the clatter of her heels, and seeing clouds of dust that rose up to the sky, knew 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 Parsley now threw down the third gornut, there sprang up a wolf who, without giving the ogreess time to play any nutric, gobbled her up just as she was in the shape of a jackass. So Parsley and the prince, now freed from danger, went their way leisurely and quietly to the prince's kingdom, where, with his father's free consent, they were married. Thus, after all these storms of fate, they experienced to the truth that one hour in port, the sailor freed from fears, forgets the tempests of a hundred years. End Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of Stories from Pantamarone This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings in the public domain, for more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joy Chan. Stories from Pantamarone by Giambattista Pasire Chapter 11 The Three Sisters It is a great truth that from the same wood are formed the statues of idols and the rafters of gallows, king's thrones and cobbler's stalls, and another strange thing is that from the same rags are made the paper on which the wisdom of sages is recorded, and the crown which is placed on the head of a fool. The same too may be said of children, one daughter is good and another bad, one idol another a good housewife, one fair, another ugly, one spiteful, another kind, one unfortunate, another born to good luck, and who being all 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 on the story of the three daughters of the same mother, wherein you will see the difference of manners which brought the wicked daughters into the ditch, and the good daughter to the top of the wheel of fortune. There was at 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 would turn 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' 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. As greatly as her sisters desired to put her underground, so much more did other folks carry her on the palms of their hands. Now there was in that country an enchanted prince who was so attracted by her beauty that he secretly married her, 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. Then he gave her a certain powder, saying, Every time you wish to see me, throw a little of this powder into the fire, and instantly I will come through this passage as quick as a bird, running along the 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, vowed 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 husband, 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 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 a husband, if a man he should have half his kingdom. Now when Nella, who was pining away from the loss of the prince, heard this, she died her face, disguised herself, and unknown to her sisters, she left home to go to see him before his death. But as by this time the son's guilt of ball, with which he plays in the fields of heaven, was 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. As soon as they had emptied their cups and put out the labs, 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 ogre 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 is no hands breath clean, everything's 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, replied the ogre, for one hears things that are enough to drive one mad, such as buffoons rewarded with gifts, rogues esteemed, cowards honoured, robbers protected, and honest men little thought of. But as these things only vex one, 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 ruined 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 he can do is quickly to get ready morning and prepare the funeral. When Nella heard the cause of the prince's illness, she sobbed and dewet bitterly and said to herself, who was the wicked soul who has broken the passage and caused so much sorrow. But as the ogres now went on speaking, Nella was as silent as a mouse and listened. And is it possible, said the ogres, that the world is lost to this poor prince, and that no remedy can be found for his malady? Hark ye, granny, replied the ogre. The doctors are not called upon to find remedies that may pass the bounds of nature. This is not a fever that will yield to medicine and diet. Much less are these ordinary wounds which require lint and oil. 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 to you, for it is a thing of importance. Do tell me, dear old long tusk, cried the ogres, tell me if you would not see me die. Well then, said the ogre, I will tell you provided you promised 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 ogres, for you shall soon as he pigs with horns, apes with tails, moles with eyes, then a single word shall pass my lips. And so saying she put one hand upon the other and saw 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 ruins are anointed with this, his soul will be arrested which is just at the point of leaving the dwelling of his body. Nella, who overheard all that past, 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, Oh, my good masters, I pray you for charity, arms, 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 ogre's was going to throw her half a loaf and send her away. But the ogre, who was more greedy of flesh than the scruelies 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 what she may be eaten up by some wolf? In short, he 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 drank till they were fairly tipsy. When they lay 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 file, 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 the fire, and he became 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 marry her. 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 already 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, replied 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 would sooner take you for the cold and the fire, so keep off, don't blacken me. We're upon Nella, perceiving that he did not know her, called for a basin of clean water and washed her face. As soon as the cloud of soot was removed, the sun shone forth, and the prince recognizing her, pressed her to his heart, and acknowledged her for his wife. Then he had her sisters thrown into an oven, thus proving the truth of the old saying, no evil ever went without punishment. CHAPTER XII. 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's expecting sooner even than he expected, as you will hear in the story which I shall now tell you. There was once upon a time a good sort 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 cured the hearts of beholders of all unhappiness. 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 her father, telling him that she was too bold and forward, and that she answered the prince without any respect, as if she was 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 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 has lost her young ones from her nest, and goes from branch to branch, wailing and lamenting her loss. But he put his ear so often to the cheek, 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 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 pretense 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 made long 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 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 cannot get on at all. 