these little unpleasantnesses, of which they did not think it proper
to boast, preparations were being made for a great event at Kerver
Castle, namely, the marriage of Yvon and the fair-haired lady. Two
days had passed in these preparations, and all the friends of the
family had gathered together for twenty leagues round, when, one fine
morning Yvon and his bride, with the Baron and Baroness Kerver, took
their seats in a great carriage adorned with flowers, and set out for
the celebrated church of St. Maclou.
A hundred knights in full armor, mounted on horses decked with
ribbons, rode on each side of the betrothed couple, each with his
vizor raised and his lance at rest in token of honor. By the side of
each baron, a squire, also on horseback, carried the seigniorial
banner. At the head of the procession rode the seneschal, with a
gilded staff in his hand. Behind the carriage gravely walked the
bailiff, followed by the vassals, while the steward railed at the
serfs, a noisy and curious rabble.
As they were crossing a brook, a league from the castle, one of the
traces of the carriage broke, and they were forced to stop. The
accident repaired, the coachman cracked his whip, and the horses
started with such force that the new trace broke in three pieces. Six
times this provoking piece of wood was replaced, and six times it
broke anew, without drawing the carriage from the hole where it was
wedged.
Every one had a word of advice to offer; even the peasants, as
wheelwrights and carpenters, were not the last to make a show of their
knowledge. This gave the steward courage; he approached the baron,
took off his cap, and, scratching his head,
"My lord," said he, "in the house that you see shining yonder among
the trees there lives a woman who does things such as nobody else can
do. Only persuade her to lend you her tongs, and, in my opinion, they
will hold till morning."
The baron made a sign, and ten peasants ran to the cottage of Finette,
who very obligingly lent them her gold tongs. They were put in the
place of the trace; the coachman cracked his whip, and off went the
carriage like a feather.
Every one rejoiced, but the joy did not last long. A hundred steps
farther, lo! the bottom of the carriage gave way; little more, and the
noble Kerver family would have sunk quite out of sight. The
wheelwrights and the carpenters set to work at once; they sawed
planks, nailed them down fast, and in the twinkling of an eye repaired
the accident. The coachman cracked his whip and the horses started,
when, behold! half of the carriage was left behind; the Baroness
Kerver sat motionless by the side of the bride, while Yvon and the
baron were carried off at full gallop. Here was a new difficulty.
Three times was the carriage mended, three times it broke anew. There
was every reason to believe that it was enchanted.
Every one had a word of advice to offer. This gave the bailiff
courage. He approached the baron and said, in a low tone:
"My lord, in the house that you see shining yonder among the trees
there lives a woman who does things such as nobody else can do. Only
persuade her to lend you her door for the bottom of the carriage, and,
in my opinion, it will hold till morning."
The baron made a sign, and twenty peasants ran to the cottage of
Finette, who very obligingly lent them her gold door. They put it in
the bottom of the carriage, where it fitted as if it had been made
expressly for it. The party took their seats in the carriage, the
coachman cracked his whip, the church was in sight, and all the
troubles of the journey seemed ended.
Not at all! Suddenly the horses stopped and refused to draw. There
were four of them. Six, eight, ten, twenty-four more were put to the
carriage, but all in vain; it was impossible to stir them. The more
they were whipped the deeper the wheels sunk into the ground, like the
coulter of a plow.
What were they to do? To go on foot would have been a disgrace. To
mount a horse and ride to the church like simple peasants was not the
custom of the Kervers. They tried to lift the carriage, they pushed
the wheels, they shook it, they pulled it, but all in vain. Meanwhile
the day was declining and the hour for the marriage had passed.
Every one had a word of advice to offer. This gave the seneschal
courage. He approached the baron, alighted from his horse, raised his
velvet cap, and said:
"My lord, in the house that you see shining yonder among the trees
there lives a woman who does things such as nobody else can do. Only
persuade her to lend you her cow to draw the carriage, and, in my
opinion, she will draw it till morning."
The baron made a sign, and thirty peasants ran to the cottage of
Finette, who very obligingly lent them her golden-horned cow.
To go to church drawn by a cow was not, perhaps, what the ambitious
bride had dreamed of, but it was better than to remain unmarried in
the road. The heifer was harnessed, therefore, before the four horses,
and everybody looked on anxiously to see what this boasted animal
would do.
