what a crime is mine!” She never closed an eye all that night, but wept
till morning. When the red dawn appeared she went to her father the
Padishah, complained to him that she had lost her horse-husband, and
begged that she might go to the ends of the earth to seek him. In vain
her father tried to keep her back, in vain he pointed out to her that
her husband was now most probably among devils, and she would never be
able to find him--turn her from her resolution he could not. What could
he do but let her go on her way?
With a great desire the damsel set out on her quest, she went on and on
till her tender body was all aweary, and at last she sank down exhausted
at the foot of a great mountain. Then she called to mind the three
hairs, and she took out one and set fire to it--and lo! her lord and
master was in her arms again, and they could not speak for joy.
“Did I not bid thee tell none of my secret?” cried the youth
sorrowfully; “and now if my hag of a mother see thee she will instantly
tear thee to pieces. This mountain is our dwelling-place. She will be
here immediately, and woe to thee if she see thee!”
The poor Sultan’s daughter was terribly frightened, and wept worse than
ever at the thought of losing her lord again, after all her trouble in
finding him. The heart of the devil’s son was touched at her sorrow: he
struck her once, changed her into an apple, and put her on the shelf.
The hag flew down from the mountain with a terrible racket, and
screeched out that she smelt the smell of a man, and her mouth watered
for the taste of human flesh. In vain her son denied that there was any
human flesh there, she would not believe him one bit.
“If thou wilt swear by the egg not to be offended, I’ll show thee what
I’ve hidden,” said her son. The hag swore, and her son gave the apple a
tap, and there before them stood the beautiful damsel. “Behold my wife!”
said he to his mother. The old mother said never a word, what was done
could not be undone. “I’ll give the bride something to do all the same,”
thought she.
They lived a couple of days together in peace and quiet, but the hag was
only waiting for her son to leave the house. At last one day the youth
had work to do elsewhere, and scarcely had he put his foot out of doors
when the hag said to the damsel: “Come, sweep and sweep not!” and with
that she went out and said she should not be back till evening. The
girl thought to herself again and again: “What am I to do now? What did
she mean by ‘sweep and sweep not’?” Then she thought of the hairs, and
she took out and burned the second hair also. Immediately her lord stood
before her and asked her what was the matter, and the girl told him of
his mother’s command: “Sweep and sweep not!” Then her lord explained to
her that she was to sweep out the chamber, but not to sweep the
ante-chamber.
The girl did as she was told, and when the hag came home in the evening
she asked the girl whether she had accomplished her task. “Yes, little
mother,” replied the bride, “I have swept and I have not swept.”--“Thou
daughter of a dog,” cried the old witch, “not thine own wit but my son’s
mouth hath told thee this thing.”
The next morning when the hag got up she gave the damsel vases, and told
her to fill them with tears. The moment the hag had gone the damsel
placed the three vases before her, and wept and wept, but what could her
few teardrops do to fill them? Then she took out and burned the third
hair.
Again her lord appeared before her, and explained to her that she must
fill the three vases with water, and then put a pinch of salt in each
vase. The girl did so, and when the hag came home in the evening and
demanded an account of her work, the girl showed her the three vases
full of tears. “Thou daughter of a dog!” chided the old woman again,
“that is not thy work; but I’ll do for thee yet, and for my son too.”
The next day she devised some other task for her to do; but her son
guessed that his mother would vex the wench, so he hastened home to his
bride. There the poor thing was worrying herself about it all alone, for
the third hair was now burnt, and she did not know how to set about
doing the task laid upon her. “Well, there is now nothing for it but to
run away,” said her lord, “for she won’t rest now till she hath done
thee a mischief.” And with that he took his wife, and out into the wide
world they went.
In the evening the hag came home, and saw neither her son nor his bride.
“They have flown, the dogs!” cried the hag, with a threatening voice,
and she called to her sister, who was also a witch, to make ready and go
in pursuit of her son and his bride. So the witch jumped into a pitcher,
snatched up a serpent for a whip, and went after them.
The demon-lover saw his aunt coming, and in an instant changed the girl
into a bathing-house, and himself into a bath-man sitting down at the
gate. The witch leaped from the pitcher, went to the bath-keeper, and
asked him if he had not seen a young boy and girl pass by that way.
