{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_23634/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_23634","id":"gutenberg_23634","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23634","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Tales -- Italy"],"text":"E-text prepared by Cathy Smith, Chloe P. H. Lewis, Josephine Paolucci, and\nthe Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team\n(http://www.pgdp.net.)\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n   Minor typographical errors have been corrected.\n\n   Carets (^) indicate a superscript letter.\n\n   This book has two types of notes. Footnotes are in the text and\n   are indicated by a letter. These have been moved to the end of\n   the appropriate paragraph. Endnotes are indicated by a number,\n   and the notes for all the chapters are at the end of the stories.\n\n\n\n\n\nITALIAN POPULAR TALES\n\nby\n\nTHOMAS FREDERICK CRANE, A. M.\n\nProfessor of the Romance Languages\nin Cornell University\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBoston and New York\nHoughton, Mifflin and Company\nThe Riverside Press, Cambridge\n\nCopyright, 1885,\nby Thomas Frederick Crane.\nAll rights reserved.\n\nThe Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A.\nElectrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Company.\n\n\n\n\nTo\n\nGIUSEPPE PITRE.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe growing interest in the popular tales of Europe has led me to\nbelieve that a selection from those of Italy would be entertaining to\nthe general reader, and valuable to the student of comparative\nfolk-lore.\n\nThe stories which, with but few exceptions, are here presented for the\nfirst time to the English reader, have been translated from recent\nItalian collections, and are given exactly as they were taken down from\nthe mouths of the people, and it is in this sense, belonging to the\npeople, that the word popular is used in the title of this work. I have\noccasionally changed the present to the past tense, and slightly\ncondensed by the omission of tiresome repetitions;[A] but otherwise my\nversions follow the original closely, too closely perhaps in the case of\nthe Sicilian tales, which, when recited, are very dramatic, but seem\ndisjointed and abrupt when read.\n\n[Footnote A: Other condensations are indicated by brackets.]\n\nThe notes are intended to supplement those of Pitre and Koehler by citing\nthe stories published since the _Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti_, and the\n_Sicilianische Maerchen_, and also to furnish easy reference to the\nparallel stories of the rest of Europe. As the notes are primarily\nintended for students I have simply pointed out the most convenient\nsources of information and those to which I have had access. My space\nhas obliged me to restrict my notes to what seemed to me the most\nimportant, and I have as a rule given only references which I have\nverified myself.\n\nMy object has been simply to present to the reader and student\nunacquainted with the Italian dialects a tolerably complete collection\nof Italian popular tales; with theories as to the origin and diffusion\nof popular tales in general, or of Italian popular tales in particular,\nI have nothing to do at present either in the text or notes. It is for\nothers to draw such inferences as this collection seems to warrant.\n\nIt was, of course, impossible in my limited space to do more than give a\nsmall selection from the class of Fairy Tales numbering several hundred;\nof the other classes nearly everything has been given that has been\npublished down to the present date. The Fairy Tales were selected to\nrepresent as well as possible typical stories or classes, and I have\nfollowed in my arrangement, with some modification and condensation,\nHahn's _Maerchen- und Sagformeln_ (_Griechische und Albanesische\nMaerchen_, vol. i. p. 45), an English version of which may be found in W.\nHenderson's _Notes on the Folk-lore of the Northern Counties of England\nand the Borders. With an Appendix on Household Stories_, by S.\nBaring-Gould. London, 1866.\n\nIn conclusion, I must express my many obligations to Dr. Giuseppe Pitre,\nof Palermo, without whose admirable collection this work would hardly\nhave been undertaken, and to the library of Harvard College, which so\ngenerously throws open its treasures to the scholars of less favored\ninstitutions.\n\n    T. F. CRANE.\n\nITHACA, N. Y., _September 9, 1885_.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                   PAGE\n\nINTRODUCTION                         ix\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY                        xix\n\nLIST OF STORIES                    xxix\n\n  I. FAIRY TALES                      1\n\n II. FAIRY TALES CONTINUED           97\n\nIII. STORIES OF ORIENTAL ORIGIN     149\n\n IV. LEGENDS AND GHOST STORIES      185\n\n  V. NURSERY TALES                  240\n\n VI. STORIES AND JESTS              275\n\n\nNOTES                               317\n\nLIST OF BOOKS REFERRED TO           384\n\nINDEX                               387\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nBy popular tales we mean the stories that are handed down by word of\nmouth from one generation to another of the illiterate people, serving\nalmost exclusively to amuse and but seldom to instruct. These stories\nmay be roughly divided into three classes: nursery tales, fairy stories,\nand jests. In countries where the people are generally educated, the\nfirst two classes form but one; where, on the other hand, the people\nstill retain the credulity and simplicity of childhood, the stories\nwhich with us are confined to the nursery amuse the fathers and mothers\nas well as the children. These stories were regarded with contempt by\nthe learned until the famous scholars, the brothers Grimm, went about\nGermany some sixty years ago collecting this fast disappearing\nliterature of the people. The interesting character of these tales, and\nthe scientific value attributed to them by their collectors, led others\nto follow their footsteps, and there is now scarcely a province of\nGermany that has not one or more volumes devoted to its local popular\ntales. The impulse given by the Grimms was not confined to their own\ncountry, but extended over all Europe, and within the last twenty years\nmore than fifty volumes have been published containing the popular tales\nof Iceland, Greenland, Norway, Sweden, Russia, Germany, England,\nScotland, France, Biscay, Spain, Portugal, and Greece. Asia and Africa\nhave contributed stories from India, China, Japan, and South Africa. In\naddition to these we have now to mention what has been done in this\nfield in Italy.\n\nFrom their very nature the stories we are now considering were long\nconfined to the common people, and were preserved and transmitted solely\nby oral tradition. It did not occur to any one to write them down from\nthe lips of the people until within the present century. The existence\nof these stories is, however, revealed by occasional references, and\nmany of them have been preserved, but not in their original form, in\nbooks designed to entertain more cultivated readers.[1] The earliest\nliterary collection of stories having a popular origin was made in the\nsixteenth century by an Italian, Giovan Francesco Straparola, of\nCaravaggio.[2] It is astonishing that a person of Straparola's\npopularity should have left behind him nothing but a name. We only know\nthat he was born near the end of the fifteenth century at Caravaggio,\nnow a small town half way between Milan and Cremona, but during the\nMiddle Ages an important city belonging to the duchy of Milan. In 1550\nhe published at Venice a collection of stories in the style of the\n_Decameron_, which was received with the greatest favor. It passed\nthrough sixteen editions in twenty years, was translated into French and\noften printed in that language, and before the end of the century was\nturned into German. The author feigns that Francesca Gonzaga, daughter\nof Ottaviano Sforza, Duke of Milan, on account of commotions in that\ncity, retires to the island of Murano, near Venice, and surrounded by a\nnumber of distinguished ladies and gentlemen, passes the time in\nlistening to stories related by the company. Thirteen nights are spent\nin this way, and seventy-four stories are told, when the approach of\nLent cuts short the diversion. These stories are of the most varied form\nand origin; many are borrowed without acknowledgment from other writers,\ntwenty-four, for example, from the little known Morlini, fifteen from\nBoccaccio, Sachetti, Brevio, Ser Giovanni, the Old-French _fabliaux_,\nthe Golden Legend, and the _Romance of Merlin_. Six others are of\nOriental origin, and may be found in the _Pantschatantra_, _Forty\nViziers_, _Siddhi Kur_, and _Thousand and One Nights_.[3] There remain,\nthen, twenty-nine stories, the property of Straparola, of which\ntwenty-two are _maerchen_, or popular tales. We say \"the property\" of\nStraparola: we mean they had never appeared before in the _literature_\nof Europe, but they were in no sense original with Straparola, being the\ncommon property which the Occident has inherited from the Orient. There\nis no need of mentioning in detail here these stories as they are\nfrequently cited in the notes of the present work, and one, the original\nof the various modern versions of \"Puss in Boots,\" is given at length in\nthe notes to Chapter I.[4] Two of Straparola's stories have survived\ntheir author's oblivion and still live in Perrault's \"_Peau d'Ane_\" and\n\"_Le Chat Botte_,\" while others in the witty versions of Madame D'Aulnoy\ndelighted the romance-loving French society of the seventeenth\ncentury.[5] Straparola's work had no influence on contemporary Italian\nliterature, and was soon forgotten,--an unjust oblivion, for to him\nbelongs the honor of having introduced the Fairy Tale into modern\nEuropean literature. He has been criticised for his style and blamed for\nhis immorality. The former, it seems to us, is not bad, and the latter\nno worse than that of many contemporaneous writers who have escaped the\nsevere judgment meted out to Straparola.\n\nWe find no further traces of popular tales until nearly a century later,\nwhen the first edition of the celebrated _Pentamerone_ appeared at\nNaples in 1637. Its author, Giambattista Basile (known as a writer by\nthe anagram of his name, Gian Alesio Abbattutis), is but little better\nknown to us than Straparola. He spent his youth in Crete, became known\nto the Venetians, and was received into the _Academia degli\nStravaganti_. He followed his sister Adriana, a celebrated cantatrice,\nto Mantua, enjoyed the duke's favor, roamed much over Italy, and finally\nreturned to Naples, near where he died in 1632.[6] The _Pentamerone_, as\nits title implies, is a collection of fifty stories in the Neapolitan\ndialect, supposed to be narrated, during five days, by ten old women,\nfor the entertainment of the person (Moorish slave) who has usurped the\nplace of the rightful princess.[7] Basile's work enjoyed the greatest\npopularity in Italy, and was translated into Italian and into the\ndialect of Bologna. It is worthy of notice that the first fairy tale\nwhich appeared in France, and was the _avant-coureur_ of the host that\nsoon followed under the lead of Charles Perrault, \"_L'Adroite\nPrincesse_,\" is found in the _Pentamerone_.[8] We know nothing of the\nsources of Basile's work, but it contains the most popular and extended\nof all European tales, and must have been in a great measure drawn\ndirectly from popular tradition. The style is a wonderful mass of\nconceits, which do not, however, impair the interest in the material,\nand it is safe to say that no people in Europe possesses such a monument\nof its popular tales as the _Pentamerone_. Its influence on Italian\nliterature was not greater than that of Straparola's _Piacevoli Notti_.\nFrom the _Pentamerone_ Lorenzo Lippi took the materials for the second\n_cantare_ of his _Malmantile Racquistato_, and Carlo Gozzi drew on it\nfor his curious _fiabe_, the earliest dramatizations of fairy tales,\nwhich, in our day, after amusing the nursery, have again become the\nvehicles of spectacular dramas. Although there is no proof that Mlle.\nLheritier and Perrault took their stories from Straparola and the\n_Pentamerone_, there is little doubt that the French translation of the\nformer, which was very popular (Jannet mentions fourteen editions\nbetween 1560 and 1726) awakened an interest in this class of stories,\nand was thus the origin of that copious French fairy literature, which,\nbesides the names mentioned above, includes such well-known writers as\nMde. D'Aulnoy, the Countess Murat, Mlle. De La Force, and Count Caylus,\nall of whom drew on their Italian prototypes more or less.[9]\n\nPopular as were the two collections above mentioned they produced but\none imitation, _La Posillecheata_, a collection of five stories in the\nNeapolitan dialect and in the style of the _Pentamerone_, by Pompeo\nSarnelli, Bishop of Bisceglie, whose anagram is Masillo Reppone. The\nfirst edition appeared at Naples in 1684, and it has been republished\ntwice since then at the same place. The work is exceedingly coarse, and\nhas fallen into well-deserved oblivion.[10]\n\nNearly two centuries elapsed before another collection of Italian tales\nmade its appearance. The interest that the brothers Grimm aroused in\nGermany for the collection and preservation of popular traditions did\nnot, for obvious reasons, extend to Italy. A people must first have a\nconsciousness of its own nationality before it can take sufficient\ninterest in its _popular_ literature to inspire even its scholars to\ncollect its traditions for the sake of science, to say nothing of\ncollections for entertainment. In 1860, Temistocle Gradi, of Siena,\npublished in his _Vigilia di Pasqua di Ceppo_, eight, and in his _Saggio\ndi Letterature varie_, 1865, four popular tales, as related in Siena.\nThese were collected without any other aim than that of entertainment,\nbut are valuable for purposes of comparison. No attempt at a scientific\ncollection of tales was made until 1869, when Professor De Gubernatis\npublished the _Novelline di Santo Stefano_, containing thirty-five\nstories, preceded by an introduction on the relationship of the myth to\nthe popular tale. This was the forerunner of numerous collections from\nthe various provinces of Italy, which will be found noted in the\nBibliography. The attention of strangers was early directed to Italian\ntales, and the earliest scientific collection was the work of two\nGermans, Georg Widter and Adam Wolf, who published a translation of\ntwenty-one Venetian tales in the _Jahrbuch fuer romanische und englische\nLiteratur_, Vol. VII. (1866), pp. 1-36, 121-154, 249-290, with\ncomparative notes by R. Koehler. In the same volume were published, pp.\n381-400, twelve tales from Leghorn, collected by Hermann Knust; and\nfinally the eighth volume of the same periodical, pp. 241-260, contains\nthree stories from the neighborhood of Sora, in Naples. In 1867\nSchneller published at Innsbruck a German translation of sixty-nine\ntales, collected by him in the Italian Tyrol. Of much greater interest\nand importance than any of the above are the two volumes of Sicilian\ntales, collected and translated into German by Laura Gonzenbach,\nafterwards the wife of the Italian general, La Racine. There are but two\nother collections of Italian stories by foreigners: Miss Busk's\n_Folk-Lore of Rome_, and the anonymous _Tuscan Fairy Tales_ recently\npublished.\n\nThe number of stories published, in German and English, is about twice\nas many as those published in Italian before Pitre's collection, being\nover four hundred. Pitre contains more than all the previous Italian\npublications together, embracing over three hundred tales, etc., besides\nthose previously published by him in periodicals and elsewhere. Since\nPitre's collection, the three works of Comparetti, Visentini, and\nNerucci, have added one hundred and eighty tales, not to speak of\nwedding publications, containing from one to five stories. It is, of\ncourse, impossible to examine separately all these collections,--we will\nmention briefly the most important. To Imbriani is due the first\ncollection of tales taken down from the mouths of the people and\ncompared with previously published Italian popular tales. In 1871\nappeared his _Novellaja fiorentina_, and in the following year the\n_Novellaja milanese_. These two have been combined, and published as a\nsecond edition of the _Novellaja fiorentina_, containing fifty\nFlorentine and forty-five Milanese tales, besides a number of stories\nfrom Straparola, the _Pentamerone_, and the Italian novelists, given by\nway of illustration. The stories are accompanied by copious references\nto the rest of Italy, and Liebrecht's references to other European\nparallels. It is an admirable work, but one on which we have drawn but\nseldom, restricting ourselves to the stories in the various dialects as\nmuch as possible. The Milanese stories are in general very poor versions\nof the typical tales, being distorted and fragmentary. In 1873 Dr.\nGiuseppe Pitre, of Palermo, well known for his collection of popular\nSicilian songs, published three specimens of a collection of Sicilian\npopular tales, and two years later gave to the world his admirable work,\n_Fiabe, Novelle e Racconti_, forming vols. IV.-VII. of the _Biblioteca\ndelle Tradizioni populari Siciliane_ per cura di Giuseppe Pitre. It is\nnot, however, numerically that Pitre's collection surpasses all that\nhas previously been done in this field. It is a monument of patient,\nthorough research and profound study. Its arrangement is almost\nfaultless, the explanatory notes full, while the grammar and glossary\nconstitute valuable contributions to the philology of the Italian\ndialects. In the Introduction the author, probably for the first time,\nmakes the Sicilian public acquainted with the fundamental principles of\ncomparative mythology and its relation to folk-lore, and gives a good\naccount of the Oriental sources of the novel. He has, it seems to us,\nvery properly confined his notes and comparisons entirely to Italy, with\nreferences of course to Gonzenbach and Koehler's notes to Widter-Wolf\nwhen necessary. In other words, his work is a contribution to _Italian_\nfolk-lore, and the student of comparative Aryan folk-lore must make his\nown comparisons: a task no longer difficult, thanks to the works of\nGrimm, Hahn, Koehler, Cox, De Gubernatis, etc. The only other collection\nthat need be mentioned here is the one in the _Canti e Racconti del\nPopolo italiano_, consisting of the first volume of the _Novellino pop.\nital._ pub. ed ill. da Dom. Comparetti, and of Visentini's _Fiabe\nMantovane_. The stories in both of the above works are translated into\nItalian. In the first there is no arrangement by locality or subject;\nand the annotations, instead of being given with each story, are\nreserved for one of the future volumes,--an unhandy arrangement, which\ndetracts from the value of the work.\n\nWe will now turn our attention from the collections themselves to the\nstories they contain, and examine these first as to their form, and\nsecondly as to their contents.\n\nThe name applied to the popular tale differs in various provinces, being\ngenerally a derivative of the Latin _fabula_. So these stories are\ntermed _favuli_ and _frauli_ in parts of Sicily, _favole_ in Rome,\n_fiabe_ in Venice, _foe_ in Liguria, and _fole_ in Bologna. In Palermo\nand Naples they are named _cunti_, _novelle_ and _novelline_ in Tuscany,\n_esempi_ in Milan, and _storie_ in Piedmont.[11] There are few\npeculiarities of form, and they refer almost exclusively to the\nbeginning and ending of the stories. Those from Sicily begin either\nwith the simple \"_cc'era_\" (there was), or \"_'na vota cc'era_\" (there\nwas one time), or \"_si raccunta chi'na vota cc'era_\" (it is related that\nthere was one time). Sometimes the formula is repeated, as, \"_si cunta e\ns' arricunta_\" (it is related and related again), with the addition at\ntimes of \"_a lor signuri_\" (to your worships), or the story about to be\ntold is qualified as \"_stu bellissimu cuntu_\" (this very fine story).\nOrdinarily they begin, as do our own, with the formula, \"once upon a\ntime there was.\" The ending is also a variable formula, often a couplet\nreferring to the happy termination of the tale and the relatively\nunenviable condition of the listeners. The Sicilian ending usually is:--\n\n    \"Iddi arristaru filici e cuntenti,\n    E nuatri semu senza nenti.\"\n\n(They remained happy and contented, and we are without anything.) The\nlast line often is \"_E nui semu cca munnamu li denti_\" (And here we are\npicking our teeth), or \"_Ma a nui 'un ni desinu nenti_\" (But to us they\ngave nothing), which corresponds to a Tuscan ending:--\n\n    \"Se ne stettero e se la goderono\n    E a me nulla mi diedero.\"\n\n(They stayed and enjoyed it, and gave nothing to me.) A common Tuscan\nending is:--\n\n    \"In santa pace pia\n    Dite la vostra, ch'io detto la mia.\"\n\n(In holy pious peace tell yours, for I have told mine.) In some parts of\nSicily (Polizzi) a similar conclusion is found:--\n\n    \"Favula scritta, favula ditta;\n    Diciti la vostra, ca la mia e ditta.\"\n\n(Story written, story told; tell yours, for mine is told.) So in\nVenice,--\n\n    \"Longa la tua, curta la mia;\n    Conta la tua, che la mia xe finia.\"\n\n(Long yours, short mine; tell yours, for mine is ended.) The first line\nis sometimes as follows:--\n\n    \"Stretto il viuolo, stretta la via;\n    Dite la vostra, ch'io detto la mia.\"\n\n(Narrow the path, narrow the way; tell yours, for I have told mine.) The\nmost common form of the above Tuscan ending is:--\n\n    \"Stretta e la foglia e larga e la via,\n    Dite la vostra che ho detto la mia.\"\n\n(Narrow is the leaf, broad is the way, etc.) This same ending is also\nfound in Rome.[12] These endings have been omitted in the present work\nas they do not constitute an integral part of the story, and are often\nleft off by the narrators themselves. The narrative is usually given in\nthe present tense, and in most of the collections is animated and\ndramatic. Very primitive expedients are employed to indicate the lapse\nof time, either the verb indicating the action is repeated, as, \"he\nwalked, and walked, and walked,\" a proceeding not unknown to our own\nstories, or such expressions as the following are used: _Cuntu 'un porta\ntempu_, or _lu cuntu 'un metti tempu_, or _'Ntra li cunti nun cc'e\ntempu_, which are all equivalent to, \"The story takes no note of time.\"\nThese Sicilian expressions are replaced in Tuscany by the similar one:\n_Il tempo delle novelle passa presto_ (\"Time passes quickly in\nstories\"). Sometimes the narrator will bring himself or herself into the\nstory in a very naive manner; as, for example, when a name is wanted. So\nin telling a Sicilian story which is another version of \"The Fair\nAngiola\" given in our text, the narrator, Gna Sabbedda, continues: \"The\nold woman met her once, and said: 'Here, little girl, whose daughter are\nyou?' 'Gna Sabbedda's', for example; I mention myself, but, however, I\nwas not there.\"[13]\n\nIf we turn our attention now to the contents of our stories we shall\nfind that they do not differ materially from those of the rest of\nEurope, and the same story is found, with trifling variations, all over\nItaly.[14] There is but little local coloring in the fairy tales, and\nthey are chiefly interesting for purposes of comparison. We have given\nin our text such a copious selection from all parts of the country that\nthe reader can easily compare them for himself with the tales of other\nlands in their more general features. If they are not strikingly\noriginal they will still, we trust, be found interesting variations of\nfamiliar themes; and we shall perhaps deem less strange to us a people\nwhose children are still amused with the same tales as our own.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY.\n\n\nARCHIVIO per lo Studio delle Tradizioni popolari. Rivista trimestrale\ndiretta da G. Pitre e S. Salomone-Marino. Palermo, 1882-1885. 8vo.\n\n     The following popular tales have been published in the\n     Archivio: _Novelle popolari toscane_, edited by G. Pitre, vol.\n     I. pp. 35-69, 183-205, 520-540; vol. II. pp. 157-172. _La\n     Storia del Re Crin_, collected by A. Arietti [Piedmont], vol.\n     I. pp. 424-429. _Cuntu di lu Ciropiddhu, novellina popolare\n     messinese_, collected by T. Cannizzaro, vol. I. pp. 518-519.\n     _Novelle popolari sarde_, collected by P. E. Guarnerio, vol.\n     II. pp. 19-38, 185-206, 481-502; vol. III. pp. 233-240. _La\n     Cenerentola a Parma e a Camerino_, collected by Caterina\n     Pigorini-Beri, vol. II. pp. 45-58. _Fiabe popolari crennesi_\n     [_provincia di Milano_], collected by V. Imbriani, vol. II. pp.\n     73-81. _Fiaba veneziana_ [= Pitre, xxxix.], collected by\n     Cristoforo Pasqualigo, vol. II. pp. 353-358. _Il Re Porco,\n     novellina popolare marchigiana_, collected by Miss R. H. Busk,\n     vol. II. pp. 403-409. _Tre novellini pugliesi di Cerignola_,\n     collected by N. Zingarelli, vol. III. pp. 65-72. _La Bona Fia,\n     fiaba veneziana_, collected by A. Dalmedico, vol. III. pp.\n     73-74. _Tradizioni popolari abruzzesi, Novelle_, collected by\n     G. Finamore, vol. III. pp. 359-372, 331-350. _I Tre Maghi\n     ovverosia Il Merlo Bianco, novella popolare montalese_,\n     collected by G. Nerucci, vol. III. pp. 373-388, 551-568.\n\n\nBARTOLI, A., E G. SANSONI.\n\nUna novellina e una poesia popolare gragnolesi. Florence, 1881. 8^o. Pp.\n15. Per le Nozze Biagi-Piroli. Edizione di 100 copie numerate.\n\n     The _novellina_ is a version of Pitre, Nos. 159, 160 (\"The\n     Treasure of Rhampsinitus\").\n\n\nBASILE, GIAMBATTISTA.\n\nLo Cunto de li Cunti. Overo Lo Trattenemiento de Peccerille. De Gian\nAlesio Abbattutis. Iornate Cinco. Naples, Per Camillo Cavallo. 1644.\n12^o.\n\nIl conto de' conti trattenimento a' fanciulli. Trasportato dalla\nNapolitana all' Italiana favella, ed adornato di bellissime Figure.\nNaples, 1784.\n\nLa Chiaqlira dla Banzola o per dir mii Fol divers tradutt dal parlar\nNapulitan in lengua Bulgnesa per rimedi innucent dla sonn, e dla\nmalincunj. Dedica al merit singular dl gentilessem sgnori d' Bulogna.\nBologna, 1813. 4^o.\n\nDer Pentamerone oder: Das Maerchen aller Maerchen von Giambattista Basile.\nAus dem Neapolitanischen uebertragen von Felix Liebrecht. Nebst einer\nVorrede von Jacob Grimm. 2 vols. Breslau, 1846. 8^o.\n\nThe Pentamerone, or the Story of Stories, Fun for the Little Ones. By\nGiambattista Basile. Translated from the Neapolitan by John Edward\nTaylor. With Illustrations by George Cruikshank. Second edition. London,\n1850. 8^o.\n\nArchiv fuer das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen.\nHerausgegeben von Ludwig Herrig. Vol. XLV. p. 1. Eine\nneapolitanische Maerchen-sammlung aus der ersten Haelfte des\nXVII. Jahrhunderts--Pentamerone des Giambattista Basile.\n\n\nBASILE, GIAMBATTISTA. Archivio di Letteratura popolare. Naples, 1883-85.\n\n     A monthly periodical devoted to popular literature. The volumes\n     which have already appeared contain a large number of popular\n     tales collected at Naples or in the vicinity.\n\n\nBERNONI, DOM. GIUSEPPE.\n\nFiabe popolari veneziane raccolte da Dom. Giuseppe Bernoni. Venice,\n1875. 8^o.\n\nLeggende fantastiche popolari veneziane raccolte da Dom. Giuseppe\nBernoni. Venice, 1873. 8^o.\n\nLe Strighe: Leggende popolari veneziane raccolte da Dom. Giuseppe\nBernoni. Venice, 1874. 16^o.\n\nTradizioni popolari veneziane raccolte da Dom. Giuseppe Bernoni. Puntate\nI.-IV. Venice, 1875-77.\n\n\nBOLOGNINI, DR. NEPOMUCENO.\n\nFiabe e Legende della Valle di Rendena nel Trentino. Rovereto, 1881.\n8^o. Pp. 50. [Estratto dal VII. Annuario della Societa degli Alpinisti\nTridentini.]\n\n\nBUSK, R. H.\n\nHousehold Stories from the Land of Hofer; or, Popular Myths of Tirol,\nincluding the Rose-Garden of King Lareyn. London, 1871. 8^o.\n\nThe Folk-Lore of Rome. Collected by word of mouth from the people. By R.\nH. Busk. London, 1874. 8^o.\n\n\nCANTI E RACCONTI DEL POPOLO ITALIANO.\n\n     See Comparetti and Visentini.\n\n\nCOMPARETTI, DOMENICO.\n\nNovelline popolari italiane pubblicate ed illustrate da Domenico\nComparetti. Vol. I. Turin, 1875. 8^o.\n\nIn Canti e Racconti del Popolo italiano. Pubblicati per cura di D.\nComparetti ed A. D'Ancona. Vol. VI.\n\n\nCOOTE, HENRY CHARLES.\n\nSome Italian Folk-Lore, Folk-Lore Record, I., pp. 187-215.\n\n     Notice of Comparetti's Nov. pop. ital., with translations.\n\n\nCORAZZINI, FRANCESCO.\n\nI Componimenti minori della letteratura popolare italiana nei principali\ndialetti o saggio di letteratura dialettale comparata. Benevento, 1877.\n8^o.\n\n     Novelle toscane, beneventane, apicese (Benvento), bolognese,\n     bergamasca e vicentina. Pp. 409-489.\n\n\nCORONEDI-BERTI, CAROLINA.\n\nNovelle popolari bolognesi raccolte da Carolina Coronedi-Berti. Bologna,\n1874. 8^o.\n\nLa Fola del Muretein, Novellina popolare Bolognese. Estratto dalla\nRivista Europea. Florence, 1873. 8^o. Pp. 9.\n\n\nCRANE, T. F.\n\nA Nursery Tale. The Cornell Review, May, 1876, pp. 337-347.\n\nItalian Fairy Tales. St. Nicholas, December, 1878, pp. 101-107.\n\nItalian Popular Tales. North American Review, July, 1876, pp. 25-60.\n\nLe Novelle Popolari Italiane. In Giornale di Sicilia. Palermo. Nos.\n186-188, 190, 195, 206, 207, 216, 225, 236, 239, 240. Aug.-Oct., 1877.\n\n     Italian translation of above Article.\n\nRecent Italian Popular Tales. The Academy, London, March 22, 1879, pp.\n262-263.\n\nSicilian Folk-Lore. Lippincott's Magazine, October, 1876, pp. 433-443.\n\n     Devoted to Pitre's collection.\n\nLa Novellistica Popolare di Sicilia per T. F. Crane. Versione dall'\nInglese per F. Polacci Nuccio. Estratto dalle Nuove Effemeridi\nSiciliane, Vol. VI. Palermo, 1877. 8^o. Pp. 26.\n\n     Italian translation of above Article.\n\n\nDE GUBERNATIS, A.\n\nLe Novelline di Santo Stefano raccolte da Angelo De Gubernatis e\nprecedute da una introduzione sulla parentela del mito con la novella.\nTurin, 1869. 8^o.\n\n     See Rivista di Letteratura Popolare.