This is one of the stories which that good soul, my uncle's grandmother
(whom Heaven take to glory), used to tell; and, unless I have put on my
spectacles upside down, I fancy it will give you pleasure.
There was, once upon a time, a woman named Pascadozzia, and one day,
when she was standing at her window, which looked into the garden of an
ogress, she saw such a fine bed of parsley that she almost fainted away
with desire for some. So when the ogress went out she could not
restrain herself any longer, but plucked a handful of it. The ogress
came home and was going to cook her pottage when she found that some
one had been stealing the parsley, and said, "Ill luck to me, but I'll
catch this long-fingered rogue and make him repent it; I'll teach him
to his cost that every one should eat off his own platter and not
meddle with other folks' cups."
The poor woman went again and again down into the garden, until one
morning the ogress met her, and in a furious rage exclaimed, "Have I
caught you at last, you thief, you rogue; prithee, do you pay the rent
of the garden that you come in this impudent way and steal my plants?
By my faith, I'll make you do penance without sending you to Rome."
Poor Pascadozzia, in a terrible fright, began to make excuses, saying
that neither from gluttony nor the craving of hunger had she been
tempted by the devil to commit this fault, but from her fear lest her
child should be born with a crop of parsley on its face.
"Words are but wind," answered the ogress, "I am not to be caught with
such prattle; you have closed the balance-sheet of life, unless you
promise to give me the child, girl or boy, whichever it may be."
The poor woman, in order to escape the peril in which she found
herself, swore, with one hand upon the other, to keep the promise, and
so the ogress let her go free. But when the baby came it was a little
girl, so beautiful that she was a joy to look upon, who was named
Parsley. The little girl grew from day to day until, when she was seven
years old, her mother sent her to school, and every time she went along
the street and met the ogress the old woman said to her, "Tell your
mother to remember her promise." And she went on repeating this message
so often that the poor mother, having no longer patience to listen to
the refrain, said one day to Parsley, "If you meet the old woman as
usual, and she reminds you of the hateful promise, answer her, Take
it.'"
When Parsley, who dreamt of no ill, met the ogress again, and heard her
repeat the same words, she answered innocently as her mother had told
her, whereupon the ogress, seizing her by her hair, carried her off to
a wood which the horses of the Sun never entered, not having paid the
toll to the pastures of those Shades. Then she put the poor girl into a
tower which she caused to arise by her art, having neither gate nor
ladder, but only a little window through which she ascended and
descended by means of Parsley's hair, which was very long, just as
sailors climb up and down the mast of a ship.
Now it happened one day, when the ogress had left the tower, that
Parsley put her head out of the little window and let loose her tresses
in the sun, and the son of a Prince passing by saw those two golden
banners which invited all souls to enlist under the standard of Beauty,
and, beholding with amazement, in the midst of those gleaming waves, a
face that enchanted all hearts, he fell desperately in love with such
wonderful beauty; and, sending her a memorial of sighs, she decreed to
receive him into favour. She told him her troubles, and implored him to
rescue her. But a gossip of the ogress, who was for ever prying into
things that did not concern her, and poking her nose into every corner,
overheard the secret, and told the wicked woman to be on the look-out,
for Parsley had been seen talking with a certain youth, and she had her
suspicions. The ogress thanked the gossip for the information, and said
that she would take good care to stop up the road. As to Parsley, it
was, moreover, impossible for her to escape, as she had laid a spell
upon her, so that unless she had in her hand the three gall-nuts which
were in a rafter in the kitchen it would be labour lost to attempt to
get away.
Whilst they were thus talking together, Parsley, who stood with her
ears wide open and had some suspicion of the gossip, overheard all that
had passed. And when Night had spread out her black garments to keep
them from the moth, and the Prince had come as they had appointed, she
let fall her hair; he seized it with both hands, and cried, "Draw up."
When he was drawn up she made him first climb on to the rafters and
find the gall-nuts, knowing well what effect they would have, as she
had been enchanted by the ogress. Then, having made a rope-ladder, they
both descended to the ground, took to their heels, and ran off towards
the city. But the gossip, happening to see them come out, set up a loud
"Halloo," and began to shout and make such a noise that the ogress
awoke, and, seeing that Parsley had run away, she descended by the same
ladder, which was still fastened to the window, and set off after the
couple, who, when they saw her coming at their heels faster than a
horse let loose, gave themselves up for lost. But Parsley, recollecting
the gall-nuts, quickly threw one of the ground, and lo, instantly a
Corsican bulldog started up--O, mother, such a terrible beast!--which,
with open jaws and barking loud, flew at the ogress as if to swallow
her at a mouthful. But the old woman, who was more cunning and spiteful
than ever, put her hand into her pocket, and pulling out a piece of
bread gave it to the dog, which made him hang his tail and allay his
fury.
Then she turned to run after the fugitives again, but Parsley, seeing
her approach, threw the second gall-nut on the ground, and lo, a fierce
lion arose, who, lashing the earth with his tail, and shaking his mane
and opening wide his jaws a yard apart, was just preparing to make a
slaughter of the ogress, when, turning quickly back, she stripped the
skin off an ass which was grazing in the middle of a meadow and ran at
the lion, who, fancying it a real jackass, was so frightened that he
bounded away as fast as he could.
The ogress having leaped over this second ditch turned again to pursue
the poor lovers, who, hearing the clatter of her heels, and seeing
clouds of dust that rose up to the sky, knew that she was coming again.
But the old woman, who was every moment in dread lest the lion should
pursue her, had not taken off the ass's skin, and when Parsley now
threw down the third gall-nut there sprang up a wolf, who, without
giving the ogress time to play any new trick, gobbled her up just as
she was in the shape of a jackass. So Parsley and the Prince, now freed
from danger, went their way leisurely and quietly to the Prince's
kingdom, where, with his father's free consent, they were married.
Thus, after all these storms of fate, they experienced the truth that--
"One hour in port, the sailor, freed from fears,
Forgets the tempests of a hundred years."