shoemaker must stick to his last,’ and it seems that you must stick to
your needle. Had it not been that someone, to whom I can deny nothing,
has pleaded for you, it would have gone hardly with you, but as it is
I will spare your wretched life, but I warn you to hasten to leave my
country.”
Ashamed and repentant, Labakan cast himself at the feet of the
prince.
“Can you ever forgive me my treachery?” he cried, with tears in his
eyes.
“‘Faithful to a friend, generous to an enemy,’ is the motto of our
race,” answered the prince--“therefore I bid thee ‘go in peace.’”
“You are indeed my son,” cried the aged Sultan, embracing him, and all
the pashas and emirs rose and shouted: “Hail to the king’s son, hail
to our noble prince.”
During the noise occasioned by these general rejoicings, Labakan, his
casket beneath his arm, slipped unperceived from the room.
He hurried down to the stable, bridled his horse Murva, and rode out
of the gateway in the direction of Alexandria.
His life as prince appeared to him now like a brief but splendid
dream, only the beautiful casket set with pearls and diamonds remained
to remind him that he had not dreamt it all.
When at length he reached Alexandria, he rode to the shop of his
former master, dismounted, fastened his horse to the door-post and
went in.
His master, who did not recognise him at first, bowed and asked what
he might require, but when he looked at the supposed customer more
closely he saw who he was and, calling his apprentices and pupils to
come to his assistance, they all set upon Labakan and beat him soundly
with whatever they happened to have in their hands, flat irons,
measures, shears, and so on, until at last the poor fellow fell at
their feet as limp as a heap of old clothes.
As he lay there his master gave him a sound rating for having stolen
the caftan; in vain Labakan assured him he was there to restore it, no
one would believe him, and some of the apprentices picked him up and
threw him out of the door. He managed to get upon Murva’s back and
rode away to a little inn, where he was glad to lay his weary head
upon a pillow, whilst he mused upon the uncertainty of happiness and
the vanity of earthly riches, and before he fell asleep he had
determined to renounce his dreams of grandeur and set to work to earn
his living as an honest fellow.
The next day, being still of the same mind, he sold his casket to a
dealer in precious stones, bought himself a house and set up a
workshop. He hung out a sign with “Labakan, Tailor,” painted upon it,
and then began to await his customers.
As his clothing had been most grievously torn by the rough handling he
had received from his master and former companions, he took the needle
and thread he had found in the casket and began to repair his
clothing. He was called away and on his return, as he was about to
continue his work what was his surprise to find his needle sewing
busily away without any hand to guide it and making the finest and
neatest stitches, quite surpassing the best work Labakan had ever
done.
Truly, even the smallest of fairy gifts is bound to prove useful and
valuable. Not the least value of this gift was the fact that the
thread in the needle was never used up, but sewed on and on, no matter
how much the needle sewed.
It was no wonder Labakan soon became famous as a tailor. Orders
flocked in from far and near, and all he had to do was to start the
needle sewing, and it went straight on by itself until the garment was
finished.
Master Labakan worked so much better and cheaper than any other tailor
in Alexandria that everybody wished to have their clothes made by him;
only one thing puzzled them, he employed no assistants and he always
worked with his door shut.
So after all the motto on his casket came true, for happiness and
riches came to him, though in a different guise to what he had
expected them. From time to time he heard news of Prince Omar. It was
said that he was the bravest of the brave, the pride and glory of his
people, and the terror of his enemies. At such times as he heard of
him Labakan would say to himself: “I am better off as a tailor, for to
win honour and glory one must risk one’s life.”
And so he lived happy and contented all the days of his life, and as
for the magic needle, for all I know to the contrary, it may be sewing
busily away to this very day.
THE DWARF LONG-NOSE.
Many years ago, in a certain city in Germany, there lived an honest
cobbler and his wife. The good man sat all day and mended boots and
shoes; he made new ones too, if he could get a customer to trust him
with the job, but then he had first to buy the leather, for he was too
poor to keep a stock in hand. His wife sold fruit and vegetables,
which she grew in a little plot of ground outside the city gates. She
had many customers, for she was clean and tidy, and had a knack of
setting out her wares to the best advantage.
[Illustration: _Jacob._]
The cobbler and his wife had a beautiful little boy, named Jacob.
Although he was but eight years of age he was tall and well grown,
and so he sat by his mother’s side in the market-place, and acted as
errand boy to the housewives and cooks who made large purchases from
his mother, carrying the fruit and vegetables home for them. Very
often he came back with a piece of money in his pocket, or at least
with a cake, or some sweetmeats, for he was so pretty and obliging
that people liked to see him in their homes.
One morning the cobbler’s wife was sitting in her accustomed place in
the market. She had a supply of cabbages and other vegetables, fresh
herbs and seeds, and a smaller basket of early pears and apricots.
Little Jacob sat beside her and called out in his shrill little voice:
“Come buy, come buy, fine cabbages, fresh herbs, early pears, fine
ripe apples and apricots. Come buy, buy, buy, my mother’s goods are
cheap to-day.”
An old woman came slowly across the market-place. She was dressed in
rags and tatters and had a little, pointed face, all wrinkled and
furrowed with age, red-rimmed eyes, and a sharp hooked nose that
nearly met the pointed chin. She helped herself along with a stick,
and it is difficult to say how she moved, for she stumbled and limped
and rolled along almost as though her legs were broken-down wheels
which would soon give way.
The cobbler’s wife stared hard at her, for although she had been
sitting in the market-place every day for the last sixteen years she
had never noticed the queer old creature before. But she shuddered
involuntarily when the old woman hobbled towards her and stood still
before the baskets.
[Illustration: _THE DWARF LONG-NOSE._
_“An old woman came slowly across the market-place.”_]
“Are you Hannah, the vegetable dealer?” she said in a cracked
unpleasant voice, her head shaking as though with palsy.
“Yes, that is my name,” replied the cobbler’s wife, “is there anything
I can serve you with?”
“I must see, I must see,” she replied. “Let me look at your herbs and
see if you have anything I require.”
She plunged her brown skinny fingers into the basket of herbs which
had been so neatly set out, and, grasping handful after handful, put
them to her long hooked nose and smelt them.
The cobbler’s wife was much put out to see her rare herbs handled in
this way, but she did not like to say anything, for it was the
customer’s right to examine the goods, and besides she was half afraid
of the old woman.
When the whole of the basket of herbs had been handled and turned over
the old woman muttered--“Rubbish, rubbish, the whole lot of it. Fifty
years ago I could have bought what I wanted; this is good for
nothing.”
These words angered little Jacob. “You are a rude old woman,” he said
angrily; “first you take up our beautiful fresh herbs in your nasty
brown fingers and crush them, then you put them to your long, hooked
nose, so that nobody else who had seen you, would want to buy them,
and then you miscall our wares, as bad stuff and rubbish, when even
the Duke’s cook does not disdain to buy from us.”
The old woman looked fixedly at the spirited lad and laughed in a
repulsive manner. Then said she, in a hoarse croaking voice, “Ah, my
little man, do you like my nose, my nice long nose? Then you shall
have a nice long nose too, one that shall reach from the middle of
your face right down below your chin.” As she talked she shuffled
along to the other basket in which the cabbages were placed. She took
the finest creamy crisp heads and crushed them in her hands until they
creaked and cracked, then threw them back into the basket anyhow. “Bad
goods, bad cabbages,” she said.
“Don’t shake your head to and fro like that,” cried the little boy,
beginning to feel frightened. “Your neck is as thin as a cabbage stalk
and looks as though it might snap in two, and if your head rolled off
into our cabbage basket, who would buy from us then?”
“So you don’t like thin necks, eh?” muttered the old woman. “Very
well, then, you shall have none at all. Your head shall stick close
down to your shoulders so that there will be no danger of its falling
off your little body.”
“Come, come, don’t talk such rubbish to the child,” said the cobbler’s
wife, vexed at length, “if you wish to buy anything make your choice
for you are frightening other customers away.”
“Very well,” answered the old woman grimly, “I will buy these six
cabbages. But you must let your little son carry them home for me,
for I have to support myself on my stick and can carry nothing myself.
I will reward him for his trouble.”
The little boy did not want to go and began to cry, for he was afraid
of the ugly old woman, but his mother bade him go quite sternly, she
would have been ashamed to let the weakly old creature carry such a
heavy burden, so he put the cabbages in a cloth and followed the old
woman from the market-place.
She walked so slowly that it was about three-quarters of an hour
before they reached her home, which was in a very out-of-the-way part
of the town, and which was a miserable-looking little house.
The old woman drew a rusty key from her pocket and slipped it into the
keyhole, and the door sprang open.
But what was little Jacob’s astonishment on entering the house to find
it most beautiful. The walls and ceiling were of marble, the furniture
of ebony, inlaid with gold and polished jewels, and the floor was of
glass and so slippery that the little boy fell down several times.
The old woman drew a little silver whistle from her pocket and blew it
so shrilly that the tones resounded all through the house.
A number of guinea-pigs at once came hurrying down the stairs, and
Jacob was astounded to see that they were walking erect on their hind
legs and had their feet thrust into nut-shells instead of shoes. They
wore men’s clothing and had hats on their heads made in the newest
fashion.
“Where have you put my slippers, you ragamuffins?” asked the old
woman, striking them with her staff, so that they began to whine and
jump about. “How much longer do you expect to keep me standing here?”
The guinea-pigs bounded up the stairs and soon returned with a pair of
cocoa-nut shells, lined and bound with leather. These they put on the
old woman’s feet and at once she ceased to hobble and limp, flung away
her staff, and began to glide about over the slippery floor with the
greatest rapidity, dragging Jacob after her.
She came at length to a room bearing some resemblance to a kitchen,
though the tables were of mahogany, and the couches and chairs covered
with exquisite tapestries. “Sit down,” said the old woman in friendly
tones, pushing him as she spoke into a corner of a sofa and then
rolling a table in front of him, so that he could not get out again.
“You must be tired, walking so far, and carrying such a heavy burden,”
she said, “now I am going to reward you for your trouble and make you
some soup such as you have never tasted before, and will remember all
your life long.” She again blew her whistle and again a number of
guinea-pigs appeared, dressed in human attire. They wore cook’s
aprons, and had cooking spoons and carving knives stuck in their
waistbands. After them came a crowd of squirrels, clad in wide
Turkish trousers, with little green velvet caps on their heads. They
appeared to be the kitchen servants, for they at once began to clamber
up and down the walls and brought pots and pans, eggs and butter,
herbs and flour, and carried them to the fireplace, where the old
woman seemed to be very busy with her cookery.
