you are not of the sharpest, it seems to me. My father is like me; he
never goes out alone; he is always accompanied by a crowd of little
animals who love him so that they would like to eat him up. Once upon
a time, when there were too many of them, he seated himself down there
in the sun, and went hunting among the little beasts that I spoke of.
He left on the spot those he caught and brought to the house those he
did not catch. Do you understand me now?”
“Perfectly.”
“My mother borrowed some bread last month and she has gone to the oven
to bake some bread to return what she borrowed, so therefore you see
she has gone to bake some bread already eaten. My sister had a lover,
and her greatest happiness was to go walking with him at the hour for
the angelus, and dance with him on the new threshing-floors; but after
promising to marry her, he left her, and went away to France, and that
is the reason she is crying for the joy she had last year. And as for
me, I am busy cooking some peas in a pot, and when the pot boils the
peas leap over each other, and with my spoon I catch some of them and
eat them. Now, my lord, is it not all just as I said?”
“Yes, upon my word! But you have not explained your first answer.”
“You asked me if I was alone in the house; and I told you that I was
not alone, but that there were here a man and a half and the head of a
horse. Now, you see, you have your head, one foot, and half your body
inside the house, and I am entirely inside, that makes a man and a
half; and the horse’s head is the head of your horse which was in at
the window.”
“I see that there are bigger fools than you in the country; but tell me
now where this road goes.”
“That road, my lord, does not go anywhere; I have always seen it there.”
“I want to know to what place it leads; do you hear me?”
“Ah! that is different; it leads to Belle-Isle, to Louargat, to Bré, to
Guingamp, and even to Paris, they say.”
“Very well! Would you like to come with me and be my footman?”
“Perhaps, yes, when you have told me your terms.”
“I will give you a hundred crowns, and a bag full of farthings, when
you shall have served me for a year and a day; but on condition that
you do everything I command you, and that you shall never get angry, no
matter what is said to you, or what you are ordered to do; if you get
angry, you shall have a strip of skin taken off from your neck to your
heels, and be sent away without a penny.”
“The sum is tempting, a hundred crowns! but the conditions are hard.
The strip of skin makes me shiver. But now about your part, my lord?
Are you never to get angry either?”
“That is the bargain.”
“If you do, your skin shall be stripped off too?”
“Just so; it shall be done to the first one who gets angry.”
“Very well, it is a bargain; I will go with you, and I will go with you
now while my father and mother are away.”
So they both started off on horseback, for the lord was leading the
horse of the footman who had left him at Brest.
After traveling several days they came to the lord’s castle. At first
Fanch was set to take care of two children, four or five years old,
with the order never to contradict them and to do everything they
asked, if possible.
“Very well!” said Fanch; “that is not hard work to begin with.”
That evening when they were at the table (for Fanch ate with the master
and mistress of the house, so as to be always with the children), the
two little brats cried out,--
“I want to get down, I want to get down!”
“Come, Fanch, do you not hear?” said the lady.
“Yes, yes,” answered Fanch; and he took them away. He had only eaten
his soup, and when he came back into the room with the children, the
table was cleared away, there was nothing left on it.
“How is it there is nothing on the table?” asked he, after waiting a
while.
“There is a rule in my house,” replied the lord, “that whoever comes
after the table has been cleared away shall have nothing.”
“A bad rule!” he muttered.
“Are you not satisfied with it?”
“Oh! yes! I will not die for the loss of one poor meal; I was used to
that at my father’s house.”
“If you are not pleased, you can have your skin taken off.”
“I am pleased, I tell you.”
The next day at supper, Fanch had hardly begun to eat his soup, when
the little brats began to cry out,--
“I want to go.”
“Come, Fanch, do you not hear?”
And Fanch went to please the children.
“Come, children, make haste and go back!” said he to them.
But when he returned, there was nothing on the table.
“How is this,” said he: “must I go without supper two days together?”
“Are you dissatisfied, Fanch?”
“I did not say that; but the children could just as well stay and let
me eat in peace.”
“You promised to do everything the children asked, and if you are
displeased, you know--”
“Yes, yes, I am entirely satisfied.”
And Fanch went to bed again without eating anything.
“Ah!” said he, “this thing cannot go on; I must eat sometime; we will
see how it will be to-morrow.”
The next day the children began their song again.
“Ah!” cried Fanch, “this is no way to live; I must put an end to it.
