Such a beautiful girl has never before been seen in the island, and
there are even those who say that she must be the child of a fairy.”
“Do not believe those who say so,” replied the good woman, “for I truly
am her mother, and Fanch Kerbile, my husband, is surely her father.”
Mona’s father was a fisherman, and spent almost all of his time on the
water, and her mother tended a small spot of ground that she had, as
all the island people did, or spun in her hut when the weather was
too bad. Mona went, as all the young girls of her age did, to seek for
limpets, mussels, periwinkles, and other shell-fish on the shore. It
seems that the fairies, who were then very numerous in the island, had
observed her, and had, themselves also, been struck with her beauty.
One day when she was on the shore with her companions as usual, they
were talking of their lovers. Each one boasted of the skill of her own
in catching fish, and steering a boat, and in guiding it among the
numerous dangers by which the island was surrounded.
“You, Mona,” said Mare’harit Ar Fur to her, “you are wrong to
discourage Fanch Kerdudal as you do, for he is a young fellow of
excellent character, clever, and no one comes back in the evening with
more fish than he, nor guides his bark better among the difficult
passes of the Vieille Jument or the point of Stiff.”
“I,” said Mona, scornfully,--for on account of hearing it said that she
was beautiful, she had become vain and proud,--“I will never take a
fisherman for my husband; I am too pretty for that. I am as beautiful
as a fairy; they tell me so every day, and I shall marry no one but a
prince, or at least the son of a great lord.”
It happened that an old fairy, hidden behind a rock or under a tuft
of sea-wrack, heard her, and jealous at seeing that a daughter of
the earth could rival the beauty of the children of the fairies, he
conceived the design of carrying her off and taking her with him to his
home under the water. He dared not try to do it that day, for Mona was
in the midst of her companions. But the next day about sunset, while
she was still catching shell-fish with two other of the village girls,
and was somewhat apart from her friends, the old fairy suddenly sprang
out from behind a rock where he was watching her, seized her and took
her away down to the bottom of the water. She cried loudly, and called
her friends to her assistance, but alas! they could not come to help
her; they could only run to the house and tell her mother what they
had seen. Old Jeanne was spinning on her doorsteps. She threw down her
distaff and her spindle, and ran to the shore, and called her daughter
loudly, and even went into the water as far as she could at the place
where they told her that Mona had disappeared with the fairy. But it
was all in vain, and no voice replied to her cries and her tears.
The report of the adventure spread quickly over the island, and every
one was of the opinion that what had happened to the beautiful Mona
was a punishment for her pride and her vanity; for however beautiful a
young girl may be, she should neither be proud nor vain, for God gives
beauty and ugliness, and riches and poverty also, as it pleases him.
The old fairy was the king of the fairies in those parts, and he took
the young Ouessantine with him to the bottom of the sea, to a beautiful
palace made of shells and coral.
The old fairy had a son, the handsomest fairy that ever was seen, and
he fell in love with Mona and asked his father to let him marry her.
But the old king answered that he would never consent to allow him to
take for his wife a daughter of man who boasted of being as beautiful
as the daughter of a fairy. There were plenty of the most beautiful
fairies, who would be glad to have him for their husband, and he would
not withhold his consent when he should have made his choice among them.
Our young fairy was then in despair. He told his father that he would
never marry if he was not allowed to have for his wife the daughter of
man whom he loved. His father seeing him dying of sadness and grief,
compelled him to marry a young fairy, the daughter of an old lord among
the fairies, and who was celebrated for her beauty. The wedding day
was fixed, and a great many people were invited. The betrothed couple
set out on their way to the church, followed by a rich and numerous
train; for it appears that these people of the sea have their religion
and their churches as we do, although they are not Christians; they
even have bishops, we are told, and an old bishop of the sea was to
perform the ceremony. Poor Mona received an order from the old fairy to
stay at home and prepare the wedding feast. But they gave her nothing
that was needed for all this, absolutely nothing but large pots and
empty sauce-pans (which were large shells), but they told her that if
everything was not ready, and if she did not serve them a good feast
when they returned from church she should be put to death immediately.
Imagine her grief and perplexity, poor girl! But the poor young
bridegroom was not less troubled and disconsolate.