The fire burned merrily and the contents of the pans began to steam
and hiss and send forth a very pleasant smell.
At length the soup was cooked and the old woman poured some into a
silver dish and set it before little Jacob.
“Eat, my little man,” said she, “and you will have all that you have
coveted in me. You shall become a clever cook too, but you shall
never, never find the herb that was missing in your mother’s basket.”
The boy did not understand what she was talking about; but he went on
eating his soup, which was delicious. His mother often cooked tasty
dishes for him, but never anything like this. An odour of fine herbs
and vegetables arose from it, it was both sour and sweet and very
strong. As he finished the last of it the guinea-pigs set light to
some incense, which rose in a blue cloud and was wafted through the
room. Thicker and thicker the incense rose and the little boy began to
feel stupefied.
He tried to rise, telling himself that he must hasten back to his
mother, but he only fell back again, and at length, quite overcome,
he fell fast asleep on the old woman’s sofa.
Then he began to dream, such strange dreams! It seemed to him as
though the old woman took off all his clothes and dressed him up in a
squirrel’s skin and he was at once able to jump about like the other
squirrels in the house and began to take his place with them and the
guinea-pigs, and that, like they, he too became one of the old woman’s
servants.
At first he was the shoe-black and it was his duty to polish the
cocoa-nut shells the old woman wore instead of shoes. He had learnt to
polish shoes in his own home, and as his father was a cobbler he had
been particularly well taught, so that he was clever at his work. A
year seemed to pass and then he dreamt that he was given more
important duties. He and some other squirrels were set to work to
catch the sunbeam dust and sift it through fine sieves. This dust was
used instead of flour to make the bread the old woman ate, for she had
no teeth, and sunbeam dust makes the very softest and finest of bread.
Another dream year passed and then he was promoted to be one of the
water-carriers. You must not imagine the old woman kept a
water-cistern or a water-butt handy. Oh! dear no! Jacob and the
squirrels had to draw the dew from the roses into hazel-nut shells;
this was the old woman’s drinking water, and as she was always thirsty
it was hard work to keep her supplied with it. At the end of another
year he was appointed to do the indoor work. His particular duty was
to keep the glass floor in order. He had to sweep it over and then
wrap soft polishing cloths round his feet and slide up and down the
room until the glass shone brilliantly.
At the end of the year he was promoted to the kitchen; this was a
place of honour, only to be reached after long training. He began at
the beginning as a scullion and advanced rapidly until he was head
cook. Sometimes he could not but wonder at his own skill, for he could
cook the most difficult dishes and could make no less than two hundred
different kinds of pastries. Then he was a first-rate hand at soups,
and could make every kind that had ever been heard of, and knew the
use of every kind of vegetable that grew.
[Illustration: _Jacob had to draw the dew from the roses._
(P. 118.)]
Several years had now passed away in the service of the old woman and
one day she put on her cocoa-nut shoes, took her staff and basket in
her hand, and prepared to go out. Before leaving she told Jacob to
cook a chicken for her dinner on her return and be sure to stuff it
well with seasoning.
When he had prepared the chicken, he went to the room where the herbs
were kept to collect some to stuff it with, and to his surprise saw a
little cupboard that he had not noticed before. The door was ajar and
he peeped curiously in and saw a number of little baskets from which
issued a strong and pleasant odour. He opened one of them and saw that
it contained a very curious-looking plant. The leaves and stalks were
of a bluish-green colour and it bore a flower of a deep red hue,
flecked with yellow. He looked closely at the flower, then smelt it
and noticed it had the same scent as the soup which the old woman had
once cooked for him. It was a very strong scent, so strong indeed that
it made him sneeze, and he went on sneezing again and again until at
length--he awoke.
He lay on the old woman’s sofa and looked around him in surprise. “How
real dreams do seem sometimes,” he said to himself. “I could have been
certain that I was a squirrel just now, and had guinea-pigs and
squirrels for my companions, also that I had learnt to be a first-rate
cook. How Mother will laugh when I tell her all about it, but she will
scold me, too, for having fallen asleep in a stranger’s house instead
of helping her in the market-place.”
He jumped up in a hurry, but his limbs were stiff from sleeping so
long, especially his neck; he could not turn it about very easily, and
he seemed so sleepy still that he kept striking his nose against the
walls and cupboards.
As he stood upon the threshold the guinea-pigs and squirrels came
whimpering round him as though they would like to go with him and he
begged them to come, for they were dear little creatures, but they
went clattering back in their nut-shell shoes and he could hear them
squeaking away in the house.
The old woman had brought him a long distance from the market-place,
and he had some difficulty in finding his way back through the narrow
lanes, especially as there seemed to be a great crowd of people.
Somewhere near he thought there must be a dwarf to be seen, for the
people were pushing and craning their necks and calling out to one
another, “Just look, what a hideous dwarf! Where can he come from?
What a long nose he has, and how his head is sunk between his high
shoulders; he has no neck at all, and see what great brown hands he
has.”
Jacob would have liked to have seen the dwarf himself, for he always
liked to see anything extraordinary, but he could not wait, because he
knew he ought to hurry back to his mother.
He felt frightened and nervous when at length he reached the
market-place, for his mother looked so altered. He felt sure he could
not have slept very long, for she had still a quantity of fruit and
vegetables unsold, but she sat with her head leaning on her hand,
never calling out to the passers-by to buy her wares. She was paler
too, and looked very sad.
He hesitated as to what he should do, but at length he took heart and
crept up behind her and, laying his hand caressingly upon her arm,
said: “Mother dear, what ails you? Are you angry with me?”
She turned to look at him, but started back with a cry of horror.
“What do you want with me, you hideous dwarf,” she cried. “Such jokes
are out of place.”
“But, Mother,” said Jacob in alarm, “you cannot be well. Why do you
drive your son away?”
“Have I not told you to go away,” said Hannah angrily, “you will get
nothing from me by such jokes, you ugly creature.”
“She must be out of her mind,” said the little one, “however shall I
get her back home? Mother dear, look well at me, I am your own little
son Jacob.”
“Now you have gone too far with your impertinence,” cried the woman.
“Not content, you hideous dwarf, with standing there and frightening
my customers away, you must needs make game of my grief and sorrow.
Neighbours, listen to this fellow, who dares to say he is my son
Jacob.”
Her neighbours all came crowding round her and began to abuse poor
Jacob in no measured terms, telling him it was cruel to joke with a
poor bereaved mother who had had her lovely boy stolen away seven long
years ago, and they threatened to tear him limb from limb if he did
not go away at once.
[Illustration: _“Good gracious me, what is that?”_ (P. 124.)]
Poor Jacob knew not what to make of it all. He had gone that morning
with his mother to the market-place, or so he believed, had helped
her set out her wares of fruit and vegetables, had carried home the
old woman’s cabbages, taken a little soup and fallen asleep for a
short time, and yet his mother and the neighbours declared he had been
absent seven years.
And they called him a horrible dwarf! What could have taken place?
When he saw that his mother would have nothing to do with him the
tears came into his eyes, and he turned sadly away and went up the
street towards the little shop where his father sat and mended shoes
during the daytime.
“I will see if he will recognise me,” he said to himself. “I will just
stand in the doorway and speak to him.”
When he reached the cobbler’s shop he stood in the doorway and looked
in. The old man was so busy that he did not notice him at first, but
presently, on looking up, he dropped the shoe he was mending and cried
out: “Good gracious me, what is that?”
“Good evening, master,” said the little man, as he entered the shop,
“how is trade just now?”
“Bad, very bad, little gentleman,” said the cobbler, “I cannot work as
well as I did, I am getting old and I have no one to help me, for I
cannot afford an assistant.”
Jacob was astounded that his father should not have recognised him
either, so he answered: “Have you no son whom you could train to help
you?”
“I had one, Jacob by name; he should be a tall, well-grown youth by
now, who would have been able to be my right hand, for even as a
little fellow he was handy and clever at my trade. He was so handsome
too, and had such pleasant manners, that he would no doubt have
brought me more customers; very likely by this time I might have given
up cobbling shoes and have made new ones instead. But alas! such is
life!”
“Where is your son then?” enquired Jacob with trembling voice.
“No one can tell,” replied the old man, “for seven years ago he was
stolen from us.”
“Seven years ago,” cried Jacob in horrorstricken tones.
“Yes, little gentleman, seven long years ago. I remember it as though
it were yesterday. My wife came home from the market weeping and
wringing her hands, the child had been absent all day, and though she
had searched for him everywhere she had not been able to find him. I
had warned her many a time to keep a careful eye upon our pretty boy,
telling her there were bad folks in the town who might steal him for
the sake of his good looks. But she was proud of him, and often, when
the gentry bought fruit and vegetables of her, she sent him to carry
home their purchases.
“But one day an ugly old woman came into the market and began to
bargain with her. In the end she bought more than she could carry, and
my wife, being a kind-hearted woman, let her take the boy with her,
and--from that hour to this he has never been seen again.”
“And that was seven years ago?” asked Jacob.
“Seven years, alas! We sought him high and low, and our neighbours,
who had all known and loved the dear little fellow, helped in the
search; but without avail. Neither could we hear any news of the old
woman who had taken him away. No one seemed to know anything about her
except one old woman who was over ninety years of age, and she said
she must be the wicked Fairy Herbina, who visited the town once every
fifty years to buy things she required.”
Thus spoke Jacob’s father, as he hammered away at his shoe and drew
the thread backwards and forwards busily, and the poor little fellow
began to understand at last what had happened to him. It had been no
dream, but, transformed into a squirrel, he had really served the
wicked fairy for seven years. His heart was well-nigh ready to burst
with rage and grief. Seven years of his youth had been stolen from him
and what had he received in return? He had learnt to polish cocoa-nut
shoes and glass floors. Also he had learnt all the secrets of the art
of cookery from the old woman’s guinea-pigs! He stood so long
considering what had been said, that his father asked him at length:
“Can I do anything for you, sir? Do you require a pair of shoes, or,”
he added with a smile, “perhaps a covering for your nose would be
useful to you.”
“What is the matter with my nose?” asked Jacob, “why should I require
a covering for it?”