You want to go, my little scamps? Very well, go to the devil! I want
some supper to-night, I do!” and he threw the two children out of the
window.
“Stop!” cried the master and mistress, rising, “this is too much! To
throw our children out of the window! Ah! you shall pay for it!”
“So then you are angry, master?” said Fanch quickly.
“I am not angry,” he replied, growing a little calmer, “but that is no
way to do; it is a mercy if my poor children are not crippled!”
“If you are angry, master, you know our conditions, and I will strip
off--”
“I tell you I am not angry, but I shall not trust my children with you
again.”
“Just as you like; I would rather do anything than mind children like a
nurse.”
That evening Fanch could eat comfortably. The next day the lord said,--
“Go to the blacksmith’s and have the horses’ feet shod.”
“Very well,” said Fanch; “I like that better than minding children.”
Then he went to the stable, cut off the horses’ feet with a hatchet,
put them in a wagon, and took them to the blacksmith. That evening when
he returned, the lord was in the court-yard of the castle.
“Here are your horses’ feet,” said Fanch; “see if they are well shod.”
“What have you done, you miserable creature?”
“Did you not tell me to have the horses’ feet shod?”
“You have ruined me, you wretch!”
“Why, master, you are angry, it seems to me!”
“Ah! it is enough to make me,--but you know very well that I do not get
angry very easily.”
“If you are angry, you know--I shall strip off your skin--”
“Go to your supper at once and say nothing of this to your mistress;
to-morrow I will see how I can employ you.”
The next day Fanch was sent to watch a great herd of beeves, in a
pasture which was by the side of the high road. A butcher passed along
the road. He went into the pasture and began to examine and feel the
beeves. “Fine beeves,” said he to himself. “They are fat as moles. I
have to furnish the meat at the castle, for the wedding of the young
lady, which will take place the coming week, and if I can get three or
four of these beeves, that will suit me exactly. Eh! boy!” cried he to
Fanch, who was lying under a beech-tree singing.
“What do you want?” he asked, without moving.
“Come here, so that I can speak to you.”
“Come yourself, if you want me.”
Then the butcher went to him, saying to himself,--
“He does not look like the sharpest kind of a fellow.”
“Will you sell me three or four of your beeves?”
“All, if you wish.”
“How much do you ask for them?”
“Five hundred crowns, and the tail of one of them!”
“Why, for goodness’ sake?”
“Do not bother about that; that is my business.”
“Very well, agreed! The bargain is made!”
And they shook hands with each other.
“And the money at once,” added Fanch.
The butcher, pleased with his bargain, counted the five hundred crowns
to him, and was about to go off with the beeves, when Fanch called
out,--
“But the tail? I must have the tail.”
“You insist upon that, do you?”
“Why, certainly, and nothing is concluded without it.”
Then the butcher cut off the tail of one of the beeves and gave it to
him.
When the butcher was gone with all the beeves, Fanch climbed up into
an oak-tree, with the tail, and began crying out with all his might,
“Help! help! help at once!”
They heard his cry at the castle, and sent a footman to see what was
the matter. Fanch, seeing the footman coming, called to him,--
“Run to the castle and tell the lord to come here as quickly as
possible, or all of his beeves will be lost.”
So the footman ran to the castle and said to the lord,--
“Come as fast as you can to the field, master, or all your beeves will
be lost.”
The lord ran to the field, and saw Fanch up in a tree, and apparently
holding on with all his might to the tail of a beef.
“What are you doing there, Fanch, and where are the beeves?”
“Come up here quickly, my poor master, come up quickly, or you will
lose them all! A terrible whirlwind came suddenly and carried them up
to the sky, each holding on to the other by the tail! I seized the
tail of the last one, and have been lifted up here. I am still holding
on, but for goodness’ sake make haste and come to my assistance, or I
shall have to let go; I cannot hold on any longer.”
So the lord went up and took hold of the tail also. But as soon as he
did so, Fanch let go, and his master fell to the ground, taking the
tail along.
“Alas! my poor master,” said he then, “we held on so long that the tail
is all that is left; the beeves have gone to heaven.”
The poor lord, all mangled and bleeding, swore and stormed.
“Miserable wretch, accursed rascal! you have almost killed me!”
“Why, master, are you angry?” asked Fanch quietly; he was still in the
tree.
“And who would not be angry?”
“Well, you know your conditions, and I shall strip off your skin.”