“I have only just warmed up my bath,” said the youth, “there’s nobody
inside it; if thou dost not believe me, thou canst go and look for
thyself.” The witch thought: “‘Tis impossible to get a sensible word out
of a fellow of this sort,” so she jumped into her pitcher, flew back,
and told her sister that she couldn’t find them. The other hag asked her
whether she had exchanged words with any one on the road. “Yes,” replied
the younger sister, “there was a bath-house by the roadside, and I asked
the owner of it about them; but he was either a fool or deaf, so I took
no notice of him.”
“‘Tis thou who wert the fool,” snarled her elder sister. “Didst thou not
recognize in him my son, and in the bath-house my daughter-in-law?” Then
she called her second sister, and sent her after the fugitives.
The devil’s son saw his second aunt flying along in her pitcher. Then he
gave his wife a tap and turned her into a spring, but he himself sat
down beside it, and began to draw water out of it with a pitcher. The
witch went up to him, and asked him whether he had seen a girl and a boy
pass by that way.
“There’s drinkable water in this spring,” replied he, with a vacant
stare, “I am always drawing it.” The witch thought she had to do with a
fool, turned back, and told her sister that she had not met with them.
Her sister asked her if she had not come across any one by the way.
“Yes, indeed,” replied she, “a half-witted fellow was drawing water from
a spring, but I couldn’t get a single sensible word out of him.”
“That half-witted fellow was my son, the spring was his wife, and a
pretty wiseacre thou art,” screeched her sister. “I shall have to go
myself, I see,” and with that she jumped into her pitcher, snatched up a
serpent to serve her as a whip, and off she went.
Meanwhile the youth looked back again, and saw his mother coming after
them. He gave the girl a tap and changed her into a tree, but he himself
turned into a serpent, and coiled himself round the tree. The witch
recognized them, and drew near to the tree to break it to pieces; but
when she saw the serpent coiled round it, she was afraid to kill her own
son along with it, so she said to her son: “Son, son! show me, at least,
the girl’s little finger, and then I’ll leave you both in peace.” The
son saw that he could not free himself from her any other way, and that
she must have at least a little morsel of the damsel to nibble at. So he
showed her one of the girl’s little fingers, and the old hag wrenched
it off, and returned to her domains with it. Then the youth gave the
girl a tap and himself another tap, put on human shape again, and away
they went to the girl’s father, the Padishah. The youth, since his
talisman had been destroyed, remained a mortal man, but the diabolical
part of him stayed at home with his witch-mother and her kindred. The
Padishah rejoiced greatly in his children, gave them a wedding-banquet
with a wave of his finger, and they inherited the realm after his
death.
THE CINDER-YOUTH
Once upon a time that was no time, in the days when the servants of
Allah were many and the misery of man was great, there lived a poor
woman who had three sons and one daughter. The youngest son was
half-witted, and used to roll about all day in the warm ashes.
One day the two elder brothers went out to plough, and said to their
mother: “Boil us something, and send our sister out with it into the
field.”--Now the three-faced devil had pitched his tent close to this
field, and in order that the girl might not come near them he determined
to persuade her to go all round about instead of straight to them.
The mother cooked the dinner and the girl went into the field with it,
but the devil contrived to make her lose her road, so that she wandered
further and further away from the place where she wanted to go. At last,
when her poor head was quite confused, the devil’s wife appeared before
her and asked the terrified girl what she meant by trespassing there.
Then she talked her over and persuaded her to come home with her, that
she might hide her from the vengeance of the devil, her husband.
But the three-faced devil had got home before them, and when they
arrived the old woman told the girl to make haste and get something
ready to eat while her maid-servant stirred up the fire. But scarcely
had she begun to get the dish ready than the devil crept stealthily up
behind her, opened his mouth wide, and swallowed the girl whole, clothes
and all.
Meanwhile her brothers were waiting in the field for their dinner, but
neither the damsel nor the victuals appeared. Afternoon came and went
and evening too, and then the lads went home, and when they heard from
their mother that their sister had gone to seek them early in the
morning they suspected what had happened--their little sister must have
fallen into the hands of the devil. The two elder brothers did not think
twice about it, but the elder of them set off at once to seek his
sister.