“Well,” replied the cobbler, “everyone to his taste. But I must say
if I had a nose like yours I would make a case for it of bright red
leather. See, I have just such a piece by me. A good stout cover for
your nose would be most useful, for I am quite sure you must be
constantly knocking it against everything that comes in your way.”
The little fellow’s heart sank with fear. He felt his nose and found
it was very thick and quite two spans in length. And so the old woman
had altered his appearance too! That was why his mother had not known
him and why everyone called him “an ugly dwarf.”
“Master,” he said to his father, “have you a mirror you could lend
me?”
“Young sir,” said the father earnestly, “your figure is hardly such as
to give you cause for conceit, and you have no reason to look into a
glass constantly. Break yourself of the habit, in your case it is a
foolish one.”
“Believe me it is not out of conceit that I wish to see myself,” said
Jacob, “and I do beseech you to lend me a glass for a moment.”
“I do not possess such a thing,” said the cobbler. “My wife had one
somewhere, but I do not know where she has hidden it. If you really do
wish to see yourself, you had best go across the road and ask Urban,
the barber, to let you take a look in his. He has one about twice the
size of your head, so go and admire yourself by all means.”
With these words his father took him by the shoulders and pushed him
gently from the shop, locked the door upon him and went on with his
work.
Jacob, who had known the barber well in days gone by, crossed the road
and entered his shop.
“Good-morning, Urban,” he said, “I have come to ask a favour of you.
Will you be so good as to allow me a glance into your looking-glass?”
“With pleasure, there it stands,” he said laughing heartily, and the
customer who was being shaved laughed also. “You are a handsome little
fellow,” the barber went on, “tall and slim, a neck like a swan, hands
as dainty as a queen’s, and as pretty a little nose as one could see
anywhere. It is no wonder that you are conceited, and wish to take a
glance at yourself. Well, you are welcome to the use of my mirrors,
for it shall never be said of me that I was so jealous of your good
looks I would not lend you my mirror to admire them in.” Shrieks of
laughter greeted the barber’s words, but poor little Jacob, who had
seen himself reflected in the mirror, could not keep the tears from
his eyes. “No wonder you did not recognise your son, Mother dear,” he
said to himself, “in the happy days when you were wont to parade him
proudly before the neighbours’ eyes, he bore little resemblance to the
thing he has now become.”
Poor fellow, his eyes were small and set like a pig’s, his nose was
enormous and reached beyond his chin, his neck had disappeared
altogether, and his head had sunk down between his shoulders, so that
it was painful to attempt to move it either to the right or left. He
was no taller than he had been seven years before, but his back and
his chest were bowed out in such a manner that they resembled a
well-tilled sack supported upon two weak little legs. His arms,
however, had grown so long that they hung down almost to his feet, and
his coarse brown hands were the size of those of a full-grown man,
with ugly spider-like fingers. The handsome, lively little Jacob had
been changed into an ugly and repulsive-looking dwarf.
[Illustration: _Jacob, who had seen himself reflected in the
mirror, could not keep the tears from his eyes._ (P. 128.)]
He thought once more of the morning on which the old witch had
fingered his mother’s goods and when he had twitted her with her large
nose and ugly hands. Everything he had found fault with in her she had
given him now, with the exception of the thin neck, for he had no neck
at all.
“Surely you have admired yourself sufficiently,” said the barber
laughingly. “Never in my dreams have I seen such a comical fellow as
you, and I have a proposal to make to you. It is true I have a great
many customers, but not quite so many as I had at one time, for my
rival, Barber Lather, has come across a giant and has engaged him to
stand at his door and invite the people to enter. Now a giant is no
very great wonder, but you are, my little man. Enter into my service,
and I will give you board and lodging and clothing free, and all you
will have to do is to stand at my door and ask folks to come in and be
shaved, and hand the towels, soap and so on to the customers. I shall
get more customers and you may be sure you will receive a good many
coins for yourself.”
The little fellow was inwardly very much hurt that he should have been
invited to act as a barber’s decoy; but he answered quite politely
that he did not wish for such employment and walked out of the shop.
His one consolation was that, however much the old witch had altered
his body, she had had no control over his spirit. He felt that his
mind had become enlarged and improved, and he knew himself to be wiser
and more intelligent than he had been seven years previously. He
wasted no time in bewailing the loss of his good looks, but what did
grieve him was the thought that he had been driven like a dog from his
father’s door, and therefore he determined to make one more effort to
convince his mother of his identity.
He returned to the market-place and begged her to listen quietly to
him. He reminded her of the day on which the old woman had taken him
away and recalled to her many incidents of his childhood. Then he told
her how, transformed into a squirrel, he had served the wicked fairy
for seven years, and how his present hideous features had been given
him because he had found fault with the old woman’s features.
The cobbler’s wife knew not what to believe. Every detail he had told
her of his childhood was correct, and yet she could not believe it
possible that he could have been changed into a squirrel, besides
which she did not believe in fairies, good or evil. When she looked at
the ugly little dwarf she found it impossible to accept him as her
son. She thought the best thing that could be done was to talk the
matter over with her husband, and so she collected her baskets and she
and Jacob went back to the cobbler’s shop.
“See here,” she said, “this fellow declares he is our lost Jacob. He
has described to me exactly how he was stolen away seven years ago and
how he has been bewitched by a bad fairy.”
“Indeed,” cried the cobbler angrily, “he has told you exactly what I
told him an hour ago, and has tried to take you in with his story.
Bewitched was he, well, I will disenchant this little son of mine.”
So saying, the cobbler took a bundle of leather strappings and,
seizing poor Jacob, whipped him unmercifully, until the poor fellow,
screaming with pain, managed to make his escape.
It is strange how little sympathy is ever shown to an unfortunate
being who happens to have anything ridiculous about his appearance.
This was the reason that poor Jacob was obliged to pass all that day
and night without tasting food and that he had no better couch than
the cold steps of a church.
[Illustration: _The cobbler whipped him unmercifully._
(P. 131.)]
But, notwithstanding, he slept until the morning sun rose and wakened
him, and then he set himself earnestly to consider how he was to earn
a livelihood for himself, seeing that this father and mother had cast
him off.
He was too proud to serve as a barber’s signpost, or to exhibit
himself in a show for money. But, remembering how excellently he had
learnt to cook when he was in his squirrel form, he thought it
possible that he might make use of his art now; at any rate he
determined to try. He remembered to have heard that the Duke who owned
that country was said to be very fond of good living, and so, as soon
as the day was sufficiently advanced, he made his way to the palace.
The porter at the great gateway laughed at him in scorn when he said
he wished to see the chief cook, but on his persisting he led him
across the courtyard; all the servants who were about the place stared
at him, and then followed in his train, laughing and jeering at him.
They made such an uproar that the steward came out to see what all the
noise was about. He carried a whip in his hand and with it he laid
about him right and left. “You hounds,” said he, “how dare you
disturb your master’s slumbers? Don’t you know that he is not awake
yet?”
“But, sir,” cried the servants, “look what brings us here. Is that not
excuse enough? Look at the queer little dwarf we are bringing you?”
As the steward saw poor Jacob he had hard work to keep from laughing,
too, but as he considered it would be beneath his dignity to join in
the mirth with the other servants he managed to restrain himself, and
driving them off with his whip, led Jacob into his own apartments and
asked him what he wanted. Jacob begged to be conducted to the head
cook, but the steward could scarcely believe him.
“Surely, my little man, it is to me you wish to apply for a situation.
Do you not wish to become the Duke’s jester?”
“No, sir,” replied the dwarf. “I am a first-rate cook and understand
how to prepare all sorts of delicacies. I thought the head cook might
be willing to make use of my art.”
“Every man to his own liking, little man; but it seems to me you are
rather a foolish fellow. As the Duke’s jester you would have had no
work to do, fine clothes to wear, and plenty of good food to eat and
drink. Still, we will see what we can do for you, though I doubt if
your cookery is sufficiently good to suit the Duke’s table, and you
are too good to be made a mere scullion of.”
The steward then led him to the head cook, to whom Jacob hastened to
offer his services.
The head cook took a good look at him and burst out laughing. “You a
cook indeed!” he said scornfully. “Why, you could not reach the top of
the stove to stir a pan. Someone has been making game of you in
sending you here.”
But Jacob was not to be put off in this way. “Of what account are a
few eggs, syrup and wine, flour and spices in a house like this?” he
said; “order me to make any tasty dish you can think of and allow me
to have the ingredients I require and you shall soon judge whether or
no I am a good cook.”
“Well, so be it,” said the head cook, and, taking the steward’s arm,
he led the way to the kitchen. “Just for the joke of the thing we will
let the little man do as he wishes.”
The kitchen was a magnificent place. Fires burned in twenty huge
stoves, a stream of clear water, which served also for a fish-pond,
flowed through the apartment, the cupboards which contained the stores
mostly in use were of marble and costly wood, and there were ten large
pantries containing every kind of delicious foods from both Eastern
and Western countries.
Numbers of servants were running to and fro, carrying kettles and pans
and spoons and ladles. As the head cook entered they all stood still
and there was not a sound to be heard but the crackling of the fires
and the rippling of the stream. “What has the Duke ordered for his
breakfast to-day?” the great man asked of one of the inferior cooks.
“My lord has been pleased to order Danish soup and red Hamburg
patties,” replied the man.
“Very well,” said the head cook, turning to Jacob, “you hear what his
Highness has ordered. Will you undertake to prepare such difficult
dishes? As to the Hamburg patties, you will never be able to make
them, for the recipe is a secret.”
“There is nothing easier,” replied the dwarf, for as a squirrel cook
he had often been called upon to prepare these dishes. “For the soup I
shall require herbs, spices, wild boar’s head, certain roots,
vegetables, and eggs, and for the patties (here he lowered his voice
so that only the steward and the head cook could hear him) I require
four kinds of meat, ginger, and a sprig of a herb that is known by the
name of ‘trencher-man’s mint.’”
“By my honour as a cook, you must have learnt your trade from a
magician,” said the head cook. “You have hit upon the right
ingredients, and the mint is an addition I never thought of, but which
will certainly add to the flavour of the dish.”
[Illustration: _The dwarf prepared the food._ (P. 136.)]
“Well,” said the steward, “I would not have believed it possible; but
by all means let him have the things he asks for, and see how he will
manage to prepare the breakfast.”
