_THE RICH BROTHER AND THE POOR BROTHER_
THERE was once a rich old man who had two sons, and as his wife was
dead, the elder lived with him, and helped him to look after his
property. For a long time all went well; the young man got up very early
in the morning, and worked hard all day, and at the end of every week
his father counted up the money they had made, and rubbed his hands with
delight, as he saw how big the pile of gold in the strong iron chest was
becoming. 'It will soon be full now, and I shall have to buy a larger
one,' he said to himself, and so busy was he with the thought of his
money, that he did not notice how bright his son's face had grown, nor
how he sometimes started when he was spoken to, as if his mind was far
away.
One day, however, the old man went to the city on business, which he had
not done for three years at least. It was market day, and he met with
many people he knew, and it was getting quite late when he turned into
the inn yard, and bade an ostler saddle his horse, and bring it round
directly. While he was waiting in the hall, the landlady came up for a
gossip, and after a few remarks about the weather and the vineyards she
asked him how he liked his new daughter-in-law, and whether he had been
surprised at the marriage.
The old man stared as he listened to her. 'Daughter-in-law? Marriage?'
said he. 'I don't know what you are talking about! I've got no
daughter-in-law, and nobody has been married lately, that ever I heard
of.'
Now this was exactly what the landlady, who was very curious, wanted to
find out; but she put on a look of great alarm, and exclaimed:
'Oh, dear! I hope I have not made mischief. I had no idea--or, of
course, I would not have spoken--but'----and here she stopped and
fumbled with her apron, as if she was greatly embarrassed.
'As you have said so much you will have to say a little more,' retorted
the old man, a suspicion of what she meant darting across him; and the
woman, nothing loth, answered as before.
'Ah, it was not all for buying or selling that your handsome son has
been coming to town every week these many months past. And not by the
shortest way, either! No, it was over the river he rode, and across the
hill and past the cottage of Miguel the vine-keeper, whose daughter,
they say, is the prettiest girl in the whole country side, though she is
too white for _my_ taste,' and then the landlady paused again, and
glanced up at the farmer, to see how he was taking it. She did not learn
much. He was looking straight before him, his teeth set. But as she
ceased to talk, he said quietly, 'Go on.'
'There is not much more to tell,' replied the landlady, for she suddenly
remembered that she must prepare supper for the hungry men who always
stopped at the inn on market days, before starting for home, 'but one
fine morning they both went to the little church on top of the hill, and
were married. My cousin is servant to the priest, and she found out
about it and told me. But good-day to you, sir; here is your horse, and
I must hurry off to the kitchen.'
It was lucky that the horse was sure-footed and knew the road, for his
bridle hung loose on his neck, and his master took no heed of the way he
was going. When the farm-house was reached, the man led the animal to
his stable, and then went to look for his son.
'I know everything--you have deceived me. Get out of my sight at once--I
have done with you,' he stammered, choking with passion as he came up to
the young man, who was cutting a stick in front of the door, whistling
gaily the while.
'But, father----'
'You are no son of mine; I have only one now. Begone, or it will be the
worse for you,' and as he spoke he lifted up his whip.
The young man shrank back. He feared lest his father should fall down in
a fit, his face was so red and his eyes seemed bursting from his head.
But it was no use staying: perhaps next morning the old man might listen
to reason, though in his heart the son felt that he would never take
back his words. So he turned slowly away, and walked heavily along a
path which ended in a cave on the side of the hill, and there he sat
through the night, thinking of what had happened.
Yes, he had been wrong, there was no doubt of that, and he did not
quite know how it had come about. He had _meant_ to have told his father
all about it, and he was sure, _quite_ sure, that if once the old man
had seen his wife, he would have forgiven her poverty on account of her
great beauty and goodness. But he had put it off from day to day, hoping
always for a better opportunity, and now this was the end!
* * * * *
If the son had no sleep that night, no more had the father, and as soon
as the sun rose, he sent a messenger into the great city with orders to
bring back the younger brother. When he arrived the farmer did not waste
words, but informed him that he was now his only heir, and would inherit
all his lands and money, and that he was to come and live at home, and
to help manage the property.
Though very pleased at the thought of becoming such a rich man--for the
brothers had never cared much for each other--the younger would rather
have stayed where he was, for he soon got tired of the country, and
longed for a town life. However, this he kept to himself, and made the
best of things, working hard like his brother before him.
