been in that hazel-nut, and you are the man that has let me out;
for once in a way I will do a good turn to a poor human body.”
Therewith, and without giving the Fiddler time to speak a word,
Ill-Luck caught him up by the belt, and--whiz! away he flew like a
bullet, over hill and over valley, over moor and over mountain, so
fast that not enough wind was left in the Fiddler’s stomach to say
“Bo!”
[Illustration]
By-and-by he came to a garden, and there he let the Fiddler drop on
the soft grass below. Then away he flew to attend to other matters
of greater need.
When the Fiddler had gathered his wits together, and himself to
his feet, he saw that he lay in a beautiful garden of flowers and
fruit-trees and marble walks and what not, and that at the end of
it stood a great, splendid house, all built of white marble, with a
fountain in front, and peacocks strutting about on the lawn.
Well, the Fiddler smoothed down his hair and brushed his clothes a
bit, and off he went to see what was to be seen at the grand house
at the end of the garden.
He entered the door, and nobody said no to him. Then he passed
through one room after another, and each was finer than the one
he left behind. Many servants stood around; but they only bowed,
and never asked whence he came. At last he came to a room where a
little old man sat at a table. The table was spread with a feast
that smelled so good that it brought tears to the Fiddler’s eyes
and water to his mouth, and all the plates were of pure gold. The
little old man sat alone, but another place was spread, as though
he were expecting some one. As the Fiddler came in the little old
man nodded and smiled. “Welcome!” he cried; “and have you come at
last?”
[Illustration]
“Yes,” said the Fiddler, “I have. It was Ill-Luck that brought me.”
“Nay,” said the little old man, “do not say that. Sit down to the
table and eat; and when I have told you all, you will say it was
not Ill-Luck, but Good-Luck, that brought you.”
The Fiddler had his own mind about that; but, all the same, down
he sat at the table, and fell to with knife and fork at the good
things, as though he had not had a bite to eat for a week of
Sundays.
“I am the richest man in the world,” says the little old man, after
a while.
“I am glad to hear it,” says the Fiddler.
“You may well be,” said the old man, “for I am all alone in the
world, and without wife or child. And this morning I said to
myself that the first body that came to my house I would take for
a son--or a daughter, as the case might be. You are the first, and
so you shall live with me as long as I live, and after I am gone
everything that I have shall be yours.”
The Fiddler did nothing but stare with open eyes and mouth, as
though he would never shut either again.
* * * * *
Well, the Fiddler lived with the old man for maybe three or four
days as snug and happy a life as ever a mouse passed in a green
cheese. As for the gold and silver and jewels--why, they were as
plentiful in that house as dust in a mill! Everything the Fiddler
wanted came to his hand. He lived high, and slept soft and warm,
and never knew what it was to want either more or less, or great
or small. In all of those three or four days he did nothing but
enjoy himself with might and main.
[Illustration]
But by-and-by he began to wonder where all the good things came
from. Then, before long, he fell to pestering the old man with
questions about the matter.
At first the old man put him off with short answers, but the
Fiddler was a master-hand at finding out anything that he wanted to
know. He dinned and drummed and worried until flesh and blood could
stand it no longer. So at last the old man said that he would show
him the treasure-house where all his wealth came from, and at that
the Fiddler was tickled beyond measure.
The old man took a key from behind the door and led him out into
the garden. There in a corner by the wall was a great trap-door
of iron. The old man fitted the key to the lock and turned it. He
lifted the door, and then went down a steep flight of stone steps,
and the Fiddler followed close at his heels. Down below it was as
light as day, for in the centre of the room hung a great lamp that
shone with a bright light and lit up all the place as bright as
day. In the floor were set three great basins of marble: one was
nearly full of silver, one of gold, and one of gems of all sorts.
“All this is mine,” said the old man, “and after I am gone it
shall be yours. It was left to me as I will leave it to you, and
in the meantime you may come and go as you choose and fill your
pockets whenever you wish to. But there is one thing you must not
do: you must never open that door yonder at the back of the room.
Should you do so, Ill-Luck will be sure to overtake you.”
Oh no! The Fiddler would never think of doing such a thing as
opening the door. The silver and gold and jewels were enough for
him. But since the old man had given him leave, he would just help
himself to a few of the fine things. So he stuffed his pockets
full, and then he followed the old man up the steps and out into
the sunlight again.