\n\nZoological Mythology, or the Legends of Animals. By Angelo De\nGubernatis. 2 vols. London, 1872. 8^o.\n\n\nDE NINO, ANTONIO.\n\nUsi e Costumi Abruzzesi. Vol. III. Fiabe. Florence, 1883. 16^o.\n\n\nFINAMORE, GENNARO.\n\nTradizioni popolari abruzzesi. Vol. I. Novelle. Prima Parte, Lanciano,\n1882. 8^o. Parte seconda, Lanciano, 1885.\n\n\nFRIZZI, GIUSEPPE.\n\nNovella montanina, Florence, 1876. 8^o. Pp. 36. Edizione di 150\nesemplari.\n\n\nGARGIOLLI, CARLO.\n\nNovelline e Canti popolari delle Marche. Fano, 1878. 8^o. Pp. 18.\n\n     Per le Nozze Imbriani-Rosnati.\n\n\nGIANANDREA, ANTONIO.\n\nBiblioteca delle Tradizioni popolari marchigiane. Novelline e Fiabe\npopolari marchigiane raccolte e annotate da Antonio Gianandrea. Jesi,\n1878. 12^o. Punt. I. pp. 32.\n\n     See Academy, March 22, 1879, p. 262.\n\nDella novella del Petit Poucet. In Giornale di Filologia Romanza, II.,\npp. 231-234.\n\n     A few copies were printed separately.\n\n\nGONZENBACH, LAURA.\n\nSicilianische Maerchen. Aus dem Volksmund gesammelt von Laura Gonzenbach.\nMit Anmerkungen Reinhold Koehler's und einer Einleitung herausgegeben\nvon Otto Hartwig. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1870. 8^o.\n\n\nGRADI, TEMISTOCLE.\n\nSaggio di Letture varie per i Giovani di Temistocle Gradi da Siena.\nTurin, 1865. 8^o.\n\nLa Vigilia di Pasqua di Ceppo. Otto Novelle di Temistocle Gradi. Coll'\naggiunta di due racconti. Turin, 1860. 8^o.\n\n\nGUARNERIO, P. E.\n\nUna novellina nel dialetto di Luras in Gallura (Sardinia). Milan, 1884.\nPer le Nozze Vivante-Ascoli. Edizione di soli L. esemplari.\n\n     An incomplete version of the Cupid and Psyche myth.\n\n\nIMBRIANI, VITTORIO.\n\nLa Novellaja fiorentina cioe fiabe e novelline stenografate in Firenze\ndal dettato popolare e corredate di qualche noterella da Vittorio\nImbriani. Naples, 1871. Esemplari 150. 16^o.\n\nLa Novellaja milanese, esempii e panzane lombarde raccolte nel Milanese\nda Vittorio Imbriani. Bologna, 1872. Esemplari 40. 8^o.\n\nParalipomeni alla Novellaja Milanese. Bologna, pp. 9. Tratura a parte\ndel Propugnatore, Vol. VI. Esemplari 30.\n\n'A 'Ndriana Fata. Cunto pomiglianese. Per nozze. Pomigliano d' Arco,\n1875. 8^o. Pp. 14. 250 esemplari fuori di commercio.\n\nDue Fiabe Toscane annotate da V. I. Esemplari 100. Naples, 1876. 8^o.\nPp. 23.\n\n     These _fiabe_ are also in Nerucci, pp. 10, 18.\n\nDodici conti pomiglianesi con varianti avellinesi, montellesi,\nbagnolesi, milanesi, toscane, leccesi, ecc. Illustrati da Vittorio\nImbriani. Naples, 1877. 8^o.\n\n'E Sette Mane-Mozze. In dialetto di Avellino. Principato Ulteriore.\nPomigliano d'Arco, 1877. 8^o. Per le nozze Pitre-Vitrano. Esemplari cc.\nFuori commercio.\n\nLa Novellaja Fiorentina. Fiabe e Novelline stenografate in Firenze dal\ndettato popolare da Vittorio Imbriani. Ristampa accresciuta di molte\nnovelle inedite, di numerosi riscontri e di note, nelle quali e accolta\nintegralmente La Novellaja Milanese dello stesso raccoglitore. Leghorn,\n1877. 8^o.\n\n\nIVE, ANTONIO.\n\nFiabe popolari rovignesi. Per le Nozze Ive-Lorenzetto, XXVIII.\nNovembre, 1877. Vienna, 1877. 8^o. Pp. 32. Edizione fuori di commercio\ndi soli 100 esemplari.\n\n     See Academy, March 22, 1879, p. 262.\n\nFiabe popolari rovignesi raccolte ed annotate da Antonio Ive. Per le\nNozze Ive-Rocco. Vienna, 1878. 8^o. Pp. 26. Edizione fuori di commercio\ndi soli 100 esemplari.\n\n     See Academy, March 22, 1879, p. 262\n\n\nKADEN, WOLDEMAR.\n\nUnter den Olivenbaeumen. Sueditalienische Volksmaerchen. Nacherzaehlt,\nLeipzig, 1880. 8^o.\n\n     Of the forty-four stories in this work thirty-four are\n     translated from Pitre's Fiabe, six from Comparetti's Nov. pop.\n     ital., and three from Imbriani's XII. Conti pomig., without any\n     acknowledgment. This plagiarism was first exposed by R. Koehler\n     in the Literarisches Centralblatt, 1881, vol. XXXII. p. 337,\n     and afterwards by Pitre in the Nuove Effemeridi siciliane,\n     1881.\n\n\nKNUST, HERMANN.\n\nItalienische Maerchen. (Leghorn.) In Jahrbuch fuer romanische und\nenglische Literatur. Leipzig, 1866. Vol. VII. Pp. 381-401.\n\n\nKOEHLER, REINHOLD.\n\nItalienische Volksmaerchen. (Sora). In Jahrbuch fuer romanische und\nenglische Literatur. Leipzig, 1867. Vol. VIII. Pp. 241-260.\n\n\nMARC-MONNIER.\n\nLes Contes de Nourrice de la Sicile, d'apres des recueils nouveaux\npublies recemment in Italie. Revue des Deux Mondes, 15 Aug., 1875.\n\n     Devoted to Pitre's collection.\n\nLes Contes de Pomigliano et la filiation des Mythes populaires. Revue\ndes Deux Mondes, 1 Nov., 1877.\n\nContes populaires de l'Italie. Les Contes de Toscane et de Lombardie.\nRevue des Deux Mondes, 1 Dec., 1879.\n\n     Devoted to the Novellaja Fiorentina of Imbriani.\n\nLes Contes populaires en Italie. Paris, 1880. 16^o.\n\n     Reprint of the above articles.\n\n\nMOROSI, PROF. DOTT. GIUSEPPE.\n\nStudi sui Dialetti Greci della Terra d' Otranto. Preceduto da una\nraccolta di Canti, Leggende, Proverbi, e Indovinelli. Lecce, 1870. 4^o.\nLeggende, pp. 73-77.\n\n\nNERUCCI, PROF. GHERARDO.\n\nSessanta novelle popolari montalesi (Circondario di Pistoja). Florence,\n1880. 12^o.\n\nCincelle da Bambini in nella stietta parlatura rustica d' i' Montale\nPistolese. Pistoia, 1881. 8^o.\n\n\nORTOLI, J. B. FREDERIC.\n\nLes Contes populaires de l'Ile de la Corse. Paris, 1883. 8^o.\n\n     Vol. XVI. of Litteratures populaires de toutes les Nations,\n     Paris, Maisonneuve.\n\n\nPANZANEGA D' ON RE.\n\nIn dialetto di Crenna [Provincia di Milano]. Rome, 1876. 8^o. Pp. 15.\n200 esemplari fuori di commercio.\n\n\nPAPANTI, GIOVANNI.\n\nNovelline popolari livornesi raccolte e annotate da Giovanni Papanti.\nLeghorn, 1877. 8^o. Pp. 29.\n\n     Per le nozze Pitre-Vitrano. Edizione fuori di commercio di soli\n     150 esemplari.\n\n\nPELLIZZARI, P.\n\nFiabe e Canzoni popolari del Contado di Maglie in Terra d' Otranto.\nFasc. I. Maglie, 1884. 8^o. Pp. 143.\n\n\nPITRE, GIUSEPPE.\n\nSaggio (Primo) di Fiabe e Novelle popolari Siciliane raccolte da\nGiuseppe Pitre. Palermo, 1873. 8^o. Pp. 16.\n\nNuovo Saggio (Secundo) di Fiabe e Novelle popolari Siciliane raccolte ed\nillustrate da Giuseppe Pitre. Estratto dalla Rivista di Filologia\nRomanza, vol. I., fasc. II. e III. Imola, 1873. 8^o. Pp. 34.\n\nOtto Fiabe (Terzo Saggio) e Novelle Siciliane raccolte dalla bocca del\nPopolo ed annotate da Giuseppe Pitre. Bologna, 1873. Estratto dal\nPropugnatore, Vol. VI. 8^o. Pp. 42.\n\nNovelline popolari siciliane raccolte in Palermo ed annotate da Giuseppe\nPitre. Palermo, 1873. 8^o.\n\n     Edizione di soli 100 esemplari.\n\nFiabe, Novelle e Racconti. 4 vols. Palermo, 1875. 8^o.[B]\n\n     Biblioteca delle tradizioni popolari siciliane per cura di\n     Giuseppe Pitre. Vols. IV.-VII.\n\n[Footnote B: When Pitre is mentioned without any other qualification\nthan that of a numeral, this work is understood.]\n\nLa Scatola di Cristallo. Novellina popolare senese raccolta da Giuseppe\nPitre. Palermo, 1875. 8^o.\n\n     Per le Nozze Montuoro-Di Giovanni.\n\nCinque novelline popolari siciliane ora per la prima volta pubblicate da\nG. Pitre. Palermo, 1878. 8^o.\n\n     Per le Nozze Salomone Marino-Abate. Ediz. di 50 esemplari. See\n     Academy, March 22, 1879, p. 262.\n\nNovelline popolari toscane ora per la prima volta pubblicate da G.\nPitre. Il Medico grillo. Vocaboli. La Gamba. Serpentino. Palermo, 1878.\n8^o. Pp. 16.\n\n     Per le Nozze Imbriani-Rosnati. Tirato a soli 25 esemplari.\n\nUna variante toscana della novella del Petit Poucet. 8^o. Pp. 6.\n\n     Estratto dalla Rivista di Lett. Pop. Vol. I. pp. 161-166.\n\nLa Tinchina dell' alto Mare. Fiaba toscana raccolta ed illustrata da\nGiuseppe Pitre. Quattrasteriscopoli, 1882. 8^o. Pp. 14.\n\n     Per le Nozze Papanti-Giraudini. Esemplari novanta.\n\nIl Zoccolo di Legno, Novella popolare fiorentina. In Giornale Napoletano\ndella Domenica, 2 July, 1882. [= Pitre, Fiabe, No. XIII.]\n\nI tre pareri. Novella popolare toscana di Pratovecchio nel Cosentino. In\nGiornale Napoletano della Domenica, 20 August, 1882. [= Pitre, Fiabe,\nNo. CXCVII.]\n\nNovelle popolari toscane. Florence, 1885. 16^o.\n\n     Collected by Giovanni Siciliano. A few of the stories in this\n     collection have already been published in the Archivio per lo\n     Studio delle Tradizioni popolari.\n\n\nPRATO, STANISLAO.\n\nLa Leggenda Indiana di Nala in una Novellina popolare Pitiglianese. 8^o.\nPp. 8. Extract from I Nuovi Goliardi.\n\nLa Leggenda del Tesoro di Rampsinite nelle varie redazioni Italiane e\nStraniere. Como, 1882. 8^o. Pp. xii., 51. Edizione di soli 100 esemplari\nnumerati.\n\nUna Novellina popolare monferrina. Como, 1882. 8^o. Pp. 67. Edizione di\nsoli 80 esemplari.\n\nQuattro Novelline popolare livornesi accompagnate da varianti umbre\nraccolte, pubblicate ed illustrate con note comparative. Spoleto, 1880.\nGr. 8^o. Pp. 168.\n\nL' Uomo nella Luna. Fol. pp. 4. Estratto dalla rivista di Ancona: Il\nPreludio, del 30 gennaio, 1881.\n\nL' Orma del Leone, un racconto orientale nella tradizione popolare.\nRomania XII., pp. 535-565.\n\n\nRALSTON, W. R. S.\n\nSicilian Fairy Tales. Fraser's Magazine, New Series, vol. XIII. 1876,\npp. 423-433.\n\n\nRIVISTA DI LETTERATURA POPOLARE DIRETTA DA G. PITRE, F. SABATINI. Rome,\n1877.\n\nVol. I., pp. 81-86, contains _Novelline di Sto. Stefano di Calcinaia_ in\ncontinuation of _Le Novelline di Santo Stefano_, see De Gubernatis; p.\n161, G. Pitre, _Una variante toscana della novella del Petit Poucet_; p.\n213, R. Koehler _Das Raethselmaerchen von dem ermordeten Geliebten_; p.\n266, G. Pitre, _La Lucerna, nov. pop. tosc._; p. 288, F. Sabatini, _La\nLanterna, nov. pop. bergamasca_.\n\n\nROMANE, QUATTRO NOVELLINE POPOLARI. Nel giornale Il Manzoni (Spoleto),\nNo. 1, 1 Marzo, 1880.\n\n\nSABATINI, FRANCESCO.\n\nLa Lanterna. Novella popolare siciliana pubblicata ed illustrata a cura\ndi Francesco Sabatini. Imola, 1878. 8^o. Pp. 19.\n\n     Per le nozzi Salomone-Marino-Abate. Edizione di soli 180\n     esemplari. See Academy, March 22, 1879, p. 262.\n\n\nSARNELLI, POMPEO, BISHOP OF BISCEGLIE.\n\nLa Posillecheata de Masillo Reppone di Gnanopole. Naples, 1789. In\nCollezione di tutti li poeti in lingua Napoletana. 28 vols. 12^o.\nNaples, 1789.\n\n\nSCALAGERI DELLA FRATTA, CAMILLO.\n\nSette novellette, non piu ristampate da oltre due secoli, ripubblicate\nda V. Imbriani. Pomigliano d'Arco, 1875. 8^o. Pp. 15. Soli 150\nesemplari.\n\n\nSCHNELLER, CHRISTIAN.\n\nMaerchen und Sagen aus Waelschtirol. Ein Beitrag zur deutschen Sagenkunde.\nGesammelt von Christian Schneller. Innsbruck, 1867. 8^o.\n\n\nSOMMA, MICHELE.\n\nCento Racconti per divertire gli amici nelle ore oziose e nuovi brindisi\nper spasso nelle tavole e nelle conversazioni. Messina, 1883. 16^o.\n\n     The book really contains one hundred and thirty-one stories,\n     and deserves mention here solely for its relation to the class\n     of stories discussed in Chapter VI.\n\n\nSTRAPAROLA, GIOVAN FRANCESCO.\n\nPiacevoli Notti di M. Giovan Francesco Straparola da Caravaggio, Nelle\nquali si contengono le Favole con i loro Enimmi da dieci donne, et da\nduo giovani raccontate. 2 vols. Venice, Per Comin da Trino di\nMonferrato, 1562. 8^o.\n\nLe Tredici Piacevolissime Notte di M. Gio: Francesco Straparola da\nCaravaggio. Divise in due libri... con licenza de' superiori. Venice,\n1604. Appresso Zanetto Zanetti. 8^o. Con figure.\n\nLes Facetieuses Nuits de Straparole. Traduites par Jean Louveau et\nPierre de Larivey. 2 vols. Paris, 1857. 8^o.\n\n     Bibliotheque elzeverienne.\n\nDie Maerchen des Straparola. Aus dem Italienischen, mit Anmerkungen von\nDr. F. W. V. Schmidt. Berlin, 1817. 8^o. In Maerchen-Saal. Sammlung alter\nMaerchen mit Anmerkungen; herausgegeben von Dr. F. W. V. Schmidt. Erster\nBand.\n\nGiovan Francesco Straparola da Caravaggio. Inaugural-Dissertation zur\nErlangung der philosophischen Doctorwuerde in Goettingen von F. W. J.\nBrakelmann. Goettingen, 1867. 8^o.\n\n\nTEZA, E.\n\nLa Tradizione dei Sette Savi nelle novelline magiare di E. Teza.\nBologna, 1874. Pp. 56. Contains: _Mila e Buccia, novellina veneziana_,\np. 26; _La Novellina del Papagallo, novellina toscana_, p. 52.\n\n\nTUSCAN FAIRY TALES (Taken down from the Mouths of the People). With\nsixteen illustrations by J. Stanley, engraved by Edmund Evans. London,\n1880. 16^o.\n\n\nVENETIAN POPULAR LEGENDS.\n\nThe Cornhill Magazine, July, 1875, pp. 80-90.\n\n     Devoted to Bernoni's collections.\n\n\nVISENTINI, ISAIA.\n\nFiabe Mantovane raccolte da Isaia Visentini. Turin, 1879. In Canti e\nRacconti del Popolo italiano. Vol. VII.\n\n\nWIDTER-WOLF.\n\nVolksmaerchen aus Venetian. Gesammelt und herausgegeben von Georg Widter\nund Adam Wolf. Mit Nachweisen und Vergleichungen verwandter Maerchen von\nReinhold Koehler. In Jahrbuch fuer romanische und englische Literatur.\nLeipzig, 1866. VII. vol., pp. 1-36; 121-154; 249-290.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF STORIES.\n\n\nThose marked with an * are translated from the dialect; those in italics\nare found in the notes.\n\n                                                                       PAGE\nI. * THE KING OF LOVE. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 18, _Lu Re d'Amuri_)         1\n\nII. ZELINDA AND THE MONSTER. (Tuscan, Nerucci, No. 1, _Zelinda e\n    il Mostro_)                                                           7\n\nIII. * KING BEAN. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Fiabe_, No. 17, _El Re\n       de Fava_)                                                         12\n\nIV. * THE DANCING WATER, THE SINGING APPLE AND THE SPEAKING\n      BIRD. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 36, _Li Figghi di lu Cavuliciddaru_)   17\n\nV. THE FAIR ANGIOLA. (Sicilian, Gonzenbach, No. 53,\n    _Von der schoenen Angiola_)                                           26\n\nVI. THE CLOUD. (Tuscan, Comparetti, No. 32, _La Nuvolaccia_)             30\n\nVII. * THE CISTERN. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 80, _La Jisterna_)             36\n\nVIII. * THE GRIFFIN. (Neapolitan, Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_,\n        p. 195, _L'Auciello Crifone_)                                    40\n\nIX. CINDERELLA. (Tuscan, _Novellaja fiorentina_, p. 151,\n    _La Cenerentola_)                                                    42\n\nX. * FAIR MARIA WOOD. (Vincenza, Corazzini, p. 484,\n     _La Bela Maria del Legno_)                                          48\n\nXI. * THE CURSE OF THE SEVEN CHILDREN. (Bolognese,\n      Coronedi-Berti, No. 19, _La Maledizion di Set Fiu_)                54\n\nXII. ORAGGIO AND BIANCHINETTA. (Tuscan, _Novellaja\n     fiorentina_, p. 314, _Oraggio e Bianchinetta_)                      58\n\nXIII. THE FAIR FIORITA. (Basilicata, Comparetti, No. 20,\n      _La Bella Fiorita_)                                                61\n\nXIV. * BIERDE. (Istrian, Ive, 1877, p. 13, _Bierde_)                     68\n\nXV. * SNOW-WHITE-FIRE-RED. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 13,\n      _Bianca-comu-nivi-russa-comu-focu_)                                72\n\nXVI. HOW THE DEVIL MARRIED THREE SISTERS. (Venetian,\n     Widter-Wolf, No. 11, _Der Teufel heirathet drei Schwestern_)        78\n\nXVII. IN LOVE WITH A STATUE. (Piedmontese, Comparetti,\n      No. 29, _L'Innamorato d'una Statua_)                               85\n\nXVIII. * THIRTEENTH. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 33, _Tridicinu_)              90\n\nXIX. * THE COBBLER. (Milanese, _Novellaja fiorentina_,\n       p. 575, _El Sciavattin_)                                          94\n\nXX. SIR FIORANTE, MAGICIAN. (Tuscan, De Gubernatis,\n    _Sto. Stefano_, No. 14, _Sor Fiorante mago_)                        322\n\nXXI. THE CRYSTAL CASKET. (Tuscan, _La Scatola di Cristallo\n     raccolta da_ G. Pitre)                                             326\n\nXXII. * THE STEPMOTHER. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 283, _La\n        Parrastra_)                                                     331\n\nXXIII. * WATER AND SALT. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 10, _L'Acqua\n         e lu Sali_)                                                    333\n\nXXIV. * THE LOVE OF THE THREE ORANGES. (Istrian, Ive,\n        1878, p. 3, _L'Amur dei tri Naranci_)                           338\n\nXXV. THE KING WHO WANTED A BEAUTIFUL WIFE. (Sicilian, Gonzenbach,\n     No. 73, _Von dem Koenige, der eine schoene Frau wollte_)              97\n\nXXVI. * THE BUCKET. (Milanese, _Novellaja fiorentina_,\n        p. 190, _El Sidellin_)                                          100\n\nXXVII. THE TWO HUMPBACKS. (Tuscan, _Novellaja fiorentina_,\n       p. 559, _I due Gobbi_)                                           103\n\nXXVIII. THE STORY OF CATHERINE AND HER FATE. (Sicilian, Gonzenbach,\n        No. 21, _Die Geschichte von Caterina und ihrem Schicksal_)      105\n\nXXIX. * THE CRUMB IN THE BEARD. (Bolognese, Coronedi-Berti,\n        No. 15, _La Fola d' Brisla in Barba_)                           110\n\nXXX. * THE FAIRY ORLANDA. (Neapolitan, _Novellaja\n       fiorentina_, p. 333, _'A Fata Orlanna_)                          114\n\nXXXI. THE SHEPHERD WHO MADE THE KING'S DAUGHTER LAUGH.\n      (Sicilian, Gonzenbach, No. 31, _Von dem Schaefer der\n      die Koenigstochter zum Lachen brachte_)                            119\n\nXXXII. THE ASS THAT LAYS MONEY. (Tuscan, Nerucci,\n       No. 43, _Il Ciuchino caca-zecchini_)                             123\n\nXXXIII. * DON JOSEPH PEAR. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 88,\n          _Don Giuseppi Piru_)                                          127\n\nXXXIV. PUSS IN BOOTS. (Straparola, XI. 1.)                              348\n\nXXXV. * FAIR BROW. (Istrian, Ive, 1877, p. 19, _Biela Fronte_)          131\n\nXXXVI. LIONBRUNO. (Basilicata, Comparetti, No. 41, _Lionbruno_)         136\n\nXXXVII. * THE PEASANT AND THE MASTER. (Sicilian,\n          Pitre, No. 194, _Lu Burgisi e lu Patruni_)                    150\n\nXXXVIII. THE INGRATES. (Piedmontese, Comparetti, No. 67, _Gli Ingrati_) 150\n\nXXXIX. * THE TREASURE. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 138, _La Truvatura_)       156\n\nXL. * THE SHEPHERD. (Milanese, _Novellaja fiorentina_,\n      p. 572, _El Pegoree_)                                             156\n\nXLI. * THE THREE ADMONITIONS. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n       No. 197, _Li tri Rigordi_)                                       157\n\nXLII. * VINEYARD I WAS AND VINEYARD I AM. (Venetian,\n        Bernoni, _Trad. pop. venez., Punt._ I. p. 11,\n        _Vigna era e Vigna son_)                                        159\n\nXLIII. THE LANGUAGE OF ANIMALS. (Piedmontese,\n       Comparetti, No. 56, _Il Linguaggio degli Animali_)               161\n\nXLIV. * THE MASON AND HIS SON. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n        No. 160, _Lu Muraturi e so Figghiu_)                            163\n\nXLV. THE PARROT. FIRST VERSION. (Tuscan, Comparetti,\n     No. 1, _Il Pappagallo_)                                            168\n\nXLVI. THE PARROT. SECOND VERSION. (Tuscan, Teza,\n      _La Tradizione dei Sette Savi_, etc., p. 52, _La Novellina\n      del Papagallo_)                                                   169\n\nXLVII. * THE PARROT WHICH TELLS THREE STORIES. THIRD VERSION.\n         (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 2, _Lu Pappagaddu chi cunta tri cunti_)  173\n           First Story of the Parrot                                    175\n           Second Story of the Parrot                                   178\n           Third Story of the Parrot                                    180\n\nXLVIII. * TRUTHFUL JOSEPH. (Neapolitan, _Pomiglianesi_,\n          p. 1, _Giuseppe 'A Vereta_)                                   184\n\nXLIX. _The Man, the Serpent, and the Fox._ (Otranto,\n       Morosi, p. 75)                                                   354\n\nL. * THE LORD, ST. PETER, AND THE APOSTLES.\n     (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 123, _Lu Signuri, S. Petru e\n     li Apostuli_)                                                      186\n\nLI. THE LORD, ST. PETER, AND THE BLACKSMITH.\n    (Venetian, Widter-Wolf, No. 5, _Der Herrgott, St.\n    Peter und der Schmied_)                                             188\n\nLII. * IN THIS WORLD ONE WEEPS AND ANOTHER LAUGHS.\n       (Sicilian, Pitre, _Cinque nov. pop. sicil._,\n       p. 7, _A stu munnu cu' chianci e cu' ridi_)                      190\n\nLIII. * THE ASS. (Sicilian, Pitre, _Cinque nov. pop. sicil._,\n        p. 8, _Lu Sceccu_)                                              190\n\nLIV. ST. PETER AND HIS SISTERS. (Tyrolese, Schneller,\n     p. 6, _St. Petrus und seine Schwestern_)                           193\n\nLV. * PILATE. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 119, _Pilatu_)                      194\n\nLVI. * THE STORY OF JUDAS. (Sicilian, Pitre, vol. I.\n       p. cxxxviii., _Lu Cuntu di Giuda_)                               195\n\nLVII. * DESPERATE MALCHUS. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 120,\n        _Marcu dispiratu_)                                              196\n\nLVIII. * MALCHUS AT THE COLUMN. (Venetian, Bernoni,\n         _Preghiere pop. veneziane_, p. 18, _Malco a la Colona_)        197\n\nLIX. * THE STORY OF BUTTADEU. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n       vol. I. p. cxxxiii., _La Storia di Buttadeu_)                    197\n\nLX. THE STORY OF CRIVOLIU. (Sicilian, Gonzenbach,\n    No. 85, _Vom Crivoliu_)                                             198\n\nLXI. THE STORY OF ST. JAMES OF GALICIA. (Sicilian,\n     Gonzenbach, No. 90, _Die Geschichte von San\n  Japicu alla Lizia_)                                                   202\n\nLXII. * THE BAKER'S APPRENTICE. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n        No. 111, _Lu Giuvini di lu Furnaru_)                            212\n\nLXIII. * OCCASION. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 124, _Accaciuni_)              215\n\nLXIV. * BROTHER GIOVANNONE. (Sicilian, Pitre, No.\n        125, _Fra Giugannuni_)                                          217\n\nLXV. GODFATHER MISERY. (Tuscan, De Gubernatis,\n  _Sto. Stefano_, No. 32, _Compar Miseria_)                             221\n\nLXVI. BEPPO PIPETTA. (Venetian, Widter-Wolf, No. 7, _Beppo Pipetta_)    222\n\nLXVII. * THE JUST MAN. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Trad. pop.\n         venez., Punt._ I. p. 6, _El Giusto_)                           226\n\nLXVIII. * OF A GODFATHER AND A GODMOTHER OF ST. JOHN WHO MADE LOVE.\n         (Venetian, Bernoni, _Leggende_, p. 3, _De una comare e un\n         compare de San Zuane che i conversava in fra de lori_)         228\n\nLXIX. * THE GROOMSMAN. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Leggende_,\n        p. 7, _De un compare de l' anelo ch' el ga struca la\n        man a la sposa co cativa intenzion_)                            231\n\nLXX. * THE PARISH PRIEST OF SAN MARCUOLA. (Venetian, Bernoni,\n       _Leggende_, p. 17, _De un piovan de San Marcuola, che ga\n       dito che i morti in dove che i xe i resta_)                      234\n\nLXXI. * THE GENTLEMAN WHO KICKED A SKULL. (Venetian,\n        Bernoni, _Leggende_, p. 19, _De un signor che\n        ga da 'na peada a un cragno da morto_)                          236\n\nLXXII. * _The Gossips of St. John._ (Sicilian, Pitre, No.\n         110, _Li Cumpari di S. Giuvanni_)                              369\n\nLXXIII. * SADDAEDDA. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 128, _Saddaedda_)            238\n\nLXXIV. * MR. ATTENTIVE. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Punt._ II.\n         p. 53, _Sior Intento_)                                         240\n\nLXXV. * THE STORY OF THE BARBER. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n        No. 141, _Lu Cuntu di lu Varveri_)                              241\n\nLXXVI. * DON FIRRIULIEDDU. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 130,\n         _Don Firriulieddu_)                                            241\n\nLXXVII. LITTLE CHICK-PEA. (Tuscan, _Rivista di Lett.\n        pop._ I. p. 161, _Cecino_)                                      242\n\nLXXVIII. * PITIDDA. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 131, _Pitidda_) 248\n\nLXXIX. * THE SEXTON'S NOSE. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 135,\n         _Lu Nasu di lu Sagristanu_)                                    250\n\nLXXX. * THE COCK AND THE MOUSE. (Principato Ulteriore,\n        Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, p. 239, _'O Gallo\n        e 'o Sorece_)                                                   252\n\nLXXXI. * GODMOTHER FOX. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 132,\n         _Cummari Vurpidda_)                                            254\n\nLXXXII. * THE CAT AND THE MOUSE. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n          No. 134, _La Gatta e lu Surci_)                               257\n\nLXXXIII. * A FEAST DAY. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Fiabe_,\n           No. 4, _'Na Giornada de Sagra_)                              261\n\nLXXXIV. * THE THREE BROTHERS. (Venetian, Bernoni,\n          _Trad. pop. venez., Punt._ I. p. 18, _I tre Fradei_)          263\n\nLXXXV. BUCHETTINO. (Tuscan, Papanti, _Novelline pop.\n       livornesi_, p. 25, _Buchettino_)                                 265\n\nLXXXVI. * THE THREE GOSLINGS. (Venetian, Bernoni,\n          _Trad. pop. venez., Punt._ III. p. 65, _Le Tre Ochete_)       267\n\nLXXXVII. * THE COCK. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Trad. pop.\n           venez., Punt._ III. p. 69, _El Galo_)                        270\n\nLXXXVIII. THE COCK THAT WISHED TO BECOME POPE.\n          (Sicilian, Gonzenbach, No. 66, _Von dem Hahne,\n          der Pabst werden wollte_)                                     272\n\nLXXXIX. _The Goat and the Fox._ (Otranto, Morosi, p. 73)                375\n\nXC. _The Ant and the Mouse._ (Otranto, Morosi, p. 73)                   376\n\nXCI. * THE COOK. (Milan, _Novellaja fiorentina_, p. 621, _El Coeugh_)   275\n\nXCII. * THE THOUGHTLESS ABBOT. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n        No. 97, _L' Abbati senza Pinseri_)                              276\n\nXCIII. * BASTIANELO. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Fiabe_, No.\n         6, _Bastianelo_)                                               279\n\nXCIV. * CHRISTMAS. (Neapolitan, Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_,\n        p. 226, _Natale_)                                               283\n\nXCV. * THE WAGER. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Fiabe_, No.\n       13, _La Scomessa_)                                               284\n\nXCVI. * SCISSORS THEY WERE. (Sicilian, Pitre, No.\n        257, _Forfici foro_)                                            285\n\nXCVII. * THE DOCTOR'S APPRENTICE. (Sicilian, Pitre,\n         No. 180, _L' Apprinnista di lu Medicu_)                        287\n\nXCVIII. * FIRRAZZANU'S WIFE AND THE QUEEN. (Sicilian,\n          Pitre, No. 156, _La Mugghieri di Firrazzanu e\n          la Riggina_)                                                  288\n\nXCIX. * GIUFA AND THE PLASTER STATUE. (Sicilian,\n        Pitre, No. 190, I, _Giufa e la statua di ghissu_) 291\n\nC. * GIUFA AND THE JUDGE. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 190,\n     3, _Giufa e lu Judici_)                                            293\n\nCI. THE LITTLE OMELET. (Tuscan, _Novellaja fiorentina_,\n    p. 545, _La Frittatina_)                                            294\n\nCII. * EAT, MY CLOTHES! (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 190, 9,\n       _Manciati, rubbiceddi mei!_)                                     296\n\nCIII. GIUFA'S EXPLOITS. (Sicilian, Gonzenbach, No. 37, _Giufa_)         297\n\nCIV. * THE FOOL. (Venetian, Bernoni, _Fiabe_, No. 11, _El Mato_)        302\n\nCV. * UNCLE CAPRIANO. (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 157, _Lu Zu Crapianu_)      303\n\nCVI. * _Peter Fullone and the Egg._ (Sicilian, Pitre, No. 200,\n       _Petru Fudduni e l' ovu_)                                        381\n\nCVII. THE CLEVER PEASANT. (Sicilian, Gonzenbach, No.\n      50, _Vom Klugen Bauer_)                                           309\n\nCVIII. THE CLEVER GIRL. (Tuscan, Comparetti, No. 43,\n        _La Ragazza astuta_)                                            311\n\nCIX. CRAB. (Mantuan, Visentini, No. 41, _Gambara)_                      314\n\n\n\n\nITALIAN POPULAR TALES\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nFAIRY TALES.\n\n\nThe most wide-spread and interesting class of Fairy Tales is the one in\nwhich a wife endeavors to behold the face of her husband, who comes to\nher only at night. She succeeds, but her husband disappears, and she is\nnot reunited to him until she has expiated her indiscretion by weary\njourneys and the performance of difficult tasks. This class, which is\nevidently the popular form of the classic myth of Cupid and Psyche, may\nfor convenience be divided into four classes. The first turns on the\npunishment of the wife's curiosity; the second, on the husband's\n(Melusina); in the third the heroine is married to a monster, is\nseparated from him by her disobedience, but finally is the means of his\nrecovering his human form; the fourth class is a variant of the first\nand third, the husband being an animal in form, and parted from his wife\nby the curiosity or disobedience of the latter or of her envious\nsisters.\n\nTo illustrate the first class, we select, from the large number of\nstories before us, a Sicilian tale (Pitre, No. 18) entitled:\n\n\nI. THE KING OF LOVE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a man with three daughters, who earned his\nliving by gathering wild herbs. One day he took his youngest daughter\nwith him. They came to a garden, and began to gather vegetables. The\ndaughter saw a fine radish, and began to pull it up, when suddenly a\nTurk appeared, and said: \"Why have you opened my master's door? You\nmust come in now, and he will decide on your punishment.\"\n\nThey went down into the ground, more dead than alive; and when they were\nseated they saw a green bird come in and bathe in a pan of milk, then\ndry itself, and become a handsome youth. He said to the Turk: \"What do\nthese persons want?