In this way the years went on, but the crops were not so good as they
had been, and the old man gave orders that some fine houses he was
building in the city should be left unfinished, for it would take all
his savings to complete them. As to the elder son, he would never even
hear his name mentioned, and died at last without ever seeing his face,
leaving to the younger as he had promised, all his lands, as well as his
money.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, the son whom he had disinherited had grown poorer and poorer.
He and his wife were always looking out for something to do, and never
spent a penny that they could help, but luck was against them, and at
the time of his father's death they had hardly bread to eat or clothes
to cover them. If there had been only himself, he would have managed to
get on somehow, but he could not bear to watch his children becoming
weaker day by day, and swallowing his pride, at length he crossed the
mountains to his old home where his brother was living.
It was the first time for long that the two men had come face to face,
and they looked at each other in silence. Then tears rose in the eyes of
the elder, but winking them hastily away, he said:
'Brother, it is not needful that I should tell you how poor I am; you
can see that for yourself. I have not come to beg for money, but only to
ask if you will give me those unfinished houses of yours in the city,
and I will make them water-tight, so that my wife and children can live
in them, and that will save our rent. For as they are, they profit you
nothing.'
And the younger brother listened and pitied him, and gave him the houses
that he asked for, and the elder went away happy.
* * * * *
For some years things went on as they were, and then the rich brother
began to feel lonely, and thought to himself that he was getting older,
and it was time for him to be married. The wife he chose was very
wealthy, but she was also very greedy, and however much she had, she
always wanted more. She was, besides, one of those unfortunate people
who invariably fancy that the possessions of other people must be better
than their own. Many a time her poor husband regretted the day that he
had first seen her, and often her meanness and shabby ways put him to
shame. But he had not the courage to rule her, and she only got worse
and worse.
After she had been married a few months the bride wanted to go into the
city and buy herself some new dresses. She had never been there before,
and when she had finished her shopping, she thought she would pay a
visit to her unknown sister-in-law, and rest for a bit. The house she
was seeking was in a broad street, and _ought_ to have been very
magnificent, but the carved stone portico enclosed a mean little door of
rough wood, while a row of beautiful pillars led to nothing. The
dwellings on each side were in the same unfinished condition, and water
trickled down the walls. Most people would have considered it a wretched
place, and turned their backs on it as soon as they could, but this lady
saw that by spending some money the houses could be made as splendid as
they were originally intended to be, and she instantly resolved to get
them for herself.
Full of this idea she walked up the marble staircase, and entered the
little room where her sister-in-law sat making clothes for her
children. The bride seemed full of interest in the houses, and asked a
great many questions about them, so that her new relations liked her
much better than they expected, and hoped they might be good friends.
However, as soon as she reached home, she went straight to her husband,
and told him that he must get back those houses from his brother, as
they would exactly suit her, and she could easily make them into a
palace as fine as the king's. But her husband only told her that she
might buy houses in some other part of the town, for she could not have
those, as he had long since made a gift of them to his brother, who had
lived there for many years past.
At this answer the wife grew very angry. She began to cry, and made such
a noise that all the neighbours heard her and put their heads out of the
windows, to see what was the matter. 'It was absurd,' she sobbed out,
'quite unjust. Indeed, if you came to think of it, the gift was worth
nothing, as when her husband made it he was a bachelor, and since then
he had been married, and she had never given her consent to any such
thing.' And so she lamented all day and all night, till the poor man was
nearly worried to death; and at last he did what she wished, and
summoned his brother in a court of law to give up the houses which, he
said, had only been lent to him. But when the evidence on both sides had
been heard, the judge decided in favour of the poor man, which made the
rich lady more furious than ever, and she determined not to rest until
she had gained the day. If one judge would not give her the houses
another should, and so time after time the case was tried over again,
till at last it came before the highest judge of all, in the city of
Evora. Her husband was heartily tired and ashamed of the whole affair,
but his weakness in not putting a stop to it in the beginning had got
him into this difficulty, and now he was forced to go on.
On the same day the two brothers set out on their journey to the city,
the rich one on horseback, with plenty of food in his knapsack, the poor
one on foot with nothing but a piece of bread and four onions to eat on
the way. The road was hilly and neither could go very fast, and when
night fell, they were both glad to see some lights in a window a little
distance in front of them.