As it was found that the dwarf could not reach up to the table, a
slab of marble was laid across two chairs, and all the things he asked
for were set upon it. Steward, head cook and all the rest of the
servants stood around and watched in amazement the clever, cleanly and
brisk manner in which he prepared the food. When he had mixed
everything, he ordered the pots to be placed upon the fire and allowed
to boil until he said they were to be taken off. Then he began to
count “One, two, three,” and so on right up to five hundred, and then
he cried, “Stop! off with the pots!”
They were immediately taken off the fire, and the dwarf begged the
head cook to taste the contents.
A golden spoon was brought and the head cook approached the stove,
lifted the lid of one of the pots, helped himself to a spoonful of
soup, then, closing his eyes, smacked his lips with pleasure and
enjoyment.
“Delicious,” he murmured, “by the Duke’s head, it is delicious.
Steward, will you not taste it?”
The Steward tasted both soup and patties, and then stroked his
waistcoat gently with delight. “Head cook,” said he, “you are an
experienced and first-rate cook, but never have you made such soup or
such patties.”
The head cook tasted the food again, then he reverently shook the
dwarf by the hand. “Little one,” said he, “you are a master of your
craft. That pinch of trencher-man’s herb has given the patties an
extra flavour that renders them quite perfect.”
At this moment the Duke’s special attendant came to say that his
master was ready for his breakfast, so the food was served up in
silver dishes. The head cook, however, took the little man into his
room and was about to have a talk with him, when a message came from
the Duke desiring his attendance.
He dressed himself in his best clothes and hastened into his master’s
presence.
The Duke was looking extremely pleased. He had finished every morsel
of the food set before him and was wiping his beard as the head cook
entered.
“Cook,” said he, “I have always been well satisfied with your cooking
and with the work of those under you; but tell me, who prepared my
breakfast this morning? I declare it has never been so well served
since I sat upon the throne of my fathers. I wish to know the cook’s
name, so that I may reward him with a few ducats.”
“My lord, it is a most wonderful story,” answered the head cook, and
proceeded to tell his master about the dwarf who had arrived that
morning and who had insisted upon being engaged as a cook. The Duke
was much surprised, and sent for Jacob and questioned him closely as
to his name, where he came from, and so on.
Poor Jacob could not very well own that he had been bewitched and
changed into a squirrel, but he was not far from the truth when he
said he was now without parents and that he had learnt cooking from an
old woman. The Duke did not urge him to say more, being much taken up
with staring at the strange figure and features of his new cook. “If
you will serve me,” he said, “I will pay you fifty ducats a year, give
you a fine robe and two pairs of breeches. Your duties will be to cook
my breakfast every morning, order and superintend the preparation of
my dinner, and take over the entire management of the kitchen. As I
always prefer to name my servants myself, I shall give you the name of
Long-Nose, and your position will be that of second head cook.”
Long-Nose fell at the feet of his new master, kissed them, and vowed
to serve him faithfully.
The little fellow was thus provided for, and he certainly did honour
to his position, for the Duke was a different man from the time the
dwarf entered his service. Before that time he had been in the habit
of throwing the plates and dishes at the head of the cook who did not
manage to please him; indeed, on one occasion he had flung a calf’s
foot at his head cook because it was not sufficiently tender, and,
catching the poor man on the forehead had hurt him so much that for
three days he had to keep his bed. It is true the Duke always paid for
his acts of temper afterwards with a handful of ducats, but,
nevertheless, his cooks were wont to set the dishes before him in fear
and with trembling hands. But since the dwarf had been in the house
all had been changed. The master took five meals a day instead of
three, in order to thoroughly appreciate the skill of his little
servant, and never had he been dissatisfied yet, but had found
everything served to him both novel and excellent. He was always in a
good temper and grew fatter day by day.
Sometimes as he sat at table he would send for his head cook and Jacob
and bid them share the delicious food set before him, which was
considered a very great honour indeed.
The dwarf was the wonder of the whole city. The head cook constantly
received entreaties from various personages to be allowed to witness
the dwarf’s cooking, and some of the most distinguished men in the
State asked and received permission from the Duke to allow their cooks
to take lessons from the little man. They paid him well for the
instructions they received, but Long-Nose divided the money between
all the other cooks, for he did not wish them to become jealous of
him.
Two whole years the dwarf passed in the Duke’s service and was well
content with the treatment he received. It was only the thought of his
estrangement from his parents that gave him the least unhappiness.
Nothing out of the common had happened to him until the following
occurrence took place.
He was a better hand at a bargain than most, always seeing at a glance
which were the best goods on sale, and for this reason, whenever he
had the time, he used to go to market himself.
One morning he went to the goose fair to buy geese. He was no longer
greeted with scorn and laughter, for everyone knew him to be the
Duke’s favourite cook, and every good wife with geese to sell thought
herself lucky if his long nose turned in her direction.
He went up and down the market-place, and at length purchased three
live geese which were just the size he required. He lifted the basket
in which they were placed upon his broad shoulders and turned towards
home.
It struck him as somewhat strange that only two of the geese cackled
and gabbled as geese are wont to do; the third was silent, except when
she heaved a sigh that sounded almost human.
“The creature must be ill,” he said aloud. “I had better cook her
quickly before she gets worse.”
Then to his astonishment the goose answered quite plainly--
“Long-Nose, look thee,
If thou cook me,
No good ’twill do,
The deed thou’lt rue.”
Frightened out of his wits, Long-Nose set down the cage, and the goose
looked at him with her beautiful wise eyes and sighed.
“There, there,” said the dwarf, “have no fear, I would not harm such a
wonderful bird as yourself, for it is not once in a lifetime that one
meets a goose that can talk. I wager you have not always worn
feathers; I myself have been bewitched, and turned into a squirrel,
and I expect it is the same with you.”
“You are right,” said the goose. “Alas! I did not always bear this
humble form, and at my birth who would have dared prophecy that Mimi,
the daughter of the great magician Wetterbock, would end her days in a
Duke’s kitchen.”
[Illustration: _THE DWARF LONG-NOSE_
_“They told each other their sad stories”_
(_p. 143_)]
“Set your mind at rest, dear Miss Mimi,” said the dwarf consolingly;
“so sure as I am an honest fellow and second cook to his Highness, no
one shall do you any harm. I will have a coop placed for you in my own
apartment and you shall have as much food as you require and I will
devote all my spare time to you. The rest of the kitchen servants will
be told that I am fattening you on some particular herbs to give you a
specially good flavour, and I will take the first opportunity of
setting you at liberty.”
The goose thanked him with tears in her eyes, and the dwarf took means
to provide for her as he had promised. She was placed in a wicker cage
and fed by Long-Nose alone, and he took care, instead of giving her
the ordinary food required by geese, to serve her with dainty cakes
and sweets. As often as he could he sat and talked to her and tried to
comfort her. They told each other their sad stories, and in this way
Long-Nose learned that Mimi was the daughter of the great magician
Wetterbock, who lived on the island of Gothland. He had quarrelled
with a very wicked fairy, who had managed to outwit him and, in
revenge, to change Mimi into a goose, and bring her far away from her
home.
The dwarf in return told her all his adventures, and she said: “I am
not altogether ignorant of magic myself, having learnt some things
from my father. What you tell me about the quarrel over the herb
basket and your sudden transformation on smelling a certain herb
proves to me that the old woman used some herb in her enchantment, and
if you are able to find that herb you will probably regain your
natural form.” This was small comfort for Long-Nose, for he had not
the least idea where he could find such a herb. Still, he thanked her,
and tried to be a little more hopeful too.
It was just at this time that the Duke had a visit from a neighbouring
Prince, a friend of his.
He sent for Long-Nose and said to him: “Now is the time to prove if
you serve me faithfully, and are a true master of your art. This
Prince, who is now my guest, lives better than anyone I know, except
myself. He prides himself upon the first-rate cooks he keeps and he is
a very knowing man. Now be careful that my table is served daily with
such dishes that may arouse his astonishment and envy. Never let the
same kind of food appear twice during his visit. You may ask my
treasurer for as much money as you require to purchase materials for
your cooking. If you wanted to baste your roasts with gold and
diamonds you should have them. I would sooner beggar myself than have
to blush for the quality of my viands.”
The dwarf bowed and promised the Duke that he would so manage that the
dainty palate of the Prince could not fail to approve of the dishes
set before him.
The little cook exerted all his skill and spared neither his master’s
treasures nor himself. All day long he was enveloped in a cloud of
steam, out of which issued his voice giving orders to the other cooks
and scullions. It would take too long to recount all the delicious
foods he cooked, suffice it to say that for a whole fortnight the
Duke and his guest were served as they had never been served before,
and a smile of enjoyment was constantly to be seen upon the face of
the royal visitor.
At the end of that time the Duke sent for the dwarf and presented him
to the Prince, asking him, at the same time, what he thought of him as
a cook.
“You are indeed a wonderful cook,” said the noble visitor to the
little man. “During the whole of my stay here I have not had the same
kind of dish twice. But I must own I have been surprised that you have
never tempted our appetites with the queen of all dainties, a
Souzeraine pasty.”
The dwarf was rather upset, for it chanced that he had never heard of
this before, but he managed to hide his discomposure.
“Sir,” said he, “I had hoped you were to honour this court with your
presence for a long time yet, and therefore did I delay setting this
dish before you, for with what better dish could a cook serve you, as
a parting greeting, than with that of a Souzeraine pasty?”
“Oh! indeed,” said the Duke smiling, “so I suppose you were waiting
for me to leave the world for ever before giving me the parting
greeting, for I have never so much as heard of this pasty, much less
tasted it. But we will wait for it no longer; to-morrow morning we
shall expect you to serve it up to us for breakfast.”
“As my lord wills,” answered the dwarf, and bowing low he left their
presence. He was terribly upset, for he had not the least idea how to
make the pasty. He went to his room and there wept and bemoaned his
sad fate.
But the goose Mimi came to him and, after enquiring the cause of his
sorrow, said: “Dry your tears, for I think I can help you in this
matter. This dish was frequently set upon my father’s table and I know
pretty well how it was concocted. Even if I cannot tell you every
single ingredient, you will no doubt flavour the pie so deliciously
that the Prince will not detect any omission.”
She then proceeded to name to the dwarf the various ingredients
required.
He was ready to jump for joy, and blessed the day upon which he had
purchased the goose, and then set to work to make the pasty.
He made a little trial one to begin with and it tasted delicious. He
gave the head cook a piece to taste and he could not say enough in
praise of it.
