who had learned to understand men from having always lived alone with
his sheep and thinking, thinking, while he led them to their pasture--an
old philosopher--came to Greatheart, of whom he was one of the vassals,
and said to him:
"I know where there lives, close by here, an old grand-dame, with one
foot in the grave, she is so old People call her a sorceress; but never
mind that; she, and she alone, can cure our lady, our mistress, whom you
love so well."
Knowing not what to do in his suffering, Greatheart believed what the
old shepherd told him.
He took Rosebelle far away from the castle along the bank of the river,
to a spot where the path ran between high rocks, leading to a deep and
profoundly dark cavity, within which they found the old, old woman of
whom the shepherd had spoken, crouching by the side of a scanty fire of
pine-branches, warming herself in their fitful light, in the midst of
owls and ravens, cats and rats with phosphorescent eyes, showing green
in the obscurity when lit by the intermittent sparkle of the crackling
branches on the hearth.
"Ho, there! sorceress!" cried the young Prince. "Cure my wife, and I
will give you the half of all I possess!"
The very old woman looked for a long time at Rosebelle out of her little
bright eyes, meeting those of the young Princess, and holding her as if
by a spell. For awhile longer she remained silent, as if in
contemplation; then, suddenly, she rose to her feet, raised her long
arms towards the herbs suspended from the rocky roof of her
dwelling-place, spread out her fleshless fingers and cried:
"I see! I see! I understand it all! Yes, my lord, I will cure your wife,
your adored one; and presently in your arms, on your heart, shall sleep
a heart beating with great joy for love of you!"
As they both sprang nearer to her, the better to hear her wonderful
words, the old woman retreated, saying:
"Yes, I will cure her; but to aid me in the task, I need the assistance
of ten little fairies--ten friends who have ever been dear to me, ever
faithful to me, and who, by an unfortunate chance, have not visited me
to-day. To-morrow I shall be sure to have them with me, my tiny
comrades; so come back to me to-morrow, my dear, when I will detain them
until you arrive, and will take measures for enabling them to cure you."
The sun, next day, had hardly risen, hardly caressed the earth with its
earliest beam, when Rosebelle re-entered the old sorceress's murky
dwelling-place.
Over the still crackling fire of pine-branches she extended her white
hands by direction of the old woman, who raised her arms and uttered
some curious words, accompanied by some strange gestures.
Then, from a small cavity in the rocky wall she appeared to draw forth
an invisible something, which she carefully conveyed to the shelter of
her bare bosom. And when she had repeated these actions ten times, she
cried:
"I have them!--I have them all!--all warm in my bosom--my faithful
little fairies! Oh!--do not attempt to see them, or they will at once
fly away. They desire to serve you--to cure you. Here they are!"
[Illustration: THE SORCERESS.]
And laughing, dancing, and singing, the old, old woman tapped with the
crooked thumb of her right hand the young Princess's ten extended
fingers, while the quaint song she sang was gaily given back by the echo
of the rocky vault above her. This was the song she sang, holding the
Princess's delicate fingers caressingly in her left hand:--
"Ten good little fairies hie,
To these ten good fingers nigh:
Each of you reside in one
Until your kindly task is done,
Until by certain signs you're sure
That you have made a perfect cure.
Potent fairies, from this hour
Exercise your utmost pow'r;
Drive away the evil spell
Cast on one who'll love you well!"
Then, still laughing heartily, she pressed Rosebelle's fingers tightly,
and went on:
"They are all here, the wonderful little doctors! Guard them preciously;
do not weary them; keep them by you and, to do all that, never give them
a moment's rest so long as the sun shines in the sky. Keep on moving
them--actively, rapidly--so long as you are awake. Now go, and come back
to me when you are quite cured, returning me my trusty little fairies."
With her hands filled with this precious load, Rosebelle hurried home,
and told Greatheart of her dear hope of a renewal of life.
Of an evening, thenceforth, for a long time, she would even refrain from
eating, so as to leave herself more time to exercise her unresting
fingers, in which the ten little fairies were tenderly housed. As soon
as the sun had sunk beneath the earth she went to sleep, and as soon as
daylight returned, she at once rose and began once again to move her
fairy-laden fingers.