The lights turned out to have been placed there by a farmer, who had
planned to have a particularly good supper as it was his wife's
birthday, and bade the rich man enter and sit down, while he himself
took the horse to the stable. The poor man asked timidly if he might
spend the night in a corner, adding that he had brought his own supper
with him. Another time permission might have been refused him, for the
farmer was no lover of humble folk, but now he gave the elder brother
leave to come in, pointing out a wooden chair where he could sit.
Supper was soon served, and very glad the younger brother was to eat it,
for his long ride had made him very hungry. The farmer's wife, however,
would touch nothing, and at last declared that the only supper she
wanted was one of the onions the poor man was cooking at the fire. Of
course he gave it to her, though he would gladly have eaten it himself,
as three onions are not much at the end of a long day's walk, and soon
after they all went to sleep, the poor man making himself as comfortable
as he could in his corner.
* * * * *
A few hours later the farmer was aroused by the cries and groans of his
wife.
'Oh, I feel so ill, I'm sure I'm going to die,' wept she. 'It was that
onion, I know it was. I wish I had never eaten it. It must have been
poisoned.'
'If the man has poisoned you he shall pay for it,' said her husband, and
seizing a thick stick he ran downstairs and began to beat the poor man,
who had been sound asleep, and had nothing to defend himself with.
Luckily, the noise aroused the younger brother, who jumped up and
snatched the stick from the farmer's hand, saying:
'We are both going to Evora to try a law-suit. Come too, and accuse him
there if he has attempted to rob you or murder you, but don't kill him
now, or you will get yourself into trouble.'
'Well, perhaps you are right,' answered the farmer, 'but the sooner that
fellow has his deserts, the better I shall be pleased,' and without more
words he went to the stables and brought out a horse for himself and
also the black Andalusian mare ridden by the rich man, while the poor
brother, fearing more ill-treatment, started at once on foot.
* * * * *
Now all that night it had rained heavily, and did not seem likely to
stop, and in some places the road was so thick with mud that it was
almost impossible to get across it. In one spot it was so very bad that
a mule laden with baggage had got stuck in it, and tug as he might, his
master was quite unable to pull him out. The muleteer in despair
appealed to the two horsemen, who were carefully skirting the swamp at
some distance off, but they paid no heed to his cries, and he began to
talk cheerfully to his mule, hoping to keep up his spirits, declaring
that if the poor beast would only have a little patience help was sure
to come.
And so it did, for very soon the poor brother reached the place,
bespattered with mud from head to foot, but ready to do all he could to
help the mule and his master. First they set about finding some stout
logs of wood to lay down on the marsh so that they could reach the mule,
for by this time his frantic struggles had broken his bridle, and he was
deeper in than ever. Stepping cautiously along the wood, the poor man
contrived to lay hold of the animal's tail, and with a desperate effort
the mule managed to regain his footing on dry ground, but at the cost of
leaving his tail in the poor man's hand. When he saw this the muleteer's
anger knew no bounds, and forgetting that without the help given him he
would have lost his mule altogether, he began to abuse the poor man,
declaring that he had ruined his beast, and the law would make him pay
for it. Then, jumping on the back of the mule, which was so glad to be
out of the choking mud that he did not seem to mind the loss of his
tail, the ungrateful wretch rode on, and that evening reached the inn at
Evora, where the rich man and the farmer had already arrived for the
night.
Meanwhile the poor brother walked wearily along, wondering what other
dreadful adventures were in store for him.
'I shall certainly be condemned for one or other of them,' thought he
sadly; 'and after all, if I _have_ to die, I would rather choose my own
death than leave it to my enemies,' and as soon as he entered Evora he
looked about for a place suitable for carrying out the plan he had made.
At length he found what he sought, but as it was too late and too dark
for him to make sure of success, he curled himself up under a doorway,
and slept till morning.
* * * * *
Although it was winter, the sun rose in a clear sky, and its rays felt
almost warm when the poor man got up and shook himself. He intended it
to be the day of his death, but in spite of that, and of the fact that
he was leaving his wife and children behind him, he felt almost
cheerful. He had struggled so long, and was so very, very tired; but he
would not have minded that if he could have proved his innocence, and
triumphed over his enemies. However, they had all been too clever for
him, and he had no strength to fight any more. So he mounted the stone
steps that led to the battlements of the city, and stopped for a moment
to gaze about him.