\" \"Your worship, they pulled up a radish, and opened\nthe door of the cave.\" \"How did we know,\" said the father, \"that this\nwas Your Excellency's house? My daughter saw a fine radish; it pleased\nher, and she pulled it up.\" \"Well, if that's the case,\" said the master,\n\"your daughter shall stay here as my wife; take this sack of gold and\ngo; when you want to see your daughter, come and make yourself at home.\"\nThe father took leave of his daughter and went away.\n\nWhen the master was alone with her, he said: \"You see, Rosella\n(Rusidda), you are now mistress here,\" and gave her all the keys. She\nwas perfectly happy (literally, \"was happy to the hairs of her head\").\nOne day, while the green bird was away, her sisters took it into their\nheads to visit her, and asked her about her husband. Rosella said she\ndid not know, for he had made her promise not to try to find out who he\nwas. Her sisters, however, persuaded her, and when the bird returned and\nbecame a man, Rosella put on a downcast air. \"What is the matter?\" asked\nher husband. \"Nothing.\" \"You had better tell me.\" She let him question\nher a while, and at last said: \"Well, then, if you want to know why I am\nout of sorts, it is because I wish to know your name.\" Her husband told\nher that it would be the worse for her, but she insisted on knowing his\nname. So he made her put the gold basins on a chair, and began to bathe\nhis feet. \"Rosella, do you really want to know my name?\" \"Yes.\" And the\nwater came up to his waist, for he had become a bird, and had got into\nthe basin. Then he asked her the same question again, and again she\nanswered yes, and the water was up to his mouth. \"Rosella, do you really\nwant to know my name?\" \"Yes, yes, yes!\" \"Then know that I am called THE\nKING OF LOVE!\" And saying this he disappeared, and the basins and the\npalace disappeared likewise, and Rosella found herself alone out in an\nopen plain, without a soul to help her. She called her servants, but no\none answered her. Then she said: \"Since my husband has disappeared, I\nmust wander about alone and forlorn to seek him!\"\n\nThe poor woman, who expected before long to become a mother, began her\nwanderings, and at night arrived at another lonely plain; then she felt\nher heart sink, and, not knowing what to do, she cried out:--\n\n    \"Ah! King of Love,\n    You did it, and said it.\n    You disappeared from me in a golden basin,\n    And who will shelter to-night\n    This poor unfortunate one?\"\n\nWhen she had uttered these words an ogress appeared and said: \"Ah!\nwretch, how dare you go about seeking my nephew?\" and was going to eat\nher up; but she took pity on her miserable state, and gave her shelter\nfor the night. The next morning she gave her a piece of bread, and said:\n\"We are seven sisters, all ogresses, and the worst of all is your\nmother-in-law; look out for her!\"\n\nTo be brief, the poor girl wandered about six days, and met all six of\nthe ogresses, who treated her in the same way. The seventh day, in great\ndistress, she uttered her usual lament, and the sister of the King of\nLove appeared and said, \"Rosella, while my mother is out, come up!\" and\nshe lowered the braids of her hair, and pulled her up. Then she gave her\nsomething to eat, and told her how to seize and pinch her mother until\nshe cried out: \"Let me alone for the sake of my son, the King of Love!\"\n\nRosella did as she was told, but the ogress was so angry she was going\nto eat her. But her daughters threatened to abandon her if she did.\n\"Well, then, I will write a letter, and Rosella must carry it to my\nfriend.\" Poor Rosella was disheartened when she saw the letter, and,\ndescending, found herself in the midst of a plain. She uttered her usual\ncomplaint, when the King of Love appeared, and said: \"You see your\ncuriosity has brought you to this point!\" Poor thing! when she saw him\nshe began to cry, and begged his pardon for what she had done. He took\npity on her, and said: \"Now listen to what you must do. On your way you\nwill come to a river of blood; you must bend down and take some up in\nyour hands, and say: 'How beautiful is this crystal water! such water as\nthis I have never drunk!' Then you will come to another stream of turbid\nwater, and do the same there. Then you will find yourself in a garden\nwhere there is a great quantity of fruit; pick some and eat it, saying:\n'What fine pears! I have never eaten such pears as these.' Afterward,\nyou will come to an oven that bakes bread day and night, and no one buys\nany. When you come there, say: 'Oh, what fine bread! bread like this I\nhave never eaten,' and eat some. Then you will come to an entrance\nguarded by two hungry dogs; give them a piece of bread to eat. Then you\nwill come to a doorway all dirty and full of cobwebs; take a broom and\nsweep it clean. Half-way up the stairs you will find two giants, each\nwith a dirty piece of meat by his side; take a brush and clean it for\nthem. When you have entered the house, you will find a razor, a pair of\nscissors, and a knife; take something and polish them. When you have\ndone this, go in and deliver your letter to my mother's friend. When she\nwants to make you enter, snatch up a little box on the table, and run\naway. Take care to do all the things I have told you, or else you will\nnever escape alive.\"\n\nRosella did as she was told, and while the ogress was reading the letter\nRosella seized the box and ran for her life. When the ogress had\nfinished reading her letter, she called: \"Rosella! Rosella!\" When she\nreceived no answer, she perceived that she had been betrayed, and cried\nout: \"Razor, Scissors, Knife, cut her in pieces!\" They answered: \"As\nlong as we have been razor, scissors, and knife, when did you ever deign\nto polish us? Rosella came and brightened us up.\" The ogress, enraged,\nexclaimed: \"Stairs, swallow her up!\" \"As long as I have been stairs,\nwhen did you ever deign to sweep me? Rosella came and swept me.\" The\nogress cried in a passion: \"Giants, crush her!\" \"As long as we have been\ngiants, when did you ever deign to clean our food for us? Rosella came\nand did it.\"\n\nThen the furious ogress called on the entrance to bury her alive, the\ndogs to devour her, the furnace to burn her, the fruit-tree to fall on\nher, and the rivers to drown her; but they all remembered Rosella's\nkindness, and refused to injure her.\n\nMeanwhile Rosella continued her way, and at last became curious to know\nwhat was in the box she was carrying. So she opened it, and a great\nquantity of little puppets came out; some danced, some sang, and some\nplayed on musical instruments. She amused herself some time with them;\nbut when she was ready to go on, the little figures would not return to\nthe box. Night approached, and she exclaimed, as she had so often\nbefore:--\n\n\"Ah! King of Love,\" etc.\n\nThen her husband appeared and said, \"Oh, your curiosity will be the\ndeath of you!\" and commanded the puppets to enter the box again. Then\nRosella went her way, and arrived safely at her mother-in-law's. When\nthe ogress saw her she exclaimed: \"You owe this luck to my son, the King\nof Love!\" and was going to devour poor Rosella, but her daughters said:\n\"Poor child! she has brought you the box; why do you want to eat her?\"\n\"Well and good. You want to marry my son, the King of Love; then take\nthese six mattresses, and go and fill them with birds' feathers!\"\nRosella descended, and began to wander about, uttering her usual lament.\nWhen her husband appeared Rosella told him what had happened. He\nwhistled and the King of the Birds appeared, and commanded all the birds\nto come and drop their feathers, fill the six beds, and carry them back\nto the ogress, who again said that her son had helped Rosella. However,\nshe went and made up her son's bed with the six mattresses, and that\nvery day she made him marry the daughter of the King of Portugal. Then\nshe called Rosella, and, telling her that her son was married, bade her\nkneel before the nuptial bed, holding two lighted torches. Rosella\nobeyed, but soon the King of Love, under the plea that Rosella was not\nin a condition to hold the torches any longer, persuaded his bride to\nchange places with her. Just as the queen took the torches in her hands,\nthe earth opened and swallowed her up, and the king remained happy with\nRosella.\n\nWhen the ogress heard what had happened she clasped her hands over her\nhead, and declared that Rosella's child should not be born until she\nunclasped her hands. Then the King of Love had a catafalque erected, and\nstretched himself on it as though he were dead, and had all the bells\ntolled, and made the people cry, \"How did the King of Love die?\" The\nogress heard it, and asked: \"What is that noise?\" Her daughters told her\nthat their brother was dead from her fault. When the ogress heard this\nshe unclasped her hands, saying, \"How did my son die?\" At that moment\nRosella's child was born. When the ogress heard it she burst a\nblood-vessel (in her heart) and died. Then the King of Love took his\nwife and sisters, and they remained happy and contented.[1]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is another version of this story in Pitre (No. 281) entitled, \"The\nCrystal King,\" which resembles more closely the classic myth.\n\nA father marries the youngest of his three daughters to a cavalier (the\nenchanted son of a king) who comes to his wife at night only. The\ncavalier once permits his wife to visit her sisters, and they learn from\nher that she has never seen her husband's face. The eldest gives her a\nwax candle, and tells her to light it when her husband is asleep, and\nthen she can see him and tell them what he is like. She did so, and\nbeheld at her side a handsome youth; but while she was gazing at him\nsome of the melted wax fell on his nose. He awoke, crying, \"Treason!\ntreason!\" and drove his wife from the house. On her wanderings she\nmeets a hermit, and tells him her story. He advises her to have made a\npair of iron shoes, and when she has worn them out in her travels she\nwill come to a palace where they will give her shelter, and where she\nwill find her husband. The remainder of the story is of no interest\nhere.[2]\n\nIn the second class of stories belonging to this myth it is the\ncuriosity of the husband which is punished, the best known example of\nthis class, out of Italy, being the beautiful French legend of\nMelusina.[3] A Sicilian story in Gonzenbach, No. 16, \"The Story of the\nMerchant's Son Peppino,\" is a very close counterpart of \"The King of\nLove,\" above given. Peppino is wrecked on a rock in the sea; the rock\nopens, fair maidens come out and conduct Peppino to a beautiful castle\nin the cave. There a maiden visits him at night only. After a time\nPeppino wishes to see his parents, and his wife allows him to depart,\nwith the promise to return at a certain date. His parents, after hearing\nhis story, give him a candle with which to see his wife. Everything\nhappens as in the first story; the castle disappears, and Peppino finds\nhimself on the top of a snow-covered mountain. He recovers his wife only\nafter the lapse of many years and the accomplishment of many difficult\ntasks.[4]\n\nThe third class, generally known by the title of \"Beauty and the Beast,\"\nis best represented by a story from Montale (near Pistoja), called:\n\n\nII. ZELINDA AND THE MONSTER.\n\nThere was once a poor man who had three daughters; and as the youngest\nwas the fairest and most civil, and had the best disposition, her other\ntwo sisters envied her with a deadly envy, although her father, on the\ncontrary, loved her dearly. It happened that in a neighboring town, in\nthe month of January, there was a great fair, and that poor man was\nobliged to go there to lay in the provisions necessary for the support\nof his family; and before departing he asked his three daughters if\nthey would like some small presents in proportion, you understand, to\nhis means. Rosina wished a dress, Marietta asked him for a shawl, but\nZelinda was satisfied with a handsome rose. The poor man set out on his\njourney early the next day, and when he arrived at the fair quickly\nbought what he needed, and afterward easily found Rosina's dress and\nMarietta's shawl; but at that season he could not find a rose for his\nZelinda, although he took great pains in looking everywhere for one.\nHowever, anxious to please his dear Zelinda, he took the first road he\ncame to, and after journeying a while arrived at a handsome garden\ninclosed by high walls; but as the gate was partly open he entered\nsoftly. He found the garden filled with every kind of flowers and\nplants, and in a corner was a tall rose-bush full of beautiful\nrose-buds. Wherever he looked no living soul appeared from whom he might\nask a rose as a gift or for money, so the poor man, without thinking,\nstretched out his hand, and picked a rose for his Zelinda.\n\nMercy! scarcely had he pulled the flower from the stalk when there arose\na great noise, and flames darted from the earth, and all at once there\nappeared a terrible Monster with the figure of a dragon, and hissed with\nall his might, and cried out, enraged at that poor Christian: \"Rash man!\nwhat have you done? Now you must die at once, for you have had the\naudacity to touch and destroy my rose-bush.\" The poor man, more than\nhalf dead with terror, began to weep and beg for mercy on his knees,\nasking pardon for the fault he had committed, and told why he had picked\nthe rose; and then he added: \"Let me depart; I have a family, and if I\nam killed they will go to destruction.\" But the Monster, more wicked\nthan ever, responded: \"Listen; one must die. Either bring me the girl\nthat asked for the rose or I will kill you this very moment.\" It was\nimpossible to move him by prayers or lamentations; the Monster persisted\nin his decision, and did not let the poor man go until he had sworn to\nbring him there in the garden his daughter Zelinda.\n\nImagine how downhearted that poor man returned home! He gave his oldest\ndaughters their presents and Zelinda her rose; but his face was\ndistorted and as white as though he had arisen from the dead; so that\nthe girls, in terror, asked him what had happened and whether he had met\nwith any misfortune. They were urgent, and at last the poor man, weeping\nbitterly, related the misfortunes of that unhappy journey and on what\ncondition he had been able finally to return home. \"In short,\" he\nexclaimed, \"either Zelinda or I must be eaten alive by the Monster.\"\nThen the two sisters emptied the vials of their wrath on Zelinda. \"Just\nsee,\" they said, \"that affected, capricious girl! She shall go to the\nMonster! She who wanted roses at this season. No, indeed! Papa must stay\nwith us. The stupid creature!\" At all these taunts Zelinda, without\ngrowing angry, simply said: \"It is right that the one who has caused the\nmisfortune should pay for it. I will go to the Monster's. Yes, Papa,\ntake me to the garden, and the Lord's will be done.\"\n\nThe next day Zelinda and her sorrowful father began their journey and at\nnightfall arrived at the garden gate. When they entered they saw as\nusual no one, but they beheld a lordly palace all lighted and the doors\nwide open. When the two travellers entered the vestibule, suddenly four\nmarble statues, with lighted torches in their hands, descended from\ntheir pedestals, and accompanied them up the stairs to a large hall\nwhere a table was lavishly spread. The travellers, who were very hungry,\nsat down and began to eat without ceremony; and when they had finished,\nthe same statues conducted them to two handsome chambers for the night.\nZelinda and her father were so weary that they slept like dormice all\nnight.\n\nAt daybreak Zelinda and her father arose, and were served with\neverything for breakfast by invisible hands. Then they descended to the\ngarden, and began to seek the Monster. When they came to the rose-bush\nhe appeared in all his frightful ugliness. Zelinda, on seeing him,\nbecame pale with fear, and her limbs trembled, but the Monster regarded\nher attentively with his great fiery eyes, and afterward said to the\npoor man: \"Very well; you have kept your word, and I am satisfied. Now\ndepart and leave me alone here with the young girl.\" At this command the\nold man thought he should die; and Zelinda, too, stood there half\nstupefied and her eyes full of tears; but entreaties were of no avail;\nthe Monster remained as obdurate as a stone, and the poor man was\nobliged to depart, leaving his dear Zelinda in the Monster's power.\n\nWhen the Monster was alone with Zelinda he began to caress her, and make\nloving speeches to her, and managed to appear quite civil. There was no\ndanger of his forgetting her, and he saw that she wanted nothing, and\nevery day, talking with her in the garden, he asked her: \"Do you love\nme, Zelinda? Will you be my wife?\" The young girl always answered him in\nthe same way: \"I like you, sir, but I will never be your wife.\" Then the\nMonster appeared very sorrowful, and redoubled his caresses and\nattentions, and, sighing deeply, said: \"But you see, Zelinda, if you\nshould marry me wonderful things would happen. What they are I cannot\ntell you until you will be my wife.\"\n\nZelinda, although in her heart not dissatisfied with that beautiful\nplace and with being treated like a queen, still did not feel at all\nlike marrying the Monster, because he was too ugly and looked like a\nbeast, and always answered his requests in the same manner. One day,\nhowever, the Monster called Zelinda in haste, and said: \"Listen,\nZelinda; if you do not consent to marry me it is fated that your father\nmust die. He is ill and near the end of his life, and you will not be\nable even to see him again. See whether I am telling you the truth.\"\nAnd, drawing out an enchanted mirror, the Monster showed Zelinda her\nfather on his death-bed. At that spectacle Zelinda, in despair and half\nmad with grief, cried: \"Oh, save my father, for mercy's sake! Let me be\nable to embrace him once more before he dies. Yes, yes, I promise you I\nwill be your faithful and constant wife, and that without delay. But\nsave my father from death.\"\n\nScarcely had Zelinda uttered these words when suddenly the Monster was\ntransformed into a very handsome youth. Zelinda was astounded by this\nunexpected change, and the young man took her by the hand, and said:\n\"Know, dear Zelinda, that I am the son of the King of the Oranges. An\nold witch, touching me, changed me into the terrible Monster I was, and\ncondemned me to be hidden in this rose-bush until a beautiful girl\nconsented to become my wife.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe remainder of the story has no interest here. Zelinda and her husband\nstrive to obtain his parents' consent to his marriage. They refuse and\nthe young couple run away from the royal palace and fall into the power\nof an ogre and his wife, from whom they at last escape.[5]\n\nA characteristic trait of this class of stories is omitted in the above\nversion, but found in a number of others. In a Sicilian version (Pitre,\nNo. 39, \"The Empress Rosina\") the monster permits Rosina to visit her\nfamily, but warns her that if she does not return at the end of nine\ndays he will die. He gives her a ring the stone of which will grow black\nin that event. The nine days pass unheeded, and when Rosina looks at her\nring it is as black as pitch. She returns in haste, and finds the\nmonster writhing in the last agony under the rose-bush. Four days she\nrubbed him with some ointment she found in the palace, and the monster\nrecovered. As in the last story, he resumes his shape when Rosina\nconsents to marry him. In one of Pitre's variants the monster allows\nElizabeth to visit her dying father, if she will promise not to tear her\nhair. When her father dies she forgets, in her grief, her promise, and\ntears out her hair. When she returns to the palace the monster has\ndisappeared. She seeks him, exclaiming:--\n\n    \"Fierce animal mine,\n    If I find thee alive\n    I will marry thee although an animal.\"\n\nShe finds him at last, and he resumes his form.[6]\n\nThe fourth class consists of stories more or less distantly connected\nwith the first and third classes above mentioned, and which turn on the\nheroine's separation from, and search after, her lost husband, usually\nan animal in form.\n\nThe example we have selected from this class is from Venice (Bernoni,\nXVII.), and is as follows:--\n\n\nIII. KING BEAN.\n\nThere was once an old man who had three daughters. One day the youngest\ncalled her father into her room, and requested him to go to King Bean\nand ask him whether he wished her for his wife. The poor old man said:\n\"You want me to go, but what shall I do; I have never been there?\" \"No\nmatter,\" she answered; \"I wish you to obey me and go.\" Then he started\non his way, and asked (for he did not know) where the king lived, and\nthey pointed out the palace to him. When he was in the king's presence\nhe said: \"Your Majesty's servant.\" The king replied: \"What do you want\nof me, my good old man?\" Then he told him that his daughter was in love\nwith him, and wanted to marry him. The king answered: \"How can she be in\nlove with me when she has never seen or known me?\" \"She is killing\nherself with weeping, and cannot stand it much longer.\" The king\nreplied: \"Here is a white handkerchief; let her dry her tears with it.\"\n\nThe old man took back the handkerchief and the message to his daughter,\nwho said: \"Well, after three or four days you must go back again, and\ntell him that I will kill myself or hang myself if he will not marry\nme.\"\n\nThe old man went back, and said to the king: \"Your Majesty, do me the\nfavor to marry my daughter; if not, she will make a great spectacle of\nherself.\" The king replied: \"Behold how many handsome portraits I have\nhere, and how many beautiful young girls I have, and not one of them\nsuits me.\" The old man said: \"She told me also to say to you that if you\ndid not marry her she would kill herself or hang herself.\" Then the king\ngave him a knife and a rope, and said: \"Here is a knife if she wants to\nkill herself, and here is a rope if she wants to hang herself.\"\n\nThe old man bore this message back to his daughter, who told her father\nthat he must go back to the king again, and not leave him until he\nobtained his consent. The old man returned once more, and, falling on\nhis knees before the king, said: \"Do me this great favor: take my\ndaughter for your wife; do not say no, for the poor girl is beside\nherself.\" The king answered: \"Rise, good old man, and I will consent,\nfor I am sorry for your long journeys. But hear what your daughter must\ndo first. She must prepare three vessels: one of milk and water, one of\nmilk, and one of rose-water. And here is a bean; when she wants to speak\nwith me, let her go out on the balcony and open the bean, and I will\ncome.\"\n\nThe old man returned home this time more satisfied, and told his\ndaughter what she must do. She prepared the three vessels as directed,\nand then opened the bean on the balcony, and saw at once something\nflying from a distance towards her. It flew into the room by the\nbalcony, and entered the vessel of water and milk to bathe; then it\nhastened into the vessel of milk, and finally into that containing the\nrose-water. And then there came out the handsomest youth that was ever\nseen, and made love to the young girl. Afterward, when they were tired\nof their love-making, he bade her good-night, and flew away.\n\nAfter a time, when her sisters saw that she was always shut up in her\nroom, the oldest said: \"Why does she shut herself up in her room all the\ntime?\" The other sister replied: \"Because she has King Bean, who is\nmaking love to her.\" The oldest said: \"Wait until she goes to church,\nand then we will see what there is in her room.\" One day the youngest\nlocked her door, and went to church. Then the two sisters broke open the\ndoor, and saw the three vessels prepared, and said: \"This is the vessel\nin which the king goes to bathe.\" The oldest said: \"Let us go down into\nthe store, and get some broken glass, and put a little in each of the\nthree vessels; and when the king bathes in them, the glass will pierce\nhim and cut all his body.\"\n\nThey did so, and then left the room looking as it did first. When the\nyoungest sister returned, she went to her room, and wished to talk with\nher husband. She opened the balcony, and then she opened the bean, and\nsaw at once her husband come flying from a distance, with his arms open\nto embrace her. He flew on to the balcony, and threw himself into the\nvessel of milk and water, and the pieces of glass pierced his body; then\nhe entered the vessel of milk and that of rose-water, and his body was\nfilled with the fragments of glass. When he came out of the rose-water,\nhe flew away. Then his wife hastened out on the balcony, and saw a\nstreak of blood wherever he had flown. Then she looked into the vessels,\nand saw all three full of blood, and cried: \"I have been betrayed! I\nhave been betrayed!\"\n\nShe called her father, and told him that she had been betrayed by her\nsisters, and that she wished to go away and see whether she could cure\nher husband. She departed, and had not gone far when she found herself\nin a forest. There she saw a little house, with a little bit of a door,\nat which she knocked, and heard a voice saying, \"Are you Christians?\"\nShe replied, \"Yes.\" Then the door opened, and she saw a holy hermit, who\nsaid: \"Blessed one, how did you get here? In a moment the witches will\ncome who might bewitch you.\" She replied: \"Father, I am seeking King\nBean, who is ill.\" The hermit said: \"I know nothing about him. Climb\nthat tree; the witches will soon come, and you will learn something from\nthem. If you want anything afterward, come to me, and I will give it to\nyou.\"\n\nWhen she was up the tree she heard a loud noise and the words, \"Here we\nare! here we are!\" and all the witches run and seat themselves on the\nground in the midst of the forest, and begin to say: \"The cripple is not\nhere! Where has that cursed cripple gone?\" Some one answered: \"Here she\nis coming!\" Another said: \"You cursed cripple, where have you been?\" The\ncripple answered: \"Be still; I will tell you now. But wait a moment\nuntil I shake this tree to see whether there is any one in it.\" The\npoor girl held on firmly so as not to fall down. After she had shaken it\nthis cripple said to her companions: \"Do you want me to tell you\nsomething? King Bean has only two hours to live.\" Another witch said:\n\"What is the matter with him?\" The cripple answered: \"He had a wife, and\nshe put some broken glass in the three vessels, and he filled his body\nwith it.\" Another witch asked: \"Is there nothing that can cure him?\" The\ncripple replied: \"It is very difficult.\" Another said: \"What would be\nnecessary?\" The cripple said: \"Listen to what it needs. One of us must\nbe killed, and her blood put in a kettle, and have added to it the blood\nof one of these doves flying about here. When this blood is well mixed,\nit must be heated, and with this blood the whole body of the king must\nbe anointed. Another thing yet is necessary. Under the stone you see\nthere is a flask of water. The stone must be removed, a bottle of the\nwater must be poured over the king, and all the bits of glass will come\nout of him, and in five minutes he will be safe and sound.\"\n\nThen the witches ate and drank until they were intoxicated and tired,\nand then threw themselves down on the ground to sleep. When the young\ngirl saw that they were asleep, she descended quietly from the tree,\nknocked at the hermit's door, told him what the witches had said, and\nasked him for a kettle, knife, and bottle. He gave them to her, and\ncaught a dove, which he killed, bled, and put the blood in a kettle.\n\nThe young girl did not know which one of the witches to kill, but\nfinally she decided to kill the cripple who had spoken, and put her\nblood in the kettle. Afterward she lifted the stone, found the flask of\nwater, and filled her bottle with it. She then returned to the hermit,\nand told him all she had done. He gave her a physician's dress, which\nshe put on, and went to the palace of King Bean. There she asked the\nguards to let her pass, for she was going, she said, to see about curing\nthe king. The guards refused at first, but, seeing her so confident,\nallowed her to enter. The king's mother went to her at once and said:\n\"My good physician, if you can cure my son, you shall mount the throne,\nand I will give you my crown.\" \"I have come in haste from a distance,\"\nsaid the physician, \"and will cure him.\" Then the physician went to the\nkitchen, put the kettle on the fire, and afterward entered the room of\nthe king, who had but a few minutes to live, anointed his whole body\nwith the blood, and then poured the bottle of water all over him. Then\nthe glass came out of his body, and in five minutes he was safe and\nsound. The king said: \"Here, physician, is my crown. I wish to put it on\nyour head.\" The physician answered: \"How did your Majesty come to have\nthis slight trouble?\" The king said: \"On account of my wife. I went to\nmake love to her, and she prepared for me three vessels of water and\nmilk, of milk, and of rose-water, and put broken glass in them, so that\nI had my body full of it.\" Said the physician: \"See whether it was your\nwife who worked you this treason! Could it not have been some one else?\"\n\"That is impossible,\" said the king; \"for no one entered her room.\" \"And\nwhat would you do,\" said the physician, \"if you had her now in your\nhands?\" \"I would kill her with a knife.\" \"You are right,\" said the\nphysician; \"because, if it is true that she has acted thus, she deserves\nnothing but death.\"\n\nThen the physician said he must depart; but the king's mother said: \"No,\nno! It shall never be said that after saving my son's life you went\naway. Here you are, and here I wish you to stay; and, on account of the\npromise I made you, I wish my crown to come upon your head.