they went until they came to the king’s palace, and there they
stopped. Courtiers and noblemen and great lords were waiting for
their coming, some of whom helped him to dismount from the horse,
for by this time the beggar was so overcome with wonder that he
stared like one moon-struck, and as though his wits were addled.
Then, leading the way up the palace steps, they conducted him
from room to room, until at last they came to one more grand and
splendid than all the rest, and there sat the king himself waiting
for the beggar’s coming.
The beggar would have flung himself at the king’s feet, but the
king would not let him; for he came down from the throne where he
sat, and, taking the beggar by the hand, led him up and sat him
alongside of him. Then the king gave orders to the attendants who
stood about, and a feast was served in plates of solid gold upon a
table-cloth of silver--a feast such as the beggar had never dreamed
of, and the poor man ate as he had never eaten in his life before.
All the while that the king and the beggar were eating, musicians
played sweet music and dancers danced and singers sang.
Then when the feast was over there came ten young men, bringing
flasks and flagons of all kinds, full of the best wine in the
world; and the beggar drank as he had never drank in his life
before, and until his head spun like a top.
So the king and the beggar feasted and made merry, until at last
the clock struck twelve and the king arose from his seat. “My
friend,” said he to the beggar, “all these things have been done
to show you that Luck and Fate, which have been against you for
all these years, are now for you. Hereafter, instead of being poor
you shall be the richest of the rich, for I will give you the
greatest thing that I have in my treasury.” Then he called the
chief treasurer, who came forward with a golden tray in his hand.
Upon the tray was a purse of silk. “See,” said the king, “here is
a purse, and in the purse are one hundred pieces of gold money.
But though that much may seem great to you, it is but little of
the true value of the purse. Its virtue lies in this: that however
much you may take from it, there will always be one hundred pieces
of gold money left in it. Now go; and while you are enjoying the
riches which I give you, I have only to ask you to remember these
are not the gifts of Fate, but of a mortal man.”
[Illustration]
But all the while he was talking the beggar’s head was spinning and
spinning, and buzzing and buzzing, so that he hardly heard a word
of what the king said.
Then when the king had ended his speech, the lords and gentlemen
who had brought the beggar in led him forth again. Out they went
through room after room--out through the court-yard, out through
the gate.
Bang--it was shut to behind him, and he found himself standing in
the darkness of midnight, with the splendid clothes upon his back,
and the magic purse with its hundred pieces of gold money in his
pocket.
He stood looking about himself for a while, and then off he started
homeward, staggering and stumbling and shuffling, for the wine
that he had drank made him so light-headed that all the world spun
topsy-turvy around him.
His way led along by the river, and on he went stumbling and
staggering. All of a sudden--plump! splash!--he was in the water
over head and ears. Up he came, spitting out the water and shouting
for help, splashing and sputtering, and kicking and swimming,
knowing no more where he was than the man in the moon. Sometimes
his head was under water and sometimes it was up again.
At last, just as his strength was failing him, his feet struck the
bottom, and he crawled up on the shore more dead than alive. Then,
through fear and cold and wet, he swooned away, and lay for a long
time for all the world as though he were dead.
Now, it chanced that two fishermen were out with their nets that
night, and Luck or Fate led them by the way where the beggar lay on
the shore. “Halloa!” said one of the fishermen, “here is a poor
body drowned!” They turned him over, and then they saw what rich
clothes he wore, and felt that he had a purse in his pocket.
“Come,” said the second fisherman, “he is dead, whoever he is. His
fine clothes and his purse of money can do him no good now, and we
might as well have them as anybody else.” So between them both they
stripped the beggar of all that the king had given him, and left
him lying on the beach.
At daybreak the beggar awoke from his swoon, and there he found
himself lying without a stitch to his back, and half dead with the
cold and the water he had swallowed. Then, fearing lest somebody
might see him, he crawled away into the rushes that grew beside the
river, there to hide himself until night should come again.
But as he went, crawling upon hands and knees, he suddenly came
upon a bundle that had been washed up by the water, and when he
laid eyes upon it his heart leaped within him, for what should that
bundle be but the patches and tatters which he had worn the day
before, and which the attendants had thrown over the garden wall
and into the river when they had dressed him in the fine clothes
the king gave him.