He went on and on, puffing at his chibook, sniffing the perfume of
flowers and drinking coffee, till he came to an oven by the wayside. By
the oven sat an old man, who asked the youth on what errand he was
bent. The youth told him of his sister’s case, and said he was going in
search of the three-faced devil, and would not be content till he had
killed him.--“Thou wilt never be able to slay the devil,” said the man,
“till thou hast eaten of bread that has been baked in this oven.”--The
youth thought this no very difficult matter, took the loaves out of the
oven, but scarcely had he bitten a piece out of one of them than the
oven, the man, and the loaves all disappeared before his eyes, and the
bit he had taken swelled within him so that he nearly burst.
The youth hadn’t gone two steps further on when he saw on the highway a
large cauldron, and the cauldron was full of wine. A man was sitting in
front of the cauldron, and he asked him the way, and told him the tale
of the devil. “Thou wilt never be able to cope with the devil,” said the
man, “if thou dost not drink of this wine.” The youth drank, but: “Woe
betide my stomach, woe betide my bowels!” for so plagued was he that he
could not have stood upright if he had not seen two bridges before him.
One of these bridges was of wood and the other was of iron, and beyond
the two bridges were two apple-trees, and one bore unripe bitter apples
and the other sweet ripe ones.
The three-faced devil was waiting on the road to see which bridge he
would choose, the wooden or the iron one, and which apples he would eat,
the sour or the sweet ones. The youth went along the iron bridge, lest
the wooden one might break down, and plucked the sweet apples, because
the green ones were bitter. That was just what the devil wanted him to
do, and he at once sent his mother to meet the youth and entice him into
his house as he had done his sister, and it was not long before he also
found his way into the devil’s belly.
And next in order, the middling brother, not wishing to be behind-hand,
also went in search of his kinsmen. He also could not eat of the bread
his inside also was plagued by the wine, he went across the iron bridge
and ate of the sweet apples, and so he also found his way into the
devil’s belly. Only the youngest brother who lay among the ashes
remained. His mother besought him not to forsake her in her old age. If
the others had gone he at least could remain and comfort her, she said.
But the youth would not listen. “I will not rest,” said Cinderer, “till
I have found the three lost ones, my two brothers and my sister, and
slain the devil.” Then he rose from his chimney corner, and no sooner
had he shaken the ashes from off him than such a tempest arose that all
the labourers at work in the fields left their ploughs where they stood,
and ran off as far as their eyes could see. Then the youngest son
gathered together the ploughshares and bade a blacksmith make a lance of
them, but a lance of such a kind as would fly into the air and come back
again to the hand that hurled it without breaking its iron point. The
smith made the lance, and the youth hurled it. Up into the air flew the
lance, but when it came down again on to the tip of his little finger it
broke to pieces. Then the youth shook himself still more violently in
the ashes, and again the labourers in the field fled away before the
terrible tempest which immediately arose, and the youth gathered
together a still greater multitude of ploughshares and took them to the
smith. The smith made a second lance, and that also flew up into the air
and broke to pieces when it came down again. Then the youth shook
himself in the ashes a third time, and such a hurricane arose that there
was scarce a ploughshare in the whole country-side that was not carried
away. It was only with great difficulty that the smith could make the
third lance, but when that came down on the youth’s finger it did not
break in pieces like the others. “This will do pretty well,” said the
youth, and catching up the lance he went forth into the wide world.
He went on and on and on till he also came to the oven and the cauldron.
The men who guarded the oven and the cauldron stopped him and asked him
his business, and on finding out that he was going to kill the devil,
they told the youth that he must first eat the bread of the oven and
then drink the wine in the cauldron if he could. The son of the cinders
wished for nothing better. He ate the loaves that were baked in the
oven, drank all the wine, and further on he saw the wooden bridge and
the iron bridge, and beyond the bridges the apple-trees.
