Once upon a time there lived in a little village in the very middle of
France a widow and her only son, a boy about fifteen, whose name was
Antoine, though no one ever called him anything but Toueno-Boueno. They
were very poor indeed, and their hut shook about their ears on windy
nights, till they expected the walls to fall in and crush them, but
instead of going to work as a boy of his age ought to do, Toueno-Boueno
did nothing but lounge along the street, his eyes fixed on the ground,
seeing nothing that went on round him.
‘You are very, very stupid, my dear child,’ his mother would sometimes
say to him, and then she would add with a laugh, ‘Certainly you will
never catch a wolf by the tail.’
One day the old woman bade Antoine go into the forest and collect enough
dry leaves to make beds for herself and him. Before he had finished it
began to rain heavily, so he hid himself in the hollow trunk of a tree,
where he was so dry and comfortable that he soon fell fast asleep. By
and by he was awakened by a noise which sounded like a dog scratching
at the door, and he suddenly felt frightened, why he did not know. Very
cautiously he raised his head, and right above him he saw a big hairy
animal, coming down tail foremost.
‘It is the wolf that they talk so much about,’ he said to himself, and
he made himself as small as he could and shrunk into a corner.
The wolf came down the inside of the tree, slowly, slowly; Antoine
felt turned to stone, so terrified was he, and hardly dared to breathe.
Suddenly an idea entered his mind, which he thought might save him
still. He remembered to have heard from his mother that a wolf could
neither bend his back nor turn his head, so as to look behind him, and
quick as lightning he stretched up his hand, and seizing the wolf’s
tail, pulled it towards him.
Then he left the tree and dragged the animal to his mother’s house.
‘Mother, you have often declared that I was too stupid to catch a wolf
by the tail. Now see,’ he cried triumphantly.
‘Well, well, wonders will never cease,’ answered the good woman, who
took care to keep at a safe distance. ‘But as you really have got him,
let us see if we can’t put him to some use. Fetch the skin of the ram
which died last week out of the chest, and we will sew the wolf up in
it. He will make a splendid ram, and to-morrow we will drive him to the
fair and sell him.’
Very likely the wolf, who was cunning and clever, may have understood
what she said, but he thought it best to give no sign, and suffered the
skin to be sewn upon him.
‘I can always get away if I choose,’ thought he, ‘it is better not to
be in a hurry;’ so he remained quite still while the skin was drawn over
his head, which made him very hot and uncomfortable, and resisted the
temptation to snap off the fingers or noses that were so close to his
mouth.
The fair was at its height next day when Toueno-Boueno arrived with his
wolf in ram’s clothing. All the farmers crowded round him, each offering
a higher price than the last. Never had they beheld such a beautiful
beast, said they, and at last, after much bargaining, he was handed over
to three brothers for a good sum of money.
It happened that these three brothers owned large flocks of sheep,
though none so large and fine as the one they had just bought.
‘My flock is the nearest,’ observed the eldest brother; ‘we will leave
him in the fold for the night, and to-morrow we will decide which
pastures will be best for him.’ And the wolf grinned as he listened, and
held up his head a little higher than before.
Early next morning the young farmer began to go his rounds, and the
sheep-fold was the first place he visited. To his horror, the sheep were
all stretched out dead before him, except one, which the wolf had eaten,
bones and all. Instantly the truth flashed upon him. It was no ram that
lay curled up in the corner pretending to be asleep (for in reality he
could bend back and turn his head as much as he liked), but a wolf who
was watching him out of the corner of his eye, and might spring upon him
at any moment. So the farmer took no notice, and only thought that here
was a fine chance of revenging himself on his next brother for a trick
which he had played, and merely told him that the ram would not eat the
grass in that field, and it might be well to drive him to the pasture by
the river, where his own flock was feeding. The second brother eagerly
swallowed the bait, and that evening the wolf was driven down to the
field where the young man kept the sheep which had been left him by
his father. By the next morning they also were all dead, but the second
brother likewise held his peace, and allowed the sheep which belonged
to the youngest to share the fate of the other two. Then they met and
confessed to each other their disasters, and resolved to take the
animal as fast as possible back to Toueno-Boueno, who should get a sound
thrashing.
Antoine was sitting on a plum tree belonging to a neighbour, eating
the ripe fruit, when he saw the three young farmers coming towards him.
Swinging himself down, he flew home to the hut, crying breathlessly,
‘Mother, mother, the farmers are close by with the wolf. They have found
out all about it, and will certainly kill me, and perhaps you too. But
if you do as I tell you, I may be able to save us both. Lie down on
the floor, and pretend to be dead, and be sure not to speak, whatever
happens.
Thus when the three brothers, each armed with a whip, entered the hut a
few seconds later, they found a woman extended on the floor, and Toueno
kneeling at her side, whistling loudly into her ears.
‘What are you doing now, you rascal?’ asked the eldest.