He spread his clothes out in the sun until they were dry, and then
he put them on and went back into the town again.
* * * * *
“Well,” said the king, that morning, to his chief councillor, “what
do you think now? Am I not greater than Fate? Did I not make the
beggar rich? and shall I not paint my father’s words out from the
wall, and put my own there instead?”
“I do not know,” said the councillor, shaking his head. “Let us
first see what has become of the beggar.”
“So be it,” said the king; and he and the councillor set off to see
whether the beggar had done as he ought to do with the good things
that the king had given him. So they came to the town-gate, and
there, lo and behold! the first thing that they saw was the beggar
with his wooden bowl in his hand asking those who passed by for a
stray penny or two.
When the king saw him he turned without a word, and rode back home
again. “Very well,” said he to the chief councillor, “I have tried
to make the beggar rich and have failed; nevertheless, if I cannot
make him I can ruin him in spite of Fate, and that I will show you.”
So all that while the beggar sat at the town-gate and begged until
came noontide, when who should he see coming but the same three men
who had come for him the day before. “Ah, ha!” said he to himself,
“now the king is going to give me some more good things.” And so
when the three reached him he was willing enough to go with them,
rough as they were.
Off they marched; but this time they did not come to any garden
with fruits and flowers and fountains and marble baths. Off they
marched, and when they stopped it was in front of the king’s
palace. This time no nobles and great lords and courtiers were
waiting for his coming; but instead of that the town hangman--a
great ugly fellow, clad in black from head to foot. Up he came to
the beggar, and, catching him by the scruff of the neck, dragged
him up the palace steps and from room to room until at last he
flung him down at the king’s feet.
When the poor beggar gathered wits enough to look about him he
saw there a great chest standing wide open, and with holes in the
lid. He wondered what it was for, but the king gave him no chance
to ask; for, beckoning with his hand, the hangman and the others
caught the beggar by arms and legs, thrust him into the chest, and
banged down the lid upon him.
[Illustration]
The king locked it and double-locked it, and set his seal upon it;
and there was the beggar as tight as a fly in a bottle.
They carried the chest out and thrust it into a cart and hauled it
away, until at last they came to the sea-shore. There they flung
chest and all into the water, and it floated away like a cork. And
that is how the king set about to ruin the poor beggar-man.
Well, the chest floated on and on for three days, and then at last
it came to the shore of a country far away. There the waves caught
it up, and flung it so hard upon the rocks of the sea-beach that
the chest was burst open by the blow, and the beggar crawled out
with eyes as big as saucers and face as white as dough. After he
had sat for a while, and when his wits came back to him and he had
gathered strength enough, he stood up and looked around to see
where Fate had cast him; and far away on the hill-side he saw the
walls and the roofs and the towers of the great town, shining in
the sunlight as white as snow.
“Well,” said he, “here is something to be thankful for, at least,”
and so saying and shaking the stiffness out of his knees and
elbows, he started off for the white walls and the red roofs in the
distance.
At last he reached the great gate, and through it he could see the
stony streets and multitudes of people coming and going.
But it was not for him to enter that gate. Out popped two soldiers
with great battle-axes in their hands and looking as fierce as
dragons. “Are you a stranger in this town?” said one in a great,
gruff voice.
“Yes,” said the beggar, “I am.”
“And where are you going?”
“I am going into the town.”
“No, you are not.”
“Why not?”
“Because no stranger enters here. Yonder is the pathway. You must
take that if you would enter the town.”
[Illustration]
“Very well,” said the beggar, “I would just as lief go into the
town that way as another.”