The devil had observed the youth from afar, and his courage began to
ooze out of him when he saw the deeds of the son of the ashes. “Any fool
can go across the iron bridge,” thought the youth, “I’ll go across the
wooden one,” and as it was no very great feat to eat the sweet apples he
ate the sour ones.--“There will be no joking with this one,” said the
devil, “I see I must get ready my lance and measure my strength with
him.”
The son of the ashes saw the devil from afar, and full of the knowledge
of his own valour went straight up to him.
“If thou doest not homage to me, I’ll swallow thee straight off,” cried
the devil.
“And if thou doest not homage to me, I’ll knock thee to pieces with my
lance,” replied the youth.
“Oh ho! if we’re so brave as all that,” cried the three-faced monster,
“let us out with our lances without losing any more time.”
So the devil out with his lance, whirled it round his head, and aimed it
with all his might at the youth, who gave but one little twist with his
finger, and crick-crack! the devil’s lance broke all to bits. “Now it’s
my turn,” cried the son of the cinders; and he hurled his lance at the
devil with such force that the devil’s first soul flew out of his
nose.--“At it again once more, if thou art a man,” yelled the devil,
with a great effort. “Not I,” cried the youth, “for my mother only bore
me once,” whereupon the devil breathed forth his last soul also. Then
the youth went on to seek the devil’s wife. Her also he chased down the
road after her husband, and when he had cut them both in two, lo and
behold! all three of his kinsfolk stood before him, so he turned back
home and took them with him. Now his brothers and sister had grown very
thirsty in the devil’s belly, and when they saw a large well by the
wayside, they asked their brother Cinder-son to draw them a little
water. Then the youths took off their girdles, tied them together, and
let down the biggest brother, but he had scarcely descended more than
half-way down when he began to shriek unmercifully: “Oh, oh, draw me up,
I have had enough,” so that they had to pull him up and let the second
brother try. And with him it fared the same way. “Now ’tis my turn,”
cried Cinder-son, “but mind you do not pull me
[Illustration: The Cinder-Youth and the Three Damsels.--p. 91.]
up, however loudly I holloa.” So they let down the youngest brother, and
he too began to holloa and bawl, but they paid no heed to it, and let
him down till he stood on the dry bottom of the well. A door stood
before him, he opened it, and there were three lovely damsels sitting in
a room together, and each of them shone like the moon when she is only
fourteen days old. The three damsels were amazed at the sight of the
youth. How durst he come into the devil’s cavern? they asked--and they
begged and besought him to escape as he valued dear life. But the youth
would not budge at any price, till he had got the better of this devil
also. The end of the matter was that he slew the devil and released the
three damsels, who were Sultan’s daughters, and had been stolen from
their fathers and kept here for the last seven years. The two elder
princesses he intended for his two brothers, but the youngest, who was
also the loveliest, he chose for himself, and filling the pitcher with
water he brought the damsels to the bottom of the well, right below the
mouth of it.
First of all he let them draw up the eldest princess for his eldest
brother, then he made them pull up the middling princess for his
middling brother, and then it came to the youngest damsel’s turn. But
she desired that the youth should be drawn up at all hazards and herself
afterwards. “Thy brethren,” she explained, “will be wroth with thee for
keeping the loveliest damsel for thyself, and will not draw thee out of
the well for sheer jealousy.”
“I’ll find my way out even then,” answered the youth, and though she
begged and besought him till there was no more soul in her, he would not
listen to her. Then the damsel drew from her breast a casket and said to
the youth: “If any mischief befall thee, open this casket. Inside it is
a piece of flint, and if thou strike it once a negro efrit will appear
before thee and fulfil all thy desires. If thy brethren leave thee in
the well, go to the palace of the devil and stand by the well. Two rams
come there every day, a black one and a white one; if thou cling fast to
the white one, thou wilt come to the surface of the earth, but if thou
cling on to the black one thou wilt sink down into the seventh world.”
Then he let them draw up the youngest damsel, and no sooner did his
brethren see their brother’s bride and perceive that she was the
loveliest of all, than jealousy overtook them, and in their wrath they
left him in the well and went home with the damsels.