It took him maybe an hour to count all the money and jewels he had
brought up with him. After he had done that, he began to wonder
what was inside of the little door at the back of the room. First
he wondered; then he began to grow curious; then he began to itch
and tingle and burn as though fifty thousand I-want-to-know nettles
were sticking into him from top to toe. At last he could stand it
no longer. “I’ll just go down yonder,” says he, “and peep through
the key-hole; perhaps I can see what is there without opening the
door.”
So down he took the key, and off he marched to the garden. He
opened the trap-door, and went down the steep steps to the room
below. There was the door at the end of the room, but when he came
to look there was no key-hole to it. “Pshaw!” said he, “here is a
pretty state of affairs. Tut! tut! tut! Well, since I have come so
far, it would be a pity to turn back without seeing more.” So he
opened the door and peeped in.
[Illustration]
“Pooh!” said the Fiddler, “there’s nothing there, after all,” and
he opened the door wide.
Before him was a great long passageway, and at the far end of it he
could see a spark of light as though the sun were shining there. He
listened, and after a while he heard a sound like the waves beating
on the shore. “Well,” says he, “this is the most curious thing I
have seen for a long time. Since I have come so far, I may as well
see the end of it.” So he entered the passageway, and closed the
door behind him.
He went on and on, and the spark of light kept growing larger and
larger, and by-and-by--pop! out he came at the other end of the
passage.
Sure enough, there he stood on the sea-shore, with the waves
beating and dashing on the rocks. He stood looking and wondering to
find himself in such a place, when all of a sudden something came
with a whiz and a rush and caught him by the belt, and away he flew
like a bullet.
By-and-by he managed to screw his head around and look up, and
there it was Ill-Luck that had him. “I thought so,” said the
Fiddler; and then he gave over kicking.
Well; on and on they flew, over hill and valley, over moor and
mountain, until they came to another garden, and there Ill-Luck let
the Fiddler drop.
Swash! Down he fell into the top of an apple-tree, and there he
hung in the branches.
It was the garden of a royal castle, and all had been weeping and
woe (though they were beginning now to pick up their smiles again),
and this was the reason why:
The king of that country had died, and no one was left behind him
but the queen. But she was a prize, for not only was the kingdom
hers, but she was as young as a spring apple and as pretty as a
picture; so that there was no end of those who would have liked to
have had her, each man for his own. Even that day there were three
princes at the castle, each one wanting the queen to marry him; and
the wrangling and bickering and squabbling that was going on was
enough to deafen a body. The poor young queen was tired to death
with it all, and so she had come out into the garden for a bit of
rest; and there she sat under the shade of an apple-tree, fanning
herself and crying, when--
Swash! Down fell the Fiddler into the apple-tree and down fell a
dozen apples, popping and tumbling about the queen’s ears.
The queen looked up and screamed, and the Fiddler climbed down.
“Where did you come from?” said she.
“Oh, Ill-Luck brought me,” said the Fiddler.
“Nay,” said the queen, “do not say so. You fell from heaven, for I
saw it with my eyes and heard it with my ears. I see how it is now.
You were sent hither from heaven to be my husband, and my husband
you shall be. You shall be king of this country, half-and-half with
me as queen, and shall sit on a throne beside me.”
You can guess whether or not that was music to the Fiddler’s ears.
So the princes were sent packing, and the Fiddler was married to
the queen, and reigned in that country.
[Illustration]
Well, three or four days passed, and all was as sweet and happy
as a spring day. But at the end of that time the Fiddler began to
wonder what was to be seen in the castle. The queen was very fond
of him, and was glad enough to show him all the fine things that
were to be seen; so hand in hand they went everywhere, from garret
to cellar.
[Illustration]
But you should have seen how splendid it all was! The Fiddler felt
more certain than ever that it was better to be a king than to be
the richest man in the world, and he was as glad as glad could be
that Ill-Luck had brought him from the rich little old man over
yonder to this.
So he saw everything in the castle but one thing. “What is behind
that door?” said he.
“Ah! that,” said the queen, “you must not ask or wish to know.
Should you open that door Ill-Luck will be sure to overtake you.”
“Pooh!” said the Fiddler, “I don’t care to know, anyhow,” and off
they went, hand in hand.
Yes, that was a very fine thing to say; but before an hour had
gone by the Fiddler’s head began to hum and buzz like a beehive.