But before the coachman had time to crack his whip, lo! the cow
started off as if she were about to go around the world anew. Horses,
carriage, baron, betrothed, coachman, all were hurried away by the
furious animal. In vain the knights spurred their horses to follow the
pair; in vain the peasants ran at full speed, taking the cross-road
and cutting across the meadows. The carriage flew as if it had wings;
a pigeon could not have followed it.
On reaching the door of the church, the party, a little disturbed by
this rapid journey, would not have been sorry to alight. Everything
was ready for the ceremony and the bridal pair had long been expected;
but, instead of stopping, the cow redoubled her speed. Thirteen times
she ran round the church like lightning, then suddenly made her way in
a straight line across the fields to the castle, with such force that
the whole party were almost shaken to pieces before their arrival.
VII
No more marriage was to be thought of for that day; but the tables
were set and the dinner served, and the Baron Kerver was too noble a
knight to take leave of his brave Bretons until they had eaten and
drunk according to custom--that is, from sunset till sunrise, and even
a little later.
Orders were given for the guests to take their seats. Ninety-six
tables were ranged in eight rows. In front of them, on a large
platform covered with velvet, with a canopy in the middle, was a table
larger than the rest, and loaded with fruit and flowers, to say
nothing of the roast hares, and the peacocks smoking beneath their
plumage. At this table the bridal pair were to have been seated in
full sight, in order that nothing might be lacking to the pleasures
of the feast, and that the meanest peasant might have the honor of
saluting them by emptying his cup of hydromel to the honor and
prosperity of the high and mighty house of Kerver.
The baron seated the hundred knights at his table, and placed their
squires behind their chairs to serve them. At his right he put the
bride and Yvon, but he left the seat at his left vacant, and, calling
a page, "Child," said he, "run to the house of the stranger lady who
obliged us only too much this morning. It was not her fault if her
success exceeded her good will. Tell her that the Baron Kerver thanks
her for her help and invites her to the wedding feast of his son, Lord
Yvon."
On reaching the golden house, where Finette, in tears, was mourning
for her beloved, the page bent one knee to the ground and, in the
baron's name, invited the stranger lady to the castle to do honor to
the wedding of Lord Yvon.
"Thank your master for me," answered the young girl, proudly, "and
tell him that if he is too noble to come to my house, I am too noble
to go to his."
When the page repeated this answer to his master the Baron Kerver
struck the table such a blow that three plates flew in the air.
"By my honor," said he, "this is spoken like a lady, and for the first
time I own myself beaten. Quick, saddle my dun mare, and let my
knights and squires prepare to attend me."
It was with this brilliant train that the baron alighted at the door
of the golden cottage. He begged Finette's pardon, held the stirrup
for her, and seated her behind him on his own horse, neither more nor
less than a duchess in person. Through respect, he did not speak a
single word to her on the way. On reaching the castle he uncovered his
head and led her to the seat of honor that he had chosen for her.
The baron's departure had made a great excitement, and his return
caused still greater surprise. Every one asked who the lady could be
that the baron treated with such respect. Judging from her costume,
she was a foreigner. Could she be the Duchess of Normandy or the Queen
of France? The steward, the bailiff, and the seneschal were appealed
to. The steward trembled, the bailiff turned pale, and the seneschal
blushed, but all three were as mute as fishes. The silence of these
important personages added to the general wonder.
All eyes were fixed on Finette, who felt a deadly chill at her heart,
for Yvon saw, but did not know her. He cast an indifferent glance at
her, then began again to talk in a tender tone to the fair-haired
lady, who smiled disdainfully.
Finette, in despair, took from the purse the golden bullet, her last
hope. While talking with the baron, who was charmed with her wit, she
shook the little ball in her hand, and repeated, in a whisper,
"Golden bullet, precious treasure,
Save me, if it be thy pleasure."
And behold! the bullet grew larger and larger, until it became a
goblet of chased gold, the most beautiful cup that ever graced the
table of baron or king.
Finette filled the cup herself with spiced wine, and, calling the
seneschal, who was cowering behind her, she said, in her gentlest
tones, "My good seneschal, I entreat you to offer this goblet to Lord
Yvon. I wish to drink his health, and I am sure that he will not
refuse me this pleasure."
