AFTER SUPPER
The little boy could hardly eat at supper-time, and as soon as possible
he ran to his grandmother's room. She was knitting in the dark, for the
stock of candles was getting low, and she could knit without looking.
"Have you come for the story?" she asked. "I was expecting you."
So the little boy climbed to his place on the stove, and the
grandmother began the story of
REINECKE'S REVENGE ON ISEGRIM
Once upon a time Reinecke kneaded mud-cakes, baked them, and spread
them with honey. When they were all ready he betook himself to the
turkey-tenders and begged them to give him a turkey in exchange for
his honey-cakes. The turkey-tenders were not to be so easily hoaxed,
and they sent him to the swine-herds, assuring him that the swine-herds
would give him a sucking pig for his honey-cakes.
He therefore sought the swine-herds and begged for a sucking pig in
exchange for his cakes. The swine-herds would give him none, but sent
him to the cow-herds, who might give him a calf in exchange for the
cakes. So he went to the cow-herds and begged them to give him a calf
and take his honey-cakes in exchange.
The cow-herds declined, and sent him to the stable-boys, who would
surely give him a colt in exchange for the honey-cakes. So he went
to the stable-boys and offered to exchange his honey-cakes for
a colt. They gave him a beautiful colt and took in exchange the
honey-cakes. So Reinecke went away, leading the colt, and leaving
with the stable-boys a strict injunction on no account to break one
of the cakes until he should have disappeared behind a certain hill.
The stable-boys obeyed the behest, but when they afterward tried the
cakes and broke their teeth upon them, they perceived that they were
made of clay, and they at once set off in pursuit of the Fox. But
Master Reinecke had so much the start of them that they were obliged
to turn back, weary and overheated, having had their trouble for
their pains.
Now when Reinecke reached home he made a stall of wicker-work for
the colt, and devoted himself entirely to the care of him. Day after
day he brought him green, juicy grass and cool, refreshing drink, and
whenever he brought them he always called to the colt in these words:
O colt, tender little colt,
Open the door for me!
Juicy grass and cooling drink
Bring I here for thee!
Then the colt would open the door. Reinecke gave the colt very
strict instructions on no account to open the door to any other voice
or words.
One day Isegrim came. He had often heard Reinecke call to the colt
to open the door, and now he began to call in his coarse voice:
O colt, tender little colt,
Open the door for me!
Juicy grass and cooling drink
Bring I here for thee!
But the colt at once perceived that this was not Reinecke's voice,
and it did not stir to open the door.
Then Isegrim hid himself cunningly behind the stable-wall to wait
for a better chance.
Pretty soon along came Reinecke with grass and water. As soon as he
reached the stable he cried in his soft treble voice:
O colt, tender little colt,
Open the door for me!
Juicy grass and cooling drink
Bring I here for thee!
The colt recognized the voice, opened the door at once, and began
to tell how some one had been there and asked him to open the door,
but he had not opened because the voice sounded rough. Upon this
Reinecke said, "On no account open the door to a rough voice, but
only to a soft one."
The next day, when Reinecke was gone, along came Isegrim, who had
overheard the whole conversation from behind the stable-wall. He
crouched down as low as possible, and cried, in a very soft voice:
O colt, tender little colt,
Open the door for me!
Juicy grass and cooling drink
Bring I here for thee!
The unhappy colt was deceived and opened the door. Alas! Isegrim fell
upon him, seized him by the throat, and ate him up--all but the head
and the tail, which he left lying there. Then he made off, having
closed the door behind him, that nothing might be seen from without.
When Reinecke came home he began to call, as usual:
O colt, tender little colt,
Open the door for me!
Juicy grass and cooling drink
Bring I here for thee!
But no one asked him in nor opened the door. So he peeped in between
the osiers, and when he saw nothing in the stall but the colt's head
and tail he knew all that had happened and had not the least doubt
as to who had brought this great misfortune upon him. He tore the
door open and set up a long, woe-begone howl. Then he went out quite
heart-broken and laid himself down in the road for dead.
After a while a man came by in a wagon, and finding Reinecke in
the road he picked him up and threw him into the wagon, intending
to strip off his skin as soon as he reached home. Now this man had
three cheeses in a knapsack in his wagon, and presently Reinecke
roused himself from his feigned death, arose softly, stole the three
cheeses out of the knapsack, and made off. As soon as he had reached
a safe distance he devoured two of the cheeses and went on his way,
holding the third under his chin.
In the course of his travels he met friend Isegrim, who had eaten his
beloved colt. Isegrim no sooner saw Reinecke with the cheese than his
mouth began to water, and he asked him how he had come by it. Then
Reinecke, truthful as usual, replied that he had sucked it up out of
a brook.
"And where may that brook be found?" asked Isegrim hastily.
"Follow me," answered Reinecke; "I will lead you to it."
Now it happened that this meeting took place at the full of the moon,
about midnight, and a beautiful, star-bestrewn sky shed a magical
half-darkness over everything. Reinecke led Isegrim to a brook and,
showing him the reflection of the moon mirrored in the flowing water,
said:
"Do you see that great cheese there in the water? Now suck up the water
in great gulps and you will suck up the cheese at last, just as I did."
So simple Isegrim sucked up the water in great gulps, until it began
to run out at his ears. Reinecke very kindly plugged up his ears and
cried to him:
"Keep on sucking, dear Isegrim; you'll soon have it!"
Simple Isegrim went at it again, and sucked until the water ran out
of his eyes. At once Reinecke stopped up his eyes, crying again:
"Keep on, dear Isegrim, you'll soon have it now!"
Poor Isegrim sucked on, until the water ran out at his nose. Then
Reinecke stopped up his nose and climbed upon his back, saying he
was sick and could not walk, and Isegrim must carry him.
The Wolf, in very woful plight, set out to carry the Fox, when Reinecke
tuned up and sang:
The sick is carrying the well!
The sick is carrying the well!
And he kept on repeating the same words until Isegrim asked:
"What's that you're singing, cousin?"
"Nothing, nothing, dear Isegrim; they are only the fantasies of
illness!" and he kept up his song:
The sick is carrying the well!
The sick is carrying the well!
So it went on till they came to a house where a wedding was being
celebrated. When the wedding-guests heard Reinecke's song they came
out of the house and praised his singing. Thereupon he said that he
could sing a better song than that if they would let him go into the
house and up into the loft. To this they agreed.
When Isegrim, with all the trouble in the world, had carried Reinecke
up into the loft, which was floored only with loose planks, then
Reinecke opened all the places he had plugged up, and the water ran out
of Isegrim's eyes and ears and nose and poured down through the cracks
upon the wedding-guests below. The guests ran nimbly up into the loft,
but Reinecke still more nimbly made his escape through the window,
while Isegrim was half-beaten to death by the enraged wedding-guests
and his body thrown out into the road.
Then Reinecke came creeping back and taunted Isegrim. "This long
time I have been wearing out shoe-leather to get the best of you,
because you ate up my colt!"
And with these words away he went, leaving Isegrim to his fate.
"That served Isegrim right," said the little boy. "He had no business
to eat up Reinecke's little colt."