‘What am I doing? Oh, my poor friends, I am the most miserable creature
in the world! I have lost the best of mothers, and I don’t know what
will become of me,’ and he hid his face in his hands and sobbed again.
‘But what are you whistling like that for?’
‘Well, it is the only chance. This whistle has been known to bring the
dead back to life, and I hoped--’ here he buried his face in his hands
again, but peeping between his fingers he saw that the brother had
opened their six eyes as wide as saucers.
‘Look!’ he suddenly exclaimed with a cry, ‘Look! I am sure I felt her
body move! And now her nostrils are twitching. Ah! the whistle has
not lost its power after all,’ and stooping down, Toueno whistled more
loudly than before, so that the old woman’s feet and hands showed signs
of life, and she soon was able to life her head.
The farmers were so astonished at her restoration, that it was some
time before they could speak. At length the eldest turned to the boy and
said:
‘Now listen to me. There is no manner of doubt that you are a young
villain. You sold us a ram knowing full well that it was a wolf, and
we came here to-day to pay you out for it. But if you will give us that
whistle, we will pardon what you have done, and will leave you alone.’
‘It is my only treasure, and I set great store by it,’ answered the boy,
pretending to hesitate. ‘But as you wish for it so much, well, I suppose
I can’t refuse,’ and he held out the whistle, which the eldest brother
put in his pocket.
Armed with the precious whistle, the three brothers returned home full
of joy, and as they went the youngest said to the others, ‘I have such
a good idea! Our wives are all lazy and grumbling, and make our lives a
burden. Let us give them a lesson, and kill them as soon as we get in.
Of course we can restore them to life at once, but they will have had a
rare fright.’
‘Ah, how clever you are,’ answered the other two. ‘Nobody else would
have thought of that.’
So gaily the three husbands knocked down their three wives, who fell
dead to the ground. Then one by one the men tried the whistle, and blew
so loudly that it seemed as if their lungs would burst, but the women
lay stark and stiff and never moved an eyelid. The husbands grew pale
and cold, for they had never dreamed of this, nor meant any harm, and
after a while they understood that their efforts were of no use, and
that once more the boy had tricked them. With stern faces they rose to
their feet, and taking a large sack they retraced their steps to the
hut.
This time there was no escape. Toueno had been asleep, and only opened
his eyes as they entered. Without a word on either side they thrust
him into the sack, and tying up the mouth, the eldest threw it over his
shoulder. After that they all set out to the river, where they intended
to drown the boy.
But the river was a long way off, and the day was very hot, and Antoine
was heavy, heavier than a whole sheaf of corn. They carried him in
turns, but even so they grew very tired and thirsty, and when a little
tavern came in sight on the roadside, they thankfully flung the sack
down on a bench and entered to refresh themselves. They never noticed
that a beggar was sitting in the shade at the end of the bench, but
Toueno’s sharp ears caught the sound of someone eating, and as soon as
the farmers had gone into the inn he began to groan softly.
‘What is the matter?’ asked the beggar, drawing a little nearer. ‘Why
have they shut you up, poor boy?’
‘Because they wanted to make me a bishop, and I would not consent,’
answered Toueno.
‘Dear me,’ exclaimed the beggar, ‘yet it isn’t such a bad thing to be a
bishop.’
‘I don’t say it is,’ replied the young rascal, ‘but I should never like
it. However, if you have any fancy for wearing a mitre, you need only
untie the sack, and take my place.’
‘I should like nothing better,’ said the man, as he stooped to undo the
big knot.
So it was the beggar and not Toueno-Boueno who was flung into the water.
The next morning the three wives were buried, and on returning from the
cemetery, their husbands met Toueno-Boueno driving a magnificent
flock of sheep. At the sight of him the three farmers stood still with
astonishment.
‘What! you scoundrel!’ they cried at last, ‘we drowned you yesterday,
and to-day we find you again, as well as ever!’
‘It does seem odd, doesn’t it?’ answered he. ‘But perhaps you don’t know
that beneath this world there lies another yet more beautiful and far,
far richer. Well, it was there that you sent me when you flung me into
the river, and though I felt a little strange at first, yet I soon began
to look about me, and to see what was happening. There I noticed that
close to the place where I had fallen, a sheep fair was being held, and
a bystander told me that every day horses or cattle were sold somewhere
in the town. If I had only had the luck to be thrown into the river on
the side of the horse fair I might have made my fortune! As it was, I
had to content myself with buying these sheep, which you can get for
nothing.’
‘And do you know exactly the spot in the river which lies over the horse
fair?’
‘As if I did not know it, when I have seen it with my own eyes.’
‘Then if you do not want us to avenge our dead flocks and our murdered
wives, you will have to throw us into the river just over the place of
the horse fair.’
‘Very well; only you must get three sacks and come with me to that rock
which juts into the river. I will throw you in from there, and you will
fall nearly on to the horses’ backs.’
So he threw them in, and as they were never seen again, no one ever knew
into which fair they had fallen.
From ‘Litterature Orale de L’Auvergne,’ par Paul Sebillot.