The following morning he made a large one and sent it to table
decorated with wreaths of flowers. He dressed himself in his state
robes and entered the dining hall just as the carver had served the
Duke and his guest with slices of the pasty.
The Duke took a large mouthful and then cast his eyes up towards the
ceiling. “Ah!” said he, as soon as he could speak, “this has been
truly called the queen of pasties, and as for my cook, he is the king
of cooks. What say you, dear friend?”
The guest took one or two mouthfuls before answering, and then, having
well tasted the flavour, he said rather scornfully as he pushed away
his plate: “It is as I thought! It is an excellent pasty no doubt,
but not the Souzeraine.”
The Duke frowned and reddened with anger--“Dog of a dwarf,” cried he,
“how dare you treat me so? I have a good mind to have your head
chopped off as a punishment for your bad cookery.”
“My lord, I assure you I have made the pasty according to all the
rules of the art of cookery,” replied the dwarf trembling.
“It is false, you rascal,” replied the Duke, kicking him away. “If it
were right my guest would not say it was wrong. I have a good mind to
have you made into mincemeat and baked in a pie yourself.”
“Have mercy,” cried the poor little man, prostrating himself before
the royal guest and clasping his feet in his arms. “I pray you tell me
what I have left out of the pasty that it fails to suit your palate?
Do not condemn me to death for a handful of meat and flour.”
“It will be of little assistance to you to know, my dear Long-Nose,”
answered the Prince with a smile, “I was quite certain yesterday that
you would not be able to make this pasty as well as my cook can,
because the chief requisite is a herb which does not grow in this
country. It is known as ‘The Cook’s Delight,’ and without this the
pasty is practically tasteless, and your master will never eat it with
the same pleasure that I can in my own country.”
Then the Duke flew into the most terrible rage--“I vow by my honour
that either you shall taste this pasty to-morrow morning, exactly as
you are accustomed to have it, or else the head of this fellow shall
pay for his blunder. Go, dog of a dwarf, I give you four-and-twenty
hours to accomplish it in.”
The poor dwarf went to his room and told this fresh trouble to the
goose.
“Come, take heart,” said she, “fortunately I know every herb that
grows and I am sure I can find this one for you. It is a happy thing
that it chances to be a new moon to-night, for only at the time of the
new moon does this plant grow. But tell me, are there any ancient
chestnut trees near the palace?”
“Oh! yes,” replied the dwarf, with a lighter heart. “Two hundred paces
from the palace, beside the lake, there is quite a large group of
chestnut trees; but why do you ask?”
“Because the herb is only found at the root of very old chestnut
trees,” answered Mimi. “Let us lose no time, but go and search for
what you require. Take me under your arm and put me down when we have
reached the spot, and I will help you search.”
He did as she bade him; but as he would have passed out of the gateway
of the palace, the sentry barred the way with his lance. “My good
Long-Nose,” said he, “I have the strictest orders not to let you out
of the house. Your end has come, I fear.”
“But surely I can go into the garden,” replied the dwarf. “Be so good
as to send one of your comrades to enquire if I may go into the garden
to search for herbs.”
The sentry did so and permission was given, for the garden had such
high walls surrounding it that it seemed impossible for him to escape.
[Illustration: _The goose sought in vain for the herb._
(P. 149.)]
As soon as he was in the open he placed Mimi carefully on the ground
and she at once began to run towards the lake on the banks of which
the chestnut trees grew. Long-Nose followed her with a sinking heart,
for he had already made up his mind that, if the herb could not be
found, he would drown himself in the lake rather than allow his head
to be cut off.
The goose sought in vain for the herb, she left not a blade of grass
unturned, and at length she began to cry from sympathy. She would not
give up the search until evening began to fall, and the darkness made
it difficult to distinguish any surrounding objects. Just as they were
about to abandon the search the dwarf looked across the lake and then
cried out: “Look, at the other side of the lake is a huge old chestnut
tree. Let us go and search there, perhaps good fortune blooms yonder.”
The goose waddled and flew and waddled and flew, the dwarf hurrying
after her as fast as his little legs would let him, until at length
they had reached the other side of the lake. The chestnut tree cast a
vast shade and it was so dark all around that it was difficult to
distinguish anything, but suddenly the goose gave a cry of joy and
flapped her wings with delight.
She thrust her head into the long grass and plucked something which
she deftly offered in her bill to Long-Nose. “This is the herb,” said
she, “and it grows here in such quantities you will always have a
plentiful supply.”
The dwarf looked at the herb thoughtfully. A sweet scent assailed his
nostrils and reminded him of the scene of his transformation; the
stalk, too, of the plant was of a bluish-green colour and it bore a
bright red flower, flecked with yellow.
“Mimi,” said he, “by great good fortune I do believe we have chanced
upon the very herb that changed me from a squirrel into the creature I
am now. Shall I make a trial of it?”
“Not yet,” replied the goose. “Take a handful of the herbs with you
and let us go back to your room. There you can collect your money and
all that you possess and then we will try the power of the herb.”
They returned to the dwarf’s room, he with a heart beating loudly with
excitement. He took between fifty and sixty ducats he had saved, and
tied them up in a bundle with some of his clothes, then saying: “May
good fortune aid me to be rid of my burden,” he thrust his nose into
the bunch of herbs and sniffed their fragrance. Then his limbs and
joints began to crack and stretch, he could feel his head rising from
between his shoulders, squinting down his nose he could see it growing
smaller and smaller, his back and chest straightened themselves out,
and his legs became longer.
The goose looked on in astonishment. “Oh! how tall and handsome you
are,” she cried, “there is not the faintest resemblance left to the
dwarf Long-Nose.”
As for Jacob, he was beside himself with joy; but he did not forget
the thanks he owed to Mimi. His first impulse was to go to his
parents, but gratitude urged him to suppress this wish.
“But for you,” he said to Mimi, “I might have retained my hideous form
all the days of my life, or I might even have lost my life. Now is the
time to repay my debt. I will take you straightway to your father,
whose magic powers will at once enable him to disenchant you.” The
goose wept tears of joy and accepted his offer gratefully.
Jacob passed the sentries safely, for they had only been ordered to
bar the way to the dwarf Long-Nose.
With Mimi beneath his arm he very soon reached the sea-shore, and
before long her home was in sight.
The great Wetterbock soon turned the goose into a charming young lady,
and, having loaded her rescuer with valuable gifts, bade him farewell.
Jacob hastened home, and his parents were only too delighted to accept
the handsome young man as their long-lost son.
With the presents he had received from Wetterbock he was able to
purchase a shop, and he became a very rich man and lived happily all
his days.
But his disappearance from the Duke’s palace caused a great hubbub.
When the morning came on which the Duke was to fulfil his vow and
behead the dwarf if he had not found the herb, lo! the dwarf himself
was missing.
The Prince declared the Duke had allowed him to escape to avoid losing
such a splendid cook, and said he had broken his word.
They quarrelled so violently that a war ensued, which is known in all
histories of those lands as “The Herb War,” and when at length peace
was declared it was called “The Pasty Peace,” and at the reconciliation
feast the Prince’s cook served up a Souzeraine pasty, to which the Duke
did full justice.
ABNER, THE JEW WHO SAW NOTHING.
This is the story of Abner, the Jew, who by reason of his great powers
of observation, instead of benefiting himself by his sagacity, brought
himself into dire straits and well-nigh lost his life.
[Illustration: _Abner, the Jew._]
It is well known that all Jews are observant and crafty; Abner was no
exception to the rule.
He was strolling one evening beyond the gateway of Morocco, glancing
from right to left in case by chance he could see anything likely to
be used to his advantage. He was feeling particularly well pleased
with himself, for he had done a very good day’s business. He had
managed to sell a sick slave for a good sum of money, knowing he would
prove of little value to the purchaser, and he had bought a camel-load
of gum and spices for a very low price, and expected to make a large
profit, so he smiled and stroked his beard and paced up and down in a
very happy frame of mind.
Presently he heard the sound of people running and shouting and a
number of the Emperor’s grooms, with the Master of the Horse at their
head, came along. They ran here and there in wild disorder, evidently
searching eagerly for something or someone who was lost.
“Hullo, you dog of a Jew,” cried the Master of the Horse, “have you
seen anything of the Emperor’s horse, a fine creature ready saddled
and bridled? He has run away and is lost.”
“Ah,” answered Abner thoughtfully, “he was one of the swiftest horses
you could meet, with a small, delicately-shaped hoof, silver shoes,
his mane shone like gold, fifteen hands high, a tail three feet and a
half in length, and his bridle bit is of pure gold.”
“Yes, yes,” cried the Master of the Horse, “you have described him
exactly; tell me where we can find the Emperor’s horse.”
“But I have seen no horse,” replied Abner, smiling craftily, “how
therefore can I tell you where he is?”
The Master of the Horse was about to insist upon Abner explaining this
apparent contradiction, when by a strange coincidence another event
occurred which prevented him.
A troop of black slaves came running towards them, crying aloud, “Hath
any one seen the Empress’ lap-dog? Aline, Aline, where art thou?”
“Is it not a small spaniel with a long coat, a feathery tail, and lame
in the right foreleg?”
[Illustration: _ABNER, THE JEW WHO SAW NOTHING_
_“They ran here and there in wild disorder”_
(_p. 154_)]
“Yes, yes,” cried the slaves, “of a certainty thou hast described the
dog. The Empress is in a swoon on account of the loss of her
favourite and will certainly not recover until Aline is restored to
her; tell us, therefore, where thou hast seen the dog!”
“I have seen no dog,” replied Abner, “neither was I so much as aware
that our Empress possessed one.”
Then both the stable men and the slaves of the harem fell to abusing
Abner, the shameless Jew, who did not scruple to make game of his
Emperor and Empress. They seized him and dragged him before the
Emperor and recounted all that had happened, suggesting that most
certainly the Jew had seen and stolen the animals in question.
The Jew continued to protest his innocence, but all in vain; by way of
a beginning he was ordered and received fifty strokes with the
bastinado upon the soles of his feet, and after that he was assured
that if the horse and the little dog were not recovered he would pay
for their loss with his life.
The palace was still in a high state of commotion, when a black slave
came running in, breathless and exhausted, but bearing the good news
that both horse and dog had been found.
The horse, fed on the best corn and oats in the Emperor’s stable, had
yet preferred his freedom and a bite of grass in a green meadow, where
he had been found quietly grazing.