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 need. If I don't cut off your nose, it is only that you may smell the bad odor of your reputation. So, saying, she went her way home with a hop, skip, and jump, leaving her aunt eased of one ear, 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 used to stand, he began his old tune. Good day, good day, Violet, whereupon she answered as quickly as a good parish clerk. Good day, king son, I know more than you. But Violet's sisters could no longer bear this behavior, 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 scheme of thread with which they were working a door curtain for the queen. They cried, Alas, alas, we are ruined 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 endure to see her sister's 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 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, oh mother, help me! Thereupon the ogre looked round, and seeing the beautiful maiden behind him, he received her with the greatest care and affection, and treating her as his own daughter, he gave her in charge of 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, his face became pearless 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 at 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 games 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 her room, and taking Violet's arm, he gave her two pinches. Then she awoke and exclaimed, oh father, father, what a quantity of fleas! So she went to another bed, and the prince did the same again, and she cried out as before. Then she changed first to the mattress, and then the sheet, and so the sport went on the whole night long until the dawn, having brought the news that the sun was alive, the morning that was hung round 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 want to do, good day, good day, Violet. And when Violet replied, good day, King Sun, I know more than you, the prince answered, oh 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 to the fairies, If it be he, said the fairies, we will soon give him tit for tat and his good in return. If this dark has bitten you, we will manage to get a hair from him. He has give you one, 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 pay him in good coin. Violet, who was eager to be revenged, instantly got the ogre to make the slippers for her, and, waiting till the sky like a Genoese woman, had wrapped the black taffety round 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 stand with her feet at such a rate that, what with the clatter of her heels and the jingling of her bells, the prince awoke in great terror and cried out, Oh mother, mother, help me. And after repeating this two or three times, they slipped away home. The next morning the prince 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 son, I know more than you. Then the prince said, Oh father, father, what a quantity of fleas. But Violet replied, Oh mother, mother, help me. When the prince heard this, he said to Violet, You have won, your wits are better than mine, I yield, you have conquered, and now that I see you really know more than I do, I will marry you without more 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 learned that very morning that Violet was the daughter of Coral 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 wed. Causes it to wither. It is a broken channel by which the foundations of affection are undermined, and a lump of soot which, falling into the dish of friendship, destroys its scent and savor, as is seen in daily instances, and amongst others, in the story which I will now tell you. There was one time in my dear city of Naples, an old man who was as poor as poor could be. He was so wretched, so bare, so light, and with not a farthing in his pocket, that he went naked as a flea. And being about to shake out the bags of life, he called to him his sons, Oretiello and Pippo, and said to them, I am now called upon by the tenor of my bill to pay the debt I owe to nature. Believe me, I should feel great pleasure in quitting this abode of misery, this den of woes, but that I leave you here behind me, a pair of miserable fellows as big as a church, without a stitch upon your backs, as clean as a barber's basin, as nimble as a sergeant, as dry as a plumstone, without so much as a fly can carry upon its foot, so that, were you to run a hundred miles, not a farthing would drop from you. My ill fortune has indeed brought me to such beggary that I lead the life of a dog, for I have all along as well you know, gaped with hunger and gone to bed without a candle. Nevertheless, now that I am a dying, I wish to leave you some token of my love. So do you, Oretiello, who are my firstborn, take the sieve that hangs yonder against the wall, with which you can earn your bread, and do you, little fellow, take the cat and remember your daddy. So say he began to whimper, and presently after said, God be with you, for at his night. Oretiello had his father buried by charity, and then took the sieve and went riddling here, there, and everywhere to gain a livelihood, and the more he riddled, the more he earned. But Pippo, taking the cat, said, Only see now what a pretty legacy my father has left me. I, who am not able to support myself, must now provide for two, whoever beheld so miserable an inheritance. Then the cat, who overheard this lamentation, said to him, You are grieving without need, and have more luck than sense. You little know the good fortune in store for you, for that I am able to make you rich, if I set about it. When Pippo had heard this, he thanked a pussy-ship, stroked her three or four times on the back, and commended himself warmly to her. So the cat took compassion on poor Pippo, and every morning, when the sun, with the bait of light on his golden hook, fishes for the shakes of night, she betook herself to the shore, and catching a goodly grey mullet, or a fine dory, she carried it to the king, and said, My Lord Pippo, your Majesty's most humble slave, sends you this fish with all reverence, and says, A small present to a great Lord. Then the king with a joyful face, as one usually shows to those who bring a gift, answered the cat, Tell this Lord whom I do not know, that I thank him heartily. Again the cat would run to the marshes or the fields, and when the phallus had brought down a blackbird, a snipe or a lark, she caught it up and presented it to the king with the same message. She repeated this trick again and again, until one morning the king said to her, I feel infinitely obliged to this Lord Pippo, and am desirous of knowing him, that I may make a return for the kindness he has shown me. And the cat replied, The desire of my Lord Pippo is to give his life for your Majesty's crown, and tomorrow morning without fail, as soon as the sun has set fire to the stubble of the fields of the air, he will come and pay his respects to you. So when the morning came, the cat went to the king and said to him, Sire, my Lord Pippo sends to excuse himself for not coming, as last night some of his servants robbed him and ran off, and have not left him a single shirt to his back. When the king heard this, he instantly commanded his retainers to take out of his own wardrobe a quantity of clothes and linen, and sent them to Pippo. And before two hours had passed, Pippo went to the palace conducted by the cat, where he received a thousand compliments from the king, who made him sit beside himself, and gave him a banquet that would amaze you. While they were eating, Pippo from time to time turned to the cat and said to her, My pretty puss, pray take care that those rags don't slip through our fingers. Then the cat answered, Be quiet, be quiet, don't be talking of these beggly things. The king, wishing to know the subject of their talk, the cat made answer that Pippo had taken a fancy to a small linen, whereupon the king instantly sent out to the garden for a basketful. But Pippo returned to the same tune about the old coats and shirts, and the cat again told him to hold his tongue. Then the king once more asked what was the matter, and the cat had another excuse to make amends for Pippo's rudeness. At last, when they had eaten and conversed for some time about one thing and another, Pippo took his leave, and the cat stayed with the king, describing the worth, the wisdom, and the judgment of Pippo, and above all, the great wealth he had in the plains of Rome and Lombardy, which well entitled him to marry even into the family of a crowned king. Then the king asked what might be his fortune, and the cat replied that no one could ever count the moveables, the fixtures, and the household furniture of this rich man, who did not even know what he possessed. If the king wished to be informed of it, he had only to send messengers with the cat, and she would prove to him that there was no wealth in the world equal to his. Then the king called some trusty persons, and commanded them to inform themselves minutely of the truth. So they followed in the footsteps of the cat, who, as soon as they had passed the frontier of the kingdom, from time to time ran on before, under the pretext of