\" \"I want but\none thing,\" said the physician. \"Command, doctor; only say what you\ndesire.\" \"I wish the king to write on the palm of one of my hands my\nname and surname, and on the other his name and surname.\" The king did\nso, and the physician said: \"Now I am going to make some visits, then I\nwill return.\"\n\nInstead of returning, the pretended physician went to her own home, and\nthrew away the water and milk in the three vessels, and put in other\npure water and milk and rose-water. Then she went out on the balcony,\nand opened the bean. The king, who felt his heart opened, seized his\ndagger, and hastened to his wife to kill her. When she saw the dagger,\nshe raised her hands, and the king beheld his name and hers. Then he\nthrew his dagger away, bathed in the three vessels, and then threw his\narms about his wife's neck, and exclaimed: \"If you are the one who did\nme so much harm, you are also the one who cured me.\" She answered: \"It\nwas not I. I was betrayed by my sisters.\" \"If that is so,\" said he,\n\"come at once to my parents' house, and we will be married there.\" When\nshe arrived at the king's palace, she related everything to his parents,\nand showed them her hands with her name and surname. Then the king's\nparents embraced her, and gave her a wedding, and she and the king loved\neach other as long as they lived.[7]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next class to which we shall direct our attention is the one in\nwhich jealous relatives (usually envious sisters or mother-in-law),\nsteal a mother's new-born children, who are exposed and afterwards\nrescued and brought up far from their home by some childless person; or\nthe mother is accused of having devoured them, and is repudiated or\npunished, and finally delivered and restored to her former position by\nher children, who are discovered by their father.[8]\n\nThe following story, belonging to this class, is from Pitre (No. 36),\nslightly condensed.\n\n\nIV. THE DANCING WATER, THE SINGING APPLE, AND THE SPEAKING BIRD.[9]\n\nThere was once an herb-gatherer who had three daughters who earned their\nliving by spinning. One day their father died and left them all alone in\nthe world. Now the king had a habit of going about the streets at night,\nand listening at the doors to hear what the people said of him. One\nnight he listened at the door of the house where the three sisters\nlived, and heard them disputing about something. The oldest said: \"If I\nwere the wife of the royal butler, I would give the whole court to drink\nout of one glass of water, and there would be some left.\" The second\nsaid: \"If I were the wife of the keeper of the royal wardrobe, with one\npiece of cloth I would clothe all the attendants, and have some left.\"\nThe youngest said: \"Were I the king's wife, I would bear him three\nchildren: two sons with apples in their hands, and a daughter with a\nstar on her brow.\"\n\nThe king went back to his palace, and the next morning sent for the\nsisters, and said to them: \"Do not be frightened, but tell me what you\nsaid last night.\" The oldest told him what she had said, and the king\nhad a glass of water brought, and commanded her to prove her words. She\ntook the glass, and gave all the attendants to drink, and there was some\nwater left. \"Bravo!\" cried the king, and summoned the butler. \"This is\nyour husband. Now it is your turn,\" said the king to the next sister,\nand commanded a piece of cloth to be brought, and the young girl at once\ncut out garments for all the attendants, and had some cloth left.\n\"Bravo!\" cried the king again, and gave her the keeper of the wardrobe\nfor her husband. \"Now it is your turn,\" said the king to the youngest.\n\"Your Majesty, I said that were I the king's wife, I would bear him\nthree children: two sons with apples in their hands, and a daughter with\na star on her brow.\" The king replied: \"If that is true, you shall be\nqueen; if not, you shall die,\" and straightway he married her.\n\nVery soon the two older sisters began to be envious of the youngest.\n\"Look,\" said they: \"she is going to be queen, and we must be servants!\"\nand they began to hate her. A few months before the queen's children\nwere to be born, the king declared war, and was obliged to depart; but\nhe left word that if the queen had three children: two sons with apples\nin their hands and a girl with a star on her brow, the mother was to be\nrespected as queen; if not, he was to be informed of it, and would tell\nhis servants what to do. Then he departed for the war.\n\nWhen the queen's children were born, as she had promised, the envious\nsisters bribed the nurse to put little dogs in the place of the queen's\nchildren, and sent word to the king that his wife had given birth to\nthree puppies. He wrote back that she should be taken care of for two\nweeks, and then put into a tread-mill.\n\nMeanwhile the nurse took the little babies, and carried them out of\ndoors, saying: \"I will make the dogs eat them up,\" and she left them\nalone. While they were thus exposed, three fairies passed by and\nexclaimed: \"Oh how beautiful these children are!\" and one of the fairies\nsaid: \"What present shall we make these children?\" One answered: \"I will\ngive them a deer to nurse them.\" \"And I a purse always full of money.\"\n\"And I,\" said the third fairy, \"will give them a ring which will change\ncolor when any misfortune happens to one of them.\"\n\nThe deer nursed and took care of the children until they grew up. Then\nthe fairy who had given them the deer came and said: \"Now that you have\ngrown up, how can you stay here any longer?\" \"Very well,\" said one of\nthe brothers, \"I will go to the city and hire a house.\" \"Take care,\"\nsaid the deer, \"that you hire one opposite the royal palace.\" So they\nall went to the city and hired a palace as directed, and furnished it as\nif they had been royal personages. When the aunts saw these three\nyouths, imagine their terror! \"They are alive!\" they said. They could\nnot be mistaken, for there were the apples in their hands, and the star\non the girl's brow. They called the nurse and said to her: \"Nurse, what\ndoes this mean? are our nephews and niece alive?\" The nurse watched at\nthe window until she saw the two brothers go out, and then she went over\nas if to make a visit to the new house. She entered and said: \"What is\nthe matter, my daughter; how do you do? Are you perfectly happy? You\nlack nothing. But do you know what is necessary to make you really\nhappy? It is the Dancing Water. If your brothers love you, they will\nget it for you!\" She remained a moment longer and then departed.\n\nWhen one of the brothers returned, his sister said to him: \"Ah! my\nbrother, if you love me go and get me the Dancing Water.\" He consented,\nand next morning saddled a fine horse, and departed. On his way he met a\nhermit, who asked him, \"Where are you going, cavalier?\" \"I am going for\nthe Dancing Water.\" \"You are going to your death, my son; but keep on\nuntil you find a hermit older than I.\" He continued his journey until he\nmet another hermit, who asked him the same question, and gave him the\nsame direction. Finally he met a third hermit, older than the other two,\nwith a white beard that came down to his feet, who gave him the\nfollowing directions: \"You must climb yonder mountain. On top of it you\nwill find a great plain and a house with a beautiful gate. Before the\ngate you will see four giants with swords in their hands. Take heed; do\nnot make a mistake; for if you do that is the end of you! When the\ngiants have their eyes closed, do not enter; when they have their eyes\nopen, enter. Then you will come to a door. If you find it open, do not\nenter; if you find it shut, push it open and enter. Then you will find\nfour lions. When they have their eyes shut, do not enter; when their\neyes are open, enter, and you will see the Dancing Water.\" The youth\ntook leave of the hermit, and hastened on his way.\n\nMeanwhile the sister kept looking at the ring constantly, to see whether\nthe stone in it changed color; but as it did not, she remained\nundisturbed.\n\nA few days after leaving the hermit the youth arrived at the top of the\nmountain, and saw the palace with the four giants before it. They had\ntheir eyes shut, and the door was open. \"No,\" said the youth, \"that\nwon't do.\" And so he remained on the lookout a while. When the giants\nopened their eyes, and the door closed, he entered, waited until the\nlions opened their eyes, and passed in. There he found the Dancing\nWater, and filled his bottles with it, and escaped when the lions again\nopened their eyes.\n\nThe aunts, meanwhile, were delighted because their nephew did not\nreturn; but in a few days he appeared and embraced his sister. Then they\nhad two golden basins made, and put into them the Dancing Water, which\nleaped from one basin to the other. When the aunts saw it they\nexclaimed: \"Ah! how did he manage to get that water?\" and called the\nnurse, who again waited until the sister was alone, and then visited\nher. \"You see,\" said she, \"how beautiful the Dancing Water is! But do\nyou know what you want now? The Singing Apple.\" Then she departed. When\nthe brother who had brought the Dancing Water returned, his sister said\nto him: \"If you love me you must get for me the Singing Apple.\" \"Yes, my\nsister, I will go and get it.\"\n\nNext morning he mounted his horse, and set out. After a time he met the\nfirst hermit, who sent him to an older one. He asked the youth where he\nwas going, and said: \"It is a difficult task to get the Singing Apple,\nbut hear what you must do: Climb the mountain; beware of the giants, the\ndoor, and the lions; then you will find a little door and a pair of\nshears in it. If the shears are open, enter; if closed, do not risk it.\"\nThe youth continued his way, found the palace, entered, and found\neverything favorable. When he saw the shears open, he went in a room and\nsaw a wonderful tree, on top of which was an apple. He climbed up and\ntried to pick the apple, but the top of the tree swayed now this way,\nnow that. He waited until it was still a moment, seized the branch, and\npicked the apple. He succeeded in getting safely out of the palace,\nmounted his horse, and rode home, and all the time he was carrying the\napple it kept making a sound.\n\nThe aunts were again delighted because their nephew was so long absent;\nbut when they saw him return, they felt as though the house had fallen\non them. Again they summoned the nurse, and again she visited the young\ngirl, and said: \"See how beautiful they are, the Dancing Water and the\nSinging Apple! But should you see the Speaking Bird, there would be\nnothing left for you to see.\" \"Very well,\" said the young girl; \"we\nwill see whether my brother will get it for me.\"\n\nWhen her brother came she asked him for the Speaking Bird, and he\npromised to get it for her. He met, as usual on his journey, the first\nhermit, who sent him to the second, who sent him on to a third one, who\nsaid to him: \"Climb the mountain and enter the palace. You will find\nmany statues. Then you will come to a garden, in the midst of which is a\nfountain, and on the basin is the Speaking Bird. If it should say\nanything to you, do not answer. Pick a feather from the bird's wing, dip\nit into a jar you will find there, and anoint all the statues. Keep your\neyes open, and all will go well.\"\n\nThe youth already knew well the way, and soon was in the palace. He\nfound the garden and the bird, which, as soon as it saw him, exclaimed:\n\"What is the matter, noble sir; have you come for me? You have missed\nit. Your aunts have sent you to your death, and you must remain here.\nYour mother has been sent to the tread-mill.\" \"My mother in the\ntread-mill?\" cried the youth, and scarcely were the words out of his\nmouth when he became a statue like all the others.\n\nWhen the sister looked at her ring she saw that it had changed its color\nto blue. \"Ah!\" she exclaimed, and sent her other brother after the\nfirst. Everything happened to him as to the first. He met the three\nhermits, received his instructions, and soon found himself in the\npalace, where he discovered the garden with the statues, the fountain,\nand the Speaking Bird.\n\nMeanwhile the aunts, who saw that both their nephews were missing, were\ndelighted; and the sister, on looking at her ring, saw that it had\nbecome clear again.\n\nNow when the Speaking Bird saw the youth appear in the garden it said to\nhim: \"What has become of your brother? Your mother has been sent to the\ntread-mill.\" \"Alas, my mother in the tread-mill!\" And when he had spoken\nthese words he became a statue.\n\nThe sister looked at her ring, and it had become black. Poor child! not\nhaving anything else to do, she dressed herself like a page and set out.\n\nLike her brothers, she met the three hermits, and received their\ninstructions. The third concluded thus: \"Beware, for if you answer when\nthe bird speaks you will lose your life.\" She continued her way,\nfollowed exactly the hermit's directions, and reached the garden in\nsafety. When the bird saw her it exclaimed: \"Ah! you here, too? Now you\nwill meet the same fate as your brothers. Do you see them? one, two, and\nyou make three. Your father is at the war. Your mother is in the\ntread-mill. Your aunts are rejoicing.\" She did not reply, but let the\nbird sing on. When it had nothing more to say it flew down, and the\nyoung girl caught it, pulled a feather from its wing, dipped it into the\njar, and anointed her brothers' nostrils, and they at once came to life\nagain. Then she did the same with all the other statues, with the lions\nand the giants, until all became alive again. Then she departed with her\nbrothers, and all the noblemen, princes, barons, and kings' sons\nrejoiced greatly. Now when they had all come to life again the palace\ndisappeared, and the hermits disappeared, for they were the three\nfairies.\n\nThe day after the brothers and sister reached the city where they lived,\nthey summoned a goldsmith, and had him make a gold chain, and fasten the\nbird with it. The next time the aunts looked out they saw in the window\nof the palace opposite the Dancing Water, the Singing Apple, and the\nSpeaking Bird. \"Well,\" said they, \"the real trouble is coming now!\"\n\nThe bird directed the brothers and sister to procure a carriage finer\nthan the king's, with twenty-four attendants, and to have the service of\ntheir palace, cooks and servants, more numerous and better than the\nking's. All of which the brothers did at once. And when the aunts saw\nthese things they were ready to die of rage.\n\nAt last the king returned from the war, and his subjects told him all\nthe news of the kingdom, and the thing they talked about the least was\nhis wife and children. One day the king looked out of the window and\nsaw the palace opposite furnished in a magnificent manner. \"Who lives\nthere?\" he asked, but no one could answer him. He looked again and saw\nthe brothers and sister, the former with the apples in their hands, and\nthe latter with the star on her brow. \"Gracious! if I did not know that\nmy wife had given birth to three puppies, I should say that those were\nmy children,\" exclaimed the king. Another day he stood by the window and\nenjoyed the Dancing Water and the Singing Apple, but the bird was\nsilent. After the king had heard all the music, the bird said: \"What\ndoes your Majesty think of it?\" The king was astonished at hearing the\nSpeaking Bird, and answered: \"What should I think? It is marvellous.\"\n\"There is something more marvellous,\" said the bird; \"just wait.\" Then\nthe bird told his mistress to call her brothers, and said: \"There is the\nking; let us invite him to dinner on Sunday. Shall we not?\" \"Yes, yes,\"\nthey all said. So the king was invited and accepted, and on Sunday the\nbird had a grand dinner prepared and the king came. When he saw the\nyoung people, he clapped his hands and said: \"I cannot persuade myself;\nthey seem my children.\"\n\nHe went over the palace and was astonished at its richness. Then they\nwent to dinner, and while they were eating the king said: \"Bird, every\none is talking; you alone are silent.\" \"Ah! your Majesty, I am ill; but\nnext Sunday I shall be well and able to talk, and will come and dine at\nyour palace with this lady and these gentlemen.\" The next Sunday the\nbird directed his mistress and her brothers to put on their finest\nclothes; so they dressed in royal style and took the bird with them. The\nking showed them through his palace and treated them with the greatest\nceremony: the aunts were nearly dead with fear. When they had seated\nthemselves at the table, the king said: \"Come, bird, you promised me you\nwould speak; have you nothing to say?\" Then the bird began and related\nall that had happened from the time the king had listened at the door\nuntil his poor wife had been sent to the tread-mill; then the bird\nadded: \"These are your children, and your wife was sent to the mill, and\nis dying.\" When the king heard all this, he hastened to embrace his\nchildren, and then went to find his poor wife, who was reduced to skin\nand bones and was at the point of death. He knelt before her and begged\nher pardon, and then summoned her sisters and the nurse, and when they\nwere in his presence he said to the bird: \"Bird, you who have told me\neverything, now pronounce their sentence.\" Then the bird sentenced the\nnurse to be thrown out of the window, and the sisters to be cast into a\ncauldron of boiling oil. This was at once done. The king was never tired\nof embracing his wife. Then the bird departed and the king and his wife\nand children lived together in peace.[10]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe next pass to the class of stories in which children are promised by\ntheir parents to witches or the Evil One. The children who are thus\npromised are often unborn, and the promise is made by the parents either\nto escape some danger with which they are threatened by witch or demon,\nor in return for money. Sometimes there is a misunderstanding, as in\nGrimm's story of the \"Handless Maiden,\" where the Miller in return for\nriches promises the Evil One to give him \"what stands behind his mill.\"\nThe Miller supposes his apple-tree is meant, but it is his daughter, who\nhappened to be behind the mill when the compact was made. The most usual\nform of the story in Italian is this: A woman who expects to give birth\nto a child is seized with a great longing for some herb or fruit\n(generally parsley) growing in the witch's garden. The witch (ogress)\ncatches her picking it, and only releases her on condition that she\nshall give her the child after it is born and has reached a definite\nage. The following Sicilian story from Gonzenbach (No. 53) will\nillustrate this class sufficiently:\n\n\nV. THE FAIR ANGIOLA.\n\nOnce upon a time there were seven women, neighbors, all of whom were\nseized with a great longing for some jujubes which only grew in a garden\nopposite the place where they all lived, and which belonged to a witch.\nNow this witch had a donkey that watched the garden and told the old\nwitch when any one entered. The seven neighbors, however, had such a\ndesire for the jujubes that they entered the garden and threw the donkey\nsome nice soft grass, and while he was eating it they filled their\naprons with jujubes and escaped before the witch appeared. This they did\nseveral times, until at last the witch noticed that some one had been in\nher garden, for many of the jujubes were gone. She questioned the\ndonkey, but he had eaten the nice grass and noticed nothing. Then she\nresolved the third day to remain in the garden herself. In the middle of\nit was a hole, in which she hid and covered herself with leaves and\nbranches, leaving only one of her long ears sticking out. The seven\nneighbors once more went into the garden and began picking jujubes, when\none of them noticed the witch's ear sticking out of the leaves and\nthought it was a mushroom and tried to pick it. Then the witch jumped\nout of the hole and ran after the women, all of whom escaped but one.\nThe witch was going to eat her, but she begged hard for pardon and\npromised never to enter the garden again. The witch finally forgave her\non the condition that she would give her her child, yet unborn, whether\na boy or girl, when it was seven years old. The poor woman promised in\nher distress, and the witch let her go.\n\nSome time after the woman had a beautiful little girl whom she named\nAngiola. When Angiola was six years old, her mother sent her to school\nto learn to sew and knit. On her way to school she had to pass the\ngarden where the witch lived. One day, when she was almost seven, she\nsaw the witch standing in front of her garden. She beckoned to Angiola\nand gave her some fine fruits and said: \"You see, fair Angiola, I am\nyour aunt. Tell your mother you have seen your aunt, and she sends her\nword not to forget her promise.\" Angiola went home and told her mother,\nwho was frightened and said to herself: \"Ah! the time has come when I\nmust give up my Angiola.\" Then she said to the child: \"When your aunt\nasks you to-morrow for an answer, tell her you forgot her errand.\" The\nnext day she told the witch as she was directed. \"Very well,\" she\nreplied, \"tell her to-day, but don't forget.\" Thus several days passed;\nthe witch was constantly on the watch for Angiola when she went to\nschool, and wanted to know her mother's answer, but Angiola always\ndeclared that she had forgotten to ask her. One day, however, the witch\nbecame angry and said: \"Since you are so forgetful, I must give you some\ntoken to remind you of your errand.\" Then she bit Angiola's little\nfinger so hard that she bit a piece out. Angiola went home in tears and\nshowed her mother her finger. \"Ah!\" thought her mother, \"there is no\nhelp for it. I must give my poor child to the witch, or else she will\neat her up in her anger.\" The next morning as Angiola was going to\nschool, her mother said to her: \"Tell your aunt to do with you as she\nthinks best.\" Angiola did so, and the witch said: \"Very well, then come\nwith me, for you are mine.\"\n\nSo the witch took the fair Angiola with her and led her away to a tower\nwhich had no door and but one small window. There Angiola lived with the\nwitch, who treated her very kindly, for she loved her as her own child.\nWhen the witch came home after her excursions, she stood under the\nwindow and cried: \"Angiola, fair Angiola, let down your pretty tresses\nand pull me up!\" Now Angiola had beautiful long hair, which she let down\nand with which she pulled the witch up.\n\nNow it happened one day when Angiola had grown to be a large and\nbeautiful maiden, that the king's son went hunting and chanced to come\nwhere the tower was. He was astonished at seeing the house without any\ndoor, and wondered how the people got in. Just then the old witch\nreturned home, stood under the window, and called: \"Angiola, fair\nAngiola, let down your beautiful tresses and pull me up.\" Immediately\nthe beautiful tresses fell down, and the witch climbed up by them. This\npleased the prince greatly, and he hid himself near by until the witch\nwent away again. Then he went and stood under the window and called:\n\"Angiola, fair Angiola, let down your beautiful tresses and pull me up.\"\nThen Angiola let down her tresses and drew up the prince, for she\nbelieved it was the witch. When she saw the prince, she was much\nfrightened at first, but he addressed her in a friendly manner and\nbegged her to fly with him and become his wife.\n\nShe finally consented, and in order that the witch should not know where\nshe had gone she gave all the chairs, tables, and cupboards in the house\nsomething to eat; for they were all living beings and might betray her.\nThe broom, however, stood behind the door, so she did not notice it, and\ngave it nothing to eat. Then she took from the witch's chamber three\nmagic balls of yarn, and fled with the prince. The witch had a little\ndog that loved the fair Angiola so dearly that it followed her.\n\nSoon after they had fled, the witch came back, and called: \"Angiola,\nfair Angiola, let down your beautiful tresses and draw me up.\" But the\ntresses were not let down for all she called, and at last she had to get\na long ladder and climb in at the window. When she could not find\nAngiola, she asked the tables and chairs and cupboards: \"Where has she\nfled?\" But they answered: \"We do not know.\" The broom, however, called\nout from the corner: \"The fair Angiola has fled with the king's son, who\nis going to marry her.\" Then the witch started in pursuit of them and\nnearly overtook them. But Angiola threw down behind her one of the magic\nballs of yarn, and there arose a great mountain of soap. When the witch\ntried to climb it she slipped back, but she persevered until at last she\nsucceeded in getting over it, and hastened after the fugitives. Then\nAngiola threw down the second ball of yarn, and there arose a great\nmountain covered all over with nails small and large. Again the witch\nhad to struggle hard to cross it; when she did she was almost flayed.\nWhen Angiola saw that the witch had almost overtaken them again, she\nthrew down the third ball, and there arose a mighty torrent. The witch\ntried to swim across it, but the stream kept increasing in size until\nshe had at last to turn back. Then in her anger she cursed the fair\nAngiola, saying: \"May your beautiful face be turned into the face of a\ndog!\" and instantly Angiola's face became a dog's face.\n\nThe prince was very sorrowful and said: \"How can I take you home to my\nparents? They would never allow me to marry a maiden with a dog's face.\"\nSo he took her to a little house, where she was to live until the\nenchantment was removed. He himself returned to his parents; but\nwhenever he went hunting he visited poor Angiola. She often wept\nbitterly over her misfortunes, until one day the little dog that had\nfollowed her from the witch's said: \"Do not weep, fair Angiola. I will\ngo to the witch and beg her to remove the enchantment.\" Then the little\ndog started off and returned to the witch and sprang up on her and\ncaressed her. \"Are you here again, you ungrateful beast?\" cried the\nwitch, and pushed the dog away. \"Did you leave me to follow the\nungrateful Angiola?\" But the little dog caressed her until she grew\nfriendly again and took him up on her lap. \"Mother,\" said the little\ndog, \"Angiola sends you greeting; she is very sad, for she cannot go to\nthe palace with her dog's face and cannot marry the prince.\" \"That\nserves her right,\" said the witch. \"Why did she deceive me? She can keep\nher dog's face now!\" But the dog begged her so earnestly, saying that\npoor Angiola was sufficiently punished, that at last the witch gave the\ndog a flask of water, and said: \"Take that to her and she will become\nthe fair Angiola again.\" The dog thanked her, ran off with the flask,\nand brought it safely to poor Angiola. As soon as she washed in the\nwater, her dog's face disappeared and she became beautiful again, more\nbeautiful even than she had been before. The prince, full of joy, took\nher to the palace, and the king and queen were so pleased with her\nbeauty that they welcomed her, and gave her a splendid wedding, and all\nremained happy and contented.[11]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAn interesting class of stories is the one in which the heroes are twin\nbrothers (sometimes three born at the same time, or a larger number) who\nare born in some unusual manner, generally in consequence of the\nmother's partaking of some magic fruit or fish. One of the brothers\nundertakes some difficult task (liberation of princess, etc.) and falls\ninto great danger; the other brother discovers the fact from some\nsympathetic object and proceeds to rescue him. The following story from\nPisa (Comparetti, No. 32) will give a good idea of the Italian stories\nof this class:\n\n\nVI. THE CLOUD.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a fisherman who had a wife and many children.\nNow it happened that the fisherman did not catch any fish for a time and\ndid not know how to support his family. One day he cast his net and drew\nout a large fish which began to talk: \"Let me go and cast in your net\nagain and you will catch as many fish as you wish.\" The fisherman did so\nand caught more fish than he remembered to have taken before. But in a\nfew days the fish were gone and the fisherman cast his net again, and\nagain caught the big fish, which said: \"I see clearly that I must die,\nso kill me now, and cut me into pieces. Give half to the king, a piece\nto your wife, one to your dog; and one to your horse; the bones you will\ntie to the kitchen rafters; your wife will bear sons, and when anything\nhappens to one of them the fish-bone will sweat drops of blood.\" The\nfisherman did as he was told, and in due time his wife gave birth to\nthree sons, the dog to three puppies, and the horse to three colts. The\nboys grew up and went to school and learned much and prospered. One day\nthe oldest said: \"I want to go and see a little of the world,\" and took\none of the dogs, one of the horses, and some money, and set out, after\nreceiving his father's and mother's blessing. He arrived at a forest,\nand there saw a lion, an eagle, and an ant which had found a dead ass\nthat they wanted to divide among themselves, but could not agree and so\nwere quarrelling. They saw the youth, and called on him to make the\ndivision. He was afraid at first, but took heart and gave the lean meat\nto the eagle, the brains to the ant, and the rest to the lion. They were\nall satisfied, and the youth continued his way. After he had gone a few\nsteps the animals called him back, and the lion said: \"You have settled\nour dispute, and we wish to reward you; when you wish to become a lion,\nyou have only to say: 'No more a man, a lion, with the strength of a\nhundred lions!'\" The eagle said: \"When you wish to become an eagle, say:\n'No more a man, an eagle, with the strength of a hundred eagles!'