“But I did not say that I was angry, though indeed I think I had good
right to be. You will ruin me! I shall be thankful if you do not kill
me.”
Then the lord returned to his house, rubbing his back and trying to
think how he could get rid of such a rascal.
The next day he sent Fanch to take care of his hogs. A hog merchant
passed by on his way to the fair at Lannion.
“Will you sell me your hogs, my boy?” said he to Fanch.
“I should like nothing better,” he replied.
“How much will you take?”
“Two hundred crowns and the tail of one of them.”
“Agreed! It is a bargain!”
“And the money on the spot?”
“Yes, yes, on the spot.”
Then the merchant paid two hundred crowns and went away, taking the
hogs along.
There was a pond near by, part of which was all marshy and filled up
with grass and branches of trees. Fanch waded in up to his stomach,
and began to call out as loud as he could. He had stuck the large end
of the hog’s tail which he had, down in the mud, and was pretending to
pull it up with all his might, crying, “Help! help! help, quickly!” The
lord was walking in the wood, not far from the pond, and ran to his
assistance on hearing his cries.
“What is the matter now?” asked he, seeing Fanch in the mud up to his
stomach.
“Come quickly and help me, my poor master, or we shall lose all of
them. An animal unlike any I ever saw before,--a frightful creature,
a real demon, I believe,--came up out of the pond, when I was not
dreaming of such a thing, and then went back again dragging my hogs
after him, all holding on to each other by the tail. I caught the tail
of the last one, you see! Come help me to pull it up, for if we can
pull this one up, all the others will come after it. Come quickly, for
I am ready to let go.”
Then the lord went into the pond without hesitation, and began to pull
on the tail with Fanch. But the latter, letting go suddenly, he fell,
and sinking into the mud, was almost stifled.
“Alas! they are all lost! They are gone below!” cried Fanch.
The other, after getting out with great difficulty, swore and
threatened.
“Why, master, are you angry?” said Fanch to him, jeeringly.
“Leave me in peace, you villain! I wish you were in purgatory!”
“If you are angry, you have only to give me my hundred crowns, with the
bag of farthings, according to our agreement, and I will go whenever
you wish; but before I go, you know, I will strip off your skin from
your neck--”
“Who said I was angry? Though indeed I had great reason, I think; you
will ruin me utterly!”
“What could I do? I could not prevent the demon’s taking off your
hogs.”
“To-morrow I will give you another occupation, and as soon as the year
is ended you shall go, for you are good for nothing.”
“As you like; but when will my year be ended?”
“When the cuckoo sings.”
The next day the lord said to Fanch,--
“Take this gun and come with me into the woods; the poachers are
destroying all my game, and the poor people of the whole country
provide themselves with wood at my expense; I want to see after these
matters.”
“Very well,” said Fanch, “that suits me.”
And he put his gun on his shoulder, and followed his master to the
woods. At the edge of it they saw an old woman who had a great load on
her back.
“Fire at her!” said the lord to Fanch.
“Must I do it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And if I kill her?”
“So much the worse for her! That will teach her to steal my wood.”
So Fanch fired, bang! and the old woman rolled over on the ground with
her load. They went to her.
“She is dead!” said the lord.
“Quite,” said Fanch, “unfortunately for you, for I should not like to
be in your place. This old woman has two sons,--two jolly fellows,
upon my word, and when they know that you have killed their mother,--”
“But it was you who killed her.”
“Yes, but by your order; I am your servant, and I must obey you, but
you will have to pay for it.”
“You frighten me; go quickly to the castle and bring me two shovels,
so we can bury her in the earth and no one will know anything about
it. You will find them in the passage near the chamber of my wife
and daughter. Put them in a bag, so that no one can see, and return
quickly.”
Fanch went to the castle and found the door of the lady’s room open,
where she was sitting with her daughter. He entered and said,--
“My master has ordered me to put both of you in a bag.”
“What is it you say, idiot? You must have lost your senses!”
“You shall hear him say it himself.”
And going to the window, he called out to the lord, who was waiting for
him below,--
“Both of them in a bag, shall I not, my lord?”
“Yes, both, and make haste.” (He meant the two shovels.)
“Do you hear? I must obey my master.”
And he seized upon the mother and daughter, and succeeded, not without
difficulty,--for they resisted as well as they could,--in shutting them
up in a bag. The lord, hearing the noise, and their screams, ran up to
see what was going on.