“I don’t believe,” said he, “there would be a grain of harm in my
peeping inside that door; all the same, I will not do it. I will
just go down and peep through the key-hole.” So off he went to do
as he said; but there was no key-hole to that door, either. “Why,
look!” says he, “it is just like the door at the rich man’s house
over yonder; I wonder if it is the same inside as outside,” and he
opened the door and peeped in. Yes; there was the long passage and
the spark of light at the far end, as though the sun were shining.
He cocked his head to one side and listened. “Yes,” said he, “I
think I hear the water rushing, but I am not sure; I will just go
a little farther in and listen,” and so he entered and closed the
door behind him. Well, he went on and on until--pop! there he was
out at the farther end, and before he knew what he was about he had
stepped out upon the sea-shore, just as he had done before.
Whiz! whirr! Away flew the Fiddler like a bullet, and there was
Ill-Luck carrying him by the belt again. Away they sped, over hill
and valley, over moor and mountain, until the Fiddler’s head grew
so dizzy that he had to shut his eyes. Suddenly Ill-Luck let him
drop, and down he fell--thump! bump!--on the hard ground. Then he
opened his eyes and sat up, and, lo and behold! there he was, under
the oak-tree whence he had started in the first place. There lay
his fiddle, just as he had left it. He picked it up and ran his
fingers over the strings--trum, twang! Then he got to his feet and
brushed the dirt and grass from his knees. He tucked his fiddle
under his arm, and off he stepped upon the way he had been going at
first.
“Just to think!” said he, “I would either have been the richest man
in the world, or else I would have been a king, if it had not been
for Ill-Luck.”
And that is the way we all of us talk.
* * * * *
_Dr. Faustus had sat all the while neither drinking ale nor smoking
tobacco, but with his hands folded, and in silence. “I know not
why it is,” said he, “but that story of yours, my friend, brings
to my mind a story of a man whom I once knew--a great magician in
his time, and a necromancer and a chemist and an alchemist and
mathematician and a rhetorician, an astronomer, an astrologer, and
a philosopher as well.”_
_“’Tis a long list of excellency,” said old Bidpai._
_“’Tis not as long as was his head,” said Dr. Faustus._
_“It would be good for us all to hear a story of such a man,” said
old Bidpai._
_“Nay,” said Dr. Faustus, “the story is not altogether of the man
himself, but rather of a pupil who came to learn wisdom of him.”_
_“And the name of your story is what?” said Fortunatus._
_“It hath no name,” said Dr. Faustus._
_“Nay,” said St. George, “everything must have a name.”_
_“It hath no name,” said Dr. Faustus. “But I shall give it a name,
and it shall be--”_
[Illustration]
Empty Bottles.
In the old, old days when men were wiser than they are in these
times, there lived a great philosopher and magician, by name
Nicholas Flamel. Not only did he know all the actual sciences, but
the black arts as well, and magic, and what not. He conjured demons
so that when a body passed the house of a moonlight night a body
might see imps, great and small, little and big, sitting on the
chimney stacks and the ridge-pole, clattering their heels on the
tiles and chatting together.
He could change iron and lead into silver and gold; he discovered
the elixir of life, and might have been living even to this day had
he thought it worth while to do so.
There was a student at the university whose name was Gebhart, who
was so well acquainted with algebra and geometry that he could tell
at a single glance how many drops of water there were in a bottle
of wine. As for Latin and Greek--he could patter them off like his
A B C’s. Nevertheless, he was not satisfied with the things he
knew, but was for learning the things that no schools could teach
him. So one day he came knocking at Nicholas Flamel’s door.
“Come in,” said the wise man, and there Gebhart found him sitting
in the midst of his books and bottles and diagrams and dust and
chemicals and cobwebs, making strange figures upon the table with
jackstraws and a piece of chalk--for your true wise man can squeeze
more learning out of jackstraws and a piece of chalk than we common
folk can get out of all the books in the world.
No one else was in the room but the wise man’s servant, whose name
was Babette.
[Illustration]
“What is it you want?” said the wise man, looking at Gebhart over
the rim of his spectacles.
“Master,” said Gebhart, “I have studied day after day at the
university, and from early in the morning until late at night,
so that my head has hummed and my eyes were sore, yet I have not
learned those things that I wish most of all to know--the arts that
no one but you can teach. Will you take me as your pupil?”
The wise man shook his head.
