Talking in this way they drew near to the castle. When they were about
four stone-throws from the gates they dismounted in the forest, by the
edge of a fountain.
‘My dear Zizi,’ said Tubby’s son, ‘we cannot present ourselves before
my father like two common people who have come back from a walk. We
must enter the castle with more ceremony. Wait for me here, and in an
hour I will return with carriages and horses fit for a princess.’
‘Don’t be long,’ replied Zizi, and she watched him go with wistful
eyes.
When she was left by herself the poor girl began to feel afraid. She
was alone for the first time in her life, and in the middle of a thick
forest.
Suddenly she heard a noise among the trees. Fearing lest it should be a
wolf, she hid herself in the hollow trunk of a willow tree which hung
over the fountain. It was big enough to hold her altogether, but she
peeped out, and her pretty head was reflected in the clear water.
Then there appeared, not a wolf, but a creature quite as wicked and
quite as ugly. Let us see who this creature was.
X
Not far from the fountain there lived a family of bricklayers. Now,
fifteen years before this time, the father in walking through the
forest found a little girl, who had been deserted by the gypsies. He
carried her home to his wife, and the good woman was sorry for her, and
brought her up with her own sons. As she grew older, the little gypsy
became much more remarkable for strength and cunning than for sense or
beauty. She had a low forehead, a flat nose, thick lips, coarse hair,
and a skin not golden like that of Zizi, but the colour of clay.
As she was always being teased about her complexion, she got as noisy
and cross as a titmouse. So they used to call her Titty.
Titty was often sent by the bricklayer to fetch water from the
fountain, and as she was very proud and lazy the gypsy disliked this
very much.
It was she who had frightened Zizi by appearing with her pitcher on her
shoulder. Just as she was stooping to fill it, she saw reflected in the
water the lovely image of the Princess.
‘What a pretty face!’ she exclaimed, ‘Why, it must be mine! How in the
world can they call me ugly? I am certainly much too pretty to be their
water carrier!’
So saying, she broke her pitcher and went home.
‘Where is your pitcher?’ asked the bricklayer.
‘Well, what do you expect? The pitcher may go many times to the
well....’
‘But at last it is broken. Well, here is a bucket that will not break.’
The gypsy returned to the fountain, and addressing once more the image
of Zizi, she said:
‘No; I don’t mean to be a beast of burden any longer.’ And she flung
the bucket so high in the air that it stuck in the branches of an oak.
‘I met a wolf,’ she told the bricklayer, ‘and I broke the bucket across
his nose.’
The bricklayer asked her no more questions, but took down a broom and
gave her such a beating that her pride was humbled a little.
Then he handed to her an old copper milk-can, and said:
‘If you don’t bring it back full, your bones shall suffer for it.’