providing refreshments for them on the road. Whenever she met a flock of sheep, a herd of cows, a troop of horses, or a drove of pigs, she would say to the herdsmen and keepers, Oh, have a care! A troop of robbers is coming to carry off everything in the country, so if you wish to escape their fury, and to have your things respected, say that they all belonged to the Lord Pippo, and not a hair will be touched. She said the same at all the farmhouses, so that wherever the king's people came, they found the pipe turned, for everything they met with, they were told belonged to the Lord Pippo. At last they were tired of asking and returned to the king, telling seas and mountains of the riches of Lord Pippo. The king, hearing this report, promised the cat a good drink, if she should manage to bring about the match, and the cat, playing the shuttle between them, at last concluded the marriage. So Pippo came, and the king gave him his daughter and a large portion. At the end of a month of festivities, Pippo wished to take his bride to his estates, so the king accompanied them as far as the frontiers, and he went on to Lombardy, where, by the cat's advice, he purchased a large estate and became a baron. Pippo, seeing himself now so rich, thanked the cat more than words can express, saying that he owed his life and his greatness to her good officers, and that the ingenuity of a cat had done more for him than the wit of his father. Therefore, said he, she might dispose of his life and his property as she pleased, and he gave her his word that when she died, which he prayed might not be for a hundred years, he would have her embalmed and put into a golden coffin, and set in his own chamber, that he might keep her memory always before his eyes. The cat listened to these lavish professions, and before three days she pretended to be dead, and stretched herself at full length in the garden. When Pippo's wife saw her, she cried out, Oh husband, what a sad misfortune, the cat is dead! Devil die with her, said Pippo, better her than we. What shall we do with her? replied the wife. Take her by the leg, said he, and fling her out of the window. Then the cat, who heard this fine reward when she least expected it, began to say, Is this the return you make for my taking you from beggary? Are these the thanks I get for freeing you from rags that you might have hung distuffs with? Is this my reward for having put good clothes on your back when you were poor, starved, miserable, tatter-shot ragamuffin? But such is the fate of him who washes an ass's head. Go, a curse upon all I have done for you. A fine gold coffin you had prepared for me. A fine funeral you were going to give me. Go now, serve, labour, toil, sweat to get this fine reward. Unhappy is he who does a good deed in hope of a return. Well was it said by the philosopher, He who lies down an ass, an ass he finds himself. But let him who does most expect least. Smooth words and ill deeds deceive alike both fools and wise. So, saying, she drew her cloak about her and went her way. All that pipper with the utmost humility could do to soothe her was of no avail. She would not return, but ran on and on without ever turning her head about, saying, Heaven keep me from the rich, grown poor, and from the beggar who of wealth gained straw. End of Chapter 13. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joy Chan. Chapter 14. The Serpent It always happens that he who is over-curious in prying into the affairs of other people, strikes his own foot with the axe. And the king of Longfellow is a proof of this, who, by poking his nose into secrets, brought his daughter into trouble, and ruined his unhappy son-in-law, who, in attempting to make a thrust with his head, was left with it broken. There was once on a time a gardener's wife, who longed to have a son more than a man in a fever for cold water, or the innkeeper for the arrival of the male-coach. It chanced one day that the poor man went to the mountain to get a faggot, and when he came home and opened it, he found a pretty little serpent among the tweeds. At the sight of this, Sapatella, for that was the name of the gardener's wife, heaved a deep sigh and said, Alas, even the serpents have their little serpents, but I brought ill luck with me into this world. At these words the little serpent spoke and said, Well then, since you cannot have children, take me for a child, and you will make a good bargain, for I shall love you better than my mother. Sapatella, hearing a serpent speak thus, nearly fainted. But, plucking up courage, she said, If it were for nothing else than the affection which you offer, I am content to take you, and treat you as if you were really my own child. So saying, she assigned him a hole in a corner of the house for a cradle, and gave him for food a share of what she had with the greatest goodwill in the world. The serpent increased in size from day to day, and when he had grown pretty big, he said to Kohler Mathieu, the gardener, whom he looked on as his father, Daddy, I want to get married. With all my heart said Kohler Mathieu, we must look out for another serpent like yourself, and try to make up a match between you. What serpent are you talking of? said the little serpent. I suppose, forsooth, we are all the same with vipers and adders. It is easy to see you are nothing but a country bumpkin, and make a nose-gay of every plant. I want the king's daughter. So go this very instant and ask the king for her, and tell him it is a serpent who demands her. Kohler Mathieu, who was a plain, straightforward kind of man, and knew nothing about matters of this sort, went innocently to the king and delivered his message saying, the messenger should not be beaten more than other sands upon the shore. Know then that a serpent wants your daughter for his wife, and I am come to try if we can make a match between a serpent and a dove. The king, who saw at a glance that he was a blockhead, to get rid of him said, go and tell the serpent that I will give him my daughter, if he turns all the fruit of this orchard into gold. And so saying, he burst out a laughing and dismissed him. When Kohler Mathieu went home and delivered the answer to the serpent, he said, go to-morrow morning, and gather up all the fruit-stones you can find in the city, and sow them in the orchard, and you will see pearls strung on rushes. Kohler Mathieu, who was no chondra, neither knew how to comply nor refuse. So next morning, as soon as the sun with his golden broom had swept away the dirt of the night from the fields watered by the dawn, he took a basket on his arm, and went from street to street, picking up all the stones of peaches, plums, nectarines, apricots, and cherries that he could find. He then went to the orchard of the palace and sowed them, as the serpent had desired. In an instant the trees shot up, and stems and branches, leaves, flowers, and fruit were all of glittering gold, at the sight of which the king was in an ecstasy, amazement, and cried aloud with joy. But when Kohler Mathieu was sent by the serpent to the king, to demand the performance of his promise, the king said, fair and easy, I must first have something else if he would have my daughter, and it is that he make all the walls and the ground of the orchard to be of precious stones. When the gardener told this to the serpent he made answer, go to-morrow morning, and gather up all the bits of broken crockery where you can find, and throw them on the walks and on the walls of the orchard, for we will not let this small difficulty stand in our way. As soon, therefore, as the night, having aided the robbers, is banished from the sky, and goes about collecting the faggots of twilight, Kohler Mathieu took a basket under his arm, and went about collecting bits of tiles, lids, and bottoms of pipkins, pieces of plate and dishes, handles of jugs, spouts of pictures. He picked up all the spoiled, broken, cracked lamps, and all the fragments of pottery he could find in his way. And when he had done all that the serpent had told him, you could see the whole orchard mantled with emeralds and charcedonies, and coated with rubies and carbuncles, so that the luster dazzled your eyes. The king was struck all of a heap by the sight, and knew not what had befallen him. But when the