“What trick have you played on me now, miserable wretch, demon
incarnate?” cried he, seeing the bag rolling on the floor, and hearing
the screams that came out of it.
“Well, I put them in the bag; did you not tell me to bring you two
women in a bag?”
“Two women, idiot!”
“Bless me! I thought you said two women.”
“I have a good mind to run my sword through your body.”
“You are angry it seems to me, my master.”
“Angry, angry,--and who would not be in my place?”
“Oh! then I am going to strip off your skin.”
“But I am not angry at all. I said nothing of the sort; you know very
well that I have a good temper, and that I never get angry. But go, run
quickly to the woods, take two shovels in a bag,--you understand now,
two _shovels_,--and do what I told you.”
The lord then pulled his wife and daughter out of the bag, and
consulted with them upon some means of getting rid of Fanch as soon as
possible.
“It was agreed,” said the lady, “that his year should end when the
cuckoo began to sing.”
“Yes, but it is not yet time for the cuckoo to sing.”
“Pshaw! that boy is such a fool, he would never know what time of the
year the cuckoo ought to sing; to-morrow I will make the cuckoo sing
myself.”
The next day, just as Fanch was going to the wood with his gun on his
shoulder, he heard, “Cuckoo! cuckoo!” from a large oak-tree which was
near the gate of the court-yard.
“What is this?” said he; “does the cuckoo sing in the month of February
in this country? I will teach you in a moment, how to wait till the
right time comes to sing, vile bird!”
And he fired, bang! and the lady fell dead at his feet.
“Why, what a singular cuckoo!” said he.
“Ah! you demon!” cried the lord, “you have killed my wife! I will kill
you, too, as I would a dog.”
“Oh! this time you are angry, my master, you are very angry, and I
shall strip off your skin.”
“No, I am not angry, because I never get angry, myself. But from this
moment, you shall never have anything to do at the castle but eat,
drink, and go walking; for you would bring me to beggary!”
“Oh! delightful! that is just what I had wished for.”
One day the cuckoo sang at last in the month of May. They gave Fanch
his hundred crowns and his bag of farthings, and bade him farewell. And
he returned to his country, without having had his skin stripped off;
more fortunate than many others who had been before him at this castle;
for there was a room there where you could see a great number of skins
hung up against the wall.
With the five hundred crowns that he got for the beeves, the two
hundred crowns for the hogs, and the hundred crowns and the bag of
farthings for his wages, he found himself quite rich. Moreover, he
married one of the richest heiresses in his neighborhood, and for three
whole days there were holidays and feasts, to which all the people in
the neighborhood were invited, the poor as well as the rich.
Told in Breton by Barbe Tassel, Plouaret, December, 1868.
F. M. LUZEL.
THE ROEBUCK HUNT
AN IROQUOIS STORY
An old man lived in a cabin with his grandson, who was twenty years
old. They were the last survivors of a nation exterminated by the
sorceresses.
The young man was a good hunter, but he had one great trouble: his
grandfather forbade his hunting the roebuck, without giving him any
reason for this interdiction. One day, returning from the hunt sooner
than usual, the young man surprised his grandfather making soup of some
bones. Being questioned very narrowly on the subject, the old man told
the following story:--
“These bones that you have seen are the bones of a roebuck. When you
were born, our nation was numerous and powerful. But unfortunately
there were some young people who would not obey their chiefs. These
young people became more and more insolent, and were imitated by
others. The Lord of life became angry and sent the sorceresses to
destroy the cabins: you see that ours is the only one now remaining.
Our warriors were all killed or made prisoners. You were very small
then; I carried you away with me, far away, to a nation allied to
ours--a fortunate journey which saved our lives, or at least spared
us from slavery. But what do I say? Are we free? Alas! no, for the
sorceresses allowed us to live only on condition that we should never
hunt the roebuck, and never eat his flesh. The wolves have devoured a
roebuck, I gathered up the remains, these few naked bones; I could not
resist the desire to taste some soup made of the bones and to eat the
marrow of them.”
Hearing this story, the young man became very angry with the
sorceresses, and resolved to find them and punish them. His grandfather
then said to him.
“Since you are determined to go, listen to me. You will be obliged to
go through a forest at the end of which there is a place where there
are a great many wolves; throw to them the game you kill by the way,
and you will then be able to catch them. Soon after, you will come to
the country of the sorceresses; then, especially, you must be very
cautious. Take care not to touch a single ear when you come to their
field of Indian corn; or else immediately they will surprise you, and
you will be lost.”