So off he marched without another word. On and on he went along the
narrow pathway until at last he came to a little gate of polished
brass. Over the gate were written these words, in great letters as
red as blood:
“_Who Enters here Shall Surely Die._”
Many and many a man besides the beggar had travelled that path and
looked up at those letters, and when he had read them had turned
and gone away again. But the beggar neither turned nor went away;
because why, he could neither read nor write a word, and so the
blood-red letters had no fear for him. Up he marched to the brazen
gate, as boldly as though it had been a kitchen door, and rap! tap!
tap! he knocked upon it. He waited awhile, but nobody came. Rap!
tap! tap! he knocked again; and then, after a little while, for the
third time--Rap! tap! tap! Then instantly the gate swung open and
he entered. So soon as he had crossed the threshold it was banged
to behind him again, just as the garden gate had been when the king
had first sent for him. He found himself in a long, dark entry, and
at the end of it another door, and over it the same words, written
in blood-red letters:
“_Beware! Beware! Who Enters here Shall Surely Die!_”
“Well,” said the beggar, “this is the hardest town for a body to
come into that I ever saw.” And then he opened the second door and
passed through.
It was fit to deafen a body! Such a shout the beggar’s ears had
never heard before; such a sight the beggar’s eyes had never
beheld, for there, before him, was a great splendid hall of marble
as white as snow. All along the hall stood scores of lords and
ladies in silks and satins, and with jewels on their necks and
arms fit to dazzle a body’s eyes. Right up the middle of the hall
stretched a carpet of blue velvet, and at the farther end, on a
throne of gold, sat a lady as beautiful as the sun and moon and all
the stars.
“Welcome! welcome!” they all shouted, until the beggar was nearly
deafened by the noise they all made, and the lady herself stood up
and smiled upon him.
Then there came three young men, and led the beggar up the carpet
of velvet to the throne of gold.
“Welcome, my hero!” said the beautiful lady; “and have you, then,
come at last?”
“Yes,” said the beggar, “I have.”
“Long have I waited for you,” said the lady; “long have I waited
for the hero who would dare without fear to come through the two
gates of death to marry me and to rule as king over this country,
and now at last you are here.”
“Yes,” said the beggar, “I am.”
* * * * *
Meanwhile, while all these things were happening, the king of that
other country had painted out the words his father had written on
the walls, and had had these words painted in in their stead:
“_All Things are as Man does._”
For a while he was very well satisfied with them, until, a week
after, he was bidden to the wedding of the Queen of the Golden
Mountains; for when he came there who should the bridegroom be but
the beggar whom he had set adrift in the wooden box a week or so
before.
The bridegroom winked at him, but said never a word, good or ill,
for he was willing to let all that had happened be past and gone.
But the king saw how matters stood as clear as daylight, and when
he got back home again he had the new words that stood on the walls
of the room painted out, and had the old ones painted in in bigger
letters than ever:
[Illustration]
“_All Things are as Fate wills._”
* * * * *
_All the good people who were gathered around the table of the Sign
of Mother Goose sat thinking for a while over the story. As for
Boots, he buried his face in the quart pot and took a long, long
pull at the ale._
_“Methinks,” said the Soldier who cheated the Devil, presently
breaking silence--“methinks there be very few of the women folk who
do their share of this story-telling. So far we have had but one,
and that is Lady Cinderella. I see another one present, and I drink
to her health.”_
_He winked his eye at Patient Grizzle, beckoning towards her with
his quart pot, and took a long and hearty pull. Then he banged his
mug down upon the table. “Fetch me another glass, lass,” said he to
little Brown Betty. “Meantime, fair lady”--this he said to Patient
Grizzle--“will you not entertain us with some story of your own?”_
_“I know not,” said Patient Grizzle, “that I can tell you any story
worth your hearing.”_
_“Aye, aye, but you can,” said the Soldier who cheated the Devil;
“and, moreover, anything coming from betwixt such red lips and such
white teeth will be worth the listening to.”_
_Patient Grizzle smiled, and the brave little Tailor, and the Lad
who fiddled for the Jew, and Hans and Bidpai and Boots nodded
approval._
_“Aye,” said Ali Baba, “it is true enough that there have been but
few of the women folk who have had their say, methinks that it is
very strange and unaccountable, for nearly always they have plenty
to speak in their own behalf.”_
_All who sat there in Twilight Land laughed, and even Patient
Grizzle smiled._
_“Very well,” said Patient Grizzle, “if you will have it, I will
tell you a story. It is about a fisherman who was married and had a
wife of his own, and who made her carry all the load of everything
that happened to him. For he, like most men I wot of, had found
out--”_
[Illustration]
Where to Lay the Blame.