“Many would like to be as wise as that,” said he, “and few there be
who can become so. Now tell me. Suppose all the riches of the world
were offered to you, would you rather be wise?”
“Yes.”
“Suppose you might have all the rank and power of a king or of an
emperor, would you rather be wise?”
“Yes.”
“Suppose I undertook to teach you, would you give up everything of
joy and of pleasure to follow me?”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps you are hungry,” said the master.
“Yes,” said the student, “I am.”
“Then, Babette, you may bring some bread and cheese.”
It seemed to Gebhart that he had learned all that Nicholas Flamel
had to teach him.
It was in the gray of the dawning, and the master took the pupil
by the hand and led him up the rickety stairs to the roof of the
house, where nothing was to be seen but gray sky, high roofs, and
chimney stacks from which the smoke rose straight into the still
air.
“Now,” said the master, “I have taught you nearly all of the
science that I know, and the time has come to show you the
wonderful thing that has been waiting for us from the beginning
when time was. You have given up wealth and the world and pleasure
and joy and love for the sake of wisdom. Now, then, comes the last
test--whether you can remain faithful to me to the end; if you fail
in it, all is lost that you have gained.”
After he had said that he stripped his cloak away from his
shoulders and laid bare the skin. Then he took a bottle of red
liquor and began bathing his shoulder-blades with it; and as
Gebhart, squatting upon the ridge-pole, looked, he saw two little
lumps bud out upon the smooth skin, and then grow and grow and grow
until they became two great wings as white as snow.
“Now then,” said the master, “take me by the belt and grip fast,
for there is a long, long journey before us, and if you should
lose your head and let go your hold you will fall and be dashed to
pieces.”
Then he spread the two great wings, and away he flew as fast as the
wind, with Gebhart hanging to his belt.
Over hills, over dales, over mountains, over moors he flew, with
the brown earth lying so far below that horses and cows looked like
pismires and men like fleas.
Then, by-and-by, it was over the ocean they were crossing, with the
great ships that pitched and tossed below looking like chips in a
puddle in rainy weather.
At last they came to a strange land, far, far away, and there the
master lit upon a sea-shore where the sand was as white as silver.
As soon as his feet touched the hard ground the great wings were
gone like a puff of smoke, and the wise man walked like any other
body.
At the edge of the sandy beach was a great, high, naked cliff; and
the only way of reaching the top was by a flight of stone steps, as
slippery as glass, cut in the solid rock.
The wise man led the way, and the student followed close at his
heels, every now and then slipping and stumbling so that, had it
not been for the help that the master gave him, he would have
fallen more than once and have been dashed to pieces upon the
rocks below.
[Illustration]
At last they reached the top, and there found themselves in a
desert, without stick of wood or blade of grass, but only gray
stones and skulls and bones bleaching in the sun.
In the middle of the plain was a castle such as the eyes of man
never saw before, for it was built all of crystal from roof to
cellar. Around it was a high wall of steel, and in the wall were
seven gates of polished brass.
The wise man led the way straight to the middle gate of the seven,
where there hung a horn of pure silver, which he set to his lips.
He blew a blast so loud and shrill that it made Gebhart’s ears
tingle. In an instant there sounded a great rumble and grumble like
the noise of loud thunder, and the gates of brass swung slowly
back, as though of themselves.
But when Gebhart saw what he saw within the gates his heart
crumbled away for fear, and his knees knocked together; for there,
in the very middle of the way, stood a monstrous, hideous dragon,
that blew out flames and clouds of smoke from his gaping mouth like
a chimney a-fire.
But the wise master was as cool as smooth water; he thrust his hand
into the bosom of his jacket and drew forth a little black box,
which he flung straight into the gaping mouth.
[Illustration]
Snap!--the dragon swallowed the box.
The next moment it gave a great, loud, terrible cry, and, clapping
and rattling its wings, leaped into the air and flew away,
bellowing like a bull.
If Gebhart had been wonder-struck at seeing the outside of the
castle, he was ten thousand times more amazed to see the inside
thereof. For, as the master led the way and he followed, he passed
through four-and-twenty rooms, each one more wonderful than the
other. Everywhere was gold and silver and dazzling jewels that
glistened so brightly that one had to shut one’s eyes to their
sparkle. Beside all this, there were silks and satins and velvets
and laces and crystal and ebony and sandal-wood that smelled
sweeter than musk and rose leaves. All the wealth of the world
brought together into one place could not make such riches as
Gebhart saw with his two eyes in these four-and-twenty rooms. His
heart beat fast within him.