It happened that an old sick man who lived near by had begged to be
carried out and to be laid at the foot of the wall so that the beams of
the rising sun might fall upon him, and he would be able to talk with
his friends as they passed by to their work. Little did he guess that on
top of the battlements, exactly over his head, stood a man who was
taking his last look at the same sun, before going to his death that
awaited him. But so it was; and as the steeple opposite was touched by
the golden light, the poor man shut his eyes and sprang forward. The
wall was high, and he flew rapidly through the air, but it was not the
ground he touched, only the body of the sick man, who rolled over and
died without a groan. As for the other, he was quite unhurt, and was
slowly rising to his feet when his arms were suddenly seized and held.
'You have killed our father, do you see? do you see?' cried two young
men, 'and you will come with us this instant before the judge, and
answer for it.'
'Your father? but I don't know him. What do you mean?' asked the poor
man, who was quite bewildered with his sudden rush through the air, and
could not think why he should be accused of this fresh crime. But he got
no reply, and was only hurried through the streets to the court-house,
where his brother, the muleteer, and the farmer had just arrived, all as
angry as ever, all talking at once, till the judge entered and ordered
them to be silent.
'I will hear you one by one,' he said, and motioned the younger brother
to begin.
He did not take long to state his case. The unfinished houses were his,
left him with the rest of the property by his father, and his brother
refused to give them up. In answer, the poor man told, in a few words,
how he had begged the houses from his brother, and produced the deed of
gift which made him their owner.
The judge listened quietly and asked a few questions; then he gave his
verdict.
'The houses shall remain the property of the man to whom they were
given, and to whom they belong. And as you,' he added, turning to the
younger brother, 'brought this accusation knowing full well it was
wicked and unjust, I order you, besides losing the houses, to pay a
thousand pounds damages to your brother.'
The rich man heard the judge with rage in his heart, the poor man with
surprise and gratitude. But he was not safe yet, for now it was the turn
of the farmer. The judge could hardly conceal a smile at the story, and
inquired if the wife was dead before the farmer left the house, and
received for answer that he was in such a hurry for justice to be done
that he had not waited to see. Then the poor man told his tale, and once
more judgment was given in his favour, while twelve hundred pounds was
ordered to be paid him. As for the muleteer, he was informed very
plainly that he had proved himself mean and ungrateful for the help that
had been given him, and as a punishment he must pay to the poor man a
fine of fifty pounds, and hand him over the mule till his tail had grown
again.
Lastly, there came the two sons of the sick man.
'This is the wretch who killed our father,' they said, 'and we demand
that he should die also.'
'How did you kill him?' asked the judge, turning to the accused, and the
poor man told how he had leaped from the wall, not knowing that anyone
was beneath.
'Well, this is my judgment,' replied the judge, when they had all
spoken: 'Let the accused sit under the wall, and let the sons of the
dead man jump from the top and fall on him and kill him, and if they
will not do this, then they are condemned to pay eight hundred pounds
for their false accusation.'
The young men looked at each other, and slowly shook their heads.
'We will pay the fine,' said they, and the judge nodded.
So the poor man rode the mule home, and brought back to his family
enough money to keep them in comfort to the end of their days.
Adapted from the Portuguese.
_THE ONE-HANDED GIRL_
AN old couple once lived in a hut under a grove of palm trees, and they
had one son and one daughter. They were all very happy together for many
years, and then the father became very ill, and felt he was going to
die. He called his children to the place where he lay on the floor--for
no one had any beds in that country--and said to his son, 'I have no
herds of cattle to leave you--only the few things there are in the
house--for I am a poor man, as you know. But choose: will you have my
blessing or my property?'
'Your property, certainly,' answered the son, and his father nodded.
'And you?' asked the old man of the girl, who stood by her brother.
'I will have blessing,' she answered, and her father gave her much
blessing.
That night he died, and his wife and son and daughter mourned for him
seven days, and gave him a burial according to the custom of his people.
But hardly was the time of mourning over, than the mother was attacked
by a disease which was common in that country.
'I am going away from you,' she said to her children, in a faint voice;
'but first, my son, choose which you will have: blessing or property.'
'Property, certainly,' answered the son,
'And you, my daughter?'
'I will have blessing,' said the girl; and her mother gave her much
blessing, and that night she died.
* * * * *
When the days of mourning were ended, the brother bade his sister put
outside the hut all that belonged to his father and his mother. So the
girl put them out, and he took them away, save only a small pot and a
vessel in which she could clean her corn. But she had no corn to clean.
She sat at home, sad and hungry, when a neighbour knocked at the door.
'My pot has cracked in the fire, lend me yours to cook my supper in, and
I will give you a handful of corn in return.'