As for the little dog, he had been found in the company of a number of
mongrels whose society was quite unfit for such an aristocratic little
animal as an Empress’ pet.
The Emperor now demanded an explanation from Abner as to how he had
been able to describe two animals he had never seen.
The Jew bowed low before the Emperor and made answer: “I was taking a
walk in the cool of the evening in a little wood, where the soil was
sandy and loose; presently I noticed the prints of small paws, the
right fore-paw print making a slighter impression in the sand than the
others, therefore I knew the little animal was lame. One each side of
the fore-paw prints there was a slight trail in the sand which proved
the animal’s ears had been long and sweeping the ground, and it was
impossible to avoid knowing that the tail was long and feathery, for,
in an access of joy, probably at the freedom he was enjoying, he had
wagged his tail to and fro, and brushed the sand aside. Therefore I
knew to a nicety the kind of dog that had passed that way.
“As far as the horse is concerned, as I was walking upon another path
in the wood I noticed the tracks of a horse’s hoofs. I examined them
and found them small and delicate, such as only a highly-bred horse’s
hoofs would be; from the distance apart I judged that the horse had
been galloping at a great rate, and I noticed a stone against which he
had evidently struck one hoof and left a small silver shaving,
therefore I knew he was shod with silver shoes. The path down which I
was walking was seven feet wide and the palms on each side had had the
dust brushed from their leaves. ‘Ah!’ said I, ‘the horse swished his
tail to and fro and swept the palms with it on each side of him,
therefore the tail must have been at least three and a half feet in
length.’ The branches of the trees beneath which I was walking were
some five feet from the ground and I saw that leaves had freshly
fallen from them, no doubt brushed off by the horse in his flight,
therefore I guessed him to be fifteen hands high. On the bushes I saw
traces of golden-brown horse hair, caught here and there, and I knew
then the colour of the horse that had passed that way.
“As I left the cover of the bushes I noticed a tiny mark of gold on a
rock, and guessed that the runaway had had a golden bit between its
teeth, which it had rubbed against the stone as it bounded past.”
“Now, by the beard of the Prophet,” cried the delighted Emperor, “that
is what I call good eyesight, and no mistake. I only wish my master of
the Hounds and the Chief of the Police had such eyes for a trail. Now,
Master Jew, it is but fair we should reward you on account of what you
have innocently suffered, and for the sake of the sagacity you have
shown. As you should have paid me a hundred sequins, you shall be
pardoned fifty on account of the fifty strokes you received. Now open
your purse and pay me the other fifty, but remember to beware in
future of how you make a laughing stock of your Emperor: if you wish
to ridicule anyone, the pain in your feet may serve to remind you it
would be best to make a butt of one of lesser degree!”
THE STORY OF ALMANSOR.
There was once a Sheik of Alexandria named Ali Banu. Although he was
good and generous, rich and clever, he was a very unhappy man, for he
had the misfortune to lose his only son when he was but ten years of
age, and the joy of his father’s heart.
[Illustration: _Almansor in the camp of the Franks._ (P. 164.)]
It was at the time when the Franks overran the country like a pack of
hungry wolves. They had conquered Alexandria and had pushed their way
further and further, and attacked the Mamelukes.
The Sheik was a wise man and tried therefore to keep the peace with
them, but they grudged him his wealth and so made an excuse to
quarrel with him. They pretended that he had been supplying the
Mamelukes secretly with weapons, horses, and stores, and so they
seized his young son Kairam and carried him away to their camp as a
hostage.
The Sheik offered ransom money, but the Franks would not part with the
boy, because they believed that if they kept him long enough the
father would be glad to pay even the most extortionate price for his
release.
But suddenly they were recalled to their own land, and as they had not
time to bargain with the Sheik before embarking, they carried the boy
Kairam with them.
The boy’s mother died of a broken heart and the poor old man never
ceased to grieve for his son. Every year, upon the anniversary of the
day his son was captured, he made a rule of setting at liberty twelve
slaves. In order to divert his mind from his sorrow, the twelve who
were about to be liberated each had to recount to him a story, and
when this had been done they were released.
Upon one of these anniversaries some ten or eleven years after
Kairam’s abduction, the Sheik took his seat on the floor, for his
mourning for his son forbade him to sit upon the carpet of joy, his
friends and acquaintance, who had come to comfort him, sat near him,
and close beside him was Mustapha, the Dervish, who was his closest
friend and had been his son’s instructor.
The slaves who were about to be released were gathered before him;
some were old and some young, but the one who called for the most
attention was a tall and very handsome young man, whom the Sheik had
purchased for a large sum of money, only a few days previously, of a
slave trader from Tunis.
When several of the slaves had told their stories and it came to this
young man’s turn, he arose, bowed to the Sheik, and said in a clear
voice:
“My Lord, the stories that have already been told are so much more
interesting than any I could tell relating to myself, that with your
permission I will recount to you the adventures of one of my friends.
“Upon the slave ship which brought me from Algeria there was a young
man of about my own age who seemed to have been born to a better
position than that in which I found him.
“The rest of the unfortunate beings upon the ship were either of a low
class, so that I did not care to mix with them, or else spoke a
language I did not understand, and so, whenever I had any spare time,
I spent it with this young man. His name was Almansor, and, by the
manner in which he spoke, I judged him to be an Egyptian.
“We took great pleasure in each other’s society, and one day we told
each other our stories, and his seemed certainly more interesting than
mine.
“Almansor’s father held a distinguished position in an Egyptian town.
He spent the days of his childhood surrounded by every comfort,
although he was not spoilt or allowed to become effeminate, for his
father was a wise man and trained him to be good and virtuous, and
gave him for his instructor a very learned man who taught him all that
a youth should know. Almansor was about ten years of age when the
Franks came from over the sea and made war upon his nation.
“The boy’s father evidently incurred the displeasure of the Franks,
for one day they came and demanded his wife as a hostage and a
guarantee of his good intentions towards them, and upon his refusing
to give her up they tore his son from him by force, and carried him
away to their camp.”
As the young slave recounted this, the Sheik hid his face in his hands
and a murmur of displeasure arose in the apartment.
“How could this young man be so foolish as to tell such a story?” the
Sheik’s friends asked one another. “How can he be so cruel as to open
Ali Banu’s wounds afresh instead of attempting to heal them? How can
he renew his grief instead of trying to allay it?”
The overseer of the slaves was full of anger over the young man’s
effrontery, and bade him roughly hold his peace, but the slave only
showed surprise, and asked the Sheik in what way his story had
displeased him. So the Sheik raised his head from his hands and said:
“Calm yourselves, my friends. This young man has been but three days
beneath my roof and quite possibly does not know of my sorrowful
history. It is possible, considering the cruelties the Franks
perpetrate, there may be another story similar to mine, or even this
Almansor might be--” The Sheik did not finish his sentence, but bade
the slave continue his story.
“The young Almansor,” said he, “was, as I said, carried away to the
camp of the Franks, where he did not fare so badly, for one of the
generals took a fancy to him, and was amused at the boy’s answers to
his questions, which were interpreted to him by a dragoman. He saw
that he was well cared for and had all the food required, but that did
not compensate the boy for the loss of his father and mother.
“He wept bitterly, but his tears did not melt the hard hearts of his
captors. When the camp was broken up Almansor hoped he would be sent
home, but no, the army moved on and on in pursuit of the Mamelukes,
and young Almansor was carried in its train.
“In vain he begged and implored the officers to send him back to his
father; they told him he was the only security they had for his
father’s good faith.
“But all of a sudden a great commotion took place, all the soldiers
began packing in great haste, and Almansor heard that the army had
been recalled. He felt certain that if the Franks returned to their
own country he would be restored to his home, and was happy in the
thought of so soon seeing his parents again. The retreat towards the
sea-shore was a hurried one, and Almansor very soon saw the great
ships lying at anchor. The soldiers began to embark at once, but by
nightfall only a small number were on board. Almansor tried hard to
remain awake, for he believed he was to be set free immediately, but
in spite of his efforts he fell into a deep sleep. Afterwards he felt
sure that the Franks must have drugged him, for he slept so soundly
that when he awoke it was broad daylight, and he found himself in
quite a different room to the one in which he had gone to sleep.
“He sprang from his couch, but no sooner touched the floor than he
fell down, for the floor seemed to sway up and down, and everything in
the room went round and round. He rose and steadied himself by the
wall, so that he might be able to get out of the room.
“A most extraordinary splashing and roaring noise was all around him,
and he scarcely knew whether he was awake or dreaming, for he had
never heard anything like it before. He managed to reach a little
staircase and climbed it. What was his horror to see around him
nothing but sea and sky, and he discovered that he was on a ship. He
wept bitterly and begged to be taken back. He tried to fling himself
into the sea in order that he might swim ashore. But the Franks held
him fast, and one of the officers ordered him to be brought to him and
promised him that, if he were good and obedient, he should be sent
home, but told him it had not been possible for them to spare time to
take him to his father, and had they left him behind by himself he
would have perished miserably.
“But the Franks did not keep their promise, for after many days, when
the ship at length reached the shore, it was not in Egypt they landed,
but on the coast of France, which was the name of the country they
came from. During the voyage and whilst he had been in the camp,
Almansor had learnt a good deal of the Frankish language, and he found
this very useful, now that he was in a country where no one
understood a word of his language.
“For many days he marched with the army into the interior of the
country, and crowds came flocking to see him, for his companions gave
out that he was the King of Egypt’s son, who had been sent to France
to be educated. This they said in order that the people might believe
that they had conquered Egypt and made peace with that country.
“At length they reached a very large town, which was the end of the
journey. He was handed over to a doctor, who took him into his house
and instructed him in the manners and customs of the country.
“First of all he was made to put on different clothing, which felt
tight and uncomfortable, and was not nearly so nice to look at as his
Egyptian clothes. He was no longer allowed to bow, with his arms
crossed upon his breast, when he wished to show his respect to any
one. Instead he was taught to raise his large black felt hat with one
hand, and make a slight obeisance. He was not allowed to sit
cross-legged upon a cushion, as is the pleasant custom in the East,
but was made to sit upon a high-legged chair and let his legs hang
down. The mode of eating, too, was most trying, for everything he put
into his mouth had to be conveyed there by means of a steel fork.