During many, many days she continued to move her fingers in every way
she could devise; but at length, growing tired of this useless play, she
went back to her old friend the sorceress.
[Illustration: "ROSEBELLE DREW HER HARP FORM ITS CASE AND PLAYED ON IT"
(_p._ 182).]
"Nobody ever taught you to use your fingers usefully?" replied the old
woman. "Go on moving them, still moving them, but in some employment
that interests you. Don't let my fairies go to sleep--that is all they
desire in their imprisonment."
On returning home, Rosebelle drew her long-neglected harp from its case
and played on it. Then, to occupy her fingers more usefully, she had
needles brought to her and employed them in dainty sewing.
But, growing weary of the dull monotony of these labours, she sought
more varied employment for her fingers--gathered flowers in the garden
and arranged them in charming bouquets; plucked fruit from the trees in
the orchard; attended to the sick and ailing; consoled the
poor--exercising her fingers constantly by slipping gold pieces into
their grateful hands.
One by one, she sent away her crowd of obsequious servants, who had now
nothing left for them to do but to go to sleep at their posts.
She would not allow anybody to do anything for her which she could do
for herself, but threw her whole soul and being into the things God
intended to be done by them.
Every day, and all the while the sun shone in the sky, she found active
employment for her beautiful fingers. And the roses came back to her
cheeks and health to all her being, and songs and laughter to her lips;
and she could, once again, give to her beloved one a heart filled with
ineffable tenderness.
Perfectly cured, she went to the sorceress and gave her back her
wonderful little fairy doctors.
"Ah, my child!" said the old dame, "they are very proud of having saved
you. Give them to me, for I have every day great need of them--can
never have too much of them. Indeed, if I had enough of them to serve
all the idlers in the world, I should want as many as there are stars in
the heavens at night. But I will keep those I have for the service of
those who are pining from _ennui_--and there are enough of _them_,
goodness knows!"
The Magician and his Pupil.
[Illustration]
THE MAGICIAN AND HIS PUPIL
From the German of A. Godin.
THERE was once a poor shoemaker renowned far and wide as a drunkard. He
had a good wife and many daughters, but only one son. As soon as this
son was old enough his mother dressed him in his best clothes, combed
his hair until it shone, and then led him far, far away; for she wished
to take him to the capital, and there apprentice him to a master who
would teach him a really good trade.
When they had accomplished about half their journey they met a man in
black, who asked whither they were going and the object of their
journey. On being told, he offered to take the boy as his apprentice,
but as he had not given the customary Christian greeting, and would not
mention the name of his trade, also because the mother thought there
was a wicked gleam in his eyes, she declined to trust him with her son.
As he persisted in his offer they were rude, then he troubled them no
further.
Shortly after leaving the old man they came to a wide stretch of land,
solitary and barren as a desert, over which they journeyed until hunger,
thirst, and fatigue compelled them to rest. Exhausted, they sank on the
sandy ground and wept bitterly. Suddenly, at a short distance from them
arose a large stone, on whose surface stood a dish of smoking roast
beef, a loaf of white bread, and a jug of foaming ale.
Eagerly the weary travellers hastened forward. Alas! the moment they
moved, meat and drink vanished, leaving the stone bare and barren; but
as soon as they stepped back, the food again made its appearance. After
this had happened several times the shoemaker's son guessed what was at
the bottom of it. Pointing his stick of aspen wood--a wood, by the way,
very powerful against enchantment--he cautiously approached the stone,
and thrust his stick into that place on the earth where the shadow of
the stone rested.
Immediately the stone with everything on it disappeared, and in the
place where the shadow had lain stood the stranger in black who had met
them earlier in the day. He bowed politely to the youth and requested
him to remove his stick.
"No, that I will not do! This time the stone has met its match! You are
a magician, or at least a necromancer. You locked us in this desert and
amused yourself with our misery. Now you shall be treated as you
deserve. You shall stand here for a year and six weeks, until you are as
dry as the stick with which I have nailed you to the earth."
"Loose me, I entreat you."
"Yes, on certain conditions! First, you must once more become a stone,
and on the stone must appear everything we have already seen."