serpent sent again to let him know that he was expecting the performance of his promise, the king answered, Oh, all that has been done is nothing, if he does not turn this palace into gold. When Kohler Mathieu told the serpent this new fancy of the kings, the serpent said, Go and get a bundle of herbs, and rub the bottom of the palace walls with them. We shall see if we cannot satisfy this whim. Away went Kohler that very moment, and made a great broom of cabbages, radishes, leeks, parsley, turnips and carrots. And when he had rubbed the lower part of the palace with it, instantly you might see it shining like a golden ball on a weather vane. And when the gardener came again to demand the hand of the princess, the king, seeing all his retreat cut off, called his daughter and said to her, My dear Granonia, I have tried to get rid of a suitor who asked to marry you, by making such conditions as seemed to me impossible. But as I am beaten and obliged to consent, I pray you, as you are a dutiful daughter, to enable me to keep my word, and to be content with what fate wills, and I am obliged to do. Do as you please, Father, said Granonia. I shall not oppose a single jot of your will. The king, hearing this, bade Kohler Mathieu tell the serpent to come. The serpent then set out for the palace, mounted on a car all of gold and drawn by four golden elephants. But wherever he came the people fled away in terror, seeing such a large and frightful serpent making his progress through the city. And when he arrived at the palace the courtiers all trembled like rushes and ran away, and even the very scullions did not dare to stay in the palace. The king and queen, also shivering with fear, crept into a chamber. Only Granonia stood her ground, for though her father and her mother cried continually, Fly, fly, Granonia, save yourself! She would not stir from the spot, saying, Why should I fly from the husband you have given me? And when the serpent came into the room he took Granonia by the waist in his tail, and gave her such a shower of kisses that the king writhed like a worm and went as pale as death. Then the serpent carried her into another room and fastened the door, and shaking off his skin on the floor he became a most beautiful youth, with her head all covered with ringlets of gold and with eyes that would enchant you. When the king saw the serpent go into the room with his daughter and shut the door after him, he said to his wife, Heaven have mercy on that good soul my daughter, for she is dead to a certainty, and that accursed serpent has doubtless swallowed her down like the yolk of an egg. Then he put his eye to the keyhole to see what had become of her, but when he saw the exceeding beauty of the youth and the skin of the serpent that he had left lying on the ground, he gave the door a kick, then in they rushed and, taking the skin, flung it into the fire and burned it. When the youth saw this he cried, Ah, fools, what have you done? And instantly he was turned into a dove and flew at the window, where, as he struck his head through the pains, he cut himself sorely. Granonia, who thus saw herself at the same moment happy and unhappy, joyful and miserable, rich and poor, tore her hair and bewailed her fate, reproaching her father and mother, but they excused themselves, declaring that they had not meant to do harm. But she went on weeping and wailing until night came forth to drape the canopy of the sky for the funeral of the sun, and when they were all in bed she took her jewels which were in a writing desk, and went out by the back door to search everywhere for the treasure she had lost. She went out of the city, guided by the light of the moon, and on her way she met a fox, who asked her if she wished for company. Of all things, my friend, replied Granonia, I should be delighted, for I am not over well acquainted with the country. So they travelled along together till they came to a wood, where the trees, at plain like children, were making babyhouses for the shadows to lie in, and as they were now tired and wished to rest, they sheltered under the leaves where fountain was playing tricks with the grass, throwing water on it by the dish-fall. There they stretched themselves on a mattress of tender soft grass, and paid the duty of repose which they owed to nature for the merchandise of life. They did not awake till the sun, with his usual fire, gave the signal to sailors and travellers to set out on their road, and after their work they still stayed for some time listening to the songs of the birds in which Granonia took great delight. The fox seeing this said to her, You would feel twice as much pleasure, if, like me, you understood what they are saying. At these words, Granonia, for women are by nature as curious as they are talkative, begged the fox to tell her what he had heard the birds saying. So, after having let her entreat him for a long time, to raise her curiosity about what he was going to relate, he told her that the birds were talking to each other about what had lately befallen the king's son, who was as beautiful as a jay. Because he had offended a wicked ogreess, she had laid him under a spell to pass seven years in the form of a serpent, and when he had nearly ended the seven years, he fell in love with the daughter of a king, and being one day in a room with the maiden, he had cast his skin on the ground, when her father and mother rushed in and burned it. Then, when the prince was flying away in the shape of a dove, he broke a pain in the window to escape, and hurt his head so severely that he was given over by the doctors. Granonia, who thus heard her own onion spoken of, asked if there was any cure for this injury. The fox replied that there was none other than by anointing his wounds with the blood of those very birds that had been telling the story. When Granonia heard this, she fell down on her knees to the fox, in treating him to catch those birds for her, that she might get their blood. Adding that, like honest comrades, they would share the gain. Fair and softly said the fox, let us wait till night, and when the birds have gone to bed, trust me to climb the tree and capture them, one after the other. So they waited till day was gone, and earth had spread out her great black board to catch the wax that might drop from the tapers of night. Then the fox, as soon as he saw all the birds fast asleep on the branches, stole up quite softly, and one after another, throttled all the linens, larks, tom-tits, blackbirds, woodpeckers, thrushes, jays, flycatchers, little owls, goldfinches, bullfinches, chafffinches, and redbrits that were on the trees. And when he had killed them all, they put the blood in a little bottle, which the fox carried with him to refresh himself on the road. Granonia was so overjoyed that she hardly touched the ground. But the fox said to her, What fine joy in a dream is this, my daughter, you have done nothing, unless you mix my blood also with that of the birds. And so saying, he set off to run away. Granonia, who saw all her hopes likely to be destroyed, had recourse to woman's art, flattery. And she said to him, Gossip fox, there would be some reason for your saving your hide, if I were not under so many obligations to you, and if there were no other foxes in the world. But you know how much I owe you, and that there is no scarcity of the likes of you on these planes. Rely on my good faith. Don't act like the cow that kicks over the pale, which she has just filled with milk. You have done the chief part, and now you fail at the last. Do stop. Believe me, and come with me to the city of this king, where you may sell me for a slave, if you will. The fox never dreamed that he could be outforced by a woman, so he agreed to travel on with her. But they had hardly gone fifty paces, when she lifted up the stick she carried, and gave him such a neat wrap that he forthwith stretched his legs. Then she put his blood into the little bottle, and setting off again she stayed not till she came to Big Valley, where she went straight way to the royal palace, and sent word that she was come to cure the prince. Then the king ordered her to be brought before him, and he was astonished at seeing a girl undertake a thing which the best doctors in his kingdom had failed to