_Many and many a man has come to trouble--so he will say--by
following his wife’s advice. This is how it was with a man of whom
I shall tell you._
There was once upon a time a fisherman who had fished all day long
and had caught not so much as a sprat. So at night there he sat by
the fire, rubbing his knees and warming his shins, and waiting for
supper that his wife was cooking for him, and his hunger was as
sharp as vinegar, and his temper hot enough to fry fat.
While he sat there grumbling and growling and trying to make
himself comfortable and warm, there suddenly came a knock at the
door. The good woman opened it, and there stood an old man, clad
all in red from head to foot, and with a snowy beard at his chin as
white as winter snow.
The fisherman’s wife stood gaping and staring at the strange
figure, but the old man in red walked straight into the hut.
“Bring your nets, fisherman,” said he, “and come with me. There is
something that I want you to catch for me, and if I have luck I
will pay you for your fishing as never fisherman was paid before.”
“Not I,” said the fisherman; “I go out no more this night. I have
been fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and have
caught nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out and leave
a warm fire and a good supper at your bidding.”
But the fisherman’s wife had listened to what the old man had said
about paying for the job, and she was of a different mind from her
husband. “Come,” said she, “the old man promises to pay you well.
This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell you, and my advice to
you is that you go.”
The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said
he would not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said
again, “My advice to you is that you go.”
The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not
go. The wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did
not lose her temper; she only said to everything that he said, “My
advice to you is that you go.”
At last the fisherman’s anger boiled over. “Very well,” said he,
spitting his words at her; “if you will drive me out into the
night, I suppose I will have to go.” And then he spoke the words
that so many men say: “Many a man has come to trouble by following
his wife’s advice.”
Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off
he and the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows
bobbing along like black spiders behind them.
* * * * *
Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and
through the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome
desert, where nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and
thistles.
“Well,” said the fisherman, “I have fished, man and boy, for
forty-seven years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch
anything as this.”
But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great
circle with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the
ground. Then out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box
and steel, and a little silver casket covered all over with strange
figures of serpents and dragons and what not. He brought some
sticks of spice-wood from his pouch, and then he struck a light and
made a fire. Out of the box he took a gray powder, which he flung
upon the little blaze.
Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then
a dense smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider,
far and near, till all below was darker than the darkest midnight.
Then the old man began to utter strange spells and words. Presently
there began a rumbling that sounded louder and louder and nearer
and nearer, until it roared and bellowed like thunder. The earth
rocked and swayed, and the poor fisherman shook and trembled with
fear till his teeth clattered in his head.
Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as
still as death, though the darkness was as thick and black as ever.
“Now,” said the old magician--for such he was--“now we are about
to take a journey such as no one ever travelled before. Heed well
what I tell you. Speak not a single word, for if you do, misfortune
will be sure to happen.”
[Illustration]
“Ain’t I to say anything?” said the fisherman.
“No.”
“Not even ‘boo’ to a goose?”
“No.”
“Well, that is pretty hard upon a man who likes to say his say,”
said the fisherman.
“And moreover,” said the old man, “I must blindfold you as well.”
Thereupon he took from his pocket a handkerchief, and made ready to
tie it about the fisherman’s eyes.
“And ain’t I to see anything at all?” said the fisherman.
“No.”
“Not even so much as a single feather?”
“No.”
“Well, then,” said the fisherman, “I wish I’d not come.”
But the old man tied the handkerchief tightly around his eyes, and
then he was as blind as a bat.
“Now,” said the old man, “throw your leg over what you feel and
hold fast.”
The fisherman reached down his hand, and there felt the back of
something rough and hairy. He flung his leg over it, and whisk!
whizz! off he shot through the air like a sky-rocket. Nothing
was left for him to do but grip tightly with hands and feet and to
hold fast. On they went, and on they went, until, after a great
while, whatever it was that was carrying him lit upon the ground,
and there the fisherman found himself standing, for that which had
brought him had gone.
[Illustration]
The old man whipped the handkerchief off his eyes, and there the
fisherman found himself on the shores of the sea, where there was
nothing to be seen but water upon one side and rocks and naked sand
upon the other.