The magician immediately vanished, and in his stead appeared the stone
covered with a white cloth, and bearing the hot roast beef, white bread,
and foaming ale, of which the travellers ate and drank to their hearts'
content. When they had finished the stone became the man in black, who
entreated piteously to be unnailed.
"I will unnail you directly," said the youth, "but only on one
condition. You must take me as apprentice for three years, as you
yourself formerly proposed, and give me a pledge that you will really
teach me all your art."
The magician bowed himself to the earth, dug his fingers into the sand,
and drew forth a handful of ducats, which he threw into the boy's cap.
"Thanks," replied the youth; "this money will be very useful to my
mother, but you must give me a better pledge than that. I must have a
piece of your ear."
"Will nothing else serve?"
"Nothing!"
"Well, then," said the magician, "take your knife."
"I have no knife with me," replied the youth; "you must lend me yours."
The magician obediently lent his knife, and bent his right ear towards
the youth.
"No, no, I want the left ear; you offer the right far too willingly."
The magician then offered his left ear; and the youth cut off a slant
piece, laid it in his wallet, and then drew his stick out of the ground.
The magician groaned, rubbed his mutilated ear, then, turning a
somersault, changed himself into a black cock, ordered the youth to take
his mother back, and return at midnight and await his arrival at the
cross-road where they now stood, when he would take him home and teach
him for three years. The cock then flapped his wings, changed into a
magpie, and flew away.
When the youth had accompanied his mother to the next village he kissed
her hands and feet, shook the gold into her apron, and begged her to
call for him in three years at the place where he had made his agreement
with the magician. He then hastened back and reached the cross-road just
at midnight.
Being very tired he leaned against the mile-stone to await the arrival
of his master. He waited long, then as no one came, he drew the piece of
the magician's ear from his wallet and bit it hard. At this the
mile-stone staggered, cracked, and roared. The youth sprang quickly
aside, looked at the inscription, and cried: "Ho! ho! Is that you,
master?"
"Of course, it is! But why did you bite me?" asked the magician.
"Take human form instantly!" replied the youth.
"I have done so!" With this the man in black stood on the cross-road.
"Now we will go home," said he. "I take you as my pupil, but remember,
from this moment you remain my pupil and servant, until, the three years
ended, your mother fetches you away."
[Illustration: "THE MILE-STONE STAGGERED, CRACKED, AND ROARED" (_p._
190).]
Thus the youth became the magician's pupil. You wish to know how he
taught him his art? Well, so be it. He stretched his hands and feet,
turned him into a paper bag, and then left him to return to his proper
shape as best he could. Or else, he thrust his hand and arm up to the
shoulder down the youth's throat, turned him inside out, and left him to
turn himself right.
The youth learnt so well, that at the end of the three years his skill
in magic surpassed even that of his master. During this time many
parents had come to fetch their children, for the magician had quite a
crowd of pupils; but the cunning old man always contrived that they went
away without them. Three days before the time appointed for the
shoemaker's wife to fetch her son, the youth met her on the road and
told her how to recognise him.
"Remember, dearest mother," said he, "when the magician calls his horses
together, a fly will buzz over my ear; when the doves fly down, I shall
not eat of the peas; and when the maidens stand around you, a brown mole
will make its appearance above my eyebrow! Be sure you remember this, or
you will destroy us both."
When the shoemaker's wife demanded her son of the magician, he blew a
brazen trumpet towards all four corners of the world. Immediately a
crowd of coal-black horses rushed forward; they were not, however, real
horses, but enchanted scholars.
"Find your son--then you can take him with you!" said the magician.
The mother went from horse to horse, trying hard to recognise her son;
she trembled at the mere thought that she might make a mistake, and thus
destroy both herself and her beloved child. At length she noted a fly
buzzing over the ear of one of the horses, and cried joyfully: "That is
my son!"
"Right," said the magician; "now guess again." So saying he blew a
silver trumpet towards the corners of the earth, and threw on the ground
half a bushel of peas. Then like some vast cloud down flew a flock of
doves, and began eagerly picking up the peas. The shoemaker's wife
looked at dove after dove, until she found one that only appeared to
eat. "That is my son!" said she.