As the procession was on its way to the church, he suddenly cried out,--
“I have forgotten the wedding ring!”
“Tell me where it is, and I will send for it,” said his father to him.
“No; no; I will go myself, for no one but me could find it where I have
put it. I will hasten there and will return in a moment.”
And he let go the bride’s arm and ran to the house. He found poor Mona
in the kitchen, weeping and desolate.
“Do not weep,” said he to her; “your feast will be ready and cooked to
perfection; so do not be troubled on that account.”
And going to the fireplace, he said,--
“Good fire in the fireplace!”
And the fire burned up in the fireplace. Then touching with his hand
each of the pots and saucepans successively, he said,--
“Some beef in this saucepan, veal and mutton in that other one; here a
mutton on the spit; cider and wine in these pots!” and so on.
And the saucepans and pots were filled at once, to the surprise and joy
of Mona, who was no longer weeping.
Then he hastened to rejoin his bride and his party, and they went to
the church, and the ceremony was performed by a bishop of the sea.
After that they returned to the house.
When they arrived there, the old fairy hastened the first thing to the
kitchen, and asked for Mona.
“Here we are; we have come back; is everything ready for the feast?”
“Yes; everything is ready,” answered Mona quietly.
And he uncovered all the saucepans, examined all the pots, and then
said, with a displeased air,--
“You have been helped; but never mind; I have not finished with you
yet.”
The wedding guests seated themselves at the table, and they eat and
drank as much as they would; then they sang and danced till night.
After the evening’s entertainment, the two young married people retired
to their chamber, and the old fairy told Mona to go with them, and
remain there, holding in her hand a burning wax-taper to give them
light. When the taper should be burnt down to her hand, she should be
put to death.
Poor Mona was obliged to obey. The old fairy was in a room near by, and
from time to time he asked,--
“Is the taper consumed?”
“Not yet,” answered Mona.
He asked this question several times. At last when the wax-taper was
almost entirely consumed, the young husband said to the new wife,--
“It is your turn now to go and hold the wax-taper a while!”
As she did not know the intentions of her father-in-law, she got up and
took the wax-taper from Mona’s hands.
The old fairy asked again,--
“Has the wax-taper burned down to your hand?”
“Tell him yes,” said the bridegroom.
“Yes,” answered the young fairy.
And immediately the old fairy came into the room, seized upon her who
held in her hand the remnant of the wax-taper, and cut off her head.
Then he went away.
In the morning, as soon as he had risen, the young fairy went to his
father, and spoke thus to him,--
“I have come to ask you to allow me to marry, my father.”
“To allow you to marry? Were you not married yesterday?”
“That is true; but my wife is dead, father.”
“Your wife is dead? How did it happen? Have you killed her, you
miserable creature?”
“It is not I who have killed her, father, but you, yourself.”
“I?”
“Yes, father; did you not yesterday cut off the head of the woman who
was holding the lighted wax-taper near my bed?”
“Yes; but it was the daughter of the earth.”
“No, my father, it was the young fairy whom I had just married; and if
you do not believe me, you can easily be assured of it, for her body is
still in my chamber.”
The old fairy hastened to his son’s chamber, and recognized his
mistake. His anger was terrible, and a little more and he would have
killed his son himself.
“Whom do you wish to take for a wife?” he asked his son the next day
when he was a little pacified.
“The daughter of the earth, my father.”
The father found at last that it was useless to seek to cure his son of
this love, and he concluded to allow him to marry the daughter of the
earth.
The young fairy was very attentive to his wife. He fed her on delicate
little fish, and made for her necklaces and bracelets of fine pearls,
and gathered for her every day pretty shell-fish and the most beautiful
and rarest sea-plants. In spite of all this, Mona was weary, and wanted
to return to the earth to see once more her island, and her father and
mother in their little hut by the seashore. The fairy would not let her
go, for he feared she would never return. Then she became very sad, and
did nothing but weep night and day. Seeing this, her husband said to
her one day,--
“Smile on me a little, and I will take you back to your father’s house.”
Mona smiled, and the fairy, who was also a magician, then said,--
“Bridge, rise up!”