do. However, a trial could do no harm, and so he said he wished greatly to see the experiment made. But Grenonia answered, If I succeed, you must promise to give him to me for a husband. The king, who looked on his son to be even, has already dead, answered her. If you give him to me safe and sound, I will give him to you sound and safe, for it is no great matter to give a husband to her that gives me a son. So they went to the chamber of the prince, and hardly had she anointed him with the blood, when he found himself just as if nothing had ever ailed him. Grenonia, when she saw the prince start and hearty, bade the king keep his word. Whereupon he, turning to his son, said, My son, a moment ago you were all but dead, and now I see you alive and can hardly believe it. Therefore, as I have promised this maiden that if she cured you, she should have you for a husband. Now enable me to perform my promise. By all the love you bear me, since gratitude obliges me to pay this debt. When the prince heard these words, he said, Sir, I would that I was free to prove to you the love I bear you. But as I have already pledged my faith to another woman, you would not consent that I should break my word, nor would this maiden wish that I should do such a wrong to her whom I love, nor can I indeed alter my mind. Grenonia, hearing this, felt a secret pleasure not to be described, at finding herself still alive in the memory of the prince. Her whole face became crimson, as she said. If I could induce this maiden to resign her claims, would you then consent to my wish? Never, replied the prince, will I banish from this breast the fair image of her whom I love. I shall ever remain of the same mind and will, and I would soon as see myself in danger of losing my place at the table of life, then play so mean a trick. Grenonia could no longer disguise herself, and discovered to the prince who she was. For, the chamber having been darkened on account of the wound in his head, he had not known her. But the prince, now that he recognized her, embraced her with a joy that would amaze you, telling his father what he had done and suffered for her. Then they sent to invite her parents, the king and queen of Longfield, and they celebrated the wedding with wonderful festivity, making great sport of the great niny of a fox, and concluding at the last of the last that pained off indeed a seasoning proof unto the joys of constant love. This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joy Chan. Stories from Pantamerone by Giampattista Pesiri. Chapter 15 The She-Bear Truly the wise man said well that a command of gold cannot be obeyed like one of sugar, and man must require just and reasonable things if he would see the scales of obedience properly trimmed. From orders which are improper springs resistance which is not easily overcome, as happened to the king of rough rock, who by asking what he ought not of his daughter, caused her to run away from him at the risk of losing both honour and life. There lived, it is said, once upon a time, a king of rough rock who had a wife, the very mother of beauty. But in the full career of her years, she fell from the horse of health and broke her life. Before the candle of life went out at the auction of her years, she called her husband and said to him, I know you have always loved me tenderly. Show me therefore at the close of my days the completion of your love, by promising me never to marry again, unless you find a woman as beautiful as I have been. Otherwise I leave you my curse, and shall bear you hatred even in the other world. The king who loved his wife beyond measure, hearing this her last wish, burst into tears, and for some time could not answer a single word. At last, when he had done weeping, he said to her, sooner than take another wife, may the gout lay hold of me, may I have my head cut off like a mackerel. My dearest love, drive such a thought from your mind. Do not believe in dreams or that I could love any other woman. You were the first new coat of my love, and you shall carry away with you the last rags of my affection. As he said these words, the poor young queen, who was at the point of death, turned up her eyes and stretched out her feet. When the king saw her life thus running out, he unstopped the channels of his eyes, and made such a howling and beating and outcry, that all the court came running up, calling on the name of the dear soul, and upbraiding fortune for taking her from him, and plucking out his beard, he cursed the stars that had sent him such a misfortune. But bearing in mind the maxim, pain in one's elbow and pain for one's wife are alike hard to bear, but are soon over. Here the night had gone forth into the place of arms in the sky to muster the bats. He began to count upon his fingers, and to reflect thus to himself. Here is my wife dead, and I am left a wretched widower, with no hope of seeing any one but this poor daughter whom she has left me. I must therefore try to discover some means or other of having a son and heir. But where shall I look? Where shall I find a woman equal in beauty to my wife? Everyone appears a witch in comparison with her. Where then shall I find another with a bit of stick, or seek another with the bell, if nature made Nadella, may she be in glory, and then broke the mould? Alas, in what elaborate has she put me, in what a perplexity has the promise I made her left me. But what do I say? I am running away before I have seen the wolf. Let me open my eyes and ears and look about. May there not be some other as beautiful. Is it possible that the world should be lost to me? Is there such a dearth of women, or is the race extinct? So saying, he forthwith issued a proclamation and command, that all the handsome women in the world should come to the touchstone of beauty, for he would take the most beautiful to wife, and endow her with a kingdom. Now, when this news was spread abroad, there was not a woman in the universe who did not come to try her luck, not a witch, however ugly, who stayed behind, for when it is a question of beauty, no Scully and Wrench will acknowledge herself surpassed. Everyone picks herself on being the handsomest, and if the looking glass tells her the truth, she blames the glass for being untrue, and the quicksilver for being put on badly. When the town was thus filled with women, the king had them all drawn up in a line, and he walked up and down from top to bottom, and as he examined and measured each from head to foot, one appeared to him rye-browed, another long-nosed, another broad-mouthed, another thick-lipped, another tall as a maypole, another short and dumpy, another too stout, another too slender. The Spaniard did not please him on account of a dark colour, the Neapolitan was not to his fancy on account of her gait, the German appeared cold and icy, the Frenchwoman frivolous and giddy, the Venetian with her light hair looked like a distaf of flax. At the end of the end, one for this cause and another for that, he sent them all away, with one hand before and the other behind, and seeing that so many fair-faces were all show and no wool, he turned his thoughts to his own daughter, saying, Why do I go seeking the impossible when my daughter, Priziosa, is formed in the same mould of beauty as her mother? I have this fair face here in my house, and yet go looking for it at the far end of the world. She shall marry whom I will, and so I shall have an heir. When Priziosa heard this, she retired to her chamber, and bewailing her ill fortune, as if she would not leave a hair upon her head. And while she was lamenting thus, an old woman came to her who was her confidant. As soon as she saw Priziosa, who seemed to belong more to the other world than to this, and heard the cause of her grief, the old woman said to her, Cheer up, my daughter, do not despair. There is a remedy for every evil save death. Now listen, if your father speaks to you thus once again, put this bit of wood into your mouth, and instantly you will be changed into a she-bear. Then off with you, for in his fright he will let you depart, and go straight to the wood, where heaven has kept good fortune in store for you since the day you were born, and whenever you wish to appear a woman, as you are and will remain, only take the piece of