And the girl was glad, and that night she was able to have supper
herself, and next day another woman borrowed her pot, and then another
and another, for never were known so many accidents as befell the
village pots at that time. She soon grew quite fat with all the corn she
earned with the help of her pot, and then one evening she picked up a
pumpkin seed in a corner, and planted it near her well, and it sprang
up, and gave her many pumpkins.
At last it happened that a youth from her village passed through the
place where the girl's brother was, and the two met and talked.
'What news is there of my sister?' asked the young man, with whom things
had gone badly, for he was idle.
'She is fat and well-liking,' replied the youth, 'for the women borrow
her mortar to clean their corn, and borrow her pot to cook it in, and
for all this they give her more food than she can eat.' And he went his
way.
Now the brother was filled with envy at the words of the man, and he set
out at once, and before dawn he had reached the hut, and saw the pot and
the mortar were standing outside. He slung them over his shoulders and
departed, pleased with his own cleverness; but when his sister awoke
and sought for the pot to cook her corn for breakfast, she could find it
nowhere. At length she said to herself:
'Well, some thief must have stolen them while I slept. I will go and see
if any of my pumpkins are ripe.' And indeed they were, and so many that
the tree was almost broken by the weight of them. So she ate what she
wanted and took the others, to the village, and gave them in exchange
for corn, and the women said that no pumpkins were as sweet as these,
and that she was to bring every day all that she had. In this way she
earned more than she needed for herself, and soon was able to get
another mortar and cooking pot in exchange for her corn. Then she
thought she was quite rich.
* * * * *
Unluckily someone else thought so too, and this was her brother's wife,
who had heard all about the pumpkin tree, and sent her slave with a
handful of grain to buy her a pumpkin. At first the girl told him that
so few were left that she could not spare any; but when she found that
he belonged to her brother, she changed her mind, and went out to the
tree and gathered the largest and the ripest that was there.
'Take this one,' she said to the slave, 'and carry it back to your
mistress, but tell her to keep the corn, as the pumpkin is a gift.'
The brother's wife was overjoyed at the sight of the fruit, and when she
tasted it, she declared it was the nicest she had ever eaten. Indeed,
all night she thought of nothing else, and early in the morning she
called another slave (for she was a rich woman) and bade him go and ask
for another pumpkin. But the girl, who had just been out to look at her
tree, told him that they were all eaten, so he went back empty-handed to
his mistress.
In the evening her husband returned from hunting a long way off, and
found his wife in tears.
'What is the matter?' asked he.
'I sent a slave with some grain to your sister to buy some pumpkins, but
she would not sell me any, and told me there were none, though I know
she lets other people buy them.'
'Well, never mind now--go to sleep,' said he, 'and to-morrow I will go
and pull up the pumpkin tree, and that will punish her for treating you
so badly.'
So before sunrise he got up and set out for his sister's house, and
found her cleaning some corn.
'Why did you refuse to sell my wife a pumpkin yesterday when she wanted
one?' he asked.
'The old ones are finished, and the new ones are not yet come,' answered
the girl. 'When her slave arrived two days ago, there were only four
left; but I gave him one, and would take no corn for it.'
'I do not believe you: you have sold them all to other people. I shall
go and cut down the pumpkin,' cried her brother in a rage.
'If you cut down the pumpkin you shall cut off my hand with it,'
exclaimed the girl, running up to her tree and catching hold of it. But
her brother followed, and with one blow cut off the pumpkin and her hand
too.
Then he went into the house and took away everything he could find, and
sold the house to a friend of his who had long wished to have it, and
his sister had no home to go to.
Meanwhile she had bathed her arm carefully, and bound on it some healing
leaves that grew near by, and wrapped a cloth round the leaves, and went
to hide in the forest, that her brother might not find her again.
For seven days she wandered about, eating only the fruit that hung from
the trees above her, and every night she climbed up and tucked herself
safely among the creepers which bound together the big branches, so that
neither lions nor tigers nor panthers might get at her.
[Illustration: HOW THE GIRL LOST HER HAND]
When she woke up on the seventh morning she saw from her perch smoke
coming up from a little town on the edge of the forest. The sight of the
huts made her feel more lonely and helpless than before. She longed
desperately for a draught of milk from a gourd, for there were no
streams in that part, and she was very thirsty, but how was she to earn
anything with only one hand? And at this thought her courage failed, and
she began to cry bitterly.