"Right again! Now comes the third and last trial. Guess right, and your
son goes with you; guess wrong, and he remains with me for ever." The
magician then blew his trumpet, and immediately beautiful songs
resounded through the air. At the same time lovely maidens approached
and surrounded the shoemaker's wife. They were all crowned with
cornflowers, and wore white robes with rose-coloured girdles.
The shoemaker's wife examined each carefully, and saw a brown mole over
the right eye of the most beautiful. "This is my son!" she exclaimed.
Scarcely had she spoken than the maiden changed into her son, threw
himself into her arms, and thanked her for his deliverance. The other
maidens flew away, and the mother and son returned home.
The student of magic had not been long at home before he discovered that
in his father's house Want was a constant guest. The money given by the
magician had long since come to an end, for the shoemaker had spent it
all in drink.
"What have you learnt in foreign parts?" he asked his son. "What help am
I to expect from you."
"I have learned magic, and will give you help enough. I can at your wish
change myself into all possible shapes, to-day into a falcon, to-morrow
into a greyhound, a nightingale, a sheep, or any other form. Lead me as
an animal to market, and there sell me, but be sure always to bring
back the rope with which you led me thither, and never desire me to
become a horse: the money thus acquired would be useless to you, and you
would make me, and through me yourself, unhappy."
Thereupon the shoemaker demanded a falcon for sale; his son at once
disappeared, and a splendid falcon sat on the father's shoulder. The
shoemaker took the bird to market, where he sold it to a hunter for a
good price, but on returning home, he found his son seated at the table
enjoying a good dinner.
When the money thus gained had been spent to the last farthing, the
shoemaker required a greyhound, which he again sold to a hunter, and on
his return home found his son had arrived there before him.
Thus the father led his son to market again and again, as an ox, a cow,
a sheep, a goose, a turkey, and in many other animal forms. One day he
thought: "I should very much like to know why my son does not wish to
become a horse! Surely he takes me for a fool, and grudges me the best
prize!" He was half drunk when he thought this, and then and there
desired his son to become a horse. Hardly had he spoken than his wish
was gratified: a splendid horse stood before the window; he dug his
hoofs deep into the ground, whilst his eyes shot forth lightning, and
flames issued from his nostrils.
The shoemaker mounted and rode into the town. Here a merchant stopped
him, admired the horse, and offered to give the animal's weight in gold
if his master would only sell him. They went together to a pair of
scales: the merchant shook gold from a sack on one of the wooden
scales, whilst the shoemaker made his horse mount on the other. As he
was staring in amazement at the heap of gold in the scales, one of the
chains broke, and the gold pieces rolled over the street. The shoemaker
threw himself on the ground to pick them up, and forgot both the horse
and bridle.
[Illustration: "THE SHOEMAKER'S WIFE LOOKED AT DOVE AFTER DOVE" (_p._
193).]
The merchant meanwhile mounted the horse, and galloped out of the town,
digging his spurs into the poor animal's sides until the blood flowed,
and beating him cruelly with a steel riding-whip; for this merchant was
none other than the magician, who thus revenged himself for the piece
cut from his ear.
The poor horse was quite exhausted when the magician arrived with him at
his invisible dwelling; this house, it is true, stood in an open field,
yet no one could see it. The horse was then led to the stable, whilst
the magician considered how he might best torture him.
But while the magician was considering, the horse, who knew what a
terrible fate awaited him, succeeded in throwing the bridle over a nail,
on which it remained hanging, thus enabling him to draw his head out. He
fled across the field, and changing into a gold ring, threw himself
before the feet of a beauteous Princess just returning from bathing.
The Princess stooped, picked up the gold circle, slipped it on her
finger, and then looked around in wonder. In the meantime, the
magician--changed into a Grecian merchant--came up and courteously asked
the Princess to return the gold ring he had lost. Terrified at the sight
of his black beard and gleaming eyes, the Princess screamed aloud, and
pressed the ring to her breast.
Alarmed by her cries, her attendants and playmates, who were waiting
near, hastened up and formed a circle round their beloved Princess. But
as soon as they understood the cause of her distress, they threw
themselves on the importunate stranger, and began tickling him in such a
manner that he laughed, cried, giggled, coughed, and at length danced
over the ground like a maniac, forgetting through sheer distress that he
was still a magician.