\" The\nant, also, gave him power to transform himself into an ant in the same\nway. The youth thanked them and departed. As he was passing along the\nshore of the sea, he saw a dog-fish that was out of the water; he put it\nback into the sea. The fish said: \"When you need me, come to the sea and\ncry: 'Dog-fish, help me!'\"\n\nThe youth continued his way and arrived at a city all hung with\nmourning. \"What is the matter?\" the young man asked. \"There is here,\"\nthey told him, \"a big cloud (it was a fairy) that every year must have a\nyoung girl. This year the lot has fallen on the king's daughter. If they\ndo not give her up, the cloud will throw so many things into the city\nthat we shall all be killed.\" The youth asked if he could see how the\nthing went, and they told him he could. The ceremony began with muffled\ndrums and an escort of soldiers; the king and queen in tears accompanied\ntheir daughter, who was taken to the top of a mountain, placed in a\nchair, and left alone. The youth, who had followed them, hid himself\nbehind a bush. Then the cloud came, took the young girl in her lap, took\nher finger in her mouth, and began to suck her blood. This was what the\ncloud lived on. The princess remained half dead, like a log, and then\nthe cloud carried her away. The youth, who had seen all this, cried: \"No\nmore a man, an eagle, with the strength of a hundred eagles!\" Then he\nbecame an eagle and flew after the cloud. They arrived at a palace, the\ndoors flew open and the cloud entered and carried the princess\nup-stairs. The eagle alighted on a tree opposite and saw a large room\nall full of young girls in bed. When the cloud entered they exclaimed:\n\"Mamma! here is our mamma!\" The poor girls were always in bed, because\nthe fairy half killed them. She put the princess in a bed, and said to\nthe girls: \"I am going to leave you for a few days.\" She went away and\nleft the girls. The youth was near and heard everything; he said: \"No\nmore an eagle, an ant, with the force of a hundred ants!\" He became an\nant, entered the palace unseen, and went to the room where the young\ngirls were. There he resumed his shape, and the girls were astonished at\nseeing a man appear so suddenly, and one of them said to him: \"Take\ncare, there is a fairy here; if she finds you on her return she will\nkill you.\" \"Do not be troubled,\" he answered, \"for I wish to see about\nsetting you all free.\" Then he went to the bed of the king's daughter\nand asked her if she had some token to send her mother. She gave him a\nring, and the youth took it and went to the queen, told her where her\ndaughter was, and asked her to send some food to the poor girl. She did\nso, and the youth retraced his steps, reached the palace, informed the\ngirls, and drew up the food with ropes. He then said to the girls: \"When\nthe fairy returns, ask her what you shall do when she dies; thus you\nwill find out how to kill her.\" Then he hid himself, and when the fairy\nreturned the girls asked her the question; but she answered: \"I shall\nnever die.\" They urged her to tell them, and the next day she took them\nout on a terrace, and said: \"Do you see that mountain far off there? On\nthat mountain is a tigress with seven heads. If you wish me to die, a\nlion must fight that tigress and tear off all seven of her heads. In her\nbody is an egg, and if any one hits me with it in the middle of my\nforehead I shall die; but if that egg falls into my hands the tigress\nwill come to life again, resume her seven heads, and I shall live.\"\n\"Good!\" said the young girls; \"certainly our mamma can never die.\" But\nin their hearts they were discouraged. When the fairy had departed, the\nyouth came forth and they told him all. \"Do not be disheartened,\" he\nsaid, and straightway went to the princess' father, asked him for a\nroom, a pan of bread, a barrel of good wine, and a child seven years\nold. He took all these things and shut himself up in the room, and said\nto the child: \"Do you want to see something, my child? I am going to\nturn into a lion.\" Then he turned into a lion, and the child was afraid;\nbut the youth persuaded him that it was only himself after all, and the\nchild fed him, and was no longer frightened. As soon as he had\ninstructed the child, he took all the things and went to the mountain\nwhere the tigress was. Then he filled the pan with bread and wine and\nsaid to the child: \"I am going to become a lion; when I return give me\nsomething to eat.\" Then he became a lion, and went to fight the tigress.\nMeanwhile the fairy returned home, saying: \"Alas! I feel ill!\" The young\ngirls said to themselves, in delight: \"Good!\" The youth fought until\nnight, and tore off one of the tigress' heads; the second day another,\nand so on until six heads were gone. The fairy kept losing her strength\nall the time. The youth rested two days before tearing off the last\nhead, and then resumed the fight. At evening the last head was torn off,\nand the dead tigress disappeared, but the youth was not quick enough to\ncatch the egg, which rolled from her body into the sea and was swallowed\nby the dog-fish. Then the youth went to the sea: \"Dog-fish, help me!\"\nThe fish appeared: \"What do you want?\" \"Have you found an egg?\" \"Yes.\"\n\"Give it to me;\" and the fish gave him the egg. He took it and went in\nsearch of the fairy, and suddenly appeared before her with the egg in\nhis hand. The fairy wanted him to give her the egg, but he made her\nfirst restore all the young girls to health and send them home in\nhandsome carriages. Then the youth took the egg, struck it on the\nfairy's forehead, and she fell down dead. When the youth saw that she\nwas really dead, he entered a carriage with the king's daughter and\ndrove to the palace. When the king and queen saw their daughter again,\nthey wept for joy, and married her to her deliverer. The wedding took\nplace with great magnificence, and there were great festivities and\nrejoicings in the city.\n\nA few days after, the husband looked out of the window and saw at the\nend of the street a dense fog; he said to his wife: \"I will go and see\nwhat that fog is.\" So he dressed for the chase and went away with his\ndog and horse. After he had passed through the mist, he saw a mountain\non which were two beautiful ladies. They came to meet him, and invited\nhim to their palace. He accepted and they showed him into a room, and\none of the ladies asked: \"Would you like to play a game of chess?\" \"Very\nwell,\" he answered, and began to play and lost. Then they took him into\na garden where there were many marble statues, and turned him into one,\ntogether with his dog and horse. These ladies were sisters of the fairy,\nand this was the way they avenged her death.\n\nMeanwhile the princess waited and her husband did not return. One\nmorning the father and brothers of the youth found the kitchen full of\nblood, which dropped from the fish-bone. \"Something has happened to\nhim,\" they said, and the second brother started in search of him with\nanother one of the dogs and horses. He passed by the palace of the\nprincess, who was at the window, and those brothers looked so much alike\nthat when she saw him she thought it was her husband and called him. He\nentered and she spoke to him of the fog, but he did not understand her;\nhe let her talk on, however, imagining that his brother was mixed up in\nthat affair. The next morning he arose and went to see the fog with his\ndog and horse. He passed through the fog, found the mountain and the two\nladies, and, to make the story short, the same thing happened to him\nthat happened to his brother, and he became stone. And the queen waited,\nand in the father's kitchen the bone dropped blood faster than ever.\n\nThe third brother too set out with his dog and horse. When he came to\nthe palace, the princess saw him from the window, took him for her\nhusband, and called him in. He entered and she reproved him for having\nmade her wait so long, and spoke of the mist; but he did not understand\nher and said: \"I did not see very clearly what was in the mist, and I\nwish to go there again.\" He departed, and when he had passed through the\nmist he met an old man who said to him: \"Where are you going? Take care,\nyour brothers have been turned into statues. You will meet two ladies;\nif they ask you to play chess with them, here are two pawns, say that\nyou cannot play except with your own pawns. Then make an agreement with\nthem that, if you win, you can do with them what you please; if they\nwin, they can do what they please with you. If you win, and they beg for\nmercy, command them to restore to life all the stone statues with which\nthe palace is filled, and when they have done so, you can do what you\nwill with these ladies.\"\n\nThe youth thanked the old man, departed, followed his directions, and\nwon. The two ladies begged for their lives, and he granted their prayer\non condition of restoring to life all those stone statues. They took a\nwand, touched the statues, and they became animated; but no sooner were\nthey all restored to life than they fell on the two ladies and cut them\ninto bits no larger than their ears.\n\nThus the three brothers were reunited. They related their adventures,\nand returned to the palace. The princess was astonished when she saw\nthem, and did not know which was her husband. But he made himself known,\ntold her that these were his brothers, and they had their parents come\nthere, and they all lived happily together, and thus the story is\nended.[12]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe now pass to the class of stories in which one of several brothers\nsucceeds in some undertaking where the others fail, and thereby draws\ndown on himself the hatred of the others, who either abandon him in a\ncavern, or kill him and hide his body, which is afterwards discovered\nby a musical instrument made of one of the bones or of the reeds growing\nover the grave. The former treatment is illustrated by a Sicilian tale\n(Pitre, No. 80) called:\n\n\nVII. THE CISTERN.\n\nThere were once three king's sons. Two of them were going hunting one\nday, and did not want to take their youngest brother with them. Their\nmother asked them to let him go with them, but they would not. The\nyoungest brother, however, followed them, and they had to take him with\nthem. They came to a beautiful plain, where they found a fine cistern,\nand ate their lunch near it. After they had finished, the oldest said:\n\"Let us throw our youngest brother into the cistern, for we cannot take\nhim with us.\" Then he said to his brother: \"Salvatore, would you like to\ndescend into this cistern, for there is a treasure in it?\" The youngest\nconsented, and they lowered him down. When he reached the bottom, he\nfound three handsome rooms and an old woman, who said to him: \"What are\nyou doing here?\" \"I am trying to find my way out; tell me how to do it.\"\nThe old woman answered: \"There are here three princesses in the power of\nthe magician; take care.\" \"Never mind, tell me what to do; I am not\nafraid.\" \"Knock at that door.\" He did so and a princess appeared: \"What\nhas brought you here?\" \"I have come to liberate you; tell me what I have\nto do.\" \"Take this apple and pass through that door; my sister is there,\nwho can give you better directions than I can.\"\n\nShe gave him the apple as a token. He knocked at that door, another\nprincess appeared, who gave him a pomegranate for a remembrance and\ndirected him to knock at a third door. It opened and the last princess\nappeared. \"Ah! Salvatore\" (for she knew who he was), \"what have you come\nfor?\" \"I have come to liberate you; tell me what to do.\" She gave him a\ncrown, and said: \"Take this; when you are in need, say: 'I command! I\ncommand!' and the crown will obey you. Now enter and eat; take this\nbottle; the magician, you see, is about rising; hide yourself behind\nthis door, and when he awakens he will ask you: 'What are you here for?'\nYou will answer: 'I have come to fight you; but you must agree to take\nsmaller horse and sword than mine, because I am smaller than you.' You\nwill see there a fountain which will invite you to drink; do not risk\nit, for all the statues you see there are human beings who have become\nstatues drinking that water; when you are thirsty drink secretly from\nthis bottle.\"\n\nWith these directions the youth went and knocked at the door. Just then\nthe magician arose and said: \"What are you here for?\" \"I have come to\nfight with you.\" And he added what the princess had told him. The\nfountain invited him to drink, but he would not. They began to fight,\nand at the first blow the youth cut off the magician's head. He took the\nhead and sword, and went to the princesses and said: \"Get your things\ntogether, and let us go, for my brothers are still waiting at the mouth\nof the cistern.\"\n\nLet us now return to the brothers. After they had lowered their youngest\nbrother into the cistern, they turned around and went back to the royal\npalace. The king asked: \"Where is your brother?\" \"We lost him in a wood,\nand could not find him.\" \"Quick!\" said the king, \"go and find my son, or\nI will have your heads cut off.\" So they departed, and on their way\nfound a man with a rope and a bell, and took them with them. When they\nreached the cistern, they lowered the rope with the bell, saying among\nthemselves: \"If he is alive he will hear the bell and climb up; if he is\ndead, what shall we do with our father?\" When they lowered the rope,\nSalvatore made the princesses ascend one by one. As the first appeared,\nwho was the oldest, the oldest brother said: \"Oh, what a pretty girl!\nThis one shall be my wife.\" When the second appeared, the other brother\nsaid: \"This is mine.\" The youngest princess did not wish to ascend, and\nsaid to Salvatore: \"You go up, Salvatore, first; if you do not, your\nbrothers will leave you here.\" He said he would not; she said he must;\nfinally he prevailed, and she ascended. When she appeared the two\nbrothers took her, and left Salvatore in the cistern, and returned to\nthe palace. When they arrived there, they said to their father: \"We have\nlooked for Salvatore, but we could not find him; but we have found these\nthree young girls, and now we wish to marry them.\" \"I,\" said the oldest\nbrother, \"will take this one.\" \"And I,\" said the second, \"take this one.\nThe other sister we will marry to some other youth.\"\n\nNow let us return to Salvatore, who, when he found himself alone and\ndisconsolate, felt in his pockets and touched the apple. \"O my apple,\nget me out of this place!\" And at once he found himself out of the\ncistern. He went to the city where he lived, and met a silversmith, who\ntook him as an apprentice, feeding and clothing him. While he was with\nthe silversmith, the king commanded the latter to make a crown for his\noldest son, who was to be married: \"You must make me a royal crown for\nmy son, and to-morrow evening you must bring it to me.\"\n\nHe gave him ten ounces and dismissed him. When he reached home, the\nsilversmith was greatly disturbed, for he had such a short time to make\nthe crown in. Salvatore said: \"Grandfather, why are you so disturbed?\"\nThe master replied: \"Take these ten ounces, for now I am going to seek\nrefuge in a church, for there is nothing else for me to do.\" (For in\nolden times the church had the privilege that whoever robbed or killed\nfled to the church, and they could not do anything with him.) The\napprentice replied: \"Now I will see if I can make this crown. My master\nwould take refuge in a church for a trifle.\" So he began to make the\ncrown. What did he do? He took out the apple and commanded it to make a\nvery beautiful crown. He hammered away, but the apple made the crown.\nWhen it was finished he gave it to the wife of the silversmith, who took\nit to her husband. When the latter saw that he need not flee to the\nchurch, he went to the king, who, well pleased, invited him to the feast\nin the evening. When he told this at home, the apprentice said: \"Take\nme to the feast.\" \"How can I take you when you have no clothes fit to\nwear? I will buy you some, and when there is another feast I will take\nyou.\" When it struck two, the silversmith departed, and Salvatore took\nthe apple and said: \"O my apple, give me clothes and carriages and\nfootmen, for I am going to see my brother married.\" Immediately he was\ndressed like a prince, and went to the palace, where he hid in the\nkitchen, saw his brother married, and then took a big stick and gave the\nsilversmith a sound beating. When the latter reached home, he cried: \"I\nam dying! I am dying!\" \"What is the matter?\" asked the apprentice, and\nwhen he learned what had happened, he said: \"If you had taken me with\nyou to the feast this would not have happened.\"\n\nA few days after, the king summoned the silversmith again to make\nanother crown within twenty-four hours. Everything happened as before:\nthe apprentice made a crown handsomer than the first, with the aid of\nthe pomegranate. The smith took it to the king, but after the feast came\nhome with his shoulders black and blue from the beating he received.\n\nAfter a time they wanted to marry the third sister, but she said: \"Who\nwishes me must wait a year, a month, and a day.\" And she had no peace\nwondering why Salvatore did not appear for all he had the apple, the\npomegranate, and the crown. After a year, a month, and a day, the\nwedding was arranged, and the smith had orders to make another crown\nmore beautiful than the first two. (This was so that no one could say\nthat because the young girl was a foreigner they treated her worse than\nthe others.) Again the smith was in despair, and the apprentice had to\nmake, by the aid of his magic crown, a better and larger crown than the\nothers. The king was astonished when he saw the beautiful crown, and\nagain invited the silversmith to the feast. The smith returned home\nsorrowful, for fear that he should again receive a beating, but he would\nnot take his apprentice with him.\n\nAfter Salvatore had seen him depart, he took his magic crown and\nordered splendid clothes and carriages. When he reached the palace, he\ndid not go to the kitchen, but before the bride and groom could say\n\"yes,\" \"Stop!\" said Salvatore. He took the apple and said: \"Who gave me\nthis?\" \"I did,\" replied the wife of the oldest brother. \"And this?\"\nshowing the pomegranate. \"I, my brother-in-law,\" said the wife of the\nsecond brother. Then he took out the crown. \"Who gave me that?\" \"I, my\nhusband,\" said the young girl whom they were marrying. And at once she\nmarried Salvatore, \"for,\" said she, \"he freed me from the magician.\"\n\nThe bridegroom was fooled and had to go away, and the astonished\nsilversmith fell on his knees, begging for pity and mercy.[13]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn some of the versions of the above story, the hero, after he is\nabandoned by his brothers in the cistern or cave, is borne into the\nupper world by an eagle. The rapacious bird on the journey demands from\nthe young man flesh from time to time. At last the stock of flesh with\nwhich he had provided himself is exhausted and he is obliged to cut off\nand give the eagle a piece of his own flesh. In one version (Pitre, ii.\np. 208) he gives the eagle his leg; and when the journey is concluded\nthe bird casts it up, and the hero attaches it again to his body, and\nbecomes as sound as ever.[14]\n\nThe class of stories in which the brother is killed and his death made\nknown by a musical instrument fashioned from his body is sufficiently\nillustrated by a short Neapolitan story (Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, p.\n195) entitled:\n\n\nVIII. THE GRIFFIN.\n\nThere was once a king who had three sons. His eyes were diseased, and he\ncalled in a physician who said that to cure them he needed a feather of\nthe griffin. Then the king said to his sons: \"He who finds this feather\nfor me shall have my crown.\" The sons set out in search of it. The\nyoungest met an old man, who asked him what he was doing. He replied:\n\"Papa is ill. To cure him a feather of the griffin is necessary. And\npapa has said that whoever finds the feather shall have his crown.\" The\nold man said: \"Well, here is some corn. When you reach a certain place,\nput it in your hat. The griffin will come and eat it. Seize him, pull\nout a feather, and carry it to papa.\" The youth did so, and for fear\nthat some one should steal it from him, he put it into his shoe, and\nstarted all joyful to carry it to his father. On his way he met his\nbrothers, who asked him if he had found the feather. He said No; but his\nbrothers did not believe him, and wanted to search him. They looked\neverywhere, but did not find it. Finally they looked in his shoe and got\nit. Then they killed the youngest brother and buried him, and took the\nfeather to their father, saying that they had found it. The king healed\nhis eyes with it. A shepherd one day, while feeding his sheep, saw that\nhis dog was always digging in the same place, and went to see what it\nwas, and found a bone. He put it to his mouth, and saw that it sounded\nand said: \"Shepherd, keep me in your mouth, hold me tight, and do not\nlet me go! For a feather of the griffin, my brother has played the\ntraitor, my brother has played the traitor.\"\n\nOne day the shepherd, with this whistle in his mouth, was passing by the\nking's palace, and the king heard him, and called him to see what it\nwas. The shepherd told him the story, and how he had found it. The king\nput it to his mouth, and the whistle said: \"Papa! papa! keep me in your\nmouth, hold me tight, and do not let me go. For a feather of the\ngriffin, my brother has played the traitor, my brother has played the\ntraitor.\" Then the king put it in the mouth of the brother who had\nkilled the youngest, and the whistle said: \"Brother! brother! keep me in\nyour mouth, hold me fast, and do not let me go. For a feather of the\ngriffin, you have played the traitor, you have played the traitor.\" Then\nthe king understood the story and had his two sons put to death. And\nthus they killed their brother and afterwards were killed\nthemselves.[15]\n\nThe feminine counterpart of \"Boots,\" or the successful youngest brother,\nis Cinderella, the youngest of three sisters who despise and ill-treat\nher. Her usual place is in the chimney-corner, and her name is derived\nfrom the grime of cinders and ashes (her name in German is\n_Aschenputtel_). Assisted by some kind fairy who appears in various\nforms, she reveals herself in her true shape, captivates the prince, who\nfinally recognizes her by the slipper. There are two branches of this\nstory: the one just mentioned, and one where the heroine assumes a\nrepulsive disguise in order to escape the importunities of a father who\nwishes to marry her. This second branch may be distinguished by the name\nof \"Allerleirauh,\" the well-known Grimm story of this class. For the\nfirst branch of this story we have selected a Florentine story\n(_Novellaja fior._ p. 151) called:\n\n\nIX. CINDERELLA.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a man who had three daughters. He was once\nordered to go away to work, and said to them: \"Since I am about making a\njourney, what do you want me to bring you when I return?\" One asked for\na handsome dress; the other, a fine hat and a beautiful shawl. He said\nto the youngest: \"And you, Cinderella, what do you want?\" They called\nher Cinderella because she always sat in the chimney-corner. \"You must\nbuy me a little bird Verdelio.\" \"The simpleton! she does not know what\nto do with the bird! Instead of ordering a handsome dress, a fine shawl,\nshe takes a bird. Who knows what she will do with it!\" \"Silence!\" she\nsays, \"it pleases me.\" The father went, and on his return brought the\ndress, hat, and shawl for the two sisters, and the little bird for\nCinderella. The father was employed at the court, and one day the king\nsaid to him: \"I am going to give three balls; if you want to bring your\ndaughters, do so; they will amuse themselves a little.\" \"As you wish,\"\nhe replies, \"thanks!\" and accepts. He went home and said: \"What do you\nthink, girls? His Majesty wishes you to attend his ball.\" \"There, you\nsee, Cinderella, if you had only asked for a handsome dress! This\nevening we are going to the ball.\" She replied: \"It matters nothing to\nme! You go; I am not coming.\" In the evening, when the time came, they\nadorned themselves, saying to Cinderella: \"Come along, there will be\nroom for you, too.\" \"I don't want to go; you go; I don't want to.\"\n\"But,\" said their father, \"let us go, let us go! Dress and come along;\nlet her stay.\" When they had gone, she went to the bird and said: \"O\nBird Verdelio, make me more beautiful than I am!\" She became clothed in\na sea-green dress, with so many diamonds that it blinded you to behold\nher. The bird made ready two purses of money, and said to her: \"Take\nthese two purses, enter your carriage, and away!\" She set out for the\nball, and left the bird Verdelio at home. She entered the ball-room.\nScarcely had the gentlemen seen this beautiful lady (she dazzled them on\nall sides), when the king, just think of it, began to dance with her the\nwhole evening. After he had danced with her all the evening, his Majesty\nstopped, and she stood by her sisters. While she was at her sisters'\nside, she drew out her handkerchief, and a bracelet fell out. \"Oh,\nSignora,\" said the eldest sister, \"you have dropped this.\" \"Keep it for\nyourself,\" she said. \"Oh, if Cinderella were only here, who knows what\nmight not have happened to her?\" The king had given orders that when\nthis lady went away they should find out where she lived. After she had\nremained a little, she left the ball. You can imagine whether the\nservants were on the lookout! She entered her carriage and away! She\nperceives that she is followed, takes the money and begins to throw it\nout of the window of the carriage. The greedy servants, I tell you,\nseeing all that money, thought no more of her, but stopped to pick up\nthe money. She returned home and went up-stairs. \"O Bird Verdelio, make\nme homelier than I am!\" You ought to see how ugly, how horrid, she\nbecame, all ashes. When the sisters returned, they cried:\n\"Cin-der-ella!\" \"Oh, leave her alone,\" said her father; \"she is asleep\nnow, leave her alone!\" But they went up and showed her the large and\nbeautiful bracelet. \"Do you see, you simpleton? You might have had it.\"\n\"It matters nothing to me.\" Their father said: \"Let us go to supper, you\nlittle geese.\"\n\nLet us return to the king, who was awaiting his servants, who had not\nthe courage to appear, but kept away. He calls them. \"How did the matter\ngo?\" They fall at his feet. \"Thus and thus! She threw out so much\nmoney!\" \"Wretches, you are nothing else,\" he said, \"were you afraid of\nnot being rewarded? Well! to-morrow evening, attention, under pain of\ndeath.\" The next evening the usual ball. The sisters say: \"Will you come\nthis evening, Cinderella?\" \"Oh,\" she says, \"don't bother me! I don't\nwant to go.\" Their father cries out to them: \"How troublesome you are!\nLet her alone!\" So they began to adorn themselves more handsomely than\nthe former evening, and departed. \"Good-by, Cinderella!\" When they had\ngone, Cinderella went to the bird and said: \"Little Bird Verdelio, make\nme more beautiful than I am!\" Then she became clothed in sea-green,\nembroidered with all the fish of the sea, mingled with diamonds more\nthan you could believe. The bird said: \"Take these two bags of sand, and\nwhen you are followed, throw it out, and so they will be blinded.\" She\nentered her carriage and set out for the ball. As soon as his Majesty\nsaw her he began to dance with her and danced as long as he could. After\nhe had danced as long as he could (she did not grow weary, but he did),\nshe placed herself near her sisters, drew out her handkerchief, and\nthere fell out a beautiful necklace all made of coal. The second sister\nsaid: \"Signora, you have dropped this.\" She replied: \"Keep it for\nyourself.\" \"If Cinderella were here, who knows what might not happen to\nher! To-morrow she must come!\" After a while she leaves the ball. The\nservants (just think, under pain of death!) were all on the alert, and\nfollowed her. She began to throw out all the sand, and they were\nblinded. She went home, dismounted, and went up-stairs. \"Little Bird\nVerdelio, make me homelier than I am!\" She became frightfully homely.\nWhen her sisters returned they began from below: \"Cin-der-ella! if you\nonly knew what that lady gave us!\" \"It matters nothing to me!\" \"But\nto-morrow evening you must go!\" \"Yes, yes! you would have had it!\" Their\nfather says: \"Let us go to supper and let her alone; you are really\nsilly!\"\n\nLet us return to his Majesty, who was waiting for his servants to learn\nwhere she lived. Instead of that they were all brought back blinded, and\nhad to be accompanied. \"Rogue!\" he exclaimed, \"either this lady is some\nfairy or she must have some fairy who protects her.\"\n\nThe next day the sisters began: \"Cinderella, you must go this evening!\nListen; it is the last evening; you must come.\" The father: \"Oh let her\nalone! you are always teasing her!\" Then they went away and began to\nprepare for the ball. When they were all prepared, they went to the ball\nwith their father. When they had departed, Cinderella went to the bird:\n\"Little Bird Verdelio, make me more beautiful than I am!\" Then she was\ndressed in all the colors of the heavens; all the comets, the stars, and\nmoon on her dress, and the sun on her brow. She enters the ball-room.\nWho could look at her! for the sun alone they lower their eyes, and are\nall blinded. His Majesty began to dance, but he could not look at her,\nbecause she dazzled him. He had already given orders to his servants to\nbe on the lookout, under pain of death; not to go on foot, but to mount\ntheir horses that evening. After she had danced longer than on the\nprevious evenings she placed herself by her father's side, drew out her\nhandkerchief, and there fell out a snuff-box of gold, full of money.\n\"Signora, you have dropped this snuff-box.\" \"Keep it for yourself!