THERE was once upon a time a rich gentleman who lived in a fine house on
the banks of the Vistula. All the windows in the house looked towards
the river, none looked towards the wide sweep of country around. The
path under the poplars which led up to the house was overgrown with
grass and weeds, and showed plainly enough that none of the neighbours
visited there, and that very little of the old hospitality was to be
experienced there.
The gentleman who owned the house had lived there for seven years, and
had come from some far-off place. The peasants knew little about him,
and they avoided him with fear and trembling, for there were terrible
tales about him.
The gentleman was born on the banks of the river Sau, and his parents
had been rich. Misfortune, however, had pursued him from the cradle
upwards. He had an evil eye, which scattered disease and death wherever
its glances fell. If he by ill chance glanced over his herd, the cattle
on which his eye fell died. Whatever he loved would surely die. His own
parents, to complete the son’s sorrow, perished, and the man with the
evil eye, as he came to be called in his birthplace, where the evil eye
had caused so much mischief, sold everything he had, and set off to the
banks of the Vistula, where he bought the fine house. He kept no folk
about him save one old manservant, who had nursed him in his arms when
he was a boy, and on whom the evil eye of his master had no effect.
The unlucky man seldom went out of his house, for he knew that his
glance brought misfortune, disease, and death on what it lighted on.
When he did go out in his carriage his old servant sat beside him, and
told him when they were coming to a man, a village, or a town. Then the
miserable man would either cover his eyes with his hands, or cast down
his glances on the floor of his carriage, where he always had a bundle
of pea-stalks at his feet.[1]
-----
Footnote 1:
When the evil eye is directed to a bundle of pea-stalks it does no
damage, but merely dries up the stalks.
-----
So it was that he had all the windows of his fine house made to look
over the Vistula. Twice had he by ill chance looked upon his
farm-buildings, and they had been set on fire by his glance.
In spite of all his care the sailors cursed him, and pointed with fear
to the wide windows of his beautiful house, out of which he scattered
destruction amongst them, the stream rushing on fast in the channel, and
bringing many a ship to ground opposite the White House, as the place
was called.
One boatman determined to see the man. He jumped into his boat and set
off to the house. When he arrived there he asked to see the master. The
old servant, fearful of the consequences, led him into the room. His
master was dining, and being put out that he should be interrupted at
his meal, he frowned upon the stranger. Immediately a fever took the
sailor, and he sank down on the floor at the door.
The old servant, at the command of his master, took the man to his boat,
gave him some money, and rowed him back to the other side of the river.
The poor sailor was ill for a long time, and when he regained his
strength he gave such a terrible account of the White House, and of its
master, as greatly increased the fear of his comrades. From that time,
when they went down the river in their boats and came opposite to the
White House, they would turn their eyes away, and pray heartily that
they might be protected from the evil glance of the terrible man who
lived there.