Yvon took the goblet, which the seneschal presented to him on a salver
of enamel and gold, with a careless hand, bowed to the stranger, drank
the wine, and, setting the cup on the table before him, turned to the
fair-haired lady who occupied all his thoughts. The lady seemed
anxious and vexed. He whispered a few words in her ear that seemed to
please her, for her eyes sparkled, and she placed her hand again in
his.
Finette cast down her head and began to weep. All was over.
"Children," cried the baron, in a voice of thunder, "fill your
glasses. Let us drink to the noble stranger who honors us with her
presence. To the noble lady of the golden cottage!"
All began to huzzah and drink. Yvon contented himself with raising his
goblet to a level with his eyes. Suddenly he started and stood mute,
his mouth open and his eyes fixed, like a man that has a vision.
It was a vision. In the gold of the goblet Yvon saw his past life as
in a mirror: the giant pursuing him; Finette dragging him along; both
embarking in the ship that saved them; both landing on the shore of
Brittany; he quitting her for an instant; she weeping at his
departure. Where was she? By his side, of course. What other woman
than Finette could be by the side of Yvon?
He turned toward the fair-haired lady and cried out like a man
treading on a serpent. Then, staggering as if he were drunk, he rose
and looked around him with haggard eyes. At the sight of Finette he
clasped his trembling hands and, dragging himself toward her, fell on
his knees and exclaimed, "Finette, forgive me!"
To forgive is the height of happiness. Before evening Finette was
seated by the side of Yvon, both weeping and smiling.
And what became of the fair-haired lady? No one knows. At the cry of
Yvon she disappeared; but it was said that a wretched old hag was seen
flying on a broomstick over the castle walls, chased by the dogs; and
it was the common opinion among the Kervers that the fair-haired lady
was none other than the witch, the godmother of the giant. I am not
sure enough of the fact, however, to dare warrant it. It is always
prudent to believe, without proof, that a woman may be a witch, but it
is never wise to say so.
What I can say on the word of a historian is that the feast,
interrupted for a moment, went on gayer than ever. Early the next
morning they went to the church, where, to the joy of his heart, Yvon
married Finette, who was no longer afraid of evil spirits; after which
they ate, drank, and danced for thirty-six hours, without any one
thinking of resting. The steward's arms were a little heavy, the
bailiff rubbed his back at times, and the seneschal felt a sort of
weariness in his limbs, but all three had a weight on their
consciences which they could not shake off, and which made them
tremble and flutter, till finally they fell on the ground and were
carried off. Finette took no other vengeance on them; her only desire
was to render all happy around her, far and near, who belonged to the
noble house of Kerver. Her memory still lives in Brittany; and among
the ruins of the old castle, any one will show you the statue of the
good lady, with five bullets in her hand.
_The_ Castle _of_ Life
[Illustration:]
Once upon a time there lived at Salerno a poor old woman who earned
her bread by fishing, and whose only comfort and stay in life was her
grandson, a boy twelve years of age, whose father had been drowned in
a storm and whose mother had died of grief. Graceful, for this was the
child's name, loved nobody in the world but his grandmother; he
followed her to the shore every morning before daybreak to pick up the
shell-fish or draw the net to the beach, longing for the time when he
should be strong enough to go to sea himself and brave the waves that
had swallowed up all his kindred. He was so handsome, so well made,
and so promising, that no sooner had he entered the town with his
basket of fish on his head than every one ran after him, and he sold
the whole before he reached the market.
Unfortunately, the grandmother was very old; she had but one front
tooth left, her head shook with age, and her eyes were dim. Every
morning she found it harder to rise than the day before. Feeling that
she had but a few days longer to live, at night, before Graceful
wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down on the ground to sleep,
she always gave him good counsels for him to follow when she was gone;
she told him what fishermen to avoid, and how, by being good and
industrious, prudent and resolute, he would make his way in the world
and finally have a boat and nets of his own. The poor boy paid little
heed to all this wisdom. As soon as his grandmother began to put on a
grave air he threw his arms around her neck and cried: "Grandmamma,
grandmamma, don't leave me. I have hands, I am strong, I shall soon be
able to work for us both; but if you were not here at night when I
came home from fishing, what would become of me?"
"My child," said the old woman one day to him, "I shall not leave you
so much alone as you think; when I am gone you will have two powerful
protectors whom more than one prince might envy you. A long time ago I
did a favor to two great ladies, who will not forget you when the time
comes to call them, which will be very soon."