* * * * *
It happened that the king's son had come out from the town very early to
shoot birds, and when the sun grew hot he felt tired.
'I will lie here and rest under this tree,' he said to his attendants.
'You can go and shoot instead, and I will just have this slave to stay
with me!' Away they went, and the young man fell asleep, and slept long.
Suddenly he was awakened by something wet and salt falling on his face.
'What is that? Is it raining?' he said to his slave. 'Go and look.'
'No, master, it is not raining,' answered the slave.
'Then climb up the tree and see what it is,' and the slave climbed up,
and came back and told his master that a beautiful girl was sitting up
there, and that it must have been her tears which had fallen on the face
of the king's son.
'Why was she crying?' inquired the prince.
'I cannot tell--I did not dare to ask her; but perhaps she would tell
you.' And the master, greatly wondering, climbed up the tree.
'What is the matter with you?' said he gently, and, as she only sobbed
louder, he continued:
'Are you a woman, or a spirit of the woods?'
'I am a woman,' she answered slowly, wiping her eyes with a leaf of the
creeper that hung about her.
'Then why do you cry?' he persisted.
'I have many things to cry for,' she replied, 'more than you could ever
guess.'
'Come home with me,' said the prince; 'it is not very far. Come home to
my father and mother. I am a king's son.'
'Then why are you here?' she said, opening her eyes and staring at him.
'Once every month I and my friends shoot birds in the forest,' he
answered, 'but I was tired and bade them leave me to rest. And you--what
are you doing up in this tree?'
At that she began to cry again, and told the king's son all that had
befallen her since the death of her mother.
'I cannot come down with you, for I do not like anyone to see me,' she
ended with a sob.
'Oh! I will manage all that,' said the king's son, and swinging himself
to a lower branch, he bade his slave go quickly into the town, and bring
back with him four strong men and a curtained litter. When the man was
gone, the girl climbed down, and hid herself on the ground in some
bushes. Very soon the slave returned with the litter, which was placed
on the ground close to the bushes where the girl lay.
'Now go, all of you, and call my attendants, for I do not wish to stay
here any longer,' he said to the men, and as soon as they were out of
sight he bade the girl get into the litter, and fasten the curtains
tightly. Then he got in on the other side, and waited till his
attendants came up.
'What is the matter, O son of a king?' asked they, breathless with
running.
'I think I am ill; I am cold,' he said, and signing to the bearers, he
drew the curtains, and was carried through the forest right inside his
own house.
'Tell my father and mother that I have a fever, and want some gruel,'
said he, 'and bid them send it quickly.'
[Illustration: THE KING'S SON FINDS THE GIRL IN THE TREE]
So the slave hastened to the king's palace and gave his message, which
troubled both the king and the queen greatly. A pot of hot gruel was
instantly prepared, and carried over to the sick man, and as soon as the
council which was sitting was over, the king and his ministers went to
pay him a visit, bearing a message from the queen that she would follow
a little later.
* * * * *
Now the prince had pretended to be ill in order to soften his parents'
hearts, and the next day he declared he felt better, and, getting into
his litter, was carried to the palace in state, drums being beaten all
along the road.
He dismounted at the foot of the steps and walked up, a great parasol
being held over his head by a slave. Then he entered the cool, dark room
where his father and mother were sitting, and said to them:
'I saw a girl yesterday in the forest whom I wish to marry, and, unknown
to my attendants, I brought her back to my house in a litter. Give me
your consent, I beg, for no other woman pleases me as well, even though
she has but one hand!'
Of course the king and queen would have preferred a daughter-in-law with
two hands, and one who could have brought riches with her, but they
could not bear to say 'No' to their son, so they told him it should be
as he chose, and that the wedding feast should be prepared immediately.
The girl could scarcely believe her good fortune, and, in gratitude for
all the kindness shown her, was so useful and pleasant to her husband's
parents that they soon loved her.
By and bye a baby was born to her, and soon after that the prince was
sent on a journey by his father to visit some of the distant towns of
the kingdom, and to set right things that had gone wrong.
No sooner had he started than the girl's brother, who had wasted all
the riches his wife had brought him in recklessness and folly, and was
now very poor, chanced to come into the town, and as he passed he heard
a man say, 'Do you know that the king's son has married a woman who has
lost one of her hands?' On hearing these words the brother stopped and
asked, 'Where did he find such a woman?'