\"\nImagine that man: he opens it and sees it full of money. What joy! After\nshe had remained a time she went home as usual. The servants followed\nher on horseback, quickly; at a distance from the carriage; but on\nhorseback that was not much trouble. She perceived that she had not\nprepared anything to throw that evening. \"Oh!\" she cried, \"what shall I\ndo?\" She left the carriage quickly, and in her haste lost one of her\nslippers. The servants picked it up, took the number of the house, and\nwent away. Cinderella went up-stairs and said: \"Little Bird Verdelio,\nmake me more homely than I am!\" The bird does not answer. After she had\nrepeated it three or four times, it answered: \"Rogue! I ought not to\nmake you more homely, but...\" and she became homely and the bird\ncontinued: \"What are you going to do now? You are discovered.\" She began\nto weep in earnest. When her sisters returned, they cried:\n\"Cin-der-ella!\" You can imagine that she did not answer them this\nevening. \"See what a beautiful snuff-box. If you had gone you might have\nhad it.\" \"I do not care! Go away!\" Then their father called them to\nsupper.\n\nLet us now turn to the servants who went back with the slipper and the\nnumber of the house. \"To-morrow,\" said his Majesty, \"as soon as it is\nday, go to that house, take a carriage, and bring that lady to the\npalace.\" The servants took the slipper and went away. The next morning\nthey knocked at the door. Cinderella's father looked out and exclaimed:\n\"Oh, Heavens! it is his Majesty's carriage; what does it mean?\" They\nopen the door and the servants ascend. \"What do you want of me?\" asked\nthe father. \"How many daughters have you?\" \"Two.\" \"Well, show them to\nus.\" The father made them come in there. \"Sit down,\" they said to one of\nthem. They tried the slipper on her; it was ten times too large for her.\nThe other one sat down; it was too small for her. \"But tell me, good\nman, have you no other daughters? Take care to tell the truth! because\nhis Majesty wishes it, under pain of death!\" \"Gentlemen, there is\nanother one, but I do not mention it. She is all in the ashes, the\ncoals; if you should see her! I do not call her my daughter from shame.\"\n\"We have not come for beauty, or for finery; we want to see the girl!\"\n\nHer sisters began to call her: \"Cin-der-ella!\" but she did not answer.\nAfter a time she said: \"What is the matter?\" \"You must come down! there\nare some gentlemen here who wish to see you.\" \"I don't want to come.\"\n\"But you must come, you see!\" \"Very well; tell them I will come in a\nmoment.\" She went to the little bird: \"Ah little Bird Verdelio, make me\nmore beautiful than I am!\" Then she was dressed as she had been the last\nevening, with the sun, and moon, and stars, and in addition, great\nchains all of gold everywhere about her. The bird said: \"Take me away\nwith you! Put me in your bosom!\" She puts the bird in her bosom and\nbegins to descend the stairs. \"Do you hear her?\" said the father, \"do\nyou hear her? She is dragging with her the chains from the\nchimney-corner. You can imagine how frightful she will look!\" When she\nreached the last step, and they saw her, \"Ah!\" they exclaimed, and\nrecognized the lady of the ball. You can imagine how her father and\nsisters were vexed. They made her sit down, and tried on the slipper,\nand it fitted her. Then they made her enter the carriage, and took her\nto his Majesty, who recognized the lady of the other evenings. And you\ncan imagine that, all in love as he was, he said to her: \"Will you\nreally be my wife?\" You may believe she consents. She sends for her\nfather and sisters, and makes them all come to the palace. They\ncelebrate the marriage. Imagine what fine festivals were given at this\nwedding! The servants who had discovered where Cinderella lived were\npromoted to the highest positions in the palace as a reward.[16]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the second class of stories alluded to above, the heroine flees in\ndisguise from her home to avoid a marriage with her father or brother.\nThe remainder of the story resembles Cinderella: the heroine reveals\nherself from time to time in her true form, and finally throws off her\ndisguise. The following story, which illustrates this class, is from the\nprovince of Vicenza (Corazzini, p. 484), and is entitled:\n\n\nX. FAIR MARIA WOOD.\n\nThere was once a husband and wife who had but one child, a daughter. Now\nit happened that the wife fell ill and was at the point of death. Before\ndying she called her husband, and said to him, weeping: \"I am dying; you\nare still young; if you ever wish to marry again, be mindful to choose a\nwife whom my wedding ring fits; and if you cannot find a lady whom it\nfits well, do not marry.\" Her husband promised that he would do so. When\nshe was dead he took off her wedding ring and kept it until he desired\nto marry again. Then he sought for some one to please him. He went from\none to another, but the ring fitted no one. He tried so many but in\nvain. One day he thought of calling his daughter, and trying the ring on\nher to see whether it fitted her. The daughter said: \"It is useless,\ndear father; you cannot marry me, because you are my father.\" He did not\nheed her, put the ring on her finger, and saw that it fitted her well,\nand wanted to marry his daughter _nolens volens_. She did not oppose\nhim, but consented. The day of the wedding, he asked her what she\nwanted. She said that she wished four silk dresses, the most beautiful\nthat could be seen. He, who was a gentleman, gratified her wish and took\nher the four dresses, one handsomer than the other, and all the\nhandsomest that had ever been seen. \"Now, what else do you want?\" said\nhe. \"I want another dress, made of wood, so that I can conceal myself in\nit.\" And at once he had this wooden dress made. She was well pleased.\nShe waited one day until her husband was out of sight, put on the wooden\ndress, and under it the four silk dresses, and went away to a certain\nriver not far off, and threw herself in it. Instead of sinking and\ndrowning, she floated, for the wooden dress kept her up.\n\nThe water carried her a long way, when she saw on the bank a gentleman,\nand began to cry: \"Who wants the fair Maria Wood?\" That gentleman who\nsaw her on the water, and whom she addressed, called her and she came to\nthe bank and saluted him. \"How is it that you are thus dressed in wood,\nand come floating on the water without drowning?\" She told him that she\nwas a poor girl who had only that dress of wood, and that she wanted to\ngo out to service. \"What can you do?\" \"I can do all that is needed in a\nhouse, and if you would only take me for a servant you would be\nsatisfied.\"\n\nHe took her to his house, where his mother was, and told her all that\nhad happened, saying: \"If you, dear mother, will take her as a servant,\nwe can try her.\" In short, she took her and was pleased with this woman\ndressed in wood.\n\nIt happened that there were balls at that place which the best ladies\nand gentlemen attended. The gentleman who had the servant dressed in\nwood prepared to go to the ball, and after he had departed, the servant\nsaid to his mother: \"Do me this kindness, mistress: let me go to the\nball too, for I have never seen any dancing.\" \"What, you wish to go to\nthe ball so badly dressed that they would drive you away as soon as they\nsaw you!\" The servant was silent, and when the mistress was in bed,\ndressed herself in one of her silk dresses and became the most beautiful\nwoman that was ever seen. She went to the ball, and it seemed as if the\nsun had entered the room; all were dazzled. She sat down near her\nmaster, who asked her to dance, and would dance with no one but her. She\npleased him so much that he fell in love with her. He asked her who she\nwas and where she came from. She replied that she came from a distance,\nbut told him nothing more.\n\nAt a certain hour, without any one perceiving it, she went out and\ndisappeared. She returned home and put on her wooden dress again. In the\nmorning the master returned from the ball, and said to his mother: \"Oh!\nif you had only seen what a beautiful lady there was at the ball! She\nappeared like the sun, she was so beautiful and well dressed. She sat\ndown near me, and would not dance with any one but me.\" His mother then\nsaid: \"Did you not ask her who she was and where she came from?\" \"She\nwould only tell me that she came from a distance; but I thought I\nshould die; I wish to go again this evening.\" The servant heard all this\ndialogue, but kept silent, pretending that the matter did not concern\nher.\n\nIn the evening he prepared himself again for the ball, and the servant\nsaid to him: \"Master, yesterday evening I asked your mamma to let me,\ntoo, go to the ball, for I have never seen dancing, but she would not;\nwill you have the kindness to let me go this evening?\" \"Be still, you\nugly creature, the ball is no place for you!\" \"Do me this favor,\" she\nsaid, weeping, \"I will stand out of doors, or under a bench, or in a\ncorner so no one shall see me; but let me go!\" He grew angry then, and\ntook a stick and began to beat the poor servant. She wept and remained\nsilent.\n\nAfter he had gone, she waited until his mother was in bed, and put on a\ndress finer than the first, and so rich as to astonish, and away to the\nball! When she arrived all began to gaze at her, for they had never seen\nanything more beautiful. All the handsomest young men surround her and\nask her to dance; but she would have nothing to do with any one but her\nmaster. He again asked her who she was, and she said she would tell him\nlater. They danced and danced, and all at once she disappeared. Her\nmaster ran here and there, asked one and another, but no one could tell\nhim where she had gone. He returned home and told his mother all that\nhad passed. She said to him: \"Do you know what you must do? Take this\ndiamond ring, and when she dances with you give it to her; and if she\ntakes it, it is a sign that she loves you.\" She gave him the ring. The\nservant listened, saw everything, and was silent.\n\nIn the evening the master prepared for the ball and the servant again\nasked him to take her, and again he beat her. He went to the ball, and\nafter midnight, as before, the beautiful lady returned more beautiful\nthan before, and as usual would dance only with her master. At the right\nmoment he took out the diamond ring, and asked her if she would accept\nit. She took it and thanked him, and he was happy and satisfied.\nAfterward he asked her again who she was and where from. She said that\nshe was of that country\n\n    That when they speak of going to a ball,\n    They are beaten on the head;\n\nand said no more. At the usual hour she stopped dancing and departed. He\nran after her, but she went like the wind, and reached home without his\nfinding out where she went. But he ran so in all directions, and was in\nsuch suffering, that when he reached home he was obliged to go to bed\nmore dead than alive. Then he fell ill and grew worse every day, so that\nall said he would die. He did nothing but ask his mother and every one\nif they knew anything of that lady, and that he would die if he did not\nsee her. The servant heard everything; and one day, when he was very\nill, what did she think of? She waited until her mistress' eye was\nturned, and dropped the diamond ring in the broth her master was to eat.\nNo one saw her, and his mother took him the broth. He began to eat it,\nwhen he felt something hard, saw something shine, and took it out....\nYou can imagine how he looked at it and recognized the diamond ring!\nThey thought he would go mad. He asked his mother if that was the ring\nand she swore that it was, and all happy, she said that now he would see\nher again.\n\nMeanwhile the servant went to her room, took off her wooden dress, and\nput on one all of silk, so that she appeared a beauty, and went to the\nroom of the sick man. His mother saw her and began to cry: \"Here she is;\nhere she is!\" She went in and saluted him, smiling, and he was so beside\nhimself that he became well at once. He asked her to tell him her\nstory,--who she was, where she came from, how she came, and how she knew\nthat he was ill. She replied: \"I am the woman dressed in wood who was\nyour servant. It is not true that I was a poor girl, but I had that\ndress to conceal myself in, for underneath it I was the same that I am\nnow. I am a lady; and although you treated me so badly when I asked to\ngo to the ball, I saw that you loved me, and now I have come to save\nyou from death.\" You can believe that they stayed to hear her story.\nThey were married and have always been happy and still are.[17]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the various stories thus far mentioned which involve the family\nrelations, we have had examples of treachery on the part of brothers,\nill-treatment of step-children, etc. It remains now to notice the trait\nof treachery on the part of sister or mother towards brother or son. The\nformula as given by Hahn (No. 19) is as follows: The hero, who is\nfleeing with his sister (or mother), overcomes a number of dragons or\ngiants. The only survivor makes love to the sister (or mother), and\ncauses her, for fear of discovery, to send her brother, in order to\ndestroy him, on dangerous adventures, under the pretence of obtaining a\ncure for her illness. The hero survives the dangers, discovers the\ndeception, and punishes the guilty ones. Traces of this formula are\nfound in several Italian stories,[18] but it constitutes only two entire\nstories: one in Pitre (No. 71) the other in Comparetti (No. 54, \"The\nGolden Hair,\" from Monferrato, Piedmont). The latter is in substance as\nfollows: A king with three sons marries again in his old age. The\nyoungest son falls in love with his step-mother and the jealous father\ntries to poison her. The son and wife flee together, and fall in with\nsome robbers whom they kill, and set at liberty a princess who has the\ngift of curing blindness and other diseases. They afterward find a cave\ncontaining rooms and all the necessaries of life, but see no one. They\nspend the night there, and the next morning the youth goes hunting; and\nas soon as he has departed a giant appears and solicits the\nstep-mother's love, saying that if she will marry him, she will always\nbe healthy and never lose her youth. But first it will be necessary to\nremove from her step-son's head a golden hair, and then he will become\nso weak that he can be killed by a blow. She was unwilling at first,\nbecause he had saved her life, but finally yielded. First she tried to\nget rid of him by pretending to be ill, and sending him for some water\nfrom a fountain near which was a lion. He obtained the water safely.\nThen his step-mother, pretending to comb his hair, cut off the golden\nhair, and the giant dragged him by the feet fifty miles, and let him\nfall first in the bushes and then on the ground. From the wounds in his\nhead he became blind, but recovered his sight by means of the princess\nmentioned in the first part of the story, whom he married. After his\ngolden lock had grown out again he returned to the cave and killed the\ngiant, punishing his step-mother by leaving her there without even\nlooking at her.\n\nThe story in Pitre (No. 71, \"The Cyclops\") is more detailed. A queen who\nhas been unfaithful to her husband is put in confinement, gives birth to\na son, and afterward, through his aid, escapes. They encounter some\ncyclops, a number of whom the son kills; but one becomes secretly the\nmother's lover. To get rid of her son, she sends him for the water of a\ncertain fountain, which he brings back safely. Finally the mother binds\nthe son fast, under the pretence of playing a game, and delivers him to\nthe cyclops, who kills him and cuts him into small bits, which he loads\non his horse and turns him loose. The youth is, however, restored to\nlife by the same water that he had brought back, and kills the cyclops\nand his mother, finally marrying the princess to whom he owes his\nlife.[19]\n\nIn marked contrast to the above class is the one in which a number of\nbrothers owe their deliverance from enchantment to the self-sacrifice of\na sister. Generally the sister is the innocent cause of her brothers'\ntransformation. They live far from home, and their sister is not aware\nfor a long time of their existence. When she learns it she departs in\nsearch of them, finds them, and, after great risk to herself, delivers\nthem. But two versions of this story have yet been published in Italy:\none from Naples (Pent. IV. 8), the other from Bologna (Coronedi-Berti,\nNo. 19). The latter version we give at length.\n\n\nXI. THE CURSE OF THE SEVEN CHILDREN.\n\nThere was once a king and a queen who had six children, all sons. The\nqueen was about to give birth to another child, and the king said that\nif it was not a daughter all seven children would be cursed. Now it\nhappened that the king had to go away to war; and before departing he\nsaid to the queen, \"Listen. If you have a son, hang a lance out of the\nwindow; if a daughter, a distaff; so that I can see as soon as I arrive\nwhich it is.\" After the king had been gone a month, the queen gave birth\nto the most beautiful girl that was ever seen. Imagine how pleased the\nqueen was at having a girl. She could scarcely contain herself for joy,\nand immediately gave orders to hang the distaff out of the window; but\nin the midst of the joyful confusion, a mistake was made, and they put\nout a lance. Shortly after, the king returned and saw the sign at the\nwindow, and cursed all his seven sons; but when he entered the house and\nthe servants crowded around him to congratulate him and tell him about\nhis beautiful daughter, then the king was amazed and became very\nmelancholy. He entered the queen's room and looked at the child, who\nseemed exactly like one of those wax dolls to be kept in a box; then he\nlooked about him and saw nothing of his sons, and his eyes filled with\ntears, for those poor youths had wandered out into the world.\n\nMeanwhile the girl grew, and when she was large she saw that her parents\ncaressed her, but always with tears in their eyes. One day she said to\nher mother: \"What is the matter with you, mother, that I always see you\ncrying?\" Then the queen told her the story, and said that she was afraid\nthat some day she would see her disappear too. When the girl heard how\nit was, what did she do? One night she rose softly and left the palace,\nwith the intention of going to find her brothers. She walked and walked,\nand at last met a little old man, who said to her: \"Where are you going\nat this time of the night?\" She answered: \"I am in search of my\nbrothers.\" The old man said: \"It will be difficult to find them, for\nyou must not speak for seven years, seven months, seven weeks, seven\ndays, seven hours, and seven minutes.\" She said: \"I will try.\" Then she\ntook a bit of paper which she found on the ground, wrote on it the day\nand the hour with a piece of charcoal, and left the old man and hastened\non her way. After she had run a long time, she saw a light and went\ntowards it, and when she was near it, she saw that it was over the door\nof a palace where a king lived. She entered and sat down on the\nstairway, and fell asleep. The servants came later to put out the light,\nand saw the pretty girl asleep on the stone steps; they awakened her,\nasking her what she was doing there. She began to make signs, asking\nthem to give her a lodging. They understood her, and said they would ask\nthe king. They returned shortly to tell her to enter, for the king\nwished to see her before she was shown to her room. When the king saw\nthe beautiful girl, with hair like gold, flesh like milk and wine, teeth\nwhite as pearls, and little hands that an artist could not paint as\nbeautiful as they were, he suddenly imagined that she must be the\ndaughter of some lord, and gave orders that she should be treated with\nall possible respect. They showed her to a beautiful room; then a maid\ncame and undressed her and put her to bed. Next morning, Diana, for so\nshe was called, arose, saw a frame with a piece of embroidery in it, and\nbegan to work at it. The king visited her, and asked if she needed\nanything, and she made signs that she did not. The king was so pleased\nwith the young girl that he ended by falling in love with her, and after\na year had passed he thought of marrying her. The queen-mother, who was\nan envious person, was not content with the match, because, said she, no\none knows where she came from, and, besides, she is dumb, something that\nwould make people wonder if a king should marry her. But the king was so\nobstinate that he married her; and when his mother saw that there was no\nhelp, she pretended to be satisfied. Shortly after, the queen-mother put\ninto the king's hands a letter which informed him of an imminent war, in\nwhich, if he did not take part, he would run the risk of losing his\nrealm. The king went to the war, in fact, with great grief at leaving\nhis wife; and before departing, he commended her earnestly to his\nmother, who said: \"Do not be anxious, my son, I shall do all that I can\nto make her happy.\" The king embraced his wife and mother, and departed.\n\nScarcely had the king gone when the queen-mother sent for a mason, and\nmade him build a wall near the kitchen-sink, so that it formed a sort of\nbox. Now you must know that Diana expected soon to become a mother, and\nthis afforded the queen-mother a pretext to write to her son that his\nwife had died in giving birth to a child. She took her and put her in\nthe wall she had had built, where there was neither light nor air, and\nwhere the wicked woman hoped that she would die. But it was not so. The\nscullion went every day to wash the dishes at the sink near where poor\nDiana was buried alive. While attending to his business, he heard a\nlamentation, and listened to see where it could come from. He listened\nand listened, until at last he perceived that the voice came from the\nwall that had been newly built. What did he do then? He made a hole in\nthe wall, and saw that the queen was there. The scullion asked how she\ncame there; but she only made signs that she was about to give birth to\na child. The poor scullion had his wife make a fine cushion, on which\nDiana reposed as well as she could, and gave birth to the most beautiful\nboy that could be seen. The scullion's wife went to see her every\nmoment, and carried her broth, and cared for the child; in short, this\npoor woman, as well as her husband, did everything she could to\nalleviate the poor queen, who tried to make them understand by signs\nwhat she needed. One day it came into Diana's head to look into her\nmemorandum book and see how long she still had to keep silent, and she\nsaw that only two minutes yet remained. As soon as they had passed, she\ntold the scullion all that had happened. At that moment the king\narrived, and the scullion drew the queen from out the hole, and showed\nher to the king. You can imagine how delighted he was to see again his\nDiana, whom he believed to be dead. He embraced her, and kissed her and\nthe child; in short, such was his joy that it seemed as if he would go\nmad. Diana related everything to him: why she had left her home, and why\nshe had played dumb so long, and finally how she had been treated by the\nqueen-mother, and what she had suffered, and how kind those poor people\nhad been to her. When he had heard all this, he said: \"Leave the matter\nto me; I will arrange it.\"\n\nThe next day the king invited all the nobles and princes of his realm to\na great banquet. Now it happened that in setting the tables the servants\nlaid six plates besides the others; and when the guests sat down, six\nhandsome youths entered, who advanced and asked what should be given to\na sister who had done so and so for her brothers. Then the king sprang\nup and said: \"And I ask what shall be done to a mother who did so and so\nto her son's wife?\" and he explained everything. One said: \"Burn her\nalive.\" Another: \"Put her in the pillory.\" Another: \"Fry her in oil in\nthe public square.\" This was agreed to. The youths had been informed by\nthat same old man whom Diana had met, and who was a magician, where\ntheir sister was and what she had done for them. Then they made\nthemselves known, and embraced Diana and their brother-in-law the king,\nand after the greatest joy, they all started off to see their parents.\nImagine the satisfaction of the king and queen at seeing again all their\nseven children. They gave the warmest reception to the king, Diana's\nhusband, and after they had spent some days together, Diana returned\nwith her husband to their city. And all lived there afterward in peace\nand contentment.[20]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe shall now turn our attention to another wide-spread story, which may\nbe termed \"The True Bride,\" although the Grimm story of that name is not\na representative of it. One of the simplest versions is Grimm's \"The\nGoose-Girl,\" in which a queen's daughter is betrothed to a king's son\nwho lives far away. When the daughter grew up she was sent to the\nbridegroom, with a maid to wait upon her. On the journey the maid takes\nthe place of the princess, who becomes a poor goose-girl. The true bride\nis of course discovered at last, and the false one duly punished. \"The\nWhite and the Black Bride,\" of the same collection, is a more\ncomplicated version of the same theme. The first part is the story of\ntwo sisters (step-sisters) who receive different gifts from fairies,\netc.; the second part, that of the brother who paints his sister's\nportrait, which the king sees and desires to marry the original. The\nsister is sent for, but on the journey the ugly step-sister pushes the\nbride into a river or the sea, and takes her place. The true bride is\nchanged into a swan (or otherwise miraculously preserved), and at last\nresumes her lawful place. In the above stories the substitution of the\nfalse bride is the main incident in the story; but there are many other\ntales in which the same incident occurs, but it is subordinate to the\nothers. Examples of this latter class will be given as soon as we reach\nthe story of \"The Forgotten Bride.\"\n\nThe first class mentioned is represented in Italy by two versions also.\nThe first is composed of the two traits: \"Two Sisters\" and \"True Bride\";\nthe second, of \"Brother who shows beautiful sister's portrait to king.\"\nThis second version sometimes shows traces of the first. It is with this\nsecond version that we now have to do, as in it only is the substitution\nof the false bride the main incident. Examples of the first version will\nbe found in the notes.[21] The story we have selected to illustrate the\nsecond version of this story is from Florence (_Nov. fior._ p. 314), and\nis entitled:\n\n\nXII. ORAGGIO AND BIANCHINETTA.\n\nThere was once a lady who had two children: the boy was called Oraggio,\nthe girl, Bianchinetta. By misfortunes they were reduced from great\nwealth to poverty. It was decided that Oraggio should go out to service,\nand indeed he found a situation as _valet de chambre_ to a prince. After\na time the prince, satisfied with his service, changed it, and set him\nto work cleaning the pictures in his gallery. Among the various\npaintings was one of a very beautiful lady, which was constantly\nOraggio's admiration. The prince often surprised him admiring the\nportrait. One day he asked him why he spent so much time before that\npicture. Oraggio replied that it was the very image of his sister, and\nhaving been away from her some time, he felt the need of seeing her\nagain. The prince answered that he did not believe that picture\nresembled his sister, because he had a search made, and it had not been\npossible to find any lady like the portrait. He added: \"Have her come\nhere, and if she is as beautiful as you say, I will make her my wife.\"\n\nOraggio wrote at once to Bianchinetta, who immediately set out on her\njourney. Oraggio went to the harbor to await her, and when he perceived\nthe ship at a distance, he called out at intervals: \"Mariners of the\nhigh sea, guard my sister Bianchina, so that the sun shall not brown\nher.\" Now, on the ship where Bianchinetta was, was also another young\ngirl with her mother, both very homely. When they were near the harbor,\nthe daughter gave Bianchinetta a blow, and pushed her into the sea. When\nthey landed, Oraggio could not recognize his sister; and that homely\ngirl presented herself, saying that the sun had made her so dark that\nshe could no longer be recognized. The prince was surprised at seeing\nsuch a homely woman, and reproved Oraggio, removing him from his\nposition and setting him to watch the geese. Every day he led the geese\nto the sea, and every day Bianchinetta came forth and adorned them with\ntassels of various colors. When the geese returned home, they said:--\n\n    \"Cro! cro!\n    From the sea we come,\n    We feed on gold and pearls.\n    Oraggio's sister is fair,\n    She is fair as the sun;\n    She would suit our master well.\"\n\nThe prince asked Oraggio how the geese came to repeat those words every\nday. He told him that his sister, thrown into the sea, had been seized\nby a fish, which had taken her to a beautiful palace under the water,\nwhere she was in chains. But that, attached to a long chain, she was\npermitted to come to the shore when he drove the geese there. The prince\nsaid: \"If what you relate is true, ask her what is required to liberate\nher from that prison.\"\n\nThe next day Oraggio asked Bianchinetta how it would be possible to take\nher from there and conduct her to the prince. She replied: \"It is\nimpossible to take me from here. At least, the monster always says to\nme: 'It would require a sword that cuts like a hundred, and a horse that\nruns like the wind.' It is almost impossible to find these two things.\nYou see, therefore, it is my fate to remain here always.\" Oraggio\nreturned to the palace, and informed the prince of his sister's answer.