“This is the place for you to cast your nets,” said the old
magician; “for if we catch nothing here we catch nothing at all.”
The fisherman unrolled his nets and cast them and dragged them, and
then cast them and dragged them again, but neither time caught so
much as a herring. But the third time that he cast he found that he
had caught something that weighed as heavy as lead. He pulled and
pulled, until by-and-by he dragged the load ashore, and what should
it be but a great chest of wood, blackened by the sea-water, and
covered with shells and green moss.
That was the very thing that the magician had come to fish for.
From his pouch the old man took a little golden key, which
he fitted into a key-hole in the side of the chest. He threw
back the lid; the fisherman looked within, and there was the
prettiest little palace that man’s eye ever beheld, all made of
mother-of-pearl and silver-frosted as white as snow. The old
magician lifted the little palace out of the box and set it upon
the ground.
Then, lo and behold! a marvellous thing happened; for the palace
instantly began to grow for all the world like a soap-bubble, until
it stood in the moonlight gleaming and glistening like snow, the
windows bright with the lights of a thousand wax tapers, and the
sound of music and voices and laughter coming from within.
Hardly could the fisherman catch his breath from one strange thing
when another happened. The old magician took off his clothes and
his face--yes, his face--for all the world as though it had been
a mask, and there stood as handsome and noble a young man as ever
the light looked on. Then, beckoning to the fisherman, dumb with
wonder, he led the way up the great flight of marble steps to the
palace door. As he came the door swung open with a blaze of light,
and there stood hundreds of noblemen, all clad in silks and satins
and velvets, who, when they saw the magician, bowed low before
him, as though he had been a king. Leading the way, they brought
the two through halls and chambers and room after room, each more
magnificent than the other, until they came to one that surpassed a
hundredfold any of the others.
At the farther end was a golden throne, and upon it sat a lady more
lovely and beautiful than a dream, her eyes as bright as diamonds,
her cheeks like rose leaves, and her hair like spun gold. She came
half-way down the steps of the throne to welcome the magician,
and when the two met they kissed one another before all those who
were looking on. Then she brought him to the throne and seated him
beside her, and there they talked for a long time very earnestly.
Nobody said a word to the fisherman, who stood staring about him
like an owl. “I wonder,” said he to himself at last, “if they will
give a body a bite to eat by-and-by?” for, to tell the truth, the
good supper that he had come away from at home had left a sharp
hunger gnawing at his insides, and he longed for something good and
warm to fill the empty place. But time passed, and not so much as a
crust of bread was brought to stay his stomach.
By-and-by the clock struck twelve, and then the two who sat upon
the throne arose. The beautiful lady took the magician by the
hand, and, turning to those who stood around, said, in a loud
voice, “Behold him who alone is worthy to possess the jewel of
jewels! Unto him do I give it, and with it all power of powers!”
Thereon she opened a golden casket that stood beside her, and
brought thence a little crystal ball, about as big as a pigeon’s
egg, in which was something that glistened like a spark of fire.
The magician took the crystal ball and thrust it into his bosom;
but what it was the fisherman could not guess, and if you do not
know I shall not tell you.
[Illustration]
Then for the first time the beautiful lady seemed to notice the
fisherman. She beckoned him, and when he stood beside her two
men came carrying a chest. The chief treasurer opened it, and it
was full of bags of gold money. “How will you have it?” said the
beautiful lady.
“Have what?” said the fisherman.
“Have the pay for your labor?” said the beautiful lady.
“I will,” said the fisherman, promptly, “take it in my hat.”
“So be it,” said the beautiful lady. She waved her hand, and the
chief treasurer took a bag from the chest, untied it, and emptied a
cataract of gold into the fur cap. The fisherman had never seen
so much wealth in all his life before, and he stood like a man
turned to stone.
[Illustration]
“Is all this mine?” said the fisherman.
“It is,” said the beautiful lady.
“Then God bless your pretty eyes,” said the fisherman.
Then the magician kissed the beautiful lady, and, beckoning to the
fisherman, left the throne-room the same way that they had come.
The noblemen, in silks and satins and velvets, marched ahead, and
back they went through the other apartments, until at last they
came to the door.