And immediately a beautiful bridge rose up, reaching from the bottom of
the sea to the land. The old fairy, seeing this, and feeling sure that
his son knew well as he did himself how to use magic, said,--
“I should like to go with you also.”
The three went together on the bridge, the old man behind, and the
other two a few steps in advance of him. But as soon as the young fairy
stepped ashore with his wife, he turned and said,--
“Bridge, return!”
And immediately the bridge went back again to the bottom of the sea,
and with it the old fairy, who was still on it.
The fairy not being able to accompany his wife to her father’s house,
let her go alone, giving her the following precautions before leaving
her:--
“Come back at sunset, and you will find me here waiting for you; but do
not let any man embrace you, or even take your hand, or you will make
me very unhappy.”
Mona promised, and hastened to her father’s house, which was not far
off on the shore. It was the dinner hour, and all the family were
assembled.
“Good morning, father and mother; good morning, brothers and sisters,”
said she as she entered the poor hut.
The good people opened their eyes wide, and looked at her, astonished,
and none of them recognized her for their daughter or their sister. She
was so beautiful, so grand, and so well dressed! This grieved her very
much, and tears came into her eyes; then she began to go around the
house, touching each object with her hands, and saying,--
“Here is the little stool on which I sat beside the fire; here is the
bed where I slept; here is the pitcher with which I brought water from
the spring; here is the broom with which I swept the house; here is
the wooden porringer from which I ate my soup.”
At last her brother, hearing all this, recognized her, and threw
himself on her neck to embrace her, and her father and mother and
sisters did the same thing; but from that moment Mona lost entirely all
recollection of her husband, the fairy, and his home under the sea. She
remained with her parents, and soon plenty of lovers came to the house
to sue for her hand; but she would not listen to any of them, and had
no desire to marry.
This family, like the other inhabitants of the island, had a bit of
ground where they planted potatoes and sowed barley, and this, together
with the daily supply of fish and shell-fish which they caught out of
the sea, was sufficient for them to live simply but contentedly.
There was a little space before the house containing a stack of barley
straw. Often when she was lying in bed, and the winds howled, and the
waves dashed and broke against the rocks on the shore, Mona thought she
heard plaintive moanings near her door; but she believed it to be poor
shipwrecked souls asking for the prayers of the careless living beings,
and she recited a “De profundis;” then she pitied the poor sailors who
were in the sea, and went to sleep again.
But one night she heard distinctly these words, uttered in a sad,
heart-broken voice:--
“Oh, Mona! have you then forgotten your husband, the fairy who loves
you so much, who saved you from death, and brought you back from the
depths of the sea to see your father and mother, your brothers and
sisters? You promised me so faithfully to come back again; I have been
waiting for you so long and I am so unhappy without you!”
Then Mona recollected everything all at once. She rose up hastily,
set out and found the fairy, who was lamenting thus near the stack of
barley straw. She threw herself into his arms, and since then she has
never been seen.
This story is taken from an article entitled “A Voyage to the Island
of Ouessant,” published in the “Revue de France,” March and April,
1874.
F. M. LUZEL.
SISTER AND HALF-SISTER
A MULHOUSE STORY
Once there was a woman who had two daughters: one was her husband’s
daughter by his first marriage, and the other was her own child. One
day when the half-sister was spinning by the well, her spindle fell
into the water and her mother beat her cruelly. She went back to the
well and was trying to get her spindle out again, when her hard-hearted
mother gave her such a push that the poor girl fell into the well.
When she reached the bottom she found a large and magnificent garden.
As she was walking along, in tears, the pear-tree said to her,--
“Young girl, why are you crying so?”
The young girl answered,--
“Have I not good reason to cry? My step-mother gave me such a push that
I fell into the well.”
The pear-tree said,--
“Young girl, hold your apron; I will give you some pears.” And the
young girl received from him the most delicious pears.
Afterwards she came to a plum-tree; the plum-tree said to her,--
“Young girl, why are you crying so?”
The young girl answered,--
“Have I not good reason to cry? My step-mother gave me such a push that
I fell into the well.”
The plum-tree said to her,--
“Hold your apron; I will give you some plums”; and he shook into her
lap the most beautiful plums. And the good little girl was treated in
the same way by the other trees.
