FAIRY TALES
BY WILHELM HAUFF
Translated by L. L. Weedon
Illustrated by Arthur A. Dixon
[Illustration]
London Ernest Nister
New York E. P. Dutton & Co.
[Illustration: _THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE._
_“The tailor’s heart swelled with pride and joy.”_]
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE STORY OF CALIPH STORK 9
FATIMA’S RESCUE 28
THE STORY OF LITTLE MOUK 57
THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE 87
THE DWARF LONG-NOSE 111
ABNER, THE JEW WHO SAW NOTHING 153
THE STORY OF ALMANSOR 160
THE STORY OF THE FLORIN 181
THE COLD HEART 207
THE ADVENTURES OF SAID 276
THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL: A SCOTTISH LEGEND 327
[Illustration]
LIST OF FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
COLOUR
FACING PAGE
THE TAILOR’S HEART SWELLED WITH PRIDE AND JOY _Frontispiece_
HE DECIDED TO FOLLOW THEM 62
AN OLD WOMAN CAME SLOWLY ACROSS THE MARKET-PLACE 112
SHE STOOD LEANING UPON HER STAFF WAITING FOR CUNO 196
CHARCOAL PETER AND THE GLASS-MAN 232
IT HAD TURNED INTO AN ENORMOUS DOLPHIN 316
BLACK AND WHITE ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
THE OWL WARNED THEM TO BE AS SILENT AS THE GRAVE 22
HE MADE FOR THE DOOR SCREAMING LUSTILY FOR HELP 40
HE HAD UNEARTHED A POT FULL OF GOLDEN COINS 72
CHOOSING THE CASKETS 104
THEY TOLD EACH OTHER THEIR SAD STORIES 140
THEY RAN HERE AND THERE IN WILD DISORDER 154
THE SLAVE HELD AN ENORMOUS DICTIONARY 168
FASTER AND FASTER THEY WENT 184
“THIS,” THOUGHT HE, “MUST SURELY BE THE ABODE OF THE
GLASS-MAN” 214
SHE SAW A LITTLE OLD MAN COMING ALONG 258
HE SAW A LITTLE MAN BENDING OVER HIM 292
“I CAME TO LOOK FOR THE CARMILHAN,” HE SAID 332
[Illustration]
THE STORY OF CALIPH STORK.
CHAPTER I.
Chasid, Caliph of Bagdad, was taking his ease one beautiful afternoon,
stretched out upon his couch. He had just awakened from a little nap
and was in a pleasant mood. From time to time he drank from the cup of
coffee one of his slaves handed to him, and took long whiffs from a
rosewood pipe, stroking his long beard the while, with an air of
extreme complacency. In short, it was evident that the Caliph was in a
very good humour.
[Illustration: _The Pedlar._]
It was the best time in the day for any one to approach him on
business, for he was usually inclined to grant any request one might
ask, and for this reason, his grand vizier Mansor was wont to visit
him at that hour. On this particular afternoon he came as usual, but
seemed unaccountably quiet and thoughtful. The Caliph removed his
pipe from his mouth and said: “Why do you look so serious, Grand
Vizier?”
The grand vizier crossed his arms on his breast, bowed low before his
master, and answered:
“Sire, it is no wonder I look disturbed, for below the palace wall
stands a pedlar, who has such beautiful goods for sale that it angers
me to think I have no money to spare just now.”
The Caliph, who had long wished for an opportunity to confer some gift
upon his vizier, sent a black slave to fetch the pedlar.
Very soon the slave returned, ushering the pedlar into his master’s
presence. He was a fat little man, with a sunburnt face and dressed in
rags. He carried a pack in which all sorts of wares were huddled
together, pearls, rings, richly-chased pistols, goblets and combs.
The Caliph and his vizier took stock of everything, and finally the
Caliph purchased handsome pistols for himself and his vizier Mansor,
and a beautiful comb for Mansor’s wife.
As the pedlar was about to close his pack, the Caliph noticed a little
drawer and asked if there was anything in it for sale.
The man opened the drawer and took out a snuff-box containing a dark
coloured powder, and a paper covered with very curious characters,
which neither the Caliph nor his vizier were able to read. “I had
these from a merchant, who picked them up in the streets of Mecca,”
said the pedlar. “I do not know what they contain and they are at
your service for a very low price, as I do not know what to do with
them.”
The Caliph, who was always glad to purchase rare manuscripts for his
library, even if he could not read them himself, bought both snuff-box
and paper, and dismissed the pedlar.
But the Caliph was curious to know what the writing on the paper meant
and asked the vizier if he knew of any one who would possibly be able
to decipher it.
“Most gracious lord and master,” said the vizier, “near the great
Mosque dwells a man known as Selim the Learned, who understands all
languages; bid him come hither and maybe he will understand these
mysterious characters.”
The learned Selim was soon sent for and the Caliph addressed him thus:
“Selim, it is said of you that you are a very learned man; look well
at this writing, and see if you can read it. If you are able to do so,
I will give you a new robe for feast days, but if you are unable to do
so you will receive twelve strokes upon the back and five-and-twenty
upon the soles of your feet, because you have masqueraded under the
name of Selim the Learned.”
Selim glanced at the writing intently and suddenly cried out: “It is
Latin, my Lord, most certainly it is Latin.”
“Very well, then,” commanded the Caliph impatiently, “if you know that
it is Latin, tell me what it means.”
Selim began to translate: “Man, whoever you be, who shall find this,
praise Allah for his mercy. He who shall take a pinch of the powder
in this snuff-box and say the word ‘Mutabor’ shall be able to
transform himself into any kind of animal and understand the
creature’s language. When he wishes to return to his original form he
must bow three times towards the East and repeat the same word. But
let him beware, when in the transformed state, never to laugh,
otherwise he will forget the magic word and will be condemned to
remain an animal.”
When Selim had finished reading, the Caliph was beside himself with
joy. He made Selim take an oath that he would not reveal the secret,
gave him a handsome robe, and sent him away.
“I call that a first-rate purchase,” said he to Mansor. “How I long to
become an animal! Early to-morrow morning you shall come with me, we
will go out into the fields, take a pinch of snuff from my box, and
then listen to all that is being said in the air and in the water, in
the field and in the woodland.”