wood out from your mouth, and you will return to your true form. Then Priziosa embraced the old woman, and giving her a good apron full of meal, and ham and bacon, sent her away. As soon as the sun began to change his quarters, the king ordered the musicians to come, and inviting all his lords and vassals, he held a great feast, and after dancing for five or six hours, they all sat down to table and ate and drank beyond measure. Then the king asked his courtiers to whom he should marry Priziosa, as she was the picture of his dead wife. But the instant Priziosa heard this, she slipped the bit of wood into her mouth, and took the figure of a terrible she-bear, at the sight of which all present were frightened out of their wits, and ran off as fast as they could scamper. Meanwhile Priziosa went out, and took her way to a wood, where the shades were holding consultation, how they might do some mischief to the sun at the close of day. And there she stayed in the pleasant companionship of the other animals, until the sun of the king of running water came to hunt in that part of the country, who, at the sight of the bear, had liked to have died on the spot. But when he saw the beast come gently up to him, wagging her tail like a little dog, and rubbing her sides against him, he took courage and patted her and said, Good Bear, Good Bear, there, there, poor beast, poor beast. Then he led her home, and ordered that she should be taken great care of, and he had her put into a garden close to the royal palace, that he might see her from the window whenever he wished. One day when all the people of the house were gone out and the prince was left alone, he went to the window to look out at the bear. And there he beheld Priziosa, who had taken the piece of wood out of her mouth, combing her golden tresses. At the sight of this beauty, which was beyond the beyonds, he had liked to have lost his senses with amazement, and tumbling down the stairs he ran out into the garden. But Priziosa, who was on the watch and observed him, popped the piece of wood into her mouth, and was instantly changed into a bear again. When the prince came down and looked about in vain for Priziosa, whom he had seen from the window above, he was so amazed at the trick that a deep melancholy came over him, and in four days he fell sick, crying continually, My Bear, My Bear! His mother, hearing him wailing fuss, imagined that the bear had done him some hurt, and gave orders that she should be killed. But the servants, enamoured of the tameness of the bear, who made herself beloved by the very stones in the road, took pity on her, and instead of killing her, they led her to the wood, and told the queen that they had put an end to her. When this came to the ears of the prince, he acted in a way to pass belief. Ill or well he jumped out of bed, and was going at once to make mincemeat of the servants. But when they told him the truth of the affair, he jumped on horseback, half dead as he was, and went rambling about and seeking everywhere, until at length he found the bear. Then he took her home again, and putting her into a chamber said to her, O lovely morsel for a king, who art shut up in this skin, O candle of love who art enclosed within this hairy land-thorn, wherefore all this trifling, do you wish to see me pine and pant and die by inches? I am wasting away, without hope, and tormented by thy beauty. And you see clearly the proof, for I am shrunk two-thirds in size, like wine boiled down, and am nothing but skin and bone, for the fever is double-stitched to my veins. So lift up the curtain of this hairy hide, and let me gaze upon the spectacle of thy beauty. Raise, O raise the leaves of this basket, and let me get a sight of the fine fruit beneath. Lift up that curtain, and let my eyes pass in to behold the pomp of wonders. Who has shut up so smooth a creature in a prison woven of hair? Who has locked up so rich a treasure in a leavened chest? Let me behold this display of graces, and take in payment all my love, for nothing else can cure the troubles I endure. But when he had said again and again, this and a great deal more, and still saw that all his words were thrown away, he took to his bed, and had such a desperate fit, that the doctors prognosticated badly of his case. Then his mother, who had no other joy in the world, sat down by his bedside and said to him, My son, whence comes all this grief? What melancholy humour has seized you? You are young, you are loved, you are great, you are rich! What then is it you want, my son? Speak! A bashful beggar carries an empty bag. If you want a wife, only choose and I will bring them match about. Do you take and I'll pay? Do you not see that your illness is an illness to me? Your pulse beats with fever in your veins, and my heart beats with illness in my brain, for I have no other support of my old age than you. So be cheerful now, and cheer up my heart, and do not see the whole kingdom thrown into mourning, and this house into lamentation, and your mother forlorn and heartbroken. When the prince heard these words, he said, Nothing can console me but the sight of the bear. Therefore, if you wish to see me well again, let her be brought into this chamber. I will have no one else to attend me, and make my bed and cook for me, but she herself. And you may be sure that this pleasure will make me well in a trice. Thereupon his mother, although she thought it ridiculous enough for the bear to act as cook and chambermaid, and feared that her son was not in his right mind, yet in order to gratify him, had the bear fetched. And when the bear came up to the prince's bed, she raised her paw and felt the patient's pulse, which made the queen laugh outright, for she thought every moment that the bear would scratch his nose. Then the prince said, My dear bear, will you not cook for me and give me my food and wait upon me? And the bear nodded her head to show that she accepted the office. Then his mother had some fowls brought, and a fire lighted on the hearth in the same chamber, and some water set to boil. Whereupon the bear, laying hold of the fowl, scalded and plucked it handily, and drew it, and then stuck one portion of it on the spit, and with the other part she made such a delicious hash, that the prince, who could not relish even sugar, licked his fingers at the taste. And when he had done eating, the bear handed him drink with such grace that the queen was ready to kiss her on the forehead. Thereupon the prince arose, and the bear quickly set about making the bed, and running into the garden, she gathered a cloth full of roses and citron flowers, and strewn them over it, so that the queen said the bear was worth her weight in gold, and that her son had good reason to be fond of her. But when the prince saw these pretty officers, they only added fuel to the fire, and if before he wasted by ounces, he now melted away by pounds, and he said to the queen, My Lady Mother, if I do not give this bear a kiss, the breath will leave my body. Whereupon the queen, seeing him fainting away, said, Kiss him, kiss him, my beautiful beast, let me not see my poor son die of longing. Then the bear went up to the prince, and taking him by the cheeks, kissed him again and again. Meanwhile, I know not how it was, the piece of wood slipped out of Preziosa's mouth, and she remained in the arms of the prince, the most beautiful creature in the world, and pressing her to his heart, he said, I have caught you, my little rogue, you shall not escape from me again without a good reason. At these words, Preziosa, adding the colour of modesty to the picture of her natural beauty, said to him, I am indeed in your hands, only guard me safely, and marry me when you will. Then the queen inquired who the beautiful maiden was, and what had brought her to this savage life, and Preziosa related the whole story of her misfortunes, at which the queen, praising her as a good and virtuous girl, told her son that she was content that Preziosa should be his wife. Then the prince, who desired nothing else in life, forthwith pledged her his faith, and the mother giving them her blessing, this happy marriage was celebrated with great feasting and illuminations, and Preziosa experienced the truth of the saying that one who acts well may always expect good. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of Stories from Pantamerone This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joy Chan Stories from Pantamerone by Giambattista Pasire Chapter 16 The Dove He who was born a prince should not act like a beggar-boy, the man who was high in rank ought not to set a bad example to those below him, for the little donkey learns from the big one to eat straw. It is no wonder, therefore, that heaven sends him troubles by bushels, as happened to a prince who was brought into great difficulties for ill-treating and tormenting a poor woman, so that he was near losing his life miserably. About eight miles from Naples there was once a deep wood of fig trees and poplars. In this wood stood a half-ruined cottage, wherein dwelt an old woman, who was as light of teeth as she was burdened with years. She had a hundred wrinkles in her face, and a great many more in her purse, and all her silver covered her head, so that she went from one thatched cottage to another, begging alms to keep life in her. But as folks nowadays much rather give a purse full of crowns to a crafty spy than a farthing to a poor, needy man, she had to toil a whole day to get a dish of kidney beans, and that at a time when they were very plentiful. Now one day the poor old woman, after having washed the beans, put them in a pot, placed it outside the window, and went on her way to the wood to gather sticks for the fire. But while she was away, Nardo Aniello, the king's son, passed by the cottage on his way to the chase, and seeing the pot at the window, he took a great fancy to have a fling at it, and he made a bet with his attendants to see who should fling the straightest and hit in the middle with a stone. Then they began to throw at the innocent pot, and in three or four casts the prince hit it to a hair and won the bet. The old woman returned just after they had gone away, and seeing the sad disaster, she began to act as if she were beside herself crying, I let him stretch out his arm and go about boasting how he has broken this pot, the villainous rascal who has sewn my beans out of season. If he had no compassion for my misery, he should have had some regard for his own interest. For I pray heaven on my bare knees and from the bottom of my soul, that he may fall in love with the daughter of some odorous who may plague and torment him in every way. May his mother-in-law lay on him such a curse that he may see himself living and yet bewail himself as dead. And being spellbound by the beauty of the daughter, and the arts of the mother, may he never be able to escape, but be obliged to remain. May she order him about with a cudgel in her hand, and give him bread with a little fork, that he may have good cause to lament over my beans, which he has spilt on the ground. The old woman's curses took wing, and flew up to heaven in a trice, so that, notwithstanding what a proverb says, for a woman's curse you are never the worse, and the coat of a horse that has been cursed always shines. She rated the prince so soundly, that he well nigh jumped out of his skin. Scarcely had two hours passed, when the prince, losing himself in the wood and parted from his attendance, met a beautiful maiden, who was going along picking up snails and saying with a laugh, Snail, snail, put out your horn, your mother is laughing you to scorn, for she has a little son just born. When the prince saw this beautiful apparition, he knew not what had befallen him, and as the beams from the eyes of that crystal face fell upon the tinder of his heart, he was all in a flame, so that he became a lime kiln, wherein the stones of designs were burnt to build the houses of hopes. Now Philodora, for so the maiden was named, was no wiser than other people, and the prince, being a smart young fellow with handsome mustachios, pierced her heart through and through, so that they stood looking at one another for compassion with their eyes, which proclaimed aloud the secret of their souls. After they had both remained thus for a long time, unable to utter a single word, the prince at last, finding his voice, addressed Philodora thus, From what meadow has this flower of beauty sprung? From what mine has this treasure of beautyous things come to light? O happy woods, O fortunate groves, which this nobility inhabits, which this illumination of the festivals of love irradiates? Kiss this hand, my lord, answered Philodora. Not so much modesty, for all the praise that you have bestowed on me belongs to your virtues, not to my merits, such as I am handsome or ugly, fat or thin, a witch or a fairy. I am holy at your command, for your manly form has captivated my heart, your princely mean has pierced me through from side to side, and from this moment I give myself up to you, for ever as a changed slave. At these words the prince seized that once her hand, kissing the ivory hook that had caught his heart. At this ceremony of the prince, Philodora's face grew as red as scarlet, but the more Nardo Aniello wished to continue speaking, the more his tongue seemed tied. For in this wretched life there is no wine of enjoyment without dregs of vexation. And just at this moment Philodora's mother suddenly appeared, who was such an ugly ogreess, that nature seemed to have formed her as a model of horrors. Her hair was like a bism of holly, her forehead like a rough stone, her eyes were comets that predicted all sorts of evils, her mouth had tusks like a bores. In short, from head to foot she was ugly beyond imagination. Now she seized Nardo Aniello by the nape of his neck saying, Hello, what now you thief, you rogue! Yourself the rogue, replied the prince, back with you old hag. And he was just going to draw his sword, when all at once he stood fixed like a sheep that had seen the wolf, and can neither stir nor utter a sound, so that the ogreess led him like an ass by the halter to her house. And when they came there she said to him, Mind now and work like a dog, unless you wish to die like a dog, for your first task today you must have this acre of land, dug and sown, level as this room, and recollect that if I return in the evening and do not find the work finished, I shall eat you up. Then bidding her daughter take care of the house, she went to a meeting of the other ogreesses in the wood. Nardo Aniello, seeing himself in this dilemma, began to bathe his breast with tears, cursing his fate which brought him to this pass. But Filadoro comforted him, bidding him be of good heart, for she would ever risk her life to assist him. She said that she ought not to lament his fate which had led him to the house where she lived, who loved him so dearly, and that he showed little return for her love by being so despairing at what had happened. The Prince replied, I am not grieved at having exchanged the royal palace for this hovel, splendid banquets for a crust of bread, a scepter for a spade, not at seeing myself, who have terrified armies, now frightened by this hideous scarecrow. For I should deem all my disasters good fortune to be with you, and to gaze upon you with these eyes. But what pains me to the heart is that I have to dig till my hands are covered with hard skin. I, whose fingers are so delicate and soft as Barbary Wool, and what is still worse, I have to do more than two oxen could get through in a day. If I do not finish the task this evening, your mother will eat me up. Yet I should not grieve so much to quit this Richard body as to be parted from so beautiful a creature. So saying, he heaved sighs by bushels and shed many tears. But Philodora, drying his eyes, said to him, Fear not that my mother will touch a hair of your head. Trust to me and do not be afraid, for you must know that I possess magical powers, and am able to make cream set on water and to darken the sun. Be of good heart, for by the evening the piece of land will be dug and sown without anyone stirring a hand. When Nardo Aniello heard this, he answered, If you have magic powers you say, O beauty of the world, why do we not fly from this country, for you shall live like a queen in my father's house? And Philodora replied, A certain conjunction of the stars prevents this, but the trouble will soon pass and we shall be happy. With these and a thousand other pleasant