'In the forest,' answered the man, and the cruel brother guessed at once
it must be his sister.
A great rage took possession of his soul as he thought of the girl whom
he had tried to ruin being after all so much better off than himself,
and he vowed that he would work her ill. Therefore that very afternoon
he made his way to the palace and asked to see the king.
When he was admitted to his presence, he knelt down and touched the
ground with his forehead, and the king bade him stand up and tell
wherefore he had come.
'By the kindness of your heart have you been deceived, O king,' said he.
'Your son has married a girl who has lost a hand. Do you know why she
has lost it? She was a witch, and has wedded three husbands, and each
husband she has put to death with her arts. Then the people of the town
cut off her hand, and turned her into the forest. And what I say is
true, for her town is my town also.'
The king listened, and his face grew dark. Unluckily he had a hasty
temper, and did not stop to reason, and, instead of sending to the town,
and discovering people who knew his daughter-in-law and could have told
him how hard she had worked and how poor she had been, he believed all
the brother's lying words, and made the queen believe them too. Together
they took counsel what they should do, and in the end they decided that
they also would put her out of the town. But this did not content the
brother.
'Kill her,' he said. 'It is no more than she deserves for daring to
marry the king's son. Then she can do no more hurt to anyone.'
'We cannot kill her,' answered they; 'if we did, our son would assuredly
kill us. Let us do as the others did, and put her out of the town.' And
with this the envious brother was forced to be content.
[Illustration: The One-handed Girl befriends a snake]
The poor girl loved her husband very much, but just then the baby was
more to her than all else in the world, and as long as she had him with
her, she did not very much mind anything. So, taking her son on her arm,
and hanging a little earthen pot for cooking round her neck, she left
her house with its great peacock fans and slaves and seats of ivory, and
plunged into the forest.
* * * * *
For a while she walked, not knowing whither she went, then by and bye
she grew tired, and sat under a tree to rest and to hush her baby to
sleep. Suddenly she raised her eyes, and saw a snake wriggling from
under the bushes towards her.
'I am a dead woman,' she said to herself, and stayed quite still, for
indeed she was too frightened to move. In another minute the snake had
reached her side, and to her surprise he spoke.
'Open your earthen pot, and let me go in. Save me from sun, and I will
save you from rain,' and she opened the pot, and when the snake had
slipped in, she put on the cover. Soon she beheld another snake coming
after the other one, and when it had reached her it stopped and said,
'Did you see a small grey snake pass this way just now?'
'Yes,' she answered, 'it was going very quickly.'
'Ah, I must hurry and catch it up,' replied the second snake, and it
hastened on.
When it was out of sight, a voice from the pot said:
'Uncover me,' and she lifted the lid, and the little grey snake slid
rapidly to the ground.
'I am safe now,' he said. 'But tell me, where are you going?'
'I cannot tell you, for I do not know,' she answered. 'I am just
wandering in the wood.'
'Follow me, and let us go home together,' said the snake, and the girl
followed him through the forest and along the green paths, till they
came to a great lake, where they stopped to rest.
[Illustration: "MY BABY, MY BABY!"]
'The sun is hot,' said the snake, 'and you have walked far. Take your
baby and bathe in that cool place where the boughs of the tree stretch
far over the water.'
'Yes, I will,' answered she, and they went in. The baby splashed and
crowed with delight, and then he gave a spring and fell right in, down,
down, down, and his mother could not find him, though she searched all
among the reeds.
Full of terror, she made her way back to the bank, and called to the
snake, 'My baby is gone!--he is drowned, and never shall I see him
again.'
'Go in once more,' said the snake, 'and feel everywhere, even among the
trees that have their roots in the water, lest perhaps he may be held
fast there.'
Swiftly she went back and felt everywhere with her whole hand, even
putting her fingers into the tiniest crannies, where a crab could hardly
have taken shelter.
'No, he is not here,' she cried. 'How am I to live without him?' But the
snake took no notice, and only answered, 'Put in your other arm too.'
'What is the use of that?' she asked, 'when it has no hand to feel
with?' but all the same she did as she was bid, and in an instant the
wounded arm touched something round and soft, lying between two stones
in a clump of reeds.
'My baby, my baby!' she shouted, and lifted him up, merry and laughing,
and not a bit hurt or frightened.
'Have you found him this time?' asked the snake.
'Yes, oh, yes!' she answered, 'and, why--why--I have got my hand back
again!' and from sheer joy she burst into tears.
* * * * *