The young man took leave of the old man, promising to follow his
instructions. All went well till just when he went to the sorceresses’
corn-field. The ripe ears made him covetous, and he had just put out
his hand when suddenly he heard some one whisper in his ear to go along
quietly and not touch a single ear. He had only gone a few steps when
he saw a skeleton leaning against the enclosure of the field, as if
put there to scare away the birds. It was one of the victims of the
sorceresses and the young warrior’s paternal uncle. He recognized his
nephew and called him by his name.
The latter coming up to him, his skeleton uncle told him everything
that he would have to do when he went into the presence of the
sorceresses. Furnished with these instructions, he arrived at the
dwelling of the sorceresses. He was well received, and they contended
as to who should bring him his pottage. The skeleton had told him this
beforehand; “Each sorceress,” he told him, “will bring you a plate of
corn boiled with meat; do not accept it, for if you do you make a fatal
engagement with them. Only one, the youngest of them, will not invite
you to eat out of her plate, and hers is really the corn and meat of
which you must partake: you must put the spoon in boldly; she will give
you a sweet smile, and by this you will be married. Meanwhile the other
sorceresses will wish to kill you, but your young wife will know very
well how to take care of you: you have only to follow our counsels.”
Everything happened as he said.
When evening came, the young sorceress said to her husband,--
“The great old woman will come to-night to kill you; but do not be
afraid, I will waken you in time.”
Sure enough, about midnight the great old woman came suddenly to the
bedside of the newly married pair, but, surprised at finding them
awake, she went away without having been able to execute her design.
At dawn of day the husband and wife arose, and the wife said to her
husband,--
“Go find your uncle; he has something to tell you,” and he went to him
immediately.
“My nephew,” said the skeleton to him, “what you must do now is to
seize upon the bag which is in the chamber of the great old woman.”
It was an enchanted bag which had shut up in it all the secrets of
sorcery, and he would have been entirely unable to take it away without
the aid of his wife, who showed him how to do it, and procured him
the assistance of a rat that helped him by cutting the string of the
bag with its teeth. As soon as this was done, the sorceresses uttered
cries of rage and despair. What did they see? Roebucks running here
and there in their cornfield; and ducks, each wearing a heart around
his neck. It was all over with the sorceresses; the newly married
husband, instructed by his wife, took the hearts, one after the other,
and broke them. They were the hearts of the sorceresses. The vengeance
was complete; but there was one more thing still to be done,--they must
free the prisoners. These numerous herds of roebucks wandering about
the country are a sign of good fortune.
“Do you see that tree near the lake?” said the wife to her husband;
“you must cut it down so that it will fall across the lake and serve as
a bridge.”
No sooner said than done; thousands of warriors rose up at once and
thanked their deliverer. Then began a triumphal march to their own
country; the emblem of the nation was erected, the recaptured roebuck
should be the family token of the children that should be born to the
young couple.
Ten days had scarcely passed since the grandfather and his grandson
had parted. Five days, thanks to the skill of the young sorceress,
was enough for the journey home. The joy of the old man on seeing his
grandson again and hearing the story of his adventures, can scarcely be
imagined. And the nation arose from its ruins and became more powerful
than before.
J. A. CUOQ.
PIERRE AND HÉLÈNE
A STORY OF LOWER BRITANNY
Once there were two orphans who lived in a village, a brother and a
sister; the brother’s name was Pierre, and the sister’s Hélène. Pierre
was married. The woman he married was wicked and jealous, and from the
moment she entered Pierre’s house she hated her sister-in-law; Hélène
was good.
A year passed, and Pierre became the father of a little girl.
“Hélène shall be her godmother!” said he.
“As you like,” said his wife, casting an angry glance upon the poor
girl.
Little Hélène grew; and when she began to say a few words she was
always lisping that of her good godmother. Pierre’s wicked wife was
very indignant at it.
“Hypocrite!” cried she in a rage, “is she going to deprive me of my
child’s affection as she has of my husband’s love? I will find some
sure means of driving this perfidious creature out of the house.”
One day she went to her husband. “See here,” said she, “it is I who do
all the work; your sister takes her pleasure when your wife is worn out
with fatigue; she folds her arms from morning to night while I do her
work and mine. Send her away, then, and you will see that everything
will go better in our household.”
Pierre was very sad at these words, for he loved Hélène tenderly.