discourses, the day passed, and when the ogres came back, she called to her daughter from the road and said, Philodora let down your hair. For as the house had no staircase, she always ascended by her daughter's tresses. As soon as Philodora heard her mother's voice, she unbound her hair and let fall her tresses, making a golden ladder to an iron heart. Whereupon the old woman mounted up quickly and ran into the garden, but when she found it all dug and sown, she was beside herself with amazement. For it seemed to her impossible that a delicate lad should have accomplished such hard labour. But the next morning, hardly had the sun gone out to warm himself on account of the cold, he had caught in the river of India. Then the ogres went down again, bidding Nardo Aniello take care that in the evening she should find ready split six stacks of wood which were in the cellar, with every log cleft into four pieces, or otherwise she would cut them up like bacon and make a fry of him for supper. On hearing this decree, the poor prince had liked to have died of terror, and Philodora of seeing him half-dead and pale as ashes said, Why, what a coward you are to be frightened at such a trifle! Do you think it's a trifle, replied Nardo Aniello, to split six stacks of wood with every log cleft into four pieces, between this time and the evening? Alas, I shall soon be cleft in halves myself to fill the mouth of this horrid old woman. Fear not, answered Philodora, for without giving yourself any trouble, the wood shall all be split in good time. But meanwhile cheer up, if you love me, and do not split my heart with such lamentations. Now when the sun had shut up the shop of his rays, in order not to sell light to the shades, the old woman returned, and, bidding Philodora let down the usual ladder, she ascended, and finding the wood already split, she began to suspect it was her own daughter who had given her this cheque. At the third day, in order to make a third trial, she told the prince to clean out for her a cistern, which held a thousand casks of water, for she wished to fill it anew, adding that if the task were not finished by the evening, she would make mincemeat of him. When the old woman went away, Nardo Aniello began again to weep and wail, and Philodora, seeing that the labour's increased, and that the old woman had something of the brood in her to burden the poor fellow with such tasks and troubles, said to him, Be quiet, and as soon as the moment has passed that interrupts my art, before the sun says I am off, we will say goodbye to this house. Sure enough, this evening my mother shall find the land cleared, and I will go off with you, alive or dead. The prince, on hearing this news, embraced Philodora and said, Thou art the polestar of this storm-tossed bark, my soul, Thou art the prop of my hopes. Now, when the evening drew nigh, Philodora, having dug a hole in the garden into a large underground passage, they went out and took the way to Naples. But when they arrived at the grotto of Pozzuola, Nardo Aniello said to Philodora, It will never do for me to take you to the palace on foot and dressed in this manner. Therefore wait at this inn, and I will soon return with horses, carriages, servants, and clothes. So Philodora stayed behind, and the prince went on his way to the city. Meantime the ogres returned home, and as Philodora did not answer to her usual summons, she grew suspicious, ran into the wood, and, cutting a great long pole, placed it against the window and climbed up like a cat. Then she went into the house and hunted everywhere inside and out, high and low, but found no one. At last she perceived the hole, and seeing that it led into the open air. In her rage she did not leave a hair upon her head, cursing her daughter and the prince, and praying that at the first kiss Philodora's lover should receive, he might forget her. But let us leave the old woman to say her wicked curses, and return to the prince, who on arriving at the palace where he was thought to be dead, put the whole house in an uproar, everyone running to meet him and crying, Welcome! Welcome! Here he is, safe and sound, how happy we are to see him back in this country, with a thousand other words of affection. But as he was going up the stairs, his mother met him halfway, and embraced and kissed him, saying, My son, my jewel, the apple of my eye, Where have you been, and why have you stayed away so long? The prince knew not what to answer, for he did not wish to tell her of his misfortunes. But no sooner had his mother kissed him then, owe him to the curse, all that had passed went from his memory. Then the queen told her son that to put an end to his going hunting and wasting his time in the woods, she wished him to get married. Well and good, replied the prince, I have no idea what to say to him, but I have no idea what to say to him. I am ready and prepared to do what you desire. So it was settled that within four days they should lead home to him the bride who had just arrived from the country of Flanders, and thereupon a great feasting and banquets were held. But meanwhile Philodoro, seeing that her husband stayed away so long, and hearing, I know not how, of the feast, waited in the evening till the servant lad of the inn had gone to bed, and taking his clothes from the head of the bed, she left her own in their place, and disguising herself like a man, went to the court of the king, where the cooks, being in want of help, took her as kitchen boy. When the tables were set out and the guests all took their seats, and the dishes were set down and the carver was cutting up a large English pie, which Philodoro had made with her own hands, lo, out flew such a beautiful dove, that the guests in their astonishment, forgetting to eat, fell to admiring the pretty bird, which said to the prince in a piteous voice, Have you so soon forgotten the love of Philodoro, and have all the services you received from her, ungrateful man, gone from your memory? Is it thus you repay the benefits she has done you, she who took you out of the claws of the ogres, and gave you life and herself too? Woe to the woman who trusts too much to the words of man, who ever requires kindness with ingratitude, and pays debts with forgetfulness. But go, forget your promise as false man, and may the curses follow you, which the unhappy maiden sends you from the bottom of her heart. But if the gods have not locked up their ears, they will witness the wrong you have done her, and when you least expect it, the lightning and thunder, fever and illness will come to you. Enough, eat and drink, take your sports, for unhappy Philodoro, deceived and forsaken, will leave you the field open to make merry with your new wife. So saying, the dove flew away quickly and vanished like the wind. The prince, hearing the murmuring of the dove, stood for a while stupefied. At length he inquired whence the pie came, and when the carver told him that a scullion boy who had been taken to assist in the kitchen had made it, he ordered him to be brought into the room. Then Philodoro, throwing herself at the feet of Nardo Aniello, shedding a torrent of tears, said merely, What have I done to you? Whereupon the prince had once recalled to mind the engagement he had made with her, and instantly raising her up, seated her by his side, and when he related to his mother the great obligation he was under to this beautiful maiden, and all that she had done for him, and how it was necessary that the promise he had given should be fulfilled. His mother, who had no other joy in life than her son, said to him, Do as you please so that you offend not this lady whom I have given you to wife. Be not troubled, said the lady, for to tell the truth I am very low to remain in this country, with your kind permission, I wish to return to my dear Flanders. Thereupon the prince with great joy offered her a vessel and attendance, and ordering Philodoro to be dressed like a princess, when the tables were removed, the musicians came and they began the ball which lasted until evening. So the feast being now ended, they all betook themselves to rest, and the prince and Philodoro lived happily ever after, proving the truth of the proverb that he who stumbles and does not form is helped on his way like a rolling ball.