“The doctor was a stern and cruel man who gave the boy no peace. If he
forgot and said to a visitor: ‘Salem aleicum,’ he had a good beating,
for he had been taught to say: ‘Votre serviteur.’ He was not allowed
to speak or write in his own language, and he might even have
forgotten his native tongue had it not been for a man who lived in
that town, and who was very kind to him.
“This man was very learned and understood a great many Eastern
languages, Arabic, Persian, Coptic, and even Chinese, and made a great
deal of money by teaching them to other people. He invited Almansor to
visit him several times a week, gave him fruit and cakes, and made him
feel very much at home. He was a most extraordinary old man, for he
ordered clothes for Almansor such as high-class people in Egypt wear,
and kept them in a certain room in his house. When Almansor came to
visit him he was sent to this room, with a servant, who helped him to
dress himself in these garments, and then he was taken into what was
called ‘The Arabian Hall.’
“This hall was decorated with palms, cedars and all sorts of flowers
that grow in Eastern countries. Persian carpets were laid on the
floors, and cushions were placed against the walls, but there was no
sign of a chair or table. The old professor was seated upon one of the
cushions, but he was dressed quite differently to his usual attire. He
wore a Turkish turban on his head, a false grey beard that reached to
his waist. On his legs he had wide Turkish trousers, and besides this
he had a robe made from a brocaded dressing gown, and yellow slippers.
“Although he was of a very peaceable nature, he wore a Turkish sabre,
and had a dagger, set with imitation jewels, thrust into his girdle.
He smoked a pipe with a stem at least four feet in length, and was
waited upon by servants clad in Eastern attire, with hands and faces
coloured dark brown.
“At first Almansor only thought how very curious it all was, but after
a while he began to think of what great advantage to him the hours
spent with the old man might be. At the doctor’s he was forced to
converse in the French tongue, but at the old man’s house he was
encouraged to speak the Egyptian language. On entering he was expected
to give the Eastern greeting, to which the old man solemnly responded;
then he was told to sit down, and the host conversed with his guest in
a mixture of Persian, Arabic and Coptic. He had a servant beside him,
who on these occasions was called a slave, and this slave held an
enormous dictionary, and whenever the old man was at a loss for a
word, he beckoned to the slave to turn over the leaves of the book
until he came to the word he wanted, and then he went on talking
again.
“The pretended slaves served sherbet and such-like drinks in Turkish
drinking-vessels, and if Almansor wanted to please the old man very
much he used to tell him that everything looked as it did in his own
home in the East. Almansor could read Persian very well, and this was
of great use to the old man, for he made the boy read aloud from
Persian manuscripts, and repeated the words carefully after him, and
so learnt the correct pronunciation.
[Illustration: _THE STORY OF ALMANSOR_
_The slave held an enormous dictionary_
(_p. 168._)]
“These were happy days for poor Almansor, for the professor never sent
him away empty-handed, but gave him sometimes money, and sometimes
underwear, and other useful things with which the doctor would not
provide him. And so he lived for some years in the capital of France,
without his longing for home ever growing less. When he was about
fifteen years of age something happened which had a great influence
upon his fortunes. The Franks, or the French as he was taught to call
them, chose for their Emperor the general who had once made a pet of
Almansor in Egypt.
“Although Almansor knew that one of the generals had been proclaimed
Emperor, he did not know it was the one he had so frequently spoken to
before he left his native land.
“One day, when he was crossing one of the bridges which span the wide
river flowing through the city, he saw a man, dressed in simple
uniform, leaning against the parapet, gazing down into the water.
“The man’s features seemed familiar to him and, quickly reviewing the
past, he remembered where he had last seen him. He was the French
general who had been so kind to him in Egypt. He did not know his
right name, only the nickname by which the soldiers spoke of him, but,
taking courage, he advanced towards him, crossed his arms upon his
breast, and said ‘Salem aleicum, Little Corporal.’
“The man turned in astonishment, stared hard at the youth for a few
moments, and then said: ‘Is it possible, _you_ here, Almansor? How is
your father, and how are things going on in Egypt? How do you come to
be in France?’
“Almansor could not restrain his tears. Weeping bitterly, he made
answer: ‘Then you did not know that your dogs of countrymen had
brought me here? Alas! Little Corporal, it is many a long year since I
saw my native land.’
“‘I trust,’ said the man, with an angry frown, ‘that they did not
bring you away from Egypt.’
“‘Indeed they did,’ replied Almansor; ‘an officer, moved by compassion
for me, paid for my board and keep at the house of a doctor, who beats
and ill-treats me, and almost starves me to death. But oh! how glad I
am I have met you, for now I know that you will help me.’
“‘How can I help you?’ asked the man smiling.
“‘Well,’ replied Almansor, ‘you may be sure that I am not going to ask
you for money, for I am sure you have little to spare. I remember
that, although you were a general, when you were so kind to me, you
were poor, and were never able to afford such fine clothes as the
others, and I can see by your shabby hat and coat that you are not
much better off now, but, as you know, your people have lately chosen
a new Emperor, and as he was one of your generals it may chance that
at least you know someone who is acquainted with him.’
“‘And if I do, what then?’ replied the man.
“‘I want you to say a good word for me, Little Corporal, and get the
Emperor to grant me my liberty. It would not cost very much money to
send me home across the sea; but whatever you do, you must promise to
keep this a secret from the doctor and the Arabian professor.’
“‘Who may the Arabian professor be?’ the soldier asked.
“‘A most extraordinary man, but I will tell you of him some other
time.’ replied Almansor. ‘But if these two were to hear of it they
would most certainly prevent my leaving France. And will you promise
then to find some one to speak for me to the Emperor?’
[Illustration: _“Is it possible, you here, Almansor?”_
(P. 171.)]
“‘Come with me and I may perhaps be able to help you now,’ said his
friend.
“‘Now?’ cried the youth, ‘that I cannot do, for I shall get a good
beating from the doctor if I do not hurry home.’
“‘What have you in that basket?’ asked the man, laying his hand upon
Almansor’s shoulder.
“The boy blushed with shame and hesitated, but said finally: ‘Little
Corporal, it is not here with me as it was in my own home. I am forced
now to perform the duties assigned to the lowest of my father’s
slaves. The doctor is a miserly man, and every day he sends me to a
market which is at some distance from our house, because I can get
things cheaper there than they are in our part of the town. Look at
these few herrings, this handful of salad, and this little pat of
butter: every day I have to tramp miles in order to buy such things.
Oh! if only my father knew it.’
“The soldier appeared moved by the boy’s distress--‘Come with me,’ he
said, ‘and I promise you the doctor shall not punish you, even if he
has to go without herrings or salad. So take courage and come.’
“He took Almansor by the hand and led him along with him, and although
the boy’s heart beat loudly when he thought of the doctor, yet he
could not but feel great confidence in the man beside him and so he
decided to do as he advised. So he trotted along, his basket on his
arm, sorely perplexed, however to notice how everyone raised their
hats to them, and stood staring after them. He asked his companion
what it meant, but he only laughed and gave no answer.
“At length they reached a splendid palace, which the man entered: ‘Do
you live here, Little Corporal?’ asked Almansor.
“‘This is my dwelling-place, certainly,’ replied the soldier, ‘and I
am going to introduce you to my wife.’
“‘Ah! but you have a splendid home,’ replied Almansor. ‘I suppose the
Emperor gives you your quarters free?’
“‘It is true I owe these quarters to the Emperor,’ answered his
companion. They mounted a wide staircase and reached a magnificent
anteroom, where he was told to put down his basket, and then they went
into a most beautiful apartment, where a lady was sitting upon a sofa.
The soldier spoke to her in a language the boy did not understand, and
they both laughed a good deal, and then the lady asked him, in the
French tongue, a number of questions about Egypt, and then the Little
Corporal said: ‘I have come to the conclusion that the best thing we
can do is to take you straight to the Emperor, and for you to tell him
your story.’
“Almansor was frightened to face such a great man; but he thought of
his home and the misery he now endured and took courage. ‘I will go,’
he said bravely, ‘but tell me, Little Corporal, must I prostrate
myself before him, shall I place my forehead to the ground? Tell me
how I ought to behave.’
“The soldier and his wife laughed heartily and assured him this was
not necessary.
“‘Has he a very fierce and majestic appearance?’ he asked again, ‘has
he a long beard? Will his eyes flash fire? Tell me how I shall
recognise him.’
“‘I would rather not describe him to you, Almansor,’ answered his
companion, ‘but I will tell you how you may recognise the Emperor. All
who are in the room will take off their hats respectfully, the Emperor
alone will remain covered.’
“He led Almansor towards the Emperor’s reception room and the boy
began to tremble all over as they approached the door.
“A servant opened it and they were in the presence of some thirty men,
all of whom had ranged themselves in a semi-circle. They wore
magnificent uniforms, and gold lace and glittering orders sparkled
upon their breasts. Almansor thought his plainly-dressed companion
must be lower in rank than anyone present. They all stood bare-headed
and Almansor began to search for one who wore a hat. In vain, it
seemed to him that the Emperor could not be present, for all carried
their hats in their hands. Then his glance fell upon his companion,
and lo! he was wearing his hat.
“The boy was astounded and put up his hand to his own head to remove
the hat he had forgotten until then: ‘Salem aleicum, Little Corporal,’
he said. ‘I know that I am not Emperor of France, so it is not
becoming for me to remain covered. But now you are the only person
wearing a hat, can it be that _you_ are the Emperor?’
“‘You have guessed it at length,’ he replied, ‘and besides being the
Emperor, I am your friend. You must not blame me for your misfortunes,
but rather put them down to a succession of unfortunate circumstances,
and rest assured I will send you home in the first ship that is sailing
to your country. Now run away to my wife and tell her about the Arabian
professor or anything else you like. I will send the herrings and the
salad to the doctor, but you will remain in the palace as my guest.’
“Thus spoke the man who was the Emperor. Almansor fell upon his knees
and kissed his hand, begging his forgiveness for not having recognised
him, but assuring him that he did not in the least resemble an
Emperor.
“‘You are right,’ replied the Emperor laughingly, ‘but you see I have
only been an Emperor for a few days, so that I have not had time for
imperial majesty to stamp itself upon my features.’ Then he nodded for
the boy to go.
“From that time Almansor lived very happily. He was allowed to visit
the Arabian professor, but he did not see the doctor again.
“After the lapse of a few weeks the Emperor sent for him and told him
that a ship was about to sail for Egypt. He loaded him with presents
and money, and sent him to the coast; but not before the boy had
expressed his deep gratitude and affection to the one who had shown
him so much kindness.