When, however, he did remember it, he changed himself into a hedgehog,
and stuck his bristles into the maidens until their blood flowed, and
they were glad to leave him alone.
[Illustration: "HE DANCED OVER THE GROUND LIKE A MANIAC" (_p._ 196).]
Meanwhile the Princess hastened home and showed her father the ring,
which pleased her so much that she wore it on her heart-finger night and
day. Once when playing with it, the ring slipped from her hand, fell to
the ground and sprang in pieces, when, oh, wonder! before her stood a
handsome youth, the magician's pupil.
At first the Princess was very troubled, and did not venture to raise
her eyes, but when the scholar had told her everything she was
satisfied, conversed with him a long while, and promised to ask her
father to have the magician driven away by the dogs should he ever come
to demand the ring. When in the course of the day the magician came, the
King, in spite of all his daughter's entreaties, ordered the ring to be
given up.
With tears in her eyes the Princess took the ring (the scholar had
resumed this form immediately after relating his adventures) and threw
it at the merchant's feet. It shivered into little pearls.
Trembling with rage, the merchant threw himself on the ground in the
shape of a hen, picked up the pearls, and when he saw no more, flew out
of the window, flapped his wings, cried, "Kikeriki! Scholar, are you
here?" and then soared into the air.
Having been told by the scholar what to do should she be compelled to
return the ring, the Princess had let her handkerchief fall at the same
moment she threw the ring on the ground, and two of the largest pearls
had rolled beneath it. She now took out these pearls, and they
immediately called, in mocking imitation of the hen's voice:
"Kikeriki! I am here!"
They then changed into a hawk and chased after the hen. Seizing it with
his sharp talons, he bit its left wing with such force that all the
feathers cracked, and the hen fell like a stone into the water, where it
was drowned.
The hawk then returned to the Princess, perched on her shoulder, gazed
fondly into her eyes, and then became once more the young and handsome
scholar. The Princess had grown so fond of him that she chose him as
her husband, and from that moment he gave up magic for ever. In his
prosperity he did not forget his relations--his mother lived with him
and the Princess in their magnificent palace, his sisters married
wealthy merchants, and even his father was content.
When the old King died the magician's pupil became King over the land,
and lived so happily with his wife and children, and all his subjects,
that no pen can write, no song sing, and no story tell of half their
happiness.
The Strawberry Thief.
[Illustration]
THE STRAWBERRY THIEF.
FROM THE GERMAN BY PAULINE SCHANZ.
THE mid-day sun was shining brightly as two children ran merrily down
the steep grassy slope leading from the little village to the
neighbouring forest. Their loose, scanty clothing left head, neck, and
feet bare. But this did not trouble them, for the sun's rays kissed
their little round limbs, and the children liked to feel their warm
kisses.
They were brother and sister; each carried a small jar to fill with
strawberries, which their mother would sell in the town on the morrow.
They were very poor, almost the poorest people in the village. Their
mother, a widow, had to work hard to procure bread for herself and
children.
When strawberries or nuts were in season, or even the early violets, the
children went into the forest to seek them, and by the fruit or flowers
they gathered helped to earn many a groschen. The happy children ran
joyously along as though they were the rulers of the beautiful world
that stretched so seductively before them. The forest berries were
still scarce, and would fetch a high price in the town; this is why they
started so early in the afternoon, whilst other people still rested in
their cool rooms.
Deep in the forest was many a spot, well known to the children, where
large masses of strawberry plants flourished and bloomed, covering the
ground with a luxurious carpet. White star-like blossoms in profusion
looked roguishly out from the ample foliage; the little green and
bright-red berries were there in crowds, but the ripe, dark-red fruit
was difficult to find.
Very slowly the work proceeded, and as the gathered treasures in their
small jars grew higher and higher the sun sank lower and lower. Busy
with their task, the children forgot laughter and chattering; they
tasted none of the lovely berries, scarcely looked at the violets and
anemones; the sun's rays peeping through the branches the cock-chafers
and butterflies were alike unheeded.
"Lorchen," cried Fried, at length, throwing back his sunburnt, heated
face; "look, Lorchen, my jar is full!"