\nThe latter made every effort, and succeeded in finding the horse that\nran like the wind, and the sword that cut like a hundred. They went to\nthe sea, found Bianchinetta, who was awaiting them. She led them to her\npalace. With the sword the chain was cut. She mounted the horse, and\nthus was able to escape. When they reached the palace the prince found\nher as beautiful as the portrait Oraggio was always gazing at, and\nmarried her. The other homely one was burned in the public square, with\nthe accustomed pitch-shirt; and they lived content and happy.[22]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have already encountered the trait of \"Thankful Animals,\" who assist\nthe hero in return for kindness he has shown them. What is merely an\nincident in the stories above alluded to constitutes the main feature of\na class of stories which may be termed \"Animal Brothers-in-law.\" The\nusual formula in these stories is as follows: Three princes, transformed\ninto animals, marry the hero's sisters. The hero visits them in turn;\nthey assist him in the performance of difficult tasks, and are by him\nfreed from their enchantment. This formula varies, of course. Sometimes\nthere are but two sisters, and the brothers-in-law are freed from their\nenchantment in some other way than by the hero. A good specimen of this\nclass is from the south of Italy, Basilicata (Comparetti, No. 20), and\nis called:\n\n\nXIII. THE FAIR FIORITA.\n\nThere was once a king who had four children: three daughters and a son,\nwho was the heir to the throne. One day the king said to the prince: \"My\nson, I have decided to marry your three sisters to the first persons who\npass our palace at noon.\" At that time there first passed a swine-herd,\nthen a huntsman, and finally a grave-digger. The king had them all three\nsummoned to his presence, and told the swine-herd that he wished to give\nhim his oldest daughter for a wife, the second to the huntsman, and the\nthird to the grave-digger. Those poor creatures thought they were\ndreaming. But they saw that the king spoke seriously, or rather\ncommanded. Then, all confused, but well pleased, they said: \"Let your\nMajesty's will be done.\" The prince, who loved his youngest sister\ndearly, was deeply grieved that she should become a grave-digger's wife.\nHe begged the king not to make this match, but the king would not listen\nto him.\n\nThe prince, grieved at his father's caprice, would not be present at his\nsisters' wedding, but took a walk in the garden at the foot of the\npalace. Now, while the priest in the marriage hall was blessing the\nthree brides, the garden suddenly bloomed with the fairest flowers, and\nthere came forth from a white cloud a voice which said: \"Happy he who\nshall have a kiss from the lips of the fair Fiorita!\" The prince\ntrembled so that he could hardly stand; and afterward, leaning against\nan olive-tree, he began to weep for the sisters he had lost, and\nremained buried in thought many hours. Then he started, as if awakening\nfrom a dream, and said to himself: \"I must flee from my father's house.\nI will wander about the world, and will not rest until I have a kiss\nfrom the lips of the fair Fiorita.\"\n\nHe travelled over land and sea, over mountains and plains, and found no\nliving soul that could give him word of the fair Fiorita. Three years\nhad elapsed, when one day, leaving a wood and journeying through a\nbeautiful plain, he arrived at a palace before which was a fountain, and\ndrew near to drink. A child two years old, who was playing by the\nfountain, seeing him approach, began to cry and call its mother. The\nmother, when she saw the prince, ran to meet him, embraced him, and\nkissed him, crying: \"Welcome, welcome, my brother!\" The prince at first\ndid not recognize her; but looking at her closely in the face, he saw\nthat it was his oldest sister, and embracing her in turn, exclaimed:\n\"How glad I am to see you, my sister!\" and they rejoiced greatly. The\nsister invited him to enter the palace, which was hers, and led him to\nher husband, who was much pleased to see him, and all three overwhelmed\nwith caresses the child who, by calling his mother, had been the cause\nof all that joy.\n\nThe prince then asked about his other two sisters, and his\nbrother-in-law replied that they were well, and lived in a lordly way\nwith their husbands. The prince was surprised, and his brother-in-law\nadded that the fortunes of the three husbands of his sisters had changed\nsince they had been enchanted by a magician. \"And cannot I see my other\ntwo sisters?\" asked the prince. The brother-in-law replied: \"Direct your\njourney towards sunrise. After a day you will find your second sister;\nafter two days, the third.\" \"But I must seek the way to the fair\nFiorita, and I do not know whether it is towards sunrise or sunset.\" \"It\nis precisely towards sunrise; and you are doubly fortunate: first,\nbecause you will see your two sisters again; secondly, because from the\nlast you can receive information about the fair Fiorita. But before\ndeparting I wish to give you a remembrance. Take these hog's bristles.\nThe first time you encounter any danger from which you cannot extricate\nyourself, throw them on the ground, and I will free you from the\ndanger.\" The prince took the bristles, and after he had thanked his\nbrother-in-law, resumed his journey.\n\nThe next day he arrived at the palace of his second sister; was received\nthere also with great joy, and this brother-in-law, too, wished to give\nhim a memento before he departed; and because he had been a huntsman,\npresented him with a bunch of birds' feathers, telling him the same\nthing that the other brother-in-law had. He thanked him and departed.\nThe third day he came to his youngest sister's, who, seeing the brother\nwho had always loved her more dearly than his other sisters, welcomed\nhim more warmly, as did also her husband. The latter gave him a little\nhuman bone, giving him the same advice as the other brothers-in-law had.\nHis sister then told him that the fair Fiorita lived a day's journey\nfrom there, and that he could learn more about her from an old woman who\nwas indebted to her, and to whom she sent him.\n\nAs soon as the prince arrived at the fair Fiorita's country (she was the\nking's daughter), he went to the old woman. When she heard that he was\nthe brother of the one who had been so kind to her, she received him\nlike a son. Fortunately, the old woman's house was exactly opposite that\nside of the king's palace where there was a window to which the fair\nFiorita came every day at dawn. Now one morning at that hour she\nappeared at the window, scarcely covered by a white veil. When the\nprince saw that flower of beauty, he was so agitated that he would have\nfallen had not the old woman supported him. The old woman attempted to\ndissuade him from the idea of marrying the fair Fiorita, saying that the\nking would give his daughter only to him who should discover a hidden\nplace, and that he killed him who could not find it, and that already\nmany princes had lost their lives for her. But, notwithstanding, he\nanswered that he should die if he could not obtain possession of the\nfair Fiorita. Having learned afterward from the old woman that the king\nbought for his daughter the rarest musical instruments, hear what he\ndevised! He went to a cymbal-maker and said: \"I want a cymbal that will\nplay three tunes, and each tune to last a day, and to be made in such a\nway that a man can be hidden inside of it; and I will pay you a thousand\nducats for it. When it is finished I will get in it; and you must go\nand play it in front of the king's palace; and if the king wishes to\nbuy it you will sell it to him on condition that you shall take it every\nthree days to fix it.\" The cymbal-maker consented, and did all that the\nprince commanded him. The king purchased the cymbal with the maker's\ncondition, had it carried to his daughter's bed-chamber, and said to\nher: \"See, my daughter, I do not wish you to lack any diversion, even\nwhen you are in bed and cannot sleep.\"\n\nNext to the fair Fiorita's chamber slept her maids of honor. In the\nnight when all were asleep, the prince, who was hidden in the cymbal,\ncame out and called: \"Fair Fiorita! fair Fiorita!\" She awoke in a fright\nand cried: \"Come, my maids of honor, I hear some one calling me.\" The\nmaids of honor came quickly, but found no one, for the prince hid\nhimself suddenly in the instrument. The same thing happened twice, and\nthe maids coming and finding no one, the fair Fiorita said: \"Well, it\nmust be my fancy. If I call you again, do not come, I command you.\" The\nprince, within the cymbal, heard this. Scarcely had the maids of honor\nfallen asleep again, when the prince approached the fair one's bed and\nsaid: \"Fair Fiorita, give me, I beg you, a kiss from your lips; if you\ndo not, I shall die.\" She, all trembling, called her maids; but obeying\nher command, they did not come. Then she said to the prince: \"You are\nfortunate and have won. Draw near.\" And she gave him the kiss, and on\nthe prince's lips there remained a beautiful rose. \"Take this rose,\" she\nsaid, \"and keep it on your heart, for it will bring you good luck.\" The\nprince placed it on his heart, and then told his fair one all his\nhistory from the time he had left his father's palace until he had\nintroduced himself into her chamber by the trick with the cymbal. The\nfair Fiorita was well pleased, and said that she would willingly marry\nhim; but to succeed, he must perform many difficult tasks which the king\nwould lay upon him. First he must discover the way to a hiding-place\nwhere the king had concealed her with a hundred damsels; then he must\nrecognize her among the hundred damsels, all dressed alike and veiled.\n\"But,\" she said, \"you need not trouble yourself about these\ndifficulties, for the rose you have taken from my lips, and which you\nwill always wear over your heart, will draw you like the loadstone,\nfirst to the hiding-place, and afterward to my arms. But the king will\nset you other tasks, and perhaps terrible ones. These you must think of\nyourself. Let us leave it to God and fortune.\"\n\nThe prince went at once to the king, and asked for the fair Fiorita's\nhand. The king did not refuse it, but made the same conditions, that the\nprincess had told him of. He consented, and by the help of the rose\nquickly performed the first tasks. \"Bravo!\" exclaimed the king, when the\nprince recognized the fair Fiorita among the other damsels; \"but this is\nnot enough.\" Then he shut him up in a large room all full of fruit, and\ncommanded him, under pain of death, to eat it all up in a day. The\nprince was in despair, but fortunately he remembered the hog's bristles\nand the advice which his first brother-in-law had given him. He threw\nthe bristles on the ground, and there suddenly came forth a great herd\nof swine which ate up all the fruit and then disappeared. This task was\naccomplished. But the king proposed another. He wished the prince to\nretire with his bride, and cause her to fall asleep at the singing of\nthe birds which are the sweetest to hear and the most beautiful to see.\nThe prince remembered the bunch of feathers given him by his\nbrother-in-law the huntsman, and threw them on the ground. Suddenly\nthere appeared the most beautiful birds in the world, and sang so\nsweetly that the king himself fell asleep. But a servant awakened him at\nonce, because he had commanded it, and he said to the prince and his\ndaughter: \"Now you can enjoy your love at liberty. But to-morrow, on\narising, you must present me with a child two years old, who can speak\nand call you by name. If not, you will both be killed.\" \"Now let us\nretire, my dear wife,\" said the prince to the fair Fiorita. \"Between now\nand to-morrow some saint will aid us.\" The next morning the prince\nremembered the bone which his brother-in-law the grave-digger had given\nhim. He rose and threw it to the ground, and lo! a beautiful child,\nwith a golden apple in his right hand, who cried papa and mamma. The\nking entered the room, and the child ran to meet him, and wished to put\nthe golden apple on the crown which the king wore. The king then kissed\nthe child, blessed the pair, and taking the crown from his head, put it\non his son-in-law's, saying: \"This is now yours.\" Then they gave a great\nfeast at the court for the wedding, and they invited the prince's three\nsisters, with their husbands. And the prince's father, receiving such\ngood news of the son whom he believed lost, hastened to embrace him, and\ngave him his crown too. So the prince and the fair Fiorita became king\nand queen of two realms, and from that time on were always happy.[23]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the above story the wife is won by the performance of difficult tasks\nby the suitor. A somewhat similar class of stories is the one in which\nthe bride is won by the solution of a riddle. The riddle, or difficult\nquestion, is either proposed by the bride herself, and the suitor who\nfails to answer it is killed, or the suitor is obliged to propose one\nhimself, and if the bride fails to solve it, she marries him; if she\nsucceeds, the suitor is killed. The first of the above two forms is\nfound in three Italian stories, two of which resemble each other quite\nclosely.\n\nIn the Pentamerone (I. 5, \"The Flea\"), the King of High-Hill, \"being\nbitten by a flea, caught him by a wonderful feat of dexterity; and\nseeing how handsome and stately he was, he could not in conscience pass\nsentence on him upon the bed of his nail. So he put him into a bottle,\nand feeding him every day with the blood of his own arm, the little\nbeast grew at such a rate that at the end of seven months it was\nnecessary to shift his quarters, for he was grown bigger than a sheep.\nWhen the king saw this, he had him flayed, and the skin dressed. Then he\nissued a proclamation, that whoever could tell to what animal this skin\nhad belonged should have his daughter to wife.\" The question is answered\nby an ogre, to whom the king gives his daughter rather than break his\npromise. The hapless wife is afterward rescued by an old woman's seven\nsons, who possess remarkable gifts. In Gonz. (No. 22, \"The Robber who\nhad a Witch's Head\"), a king with three daughters fattens a louse and\nnails its skin over the door as in the Pentamerone. A robber, who had a\nwitch's head that told him everything he wanted to know, answers the\nquestion, and receives in marriage the king's eldest daughter. He takes\nher home and leaves her alone for a time, and on his return learns from\nthe witch's head that his wife has reviled him. He kills her and marries\nthe second sister, whom he kills for the same reason, and marries the\nyoungest. She is more discreet, and the witch's head can only praise\nher. One day she finds the head and throws it in the oven; and the\nrobber, whose life was in some way connected with it, died. The wife\nthen anointed her sisters with a life-giving salve, and all three\nreturned to their father's house, and afterward married three handsome\nprinces. The third story, from the Tyrol (Schneller, No. 31, \"The\nDevil's Wife\"), is connected with the Bluebeard story which will be\nmentioned later. A king and queen had an only daughter, who was very\npretty and fond of dress. One day she found a louse; and as she did not\nknow what kind of an animal it was, she ran to her mother and asked her.\nHer mother told her and said: \"Shut the louse up in a box and feed it.\nAs soon as it is very large, we will have a pair of gloves made of its\nskin; these we will exhibit, and whoever of your suitors guesses from\nthe skin of what animal they are made, shall be your husband.\" The\nsuccessful suitor is no other than the Devil, who takes his wife home\nand forbids her to open a certain room. One day, while he is absent, she\nopens the door of the forbidden chamber, and sees from the flames and\ncondemned souls who her husband is. She is so frightened that she\nbecomes ill, but manages to send word to her father by means of a\ncarrier-pigeon. The king sets out with many brave men to deliver her; on\nthe way he meets three men who possess wonderful gifts (far seeing,\nsharp ear, great strength), and with their aid rescues his daughter.\n\nMore frequently, however, this class of stories turns on a riddle\nproposed by the suitor himself, and which the bride is unable to solve.\n\nThe following story, which illustrates the latter version, is from\nIstria (Ive, 1877, p. 13), and is entitled:\n\n\nXIV. BIERDE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a mother who had a son, who went to school.\nOne day he came home and said to his mother: \"Mother, I want to go and\nseek my fortune.\" She replied: \"Ah, my son, are you mad? Where do you\nwant to seek it?\" \"I want to wander about the world until I find it.\"\nNow he had a dog whose name was Bierde. He said: \"To-morrow morning bake\nme some bread, put it into a bag, give me a pair of iron shoes, and I\nand Bierde will go and seek our fortune.\" His mother said: \"No, my son,\ndon't go, for I shall not see you again!\" And she wept him as dead.\nAfter she was quieted she said to him: \"Well, if you will go, to-morrow\nI will bake you some bread, and I will make you a bread-cake.\" She made\nthe bread-cake, and put some poison in it; she put the bread and the\nbread-cake in the bag, and he went away. He walked and walked and walked\nuntil he felt hungry, and said to the dog: \"Ah, poor Bierde, how tired\nyou are, and how hungry, too! Wait until we have gone a little farther,\nand then we will eat.\" He went on, tired as he was, and at last seated\nhimself under a tree, with the dog near him. He said: \"Oh, here we are;\nnow we will eat. Wait, Bierde; I will give you a piece of the bread-cake\nso that you, too, can eat.\" He broke off a piece of the cake, and gave\nit to him to eat. The dog was so hungry that he ate it greedily. After\nhe had eaten it he took two or three turns, and fell dead on the ground,\nwith his tongue sticking out. \"Ah, poor Bierde!\" said his master. \"You\nhave been poisoned! My mother has done it! The wretch! She has put\npoison in the cake in order to kill me!\" He kept weeping and saying:\n\"Poor Bierde, you are dead, but you have saved my life!\" While he was\nweeping three crows passed, alighted, and pecked at the tongue of the\ndog, and all three died. Then he said: \"Well, well! _Bierde dead has\nkilled three crows!_ I will take them with me.\" So he took them and\ncontinued his journey. He saw at a distance a large fire; he approached\nand heard talking and singing, and beheld seven highwaymen, who had\neaten a great many birds, and who had a great deal of meat still left.\nHe said to himself: \"Poor me! Now I shall have to die; there is no\nescape; they will certainly take me and kill me!\" Then he said: \"Enough;\nI will go ahead.\" As soon as they saw him they cried: \"Stop! Your money\nor your life!\" The poor fellow said: \"Brothers, what would you have me\ngive you? Money I have not. I am very hungry. I have nothing but these\nthree birds. If you want them I will give them to you.\" \"Very well,\"\nthey said; \"eat and drink; we will eat the birds.\" They took the birds,\npicked them, skinned them, roasted them over the coals, and said to the\nyouth: \"We will not give you any of these; you can eat the others.\" They\nate them, and all seven fell down dead. When the youth saw that they did\nnot stir, but were dead, he said: \"Well, well! _Bierde dead has killed\nthree, and these three have killed seven!_\" He rose and went away after\nhe had made a good meal. On the way he felt hungry again, and sat down\nunder a tree, and began to eat. When he got up he saw a beautiful\ncanary-bird on the top of another tree. He took up a stone and threw at\nit. The bird flew away. Now, behind this tree was a hare, big with\nyoung, and it happened that the stone fell on it and killed it. The\nyouth went to see where the stone fell, and when he saw the dead hare he\nsaid: \"Well, well! _I threw it at the canary-bird and the stone killed\nthe hare!_ I will take it with me. If I had the fire that those robbers\nleft I would cook it.\" He went on until he came to a church, in which he\nfound a lighted lamp and a missal. So he skinned the hare, and made a\nfire with the missal, and roasted and ate the hare. Then he continued\nhis journey until he came to the foot of a mountain, where the sea was.\nOn the shore he saw two persons with a boat, who ferried over those who\nwished to reach the other shore, because one could not go on foot on\naccount of the great dust, which was suffocating. The price for crossing\nwas three _soldi_. The youth said to the owners of the bark: \"How much\ndo you want to set me down on the other bank?\" \"Three _soldi_.\" \"Take me\nacross, brothers; I will give you two, for I have no more.\" They\nreplied: \"_Two do not enter if there are not three._\" He repeated his\noffer and they made the same answer. Then he said: \"Very well. I will\nstay here.\" And he remained there. In a moment, however, there came up a\nshower, and laid the dust, and he went on. He reached a city, and found\nit in great confusion. He asked: \"What is the matter here, that there\nare so many people?\" They answered: \"It is the governor's daughter, who\nguesses everything. He whose riddle she cannot guess is to marry her;\nbut he whose riddle she guesses is put to death.\" He asked: \"Could I,\ntoo, go there?\" \"What, you go, who are a foolish boy! So many students\nhave abstained, and you, so ignorant, wish to go! You will certainly go\nto your death!\" \"Well,\" he said, \"my mother told me that she would never\nsee me again, so I will go.\" He presented himself to the governor and\nsaid: \"Sir governor, I wish to go to your daughter and see whether she\ncan guess what I have to tell her.\" \"Do you wish,\" he replied, \"to go to\nyour death? So many have lost their lives, do you, also, wish to lose\nyours?\" He answered: \"Let me go and try.\" He wished to go and see for\nhimself. He entered the hall where the daughter was. The governor\nsummoned many gentlemen to hear. When they were all there the governor\nagain said that the youth should reflect that if she guessed what he had\nto say that he would lose his life. He replied that he had thought of\nthat. The room was full of persons of talent, and the youth presented\nhimself and said:--\n\n    \"Bierde dead has killed three.\"\n\nShe said to herself: \"How can it be that one dead should kill three?\"\n\n    \"And three have killed seven.\"\n\nShe said: \"Here is nothing but dead and killed; what shall I do?\" She\nwas puzzled at once, and felt herself perplexed. He continued:--\n\n    \"I threw where I saw, and reached where I did not expect to.\n    I have eaten that which was born, and that which was not born.\n    It was cooked with words.\n    Two do not enter if there are not three;\n    But the hard passes over the soft.\"\n\nWhen she heard this the governor's daughter could not answer. All the\nothers were astonished likewise, and said that she must marry him. Then\nhe told them all that had happened, and the marriage took place.[24]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe shall now direct our attention to a class of stories found in all\nlands, and which may, from one of its most important episodes, be called\n\"The Forgotten Bride.\" In the ordinary version, the hero, in consequence\nof some imprecation, sets out in search of the heroine, who is either\nthe daughter or in the custody of ogre or ogress. The hero, by the help\nof the heroine, performs difficult tasks imposed upon him by her father\nor mother, etc., and finally elopes with her. The pursuit of father or\nmother, etc., is avoided by magic obstacles raised in their way, or by\ntransformations of the fugitives. The hero leaves his bride, to prepare\nhis parents to receive her; but at a kiss, usually from his mother, he\nentirely forgets his bride until she recalls herself to his memory, and\nthey are both united. The trait of difficult tasks performed by the hero\nis sometimes omitted, as well as flight with magic obstacles or\ntransformations. All the episodes of the above story, down to the\nforgetting bride at mother's kiss, are found in many stories; notably in\nthe class \"True Bride,\" already mentioned.\n\nA Sicilian story (Pitre, No. 13) will best illustrate this class. It is\nentitled:\n\n\nXV. SNOW-WHITE-FIRE-RED.\n\nThere was once a king and queen who had no son, and they were always\nmaking vows to obtain one; and they promised that if they had a son, or\neven a daughter, they would maintain two fountains for seven years: one\nrunning wine, the other oil. After this vow the queen gave birth to a\nhandsome boy.\n\nAs soon as the child was born, the two fountains were erected, and\neverybody went and took oil and wine. At the end of seven years the\nfountains began to dry up. An ogress, wishing to collect the drops that\nstill fell from the fountain, went there with a sponge and pitcher. She\nsopped up the drops with the sponge and then squeezed it in the pitcher.\nAfter she had worked so hard to fill this pitcher, the little son of the\nking, who was playing ball, from caprice threw a ball and broke the\npitcher. When the old woman saw this, she said: \"Listen. I can do\nnothing to you, for you are the king's son; but I can bestow upon\nyou an imprecation: May you be unable to marry until you find\nSnow-white-fire-red!\" The cunning child took a piece of paper and wrote\ndown the old woman's words, put it away in a drawer, and said nothing\nabout it. When he was eighteen the king and queen wished him to marry.\nThen he remembered the old woman's imprecation, took the piece of paper,\nand said: \"Ah! if I do not find Snow-white-fire-red I cannot marry!\"\nWhen it seemed fit, he took leave of his father and mother, and began\nhis journey entirely alone. Months passed without meeting any one. One\nevening, night overtook him, tired and discouraged, in a plain in the\nmidst of which was a large house.\n\nAt daybreak he saw an ogress coming, frightfully tall and stout, who\ncried: \"Snow-white-fire-red, lower your tresses for me to climb up!\"\nWhen the prince heard this he took heart, and said: \"There she is!\"\nSnow-white-fire-red lowered her tresses, which seemed never to end, and\nthe ogress climbed up by them. The next day the ogress descended, and\nwhen the prince saw her depart, he came from under the tree where he\nhad concealed himself, and cried: \"Snow-white-fire-red, lower your\ntresses for me to climb up!\" She, believing it was her mother (for she\ncalled the ogress mother), lowered her tresses, and the prince climbed\nboldly up. When he was up, he said: \"Ah! my dear little sister, how I\nhave labored to find you!\" And he told her of the old woman's\nimprecation when he was seven years old.\n\nShe gave him some refreshments, and then said: \"You see, if the ogress\nreturns and finds you here, she will devour you. Hide yourself.\" The\nogress returned, and the prince concealed himself.\n\nAfter the ogress had eaten, her daughter gave her wine to drink, and\nmade her drunk. Then she said: \"My mother, what must I do to get away\nfrom here? Not that I want to go, for I wish to stay with you; but I\nwant to know just out of curiosity. Tell me!\" \"What you must do to get\naway from here!\" said the ogress. \"You must enchant everything that\nthere is here, so that I shall lose time. I shall call, and instead of\nyou, the chair, the cupboard, the chest of drawers, will answer for you.\nWhen you do not appear, I will ascend. You must take the seven balls of\nyarn that I have laid away. When I come and do not find you, I shall\npursue you; when you see yourself pursued, throw down the first ball,\nand then the others. I shall always overtake you until you throw down\nthe last ball.\"\n\nHer daughter heard all that she said, and remembered it. The next day\nthe ogress went out, and Snow-white-fire-red and the prince did what\nthey had to do. They went about the whole house, saying: \"Table, you\nanswer if my mother comes; chairs, answer if my mother comes; chest of\ndrawers, answer if my mother comes;\" and so she enchanted the whole\nhouse. Then she and the prince departed in such a hurry that they seemed\nto fly. When the ogress returned, she called: \"Snow-white-fire-red, let\ndown your tresses that I may climb up!\" The table answered: \"Come, come,\nmother!\" She waited a while, and when no one appeared to draw her up,\nshe called again: \"Snow-white-fire-red, lower your tresses for me to\nclimb up!\" The chair answered: \"Come, come, mother!\" She waited a while,\nbut no one appeared; then she called again, and the chest of drawers\nreplied: \"Come, come, mother!\" Meanwhile the lovers were fleeing. When\nthere was nothing left to answer, the ogress cried out: \"Treason!\ntreason!\" Then she got a ladder and climbed up. When she saw that her\ndaughter and the balls of yarn were gone, she cried: \"Ah, wretch! I will\ndrink your blood!\" Then she hastened after the fugitives, following\ntheir scent. They saw her afar off, and when she saw them, she cried:\n\"Snow-white-fire-red, turn around so that I can see you.\" (If she had\nturned around she would have been enchanted.)\n\nWhen the ogress had nearly overtaken them, Snow-white-fire-red threw\ndown the first ball, and suddenly there arose a lofty mountain. The\nogress was not disturbed; she climbed and climbed until she almost\novertook the two again. Then Snow-white-fire-red, seeing her near at\nhand, threw down the second ball, and there suddenly appeared a plain\ncovered with razors and knives. The ogress, all cut and torn, followed\nafter the lovers, dripping with blood.\n\nWhen Snow-white-fire-red saw her near again, she threw down the third\nball, and there arose a terrible river. The ogress threw herself into\nthe river and continued her pursuit, although she was half dead. Then\nanother ball, and there appeared a fountain of vipers, and many other\nthings. At last, dying and worn out, the ogress stopped and cursed\nSnow-white-fire-red, saying: \"The first kiss that the queen gives her\nson, may the prince forget you!\" Then the ogress could stand it no\nlonger, and died in great anguish.