"Who are these two ladies?" asked Graceful, who had never seen any
women but fishermen's wives in the hut.
"They are two fairies," replied his grandmother--"two powerful
fairies--the Fairy of the Woods and the Fairy of the Waters. Listen to
me, my child; I am going to intrust you with a secret--a secret which
you must keep as carefully as I have done, and which will give you
wealth and happiness. Ten years ago, the same year that your father
died and your mother also left us, I went out one morning before
daybreak to surprise the crabs asleep in the sand. As I was stooping
down, hidden by a rock, I saw a kingfisher slowly floating toward the
beach. The kingfisher is a sacred bird which should always be
respected; knowing this, I let it alight and did not stir, for fear of
frightening it. At the same moment I saw a beautiful green adder come
from a cleft of the mountain and crawl along the sand toward the bird.
When they were near each other, without either seeming surprised at
the meeting, the adder coiled itself around the neck of the
kingfisher, as if tenderly embracing it; they remained thus entwined
for a few moments, after which they suddenly separated, the adder to
return to the rock, and the kingfisher to plunge into the waves which
bore it away.
[Illustration: AT NIGHT THE GRANDMOTHER ALWAYS GAVE HIM GOOD COUNSELS
FOR HIM TO FOLLOW WHEN SHE WAS GONE]
"Greatly astonished at what I had seen, I returned the next morning at
the same hour, and at the same hour the kingfisher also alighted on
the sands and the adder came from its retreat. There was no doubt that
they were fairies, perhaps enchanted fairies, to whom I could render a
service. But what was I to do? To show myself would have been to
displease them and run into danger; it was better to wait for a
favorable opportunity which chance would doubtless offer. For a whole
month I lay in ambush, witnessing the same spectacle every morning,
when one day I saw a huge black cat arrive first at the place of
meeting and hide itself behind a rock, almost under my hand. A black
cat could be nothing else than an enchanter, according to what I had
learned in my childhood, and I resolved to watch him. Scarcely had the
kingfisher and the adder embraced each other when, behold! the cat
gathered itself up and sprang upon these innocents. It was my turn to
throw myself upon the wretch, who already held his victims in his
murderous claws; I seized him, despite his struggles, although he tore
my hands in pieces, and without pity, knowing with whom I had to deal,
I took the knife which I used to open shell-fish, and cut off the
monster's head, claws, and tail, confidently awaiting the success of
my devotion.
"I did not wait long; no sooner had I thrown the body of the animal
into the sea than I saw before me two beautiful ladies, one crowned
with white plumes, the other with a serpent's skin thrown like a scarf
across her shoulder. They were, as I have already told you, the Fairy
of the Waters and the Fairy of the Woods, who, enchanted by a wretched
genie who had learned their secret, had been forced to remain a
kingfisher and an adder until freed by some generous hand, and who
owed me their power and freedom.
"'Ask of us what you will,' said they, 'and your request shall be
instantly granted.'
"I reflected that I was old, and had suffered too much in life to wish
to begin it anew, while the day would come, my child, when nothing
would be too great for your desires; when you wish to be rich,
noble--a general, a marquis, a prince, perhaps! When that day comes,
thought I, I can give him everything, and a single moment of such
happiness will repay me for eighty years of pain and misery. I thanked
the fairies, therefore, and entreated them to keep their good will
till the day when I should have need of it. The Fairy of the Waters
took a small feather from her crown, and the Fairy of the Woods
detached a scale from her scarf.
"'My good woman,' said they, 'when you wish for us, place this feather
and this scale in a vessel of pure water and call on us, making a
wish. Should we be at the end of the world, we will be at your side in
an instant, ready to pay the debt we owe you.'
"I bowed my head in token of gratitude. When I raised it all had
vanished; even the wounds and blood had disappeared from my hands, and
I should have thought that I had been dreaming, had not the scale of
the serpent and the feather of the kingfisher remained in my hand."
"And where are these treasures, grandmamma?" asked Graceful.