So what else could the poor youth at the bottom of the well do than go
back to the devil’s palace, stand by the well, and wait for the two
rams? Not very long afterwards a white ram came bounding along before
him, and after that a black ram, and the youth, instead of catching
hold of the white ram, seized the black one and immediately perceived
that he was at the bottom of the seventh world.... He went on and on, he
went for a long time and he went for a short time, he went by day and he
went by night, he went up hill and down dale till he could do no more,
and stopped short by a large tree to take a little rest. But what was
that he saw before him? A large serpent was gliding up the trunk of the
tree and would have devoured all the young birds on the tree if
Cinder-son had let him. But the youth quickly drew forth his lance and
cut the serpent in two with a single blow. Then, like one who has done
his work well, he lay down at the foot of the tree, and inasmuch as he
was tired and it was warm he fell asleep at once.
Now while he slept the emerald Anka, who is the mother of the birds and
the Padishah of the Peris, passed by that way, and when she saw the
sleeping youth she fancied him to be her enemy, who was wont to destroy
her children year by year. She was about to cut him to pieces, when the
birds whispered to her not to hurt the youth, because he had killed
their enemy the serpent. It was only then that the Anka perceived the
two halves of the serpent. And now, lest anything should harm the
sleeping youth, she hopped round and round him, and touched him softly
and sheltered him with both her wings lest the sun should scorch him,
and when he awoke from his sleep the wing of the bird was spread over
him like a tent. And now the Anka approached him and said she would fain
reward him for his good deed, and he might make a request of her. Then
replied the youth: “I would fain get to the surface of the earth again.”
“Be it so,” said the emerald bird, “but first thou must get forty tons
of ox-flesh and forty pitchers of water and sit on my back with them, so
that when I say ‘Gik!’ thou mayest give me to eat, and when I say ‘Gak!’
thou mayest give me to drink.”
Then the youth bethought him of his casket, took the flint-stone out of
it, and struck it once, and immediately a black efrit with a mouth as
big as the world stood before him and said: “What dost thou command, my
Sultan?”--“Forty tons of ox-flesh, and forty pitchers of water,” said
the youth. In a short time the efrit brought the flesh and the water,
and the youth packed it all up together and mounted on the wing of the
bird. Off they went, and whenever the Anka cried “Gik!” he gave her
flesh, and whenever she cried “Gak!” he gave her water. They flew from
one layer of worlds to the next, till in a short time they got above the
surface of the earth again, and he dismounted from the bird’s back and
said to her: “Wait here a while, and in a short time I shall be back.”
Then the youth took out his coffer, struck the flint-stone, and bade the
black bounding efrit get him tidings of the three sisters. In a short
time the efrit re-appeared with the three damsels, who were preparing a
banquet for the brothers. He made them all sit on the bird’s back, took
with him again forty tons of ox-flesh and forty pitchers of water, and
away they all went to the land of the three damsels. Every time the Anka
said “Gik!” he gave her flesh to eat, and every time she said “Gak!” he
gave her water to drink. But as the youth now had three with him besides
himself, it came to pass that the flesh ran short, so that when the Anka
said “Gik!” once more he had nothing to give her. Then the youth drew
his knife, cut a piece of flesh out of his thigh, and stuffed it into
the bird’s mouth.[10] The Anka perceived that it was human flesh and did
not eat it, but kept it in her mouth, and when they had reached the
realm of the three damsels, the bird told him that he might now go in
peace.
But the poor youth could not move a step because of the smart in his
leg. “Thou go on first,” he said to the bird, “but I will first rest me
here a while.”
“Nay, but thou art a droll rogue,” quoth the bird, and with that it spit
out of its mouth the piece of human flesh and put it back in its proper
place just as if it had never been cut out.
The whole city was amazed at the sight of the return of the Sultan’s
daughters. The old Padishah could scarce believe his own eyes. He looked
and looked and then he embraced the first princess; he looked and looked
and then he kissed the second princess, and when they had told him the
story he gave his whole kingdom and his three daughters to Cinder-son.
Then the youth sent for his mother and his sister, and they all sat down
to the banquet together. Moreover he found his sister a husband who was
the son of the Vizier, and for forty days and forty nights they were
full of joyfulness.
THE PIECE OF LIVER