At last she came to a grand castle all of gold, and she was still
shedding bitter tears. A fair lady was looking out at the window; she
asked her,--
“Young girl, why are you crying?”
“Have I not good reason to cry? My step-mother gave me such a push that
I fell into the well.”
“Come now,” said the lady, “you can spend the night with me; but first
tell me, where do you prefer to eat--with the little dog and the little
cat, or with the gentleman and lady?”
The young girl answered modestly,--
“With the little dog and the little cat. I should not like to be in any
one’s way.”
And on this account they permitted her to eat with the lady and
gentleman.
The lady said to her,--
“Where do you prefer to sleep--with the little dog and the little cat,
or with the gentleman and lady?”
The young girl answered,--
“With the little dog and the little cat.”
And accordingly they permitted her to sleep with the gentleman and lady.
The next day the lady said to her,--
“How would you prefer to be driven back to your home?--in a carriage
smeared with pitch and resin, or in one all of silver and gold?”
The young girl answered,--
“In one smeared with pitch and resin.”
But she was allowed to return in a carriage of silver and gold.
When she arrived at home, her half-sister, who was looking out of the
window, began to clap her hands and cry out,--
“O! Bidi bidi boum!
My half-sister comes,
And heavily laden
With silver and gold.
I must go and help her unload.
O! Bidi bidi boum!”
When the wicked mother saw that the half-sister had become so
distinguished, she said to her own child,--
“Come now, Annette! throw your spindle also into the well and jump in
after it! Who knows? Perhaps the same thing will happen to you down
there, and you will be able to come back in a golden carriage.”
But this one was a wicked and obstinate child. Her mother had scarcely
finished speaking before the spindle was at the bottom of the well,
and the little girl leaped after it and came into the large beautiful
garden of which I have already spoken. The sun shone with a golden
brightness, and the roses and lilies--oh! but it was perfectly splendid!
The little girl went to the pear-tree and said,--
“Come now, give me some pears also!”
But she waited a long time, and the pear-tree did not move.
She went a little farther and came to a plum-tree, and said to it,--
“Come, plum-tree, give me also some plums.”
But it gave her nothing, that is what the plum-tree did; what the other
trees did, it is needless for me to tell you.
The fair lady was again looking out from her palace at the end of the
garden, and said,--
“Young girl, where are you going? From whence do you come? What does
your little heart long for?”
“I wish to come in, I wish to eat, I wish to sleep in a little garden
bed, and I wish to go back again in a little golden carriage.”
The lady could scarcely help laughing, but she continued her
questions:--
“With which do you prefer to eat--with dog and cat, or with lord and
lady?”
“Why, with lord and lady, of course.”
And consequently she was obliged, as a punishment, to eat with the dog
and cat.
A little while afterwards the lady asked her again,--
“With which would you like best to sleep--with the dog and cat, or with
the lord and lady?”
“Why, with the lord and lady, of course.”
But who was obliged to sleep with the dog and cat? It was my wicked
little girl.
The next morning when she got up, the lady said to her,--
“How would you prefer to go back to your home--in a carriage smeared
with pitch and resin, or in a carriage of gold and silver?”
“In the gold carriage, certainly,” cried she.
But for punishment, she was obliged to go back again in the carriage
smeared with resin.
What did her mother say when she saw her child return in the carriage
smeared with pitch and resin, disgraced and scoffed at, and what did
she look like then? Well, I should like to tell you about it; but my
great-grandmother, who was so good as to tell me the story, was losing
her memory, and could not remember any more.
AUGUSTE STOEBER, “Elsaessiches Volksbüchlein.”
THE FAIRIES’ SHIP
A SAILORS’ STORY
Once upon a time there was, at Saint-Cast, a young captain who had no
ship to command. He made application after application. He went to see
the ship-owners, and offered his services; but although he was known to
be a good sailor, he had no command given him. One day when he had been
again at Saint-Malo, without being more successful than at other times,
he started out late, and on foot, to return to his village; and when
night came on, he was not far from the wood which crossed the main road.
“Ah!” said he, “I should have done better to stay and sleep at
Saint-Malo; for I shall have to go through the wood of Pontual; and
they say that after nightfall one is apt to encounter strange things
there.”