"My child, I have carefully concealed them," answered the old woman,
"not wishing to show them to you till you were a man and able to make
use of them; but since death is about to separate us, the moment has
come to give you these precious talismans. You will find at the back
of the cupboard a wooden chest hidden under some rags; in the chest is
a little pasteboard box, wound about with tow; open this box and you
will find the scale and the feather carefully wrapped in cotton. Take
care not to break them; handle them respectfully, and I will tell you
what next to do."
Graceful brought the box to the poor woman, who was no longer able to
quit her pallet, and she herself took from it the two articles.
"Now," said she, giving them to her grandson, "put a bowlful of water
in the middle of the room; place the scale and the feather in the
water, and make a wish--wish for fortune, nobility, wit, power,
whatever you please; only, as I feel that I am dying, kiss me once
more, my child, before speaking the words that will separate us
forever, and receive my last blessing; it will be another talisman to
bring you happiness."
But, to the old woman's surprise, Graceful did not come near her,
either to kiss her or to receive her blessing. He quickly placed the
bowl in the middle of the room, threw the feather and scale into the
water, and shouted at the top of his voice, "Appear, Fairy of the
Waters! I wish that my grandmother may live forever. Appear, Fairy of
the Woods! I wish that my grandmother may live forever."
And behold! the water bubbled, bubbled, bubbled; the bowl grew to a
great basin, which the walls of the hut could scarcely hold, and from
the bottom of the basin Graceful saw two beautiful young women rise,
whom he knew directly from their wands to be fairies. One wore a crown
of holly leaves mixed with red berries, and diamond ear-rings
resembling acorns in their cups; she was dressed in a robe of olive
green, over which a speckled skin was knotted like a scarf across the
right shoulder--this was the Fairy of the Woods. As to the Fairy of
the Waters, she wore a garland of reeds on her head, with a white robe
trimmed with the feathers of aquatic birds, and a blue scarf, which
now and then rose above her head and fluttered like the sail of a
ship. Great ladies as they were, they looked smilingly at Graceful,
who had taken refuge in his grandmother's arms, and trembled with fear
and admiration.
"Here we are, my child," said the Fairy of the Waters, who spoke
first, as the eldest. "We have heard what you said, and your wish does
you honor; but, though we can help you in the plan which you have
conceived, you alone can execute it. We can, indeed, prolong your
grandmother's life for some time, but, for her to live forever, you
must go the Castle of Life, four long days' journey from here, on the
coast of Sicily. There you will find the Fountain of Immortality. If
you can accomplish each of these four days' journey without turning
aside from the road, and, on reaching the castle, can answer three
questions that will be put to you by an invisible voice, you will
obtain what you desire. But, my child, reflect well before undertaking
this adventure, for you will meet more than one danger on the way; and
if you fail a single time to reach the end of your day's journey you
will not only miss the object of your pursuit, but you will never quit
the country, from which none has ever returned."
"I will go, madam," returned Graceful.
"But you are very young, my child," said the Fairy of the Woods, "and
you do not even know the way."
"No matter," replied Graceful. "I am sure, beautiful ladies, that you
will not forsake me, and to save my grandmother I would go to the end
of the world."
"Wait," said the Fairy of the Woods. Then separating the lead from a
broken window-pane, she placed it in the hollow of her hand.
And behold! the lead began to melt and bubble without seeming to burn
the fairy, who threw the metal on the hearth, where it cooled in a
thousand different forms.
"What do you see in all that?" said the fairy to Graceful.
"It seems to me, madam," said he, after looking attentively, "that I
see a spaniel with a long tail and large ears."
"Call him," said the fairy.
A barking was instantly heard, and forth from the metal sprang a black
and flame-colored spaniel, which began to gambol and leap around
Graceful.
"This will be your companion," said the fairy. "His name is Fido. He
will show you the way; but I warn you that it is for you to direct
him, and not for him to lead you. If you make him obey, he will serve
you; if you obey him, he will destroy you."
"And I," said the Fairy of the Waters, "have I nothing to give you, my
poor Graceful?"
Then, looking around her, the lady saw on the ground a bit of paper,
which she tossed into the fire with her tiny foot. The paper caught
fire, and as soon as the blaze had died away thousands of little
sparks were seen chasing one another about. The fairy watched these
sparks with a curious eye; then, as the last one was about to go out,
she blew upon the cinders, when, lo! the chirp of a bird was heard,
and a swallow rose, which fluttered, terrified, about the room and
finally alighted on Graceful's shoulder.