At last they reached a little door of solid iron, beside which hung
a sword with a blade that shone like lightning. The master took the
sword in one hand and laid the other upon the latch of the door.
Then he turned to Gebhart and spoke for the first time since they
had started upon their long journey.
“In this room,” said he, “you will see a strange thing happen, and
in a little while I shall be as one dead. As soon as that comes
to pass, go you straightway through to the room beyond, where
you will find upon a marble table a goblet of water and a silver
dagger. Touch nothing else, and look at nothing else, for if you do
all will be lost to both of us. Bring the water straightway, and
sprinkle my face with it, and when that is done you and I will be
the wisest and greatest men that ever lived, for I will make you
equal to myself in all that I know. So now swear to do what I have
just bid you, and not turn aside a hair’s breadth in the going and
the coming.
“I swear,” said Gebhart, and crossed his heart.
Then the master opened the door and entered, with Gebhart close at
his heels.
In the centre of the room was a great red cock, with eyes that
shone like sparks of fire. So soon as he saw the master he flew
at him, screaming fearfully, and spitting out darts of fire that
blazed and sparkled like lightning.
It was a dreadful battle between the master and the cock. Up and
down they fought, and here and there. Sometimes the student could
see the wise man whirling and striking with his sword; and then
again he would be hidden in a sheet of flame. But after a while he
made a lucky stroke, and off flew the cock’s head. Then, lo and
behold! instead of a cock it was a great, hairy, black demon that
lay dead on the floor.
But, though the master had conquered, he looked like one sorely
sick. He was just able to stagger to a couch that stood by the
wall, and there he fell and lay, without breath or motion, like one
dead, and as white as wax.
As soon as Gebhart had gathered his wits together he remembered
what the master had said about the other room.
The door of it was also of iron. He opened it and passed within,
and there saw two great tables or blocks of polished marble. Upon
one was the dagger and a goblet of gold brimming with water. Upon
the other lay the figure of a woman, and as Gebhart looked at her
he thought her more beautiful than any thought or dream could
picture. But her eyes were closed, and she lay like a lifeless
figure of wax.
After Gebhart had gazed at her a long, long time, he took up the
goblet and the dagger from the table and turned towards the door.
Then, before he left that place, he thought that he would have
just one more look at the beautiful figure. So he did, and gazed
and gazed until his heart melted away within him like a lump of
butter; and, hardly knowing what he did, he stooped and kissed the
lips.
[Illustration]
Instantly he did so a great humming sound filled the whole castle,
so sweet and musical that it made him tremble to listen. Then
suddenly the figure opened its eyes and looked straight at him.
“At last!” she said; “have you come at last?”
“Yes,” said Gebhart, “I have come.”
Then the beautiful woman arose and stepped down from the table to
the floor; and if Gebhart thought her beautiful before, he thought
her a thousand times more beautiful now that her eyes looked into
his.
“Listen,” said she. “I have been asleep for hundreds upon hundreds
of years, for so it was fated to be until he should come who was
to bring me back to life again. You are he, and now you shall live
with me forever. In this castle is the wealth gathered by the
king of the genii, and it is greater than all the riches of the
world. It and the castle likewise shall be yours. I can transport
everything into any part of the world you choose, and can by my
arts make you prince or king or emperor. Come.”
“Stop,” said Gebhart. “I must first do as my master bade me.”
[Illustration]
He led the way into the other room, the lady following him, and so
they both stood together by the couch where the wise man lay. When
the lady saw his face she cried out in a loud voice: “It is the
great master! What are you going to do?”
“I am going to sprinkle his face with this water,” said Gebhart.
“Stop!” said she. “Listen to what I have to say. In your hand you
hold the water of life and the dagger of death. The master is
not dead, but sleeping; if you sprinkle that water upon him he
will awaken, young, handsome and more powerful than the greatest
magician that ever lived. I myself, this castle, and everything
that is in it will be his, and, instead of your becoming a prince
or a king or an emperor, he will be so in your place. That, I say,
will happen if he wakens. Now the dagger of death is the only thing
in the world that has power to kill him. You have it in your hand.
You have but to give him one stroke with it while he sleeps, and he
will never waken again, and then all will be yours--your very own.”