\n\nThe lovers continued their journey, and came to a town near where the\nprince lived. He said to Snow-white-fire-red: \"You remain here, for you\nare not provided with proper clothes, and I will go and get what you\nneed, and then you can appear before my father and mother.\" She\nconsented, and remained.\n\nWhen the queen beheld her son, she threw herself on him to kiss him.\n\"Mother,\" said he, \"I have made a vow not to allow myself to be\nkissed.\" The poor mother was petrified. At night, while he was asleep,\nhis mother, who was dying to kiss him, went and did so. From that moment\nhe forgot all about Snow-white-fire-red.\n\nLet us leave the prince with his mother, and return to the poor girl,\nwho was left in the street without knowing where she was. An old woman\nmet her, and saw the poor girl, as beautiful as the sun, weeping. \"What\nis the matter, my daughter?\" \"I do not know how I came here!\" \"My\ndaughter, do not despair; come with me.\" And she took her to her house.\nThe young girl was deft with her hands, and could work enchantment. She\nmade things, and the old woman sold them, and so they both lived. One\nday the maiden said to the old woman that she wanted two bits of old\ncloth from the palace for some work she had to do. The old woman went to\nthe palace, and began to ask for the bits, and said so much that at last\nshe obtained them. Now the old woman had two doves, a male and a female,\nand with these bits of cloth Snow-white-fire-red dressed the doves so\nprettily that all who saw them marvelled. The young girl took these\ndoves, and whispered in their ears: \"You are the prince, and you are\nSnow-white-fire-red. The king is at the table, eating; fly and relate\nall that you have undergone.\"\n\nWhile the king, queen, prince, and many others were at the table, the\nbeautiful doves flew in and alighted on the table. \"How beautiful you\nare!\" And all were greatly pleased. Then the dove which represented\nSnow-white-fire-red began: \"Do you remember when you were young how your\nfather promised a fountain of oil and one of wine for your birth?\" The\nother dove answered: \"Yes, I remember.\" \"Do you remember the old woman\nwhose pitcher of oil you broke? do you remember?\" \"Yes, I remember.\" \"Do\nyou remember the imprecation she pronounced on you,--that you could not\nmarry until you found Snow-white-fire-red?\" \"I remember,\" replied the\nother dove. In short, the first dove recalled all that had passed, and\nfinally said: \"Do you remember how you had the ogress at your heels,\nand how she cursed you, saying that at your mother's first kiss you must\nforget Snow-white-fire-red?\" When the dove came to the kiss, the prince\nremembered everything, and the king and queen were astounded at hearing\nthe doves speak.\n\nWhen they had ended their discourse, the doves made a low bow and flew\naway. The prince cried: \"Ho, there! ho, there! see where those doves go!\nsee where they go!\" The servants looked and saw the doves alight on a\ncountry house. The prince hastened and entered it, and found\nSnow-white-fire-red. When he saw her he threw his arms about her neck,\nexclaiming: \"Ah! my sister, how much you have suffered for me!\"\nStraightway they dressed her beautifully and conducted her to the\npalace. When the queen saw her there, she said: \"What a beauty!\" Things\nwere soon settled and the lovers were married.[25]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs we have remarked above, this story is often found incomplete, the\nending--\"forgetfulness of bride\"--being wanting.\n\nSeveral of these versions are from Milan (_Nov. fior._ pp. 411, 415,\n417). In the first, \"The King of the Sun,\" a trait occurs that is of\nsome interest. The hero plays billiards with the King of the Sun and\nwins his daughter. He goes in search of his bride, and at last finds an\nold man who tells him where the King of the Sun lives, and adds: \"In a\nwood near by is a pond where, in the afternoon, the king's three\ndaughters bathe. Go and carry away their clothes; and when they come and\nask for them give them back on condition that they will take you to\ntheir father.\" The hero does as he is told, is taken to the king, and\nobliged to choose his bride from among the three, with his eyes\nblindfolded. The remainder of the story consists of the usual flight,\nwith the transformations of the lovers. The incident of the maidens who\nbathe, and whose clothes the hero steals, is clearly an example of the\nSwan-maiden myth, and occurs in a few other Italian tales. In a story\nfrom the North of Italy (Monferrato, Comparetti, No. 50), \"The Isle of\nHappiness,\" a poor boy goes to seek his fortune. He encounters an old\nman who tells him that fortune appears but once in a hundred years, and\nif not taken then, never is. He adds that this is the very time for\nfortune to appear--that day or the next--and advises the youth to hide\nhimself in a wood near the bank of a stream, and when three beautiful\ngirls come and bathe, to carry away the clothes of the middle one. He\ndoes so, and compels the owner (who is none other than Fortune) to marry\nhim. By his mother's fault he loses his bride, as in the Cupid and\nPsyche stories, and is obliged to go in search of her to the Isle of\nHappiness. The same incident occurs in several Sicilian stories. In one\n(Pitre, No. 50, \"Give me the Veil!\") the hero, a poor youth, goes in\nsearch of his fortune as in the last story, and meets an old woman who\ntells him to go to a certain fountain, where twelve doves will come to\ndrink and become twelve maidens \"as beautiful as the sun, with veils\nover their faces,\" and advises the youth to seize the veil of the most\nbeautiful girl and keep it; for if she obtains it she will become a dove\nagain. The youth does as he is commanded, and takes his wife home,\ngiving the veil to his mother to keep for him. She gives it to the wife,\nwho becomes a dove again, and disappears. The same thing happens twice;\nthe third time the veil is burned, and the wife, who turns out to be the\nenchanted daughter of the king of Spain, remains with her husband.[26]\n\nThere yet remains a large and interesting class of stories to be\nexamined. The class may conveniently be termed \"Bluebeard,\" although, as\nwe shall see, there are three versions of this story, to only one of\nwhich the above name properly belongs. These three versions are well\nrepresented by the three Grimm stories of \"The Feather Bird\" (No. 46),\n\"The Robber Bridegroom\" (No. 40), and \"The Wood-cutter's Child\" (No. 3).\nIn the first version, which is, properly speaking, the Bluebeard story,\ntwo sisters are married in turn and killed by their husband, because\nthey open the forbidden chamber. The youngest sister, although she opens\nthe forbidden door, manages to escape and deliver her sisters, whom she\nrestores to life. In the second version a robber marries several\nsisters, whom he kills for disobeying his commands (the trait of\nforbidden chamber is usually wanting); the youngest sister again manages\nto escape and restores her dead sisters to life. Generally in this\nversion the husband makes a desperate effort to be revenged on the\nsister who has escaped from him, but fails in this also. In the third\nversion a young girl is under the guardianship of some supernatural\nbeing, who forbids her to open a certain door. The child disobeys,\ndenies her fault, and is sent away in disgrace; she afterward marries\nand her children are taken from her one by one until she confesses her\nfault, or, as is the case in an Italian version, persists in her denial\nto the very end. We shall examine these three versions separately, and\nfirst give an example of the first, or Bluebeard, class. It is from\nVenice (Widter-Wolf, No. 11, _Jahrb._ VII. 148), and is entitled:\n\n\nXVI. HOW THE DEVIL MARRIED THREE SISTERS.\n\nOnce upon a time the Devil was seized with a desire to marry. He\ntherefore left hell, took the form of a handsome young man, and built a\nfine large house. When it was completed and furnished in the most\nfashionable style, he introduced himself to a family where there were\nthree pretty daughters, and paid his addresses to the eldest of them.\nThe handsome man pleased the maiden, her parents were glad to see a\ndaughter so well provided for, and it was not long before the wedding\nwas celebrated.\n\nWhen he had taken his bride home, he presented her with a very\ntastefully arranged bouquet, led her through all the rooms of the house,\nand finally to a closed door. \"The whole house is at your disposal,\"\nsaid he, \"only I must request one thing of you; that is, that you do not\non any account open this door.\"\n\nOf course the young wife promised faithfully; but equally, of course,\nshe could scarcely wait for the moment to come when she might break her\npromise. When the Devil had left the house the next morning, under\npretence of going hunting, she ran hastily to the forbidden door, opened\nit, and saw a terrible abyss full of fire that shot up towards her, and\nsinged the flowers on her bosom. When her husband came home and asked\nher whether she had kept her promise, she unhesitatingly said \"Yes;\" but\nhe saw by the flowers that she was telling a lie, and said: \"Now I will\nnot put your curiosity to the test any longer. Come with me. I will show\nyou myself what is behind the door.\" Thereupon he led her to the door,\nopened it, gave her such a push that she fell down into hell, and shut\nthe door again.\n\nA few months after he wooed the next sister for his wife, and won her;\nbut with her everything that had happened with the first wife was\nexactly repeated.\n\nFinally he courted the third sister. She was a prudent maiden, and said\nto herself: \"He has certainly murdered my two sisters; but then it is a\nsplendid match for me, so I will try and see whether I cannot be more\nfortunate than they.\" And accordingly she consented. After the wedding\nthe bridegroom gave her a beautiful bouquet, but forbade her, also, to\nopen the door which he pointed out.\n\nNot a whit less curious than her sisters, she, too, opened the forbidden\ndoor when the Devil had gone hunting, but she had previously put her\nflowers in water. Then she saw behind the door the fatal abyss and her\nsisters therein. \"Ah!\" she exclaimed, \"poor creature that I am; I\nthought I had married an ordinary man, and instead of that he is the\nDevil! How can I get away from him?\" She carefully pulled her two\nsisters out of hell and hid them. When the Devil came home he\nimmediately looked at the bouquet, which she again wore on her bosom,\nand when he found the flowers so fresh he asked no questions; but\nreassured as to his secret, he now, for the first time, really loved\nher.\n\nAfter a few days she asked him if he would carry three chests for her to\nher parents' house, without putting them down or resting on the way.\n\"But,\" she added, \"you must keep your word, for I shall be watching\nyou.\" The Devil promised to do exactly as she wished. So the next\nmorning she put one of her sisters in a chest, and laid it on her\nhusband's shoulders. The Devil, who is very strong, but also very lazy\nand unaccustomed to work, soon got tired of carrying the heavy chest,\nand wanted to rest before he was out of the street on which he lived;\nbut his wife called out to him: \"Don't put it down; I see you!\" The\nDevil went reluctantly on with the chest until he had turned the corner,\nand then said to himself: \"She cannot see me here; I will rest a\nlittle.\" But scarcely had he begun to put the chest down when the sister\ninside cried out: \"Don't put it down; I see you still!\" Cursing, he\ndragged the chest on into another street, and was going to lay it down\non a doorstep, but he again heard the voice: \"Don't lay it down, you\nrascal; I see you still!\" \"What kind of eyes must my wife have,\" he\nthought, \"to see around corners as well as straight ahead, and through\nwalls as if they were made of glass!\" and thus thinking he arrived, all\nin a perspiration and quite tired out, at the house of his\nmother-in-law, to whom he hastily delivered the chest, and then hurried\nhome to strengthen himself with a good breakfast.\n\nThe same thing was repeated the next day with the second chest. On the\nthird day she herself was to be taken home in the chest. She therefore\nprepared a figure which she dressed in her own clothes, and placed on\nthe balcony, under the pretext of being able to watch him better;\nslipped quickly into the chest, and had the maid put it on the Devil's\nback. \"The deuce!\" said he; \"this chest is a great deal heavier than the\nothers; and to-day, when she is sitting on the balcony, I shall have so\nmuch the less chance to rest.\" So by dint of the greatest exertions he\ncarried it, without stopping, to his mother-in-law, and then hastened\nhome to breakfast, scolding, and with his back almost broken. But quite\ncontrary to custom, his wife did not come out to meet him, and there was\nno breakfast ready. \"Margerita, where are you?\" he cried; but received\nno answer. As he was running through the corridors he at length looked\nout of a window, and saw the figure on the balcony. \"Margerita, have you\ngone to sleep? Come down. I am as tired as a dog, and as hungry as a\nwolf.\" But there was no reply. \"If you do not come down instantly I will\ngo up and bring you down,\" he cried, angrily; but Margerita did not\nstir. Enraged, he hastened up to the balcony, and gave her such a box on\nthe ear that her head flew off, and he saw that the head was nothing but\na milliner's form, and the body, a bundle of rags. Raging, he rushed\ndown and rummaged through the whole house, but in vain; he found only\nhis wife's empty jewel-box. \"Ha!\" he cried; \"she has been stolen from\nme, and her jewels, too!\" and he immediately ran to inform her parents\nof the misfortune. But when he came near the house, to his great\nsurprise he saw on the balcony above the door all three sisters, his\nwives, who were looking down on him with scornful laughter.\n\nThree wives at once terrified the Devil so much that he took his flight\nwith all possible speed.\n\nSince that time he has lost his taste for marrying.[27]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have already mentioned, in the class of \"Bride Won by Solving\nRiddle,\" the story in Gonzenbach of \"The Robber who had a Witch's Head.\"\nIn this story, after the robber has married the first princess, he takes\nher home, and learns from the witch's head, which hangs over the window\nin a basket, what his wife says of him in his absence. The counterpart\nof the witch's head is found in several very curious Italian stories. In\nthese a magician is substituted for the robber, and marries, in the same\nway, several sisters. In the version in Gonzenbach, No. 23 (\"The Story\nof Ohime\"), Ohime, the magician, leaves his wife for a few days, and\nbefore he goes gives her a human bone, telling her she must eat it\nbefore his return. The wife throws the bone away; but when the magician\nreturns he calls out: \"Bone, where are you?\" \"Here I am.\" \"Come here,\nthen.\" Then the bone came, and the magician murdered his wife because\nshe had not done her duty. The second sister is married and killed in\nthe same way. Then the youngest becomes the magician's bride. In her\nperplexity and grief at her husband's command to eat a human arm during\nhis absence, she invokes her mother's spirit, which tells her to burn\nthe arm to a coal, powder it, and bind it about her body. When the\nmagician returns and asks the arm where it is, it replies: \"In Maruzza's\nbody.\" Then her husband trusted her, and treated her kindly, showing\nher, among other things, a closet containing flasks of salve which\nrestored the dead to life. He forbade her, however, to open a certain\ndoor. Maruzza could not restrain her curiosity, and the first\nopportunity she had she opened the door, and found in the room a\nhandsome young prince murdered. She restored him to life, heard his\nstory, and then killed him again, so that her husband would not notice\nit. Then she extracted from her husband the secret of his life: \"I\ncannot be killed, but if any one sticks a branch of this herb in my ears\nI shall fall asleep, and not wake up again.\" Maruzza, of course, throws\nher husband, as soon as possible, into this magic sleep, restores the\nprince, flies with him, and marries him.\n\nSome years after, the branch in the magician's ears withered and fell\nout, and he awakened. Then he desired to be revenged, and travelled\nabout until he found where his wife lived. Then he had a silver statue\nmade in which he could conceal himself, and in which he placed some\nmusical instruments. He shut himself up in it, and had himself and the\nstatue taken to the palace where Maruzza and her husband lived. In the\nnight, when all were asleep, the magician came out of the statue,\ncarried Maruzza to the kitchen, kindled a fire, and put on some oil to\nboil, into which he intended to throw poor Maruzza. But just as he was\nabout to do it, the flask which he had laid on the king's bed, and which\nhad thrown him into a magic sleep, rolled off, and the king awoke, heard\nMaruzza's cries, saved her, and threw the magician into the boiling oil.\nIn spite of his assurances he seems to have been very thoroughly\nkilled.[28]\n\nA Florentine story (_Nov. fior._ p. 290), called \"The Baker's Three\nDaughters,\" is a combination of the Bluebeard and Robber Bridegroom\nstories. The husband forbids his wife to open a certain door with a gold\nkey, saying: \"You cannot deceive me; the little dog will tell me; and,\nbesides, I will leave you a bouquet of flowers, which you must give me\non my return, and which will wither if you enter that room.\" The two\nsisters yield to their curiosity, and are killed. The third sister kills\nthe treacherous little dog, delivers the prince, as in the last story,\nflies with him, and the story ends much as the last does. In a Milanese\nversion of this story, with the same title (_Nov. fior._ p. 298), the\nrobber bridegroom takes his wife home, and informs her that it is her\nduty to watch at night, and open the door to the robbers when they\nreturn. The poor wife falls asleep, and is murdered. So with the second\nsister. The third remains awake, rescues the prince, and flies with him.\nThe rest of the story is as above.\n\nOf the third version of the Bluebeard story there are but two Italian\nexamples: one from Sicily (Gonz. No. 20), and one from Pisa (Comparetti,\nNo. 38). The former is entitled \"The Godchild of St. Francis of Paula,\"\nand is, briefly, as follows: A queen, through the intercession of St.\nFrancis of Paula, has a girl, whom she names Pauline, from the saint.\nThe saint is in the habit of meeting the child on her way to school, and\ngiving her candy. One day the saint tells her to ask her mother whether\nit is best to suffer in youth or old age. The mother replies that it is\nbetter to suffer in youth. Thereupon the saint carries away Pauline, and\nshuts her up in a tower, climbing up and down by her tresses, as in\nother stories we have already mentioned. In the tower the saint\ninstructed Pauline in all that belonged to her rank. One day a king\nclimbs up by the hair, and persuades Pauline to fly with him. She\nconsents and becomes his bride. When her first child was born St.\nFrancis came and took it away, rubbed the mother's mouth with blood, and\ndeprived her of speech. Three times this happened, and then the queen\nwas repudiated and confined in a remote room, where she spent her time\nin praying to St. Francis.\n\nMeanwhile the queen-mother arranged another marriage for her son; but\nduring the banquet the saint brought Pauline royal robes, and restored\nher three children to her. Then he led all four to the banquet-hall, and\nthe happy family lived thereafter in peace and happpiness.\n\nThe \"forbidden chamber\" is omitted in the above version, but is found in\nthe Pisan story, \"The Woodman.\" The main idea of the story, however, is\ncuriously distorted. A woodman had three daughters whom he cannot\nsupport. One day a lady met him in the wood, and offered to take one of\nhis daughters for a companion, giving him a purse of money, and assuring\nhim that he would always find enough wood. The lady took her home, and\ntold her she must not open a certain door during her absence. The girl\ndid so, however, and saw her mistress in a bath, with two damsels\nreading a book. She closed the door at once; but when the mistress\nreturned and asked her whether she had disobeyed, and what she had seen,\nshe confessed her fault, and told what she saw. Then the lady cut her\nhead off, hung it by the hair to a beam, and buried the body.\n\nThe same thing happened to the second sister, who opened the door, and\nsaw the lady sitting at a table with gentlemen. The lady killed her,\ntoo, and then took the third sister, who, in spite of having seen her\ntwo sisters' heads, could not control her curiosity, and opened the\ndoor. She saw her mistress reclining in a beautiful bed. In the evening\nthe lady returned and asked her what she had seen; but she answered: \"I\nhave seen nothing.\" The lady could extort no other answer from her, and\nfinally clothed her in her peasant's dress, and took her back to the\nwood and left her.\n\nThe king of the neighboring city happened to pass by, and fell in love\nwith her, and married her. When her first child was born the lady\nappeared at her bedside, and said: \"Now it is time to tell me what you\nsaw.\" \"I saw nothing,\" replied the young queen. Then the lady carried\naway the child, having first rubbed the mother's mouth with blood. This\nhappened a second time, and then the king put her away, and prepared to\nmarry again. The first wife was invited to the wedding feast. While at\nthe table the lady appeared under it, and pulled the first wife's dress,\nand said: \"Will you tell what you saw?\" The reply was twice: \"Nothing.\"\nThen the queen fainted. At that moment a carriage drove up to the palace\nwith a great lady in it, who asked to see the king. She told him that it\nwas she who had carried away his children, and added that from her\nchildhood she had been subjected to an enchantment that was to end when\nshe found a person who should say that she had seen nothing in that\nroom. She then brought back the children, and all lived together in\npeace and joy.[29]\n\nOne of the most beautiful and touching of all fairy tales is the one\nknown to the readers of Grimm's collection by the title of \"Faithful\nJohn,\" and which has such a charming parallel in the story of \"Rama and\nLuxman,\" in Miss Frere's \"Old Deccan Days.\" There are seven Italian\nversions of this interesting story, which we shall mention briefly,\ngiving first the shortest entire, as a point of departure. It is from\nthe North of Italy (Comparetti, Monferrato, No. 29), and is called:\n\n\nXVII. IN LOVE WITH A STATUE.\n\nThere was once a king who had two sons. The eldest did not wish to\nmarry, and the youngest, although he went about everywhere, found no\nlady to his taste. Now it happened that he once went to a certain city,\nand there saw a statue with which he fell in love. He bought it, had it\ncarried to his room, and every day embraced and kissed it. One day his\nfather became aware of this, and said to him: \"What are you doing? If\nyou want a wife, take one of flesh and bones, and not one of marble.\" He\nanswered that he would take one exactly like the statue, or none at all.\nHis older brother, who at this time had nothing to do, went out into the\nworld to seek her. On his way he saw in a city a man who had a mouse\nwhich danced so that it seemed like a human being. He said to himself:\n\"I will take it home to my brother to amuse himself with.\" He continued\nhis journey, and, arrived in a more distant town, where he found a bird\nthat sang like an angel, and bought that, too, for his brother. He was\non the point of returning home, and was passing through a street, when\nhe saw a beggar knocking at a door. A very beautiful girl appeared at\nthe window, who resembled in every respect the prince's statue, and\nsuddenly withdrew. Then he told the beggar to ask alms again; but the\nbeggar refused, because he feared that the magician, who was then\nabsent, would return home and eat him up. But the prince gave him so\nmuch money and other things that he knocked again, and the young girl\nappeared again, and suddenly withdrew. Then the prince went through the\nstreets, saying that he mended and sold looking-glasses. The servant of\nthe young girl, who heard him, told her mistress to go and see the\nmirrors. She went, but he told her that if she wanted to select the\nmirrors she would have to go on board his ship. When she was there, he\ncarried her away, and she wept bitterly and sighed, so that he would let\nher return home, but it was like speaking to the wall.\n\nWhen they were out at sea, there was heard the voice of a large black\nbird, saying: \"_Ciriu, ciriu!_ what a handsome mouse you have! You will\ntake it to your brother; you will turn his head; and if you tell him of\nit, you will become marble. _Ciriu, ciriu!_ a fine bird you have; you\nwill take it to your brother; you will turn his head; and if you tell\nhim, you will become marble. _Ciriu, ciriu!_ a fine lady you have; you\nwill take her to your brother; you will turn his head; and if you tell\nhim of it, you will become marble.\" He did not know how he could tell\nhis brother, because he was afraid of becoming marble. He landed, and\ntook the mouse to his brother; and when he had seen it and wanted it,\nthe elder brother cut off its head. Then he showed him the bird that\nsang like an angel, and his brother wanted it; but the elder brother\nagain cut off its head. Then he said: \"I have something handsomer,\" and\nhe produced the beautiful girl who looked like the statue. And as the\nbrother who had brought her said nothing, the other feared that he would\ntake her away from him, and had him thrown into prison, where he was a\nlong time; and because he continued to keep silence, he was condemned to\ndeath. Three days before he was to die he asked his brother to come and\nsee him, and he consented, although unwillingly. Then the condemned\nbrother said: \"A large black bird told me that if I brought you back the\ndancing mouse, and spoke, I should become a statue.\" And saying this, he\nbecame a statue to the waist. \"And if, bringing you the singing bird, I\nspoke, it would be the same.\" Then he became a statue to his breast.\n\"And if, bringing you the lady, I spoke, I should become a statue.\" Then\nhe became a statue all over, and his brother began to lament in despair,\nand tried to restore him to life. All kinds of physicians came, but none\nsucceeded. Finally there came one who said that he was capable of\nturning the statue into a man provided they gave him what he needed. The\nking said he would do so, and the physician demanded the blood of the\nking's two children; but the mother would on no account consent. Then\nthe king gave a ball, and while his wife was dancing he had the two\nchildren killed, and bathed with their blood the statue of his brother,\nand the statue straightway became a man and went to the ball. The\nmother, when she beheld him, suddenly thought of her children. She ran\nto them and found them half dead, and fainted away. All around sought to\nconsole and encourage her; but when she opened her eyes and saw the\nphysician, she cried: \"Out of my sight, ugly wretch! It is you who have\ncaused my children to be killed.\" He answered: \"Pardon me, my lady, I\nhave done no harm. Go and see whether your children are there!\" She ran\nto see, and found them alive and making a great noise. Then the\nphysician said: \"I am the magician, your father, whom you forsook, and I\nhave wished to show you what it is to love one's children.\" Then they\nmade peace, and remained happy and contented.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the Venetian version (Teza, _La Trad. dei Sette Sari_, p. 26), called\n\"Mela and Buccia,\" from the names of the prince and his friend, while\nthe two friends are spending the night in a deserted castle, Buccia\nhears a voice foretelling the dangers to which Mela will be exposed. His\nhorse will throw him if Buccia does not kill it; a dragon will devour\nhim on his wedding night if Buccia does not kill it; and finally, the\nqueen's pet dog will mortally wound him if Buccia does not kill it. If,\nhowever, Buccia reveals what he has heard, he will turn to stone. Buccia\nacts accordingly, and the king forgives him everything but killing the\nqueen's pet dog; for that Buccia is condemned to be hung. Then he\nrelates all, and gradually turns to stone from his feet up. The king,\nqueen, and Buccia's mother are inconsolable until they are informed by\nan old woman that the blood of the little prince will bring the statue\nback to life. The faithful friend is by that means restored, and the\nchild also saved. In this version the abduction is wanting, and the last\ndanger is not the one usually threatened.\n\nIn a version from Siena (Gradi, _Vigilia_, p. 64), one of two brothers\ngoes in search of the \"Princess with Blonde Tresses.\" He also buys a\nparrot and a horse, and the dangers are: he who touches the parrot will\nhave his eyes put out; he who mounts the horse will be thrown; he who\nmarries the fair one will be devoured by a dragon; and he who reveals\nthese dangers will become stone. The remainder of the story is like the\nlast version.\n\nThe Florentine version (_Nov. fior._ p. 421) is mixed up with a number\nof other incidents. The dangers from which the prince is saved by his\nfaithful servant are: poisoned apples, poisoned pastry, and a lion in\nthe royal chamber. The servant is turned to stone and restored, as in\nthe other versions.\n\nIn a Mantuan story (_Fiabe mant_, No. 9), the dangers are: parrot,\nhorse, and bride; whoever touches these will be devoured by a dragon;\nwhoever reveals these dangers will become stone. The conclusion is the\nsame as above.\n\nThe last version we shall mention here is in the Pentamerone (IV. 9),\nand resembles the one from Monferrato. The elder brother, who goes in\nsearch of a bride for his younger brother, buys a falcon and a horse.\nThe first will pick out the younger brother's eyes; the horse will throw\nhim, and finally a dragon will devour him on his wedding night. The\