He quickened his pace and entered the wood; when he was in the middle
of it, he heard a noise, and having stopped to listen, he heard a voice
which cried, “Help! help! save me!”
“Ah!” thought he, “it is perhaps some one whom the robbers are trying
to kill; but it shall never be said that I left any creature to die
without trying to help him.”
He hastened to the spot from which the cries came, and saw a good woman
who was defending herself as well as she could against five men, who
were trying to kill her. He took her part, and between them they killed
the robbers.
When they had gotten out of the wood, the old woman, who was a fairy,
said to him,--
“Captain, you are brave, and you shall be rewarded for it. If I had
wished I could easily have killed all five of the robbers, for I have
power enough for that; but I wanted to see if you were courageous, and
ready to help poor people.”
Then she disappeared; the captain continued his journey, and reached
Saint-Cast without accident.
The next day a beautiful lady, whom he did not know, came to his house,
and said to him,--
“I am the good woman to whose assistance you came yesterday in the
wood of Pontual. I am a fairy, and I know that you were returning from
Saint-Malo, where you had vainly applied for the command of a ship. It
is needless for you to make any more applications. I will give you the
command of a ship--a splendid one; the handsomest that ever was seen.”
The captain thanked the lady with all his heart; then he invited her to
dine with him.
When the meal was ended, she said to him,--
“Now, you come with me; I am one of the fairies of the Cavern of
Saint-Briac, and near my grotto you will see your ship.”
The captain followed the lady; and when they reached the seashore,
she took him by the hand, and they walked together over the waves, as
though they were on a high-road; the water did not even wet the soles
of their shoes. They arrived at the cavern, and the fairy showed the
captain the ship she had designed for him. The hull was all of gold,
the masts, also, as well as the yards and the pulleys, and the cordage
was of twisted threads of gold. It was not yet quite ready; and the
goldsmiths of the cavern were busy finishing it.
It was so dazzling that the captain could scarcely look at it.
“When will it be finished, this beautiful ship?” he asked of the fairy
who had brought him there.
“Why do you ask me that question?”
“So as to have time to get up a crew to man the ship when it is
finished.”
“Do not be disturbed,” said the fairy; “your crew is ready, and I am
going to show it to you.”
She rubbed some salve round his eyes; immediately he saw at least
thirty little male fairies of tiny size, who were dressed like
admirals; and she said to him, pointing to them with her finger,--
“Captain, these are the little men who will be your sailors. In three
days the ship will be ready; you can set out, and they will help you to
manage it, for they are good sailors. Meanwhile, come and dine with me
and the other inhabitants of the cavern.”
The captain followed the fairy. She led him through a long suite of
apartments bright as gold; and at last they came to a great hall, where
a handsome table was set. Here the fairy women, with their husbands and
sons, and the tiny male fairies, came to take their meals. The captain
looked out of the window, and saw in a court-yard some of the male
fairies, large and small, drilling with the sword and bayonet.
“Why,” asked he, “are they drilling in this way?”
“They are our soldiers,” answered the fairy, “and they are preparing to
go to fight with the fairies of Chêlin, who have declared war against
us.”
When the fairy men, large and small, had finished drilling, they made
playful music with their swords; then every one went into the hall to
dine. That day there was a great feast at the cavern; for the queen
of the fairies had just given birth to a boy, and they celebrated his
birth.
After the feast was over, the captain proposed to go; the fairy who had
brought him, and who was named Gladieuse, conducted him as far as the
door of the grotto, and before leaving him, she said to him,--
“Here are some boots which you must put on to cross the sea; as long as
you have them on, you will be able to go over land or sea, wherever you
wish. To-morrow you must return here to take command of your ship.”
The captain thanked the fairy; then having put on his boots, he
walked over the waves of the sea as if on a highway, and arrived at
Saint-Cast. But when he went into his house he found nothing there; his
parents, who had seen him cross the sea, believed him to be drowned,
and they had removed his furniture. He went to ask them for it, but
they took him, at first, for a ghost. When he had convinced them that
he was a man of flesh and bone, he told them that he had taken command
of a ship. He made them a present of his furniture; then after having
embraced his father and mother, he went away.