“But alas! Almansor’s troubles were not yet over, Allah would not yet
permit him to see his native shore. The French nation was then at war
with another Frankish people, the English. These English captured
every French ship they could, and so it happened that on the sixth day
the ship on which Almansor sailed was surrounded by a number of
English ships, and was obliged to surrender. All the crew were
transferred to another smaller vessel and, as ill luck would have it,
this small vessel became detached from the rest of the fleet during a
storm. Now there are robbers upon the high seas just as there are in
the desert, and the small ship was seized by a pirate ship from Tunis,
and all the crew were sent to Algiers and sold as slaves. Almansor was
not so badly off as the Christians, because he was a Mussulman and a
true Believer, but notwithstanding he began to abandon all hope of
ever seeing his father’s house again. He had been purchased by a rich
man, and for five years he lived with him, cultivating his garden and
rearing his flowers. But suddenly the rich man died and left no near
heirs, so that his property was divided up, his slaves were shared
out, and Almansor fell into the hands of a slave-dealer who was just
fitting out a ship to carry his slaves to another port, in order to
sell them for a better price. I chanced to be one of this dealers
slaves and was taken upon the same ship with Almansor. We soon made
friends and he told me his wonderful adventures. But, when we landed,
I was a witness of Allah’s goodness and merciful guidance, for it was
upon Almansor’s native shore that we disembarked, and it was in the
market place of his native town that we were publicly sold, and oh! my
Lord, it was his own dear father who bought him.”
The Sheik Ali Banu had listened thoughtfully to the slave’s story,
but the conclusion did not quite seem to satisfy him.
“The young man would be about one-and-twenty, you say?” he enquired.
“Yes, my Lord, my own age,” answered the slave.
“And what do you say is the name of his native town?”
“If I was not mistaken it was Alexandria,” was the reply.
“Alexandria!” cried the Sheik. “Then it was my son. Did he ever call
himself Kairam? Had he dark eyes and brown hair?”
“Yes, my lord,” said the slave, “and sometimes he called himself
Kairam and _not_ Almansor.”
“But tell me,” said the old man, “are you sure his own father bought
him, did he assure you it was so? Because if this is the case he
cannot be my son.”
The slave answered: “I heard him thank Allah for having brought him
back to his own city, and when an aged and distinguished-looking man
approached him and bought him he whispered to me: ‘My misfortunes are
at an end, for it is my own father who has bought me.’”
“Alas! it was _not_ my son,” cried the Sheik in tones of deep grief.
Then the young man could contain himself no longer. Tears of joy
rushed to his eyes and he threw himself at the Sheik’s feet and cried:
“But it was your son, Kairam, or Almansor, for it was you who
purchased him.”
The Sheik stood speechless, staring at the youth’s handsome face.
“Mustapha,” said he to the old Dervish, “my eyes are dimmed with a
veil of tears so that I can see nothing. Tell me, does this youth
indeed resemble my son Kairam?”
The aged Dervish approached and, laying his hand upon the young man’s
forehead, said: “Kairam, what was the text I taught you the very day
you were taken away to the Frankish camp?”
“My dear master,” said the youth, pressing his lips to the Dervish’s
hand, “it was this: ‘He who loves Allah and has a good conscience,
though he were in the desert of misery, is never alone, for he has two
companions who walk beside him and comfort him.’”
Then the Dervish placed the young man in the Sheik’s arms. “Take him,”
he said, “for so surely as you have mourned your son as lost, so
surely is he found again.”
The Sheik was beside himself with joy, and all present joined in his
delight for they loved him dearly and shared in his happiness as they
had shared his grief.
Once more the house resounded with songs of joy and mirth, as it had
been wont to do. Again the youth was pressed to tell his story with
still more minute details, and all united to praise the Arabian
professor and the Emperor and everyone who had shown kindness towards
the young man.
The gathering did not break up until quite late at night, and before
they left the Sheik presented each of his friends with some rich gift,
that he might always have cause to remember the joyful day.
THE STORY OF THE FLORIN.
In Upper Suabia stands to this very day the ruins of a castle that was
once the most stately in the whole neighbourhood, namely, that of
Hohenzollern. It is built upon the summit of a steep hill, from the
rugged heights of which the surrounding country can be viewed far and
wide. But, further than the eye can travel, throughout the most remote
parts of Germany, the race of Hohenzollern was ever known, feared and
respected.
[Illustration: _Stormy Weather Zollern._ (P. 182.)]
Hundreds of years ago there lived in this solitary stronghold one of
the race who, it is true, was feared, but also distrusted by all,
although it could not be actually said of him that he oppressed his
subjects or lived at open enmity with his neighbours.
Few besides the inhabitants of the castle had ever heard him speak a
civil word, for if he rode through the valley and chanced to meet
anyone who raised his cap and said: “Good evening, Count, what fine
weather we are having,” he would reply in surly tones, “Rubbish!” or
“I know that already.”
But if anyone neglected his work, or if perchance the Count met a
peasant driving his cart on a narrow road so that he could not pass
quickly, then a perfect storm of fury burst from his lips. He did not
ill-treat the object of his wrath, but he would rage and storm so
wildly that folks had given him the nickname of “Stormy Weather
Zollern.”
Stormy Weather had a wife who was the direct opposite of himself; for
she was as mild and gentle as a May day, and her kind words and
pleasant smile often went a good way towards healing the breach
between her husband and the neighbours he offended. She was good to
the poor and would climb down the steep hill-side, summer and winter
alike, to go to the aid of anyone in distress. Sometimes she met the
Count when she was thus employed, and he would glance at her and say:
“Nonsense, nonsense, why don’t you mind your own business?”
Many a less loving wife would have ceased to love such a disagreeable,
cross-grained fellow, but not so the Lady Hedwig. She would try to
coax the Count into a better temper, or make excuses for him when
there were really none to be made.
They had one son, a sweet little baby whom the Count professed to care
very little about. He never saw him but once a week, and that was on a
Sunday afternoon, when the nurse carried the baby in her arms. When he
said “Father” for the first time, the Count gave the Nurse a florin;
but he took no further notice of the child.
On the little one’s third birthday the Count ordered him to wear his
first pair of breeches, and had him clothed in velvet and silk, and
very pretty he looked. Then he ordered his own and a second very fine
spirited horse to be brought to the gateway and, taking the child on
his arm, began to descend the steep staircase, his spurs rattling and
clanging as he went. The Lady Hedwig made it a rule never to enquire
where he was going or when he was returning when he rode out, but now
her anxiety for her child urged her to.
“Are you going riding?” The Count did not answer, so she said: “Why
are you taking the little one with you? Cuno is going for a walk with
me.”
“Rubbish,” said the Count, and went on down the steps until he reached
the courtyard. Then he put the child upon the horse’s back and tied
him firmly on with a broad scarf, flung himself upon his own steed and
trotted out of the castle gates, taking the reins of the little boy’s
horse in his own hands. At first the little one seemed to enjoy riding
down the hill with his father. He clapped his hands and laughed and
shook his horse’s mane to make it go faster, and the Count was pleased
and said once or twice: “You will be a brave fellow some of these fine
days.”
But when the plain was reached and, instead of a trot, the Count
changed the horse’s pace to a gallop, the child was nervous. First he
begged his father to go slower, but instead of that the pace was
increased. The strong wind took poor Cuno’s breath away and he began
to cry softly. Faster and faster they went, and then the boy screamed
at the top of his voice.
“Nonsense, nonsense, stop that screaming,” began Stormy Weather
Zollern; but at that moment his own horse shied, and the reins of the
child’s steed slipped from his grasp. It took some moments to regain
the mastery of his horse, and when he had done this he saw to his
consternation that the boy’s horse was riderless and was galloping
back towards the castle.
Although such a hard surly man, his heart failed him at this sight,
for he believed nothing less than that his child lay crushed upon the
roadside. He tore his beard and made great lament.
He rode back, but could see no trace of the boy, and was beginning to
think that the restive animal had flung him into a ditch, when
suddenly he heard a child’s voice calling him. He turned quickly, and
there, not far from the roadside, an old woman sat beneath a tree and
rocked the little one upon her knees.
“How do you come to have the boy, you old witch?” cried Stormy Weather
angrily. “Bring him here to me immediately!”
“Not so fast, not so fast, my lord Count,” said the old woman, “or
you, too, may come to grief on your fine horse. You ask me how I come
to hold the child in my arms! Well, his horse threw him and he was
hanging, bound by one little foot, his hair sweeping the dust, when
I caught him in my apron.”
[Illustration: _THE STORY OF THE FLORIN_
_“Faster and faster they went”_
(_p. 184._)]
“Oh! Rubbish,” said the Count ill-humouredly. “Give him to me, for I
cannot dismount, the horse is restive and might kick him.”
“Give me a florin then?” begged the old woman.
“Rubbish!” cried the Count and threw her a few coppers.
“No, no,” said the old woman, “give me a florin.”
“A florin indeed, you’re not worth one,” answered the Count. “Give me
the child quickly, or I will set my dog on you.”
“Ah! so I’m not worth a florin?” she said with a scornful smile.
“Well, we shall see some day if your inheritance will be worth so much
as a florin. Here, take your coppers, you can keep them.” As she spoke
she threw the coppers towards the Count, and so straight was her aim
that they fell, one by one, into the leathern purse the Count still
held in his hand.
The Count was unable to speak for some minutes, so astounded was he at
the old woman’s dexterity. Then his surprise changed to anger. He
raised his gun and levelled it at her, but she kissed and caressed the
little Count, holding him before her, so that the bullet would have
struck him first.
“You are a good honest little lad,” she said. “Remain so all your life
and you will have all you wish for.” Then she released him and,
shaking her finger threateningly at the Count, cried--“Zollern,
Zollern, you still owe me the florin.” Then she turned away heedless
of the Count’s angry words, and, leaning on her staff, disappeared in
the wood.
Conrad, the Count’s groom, dismounted, and, taking the little boy in
his arms, set him on his saddle and then mounted behind him and rode
after his master up the steep hill to the castle.
This was the first and last time that Stormy Weather Zollern took his
little son riding, for he considered him effeminate and faint-hearted
because he had cried when the horse galloped, and decided that he
would never be worth anything. He looked at him with displeasure and
whenever the little one came to him and wished to sit upon his knee
and be caressed he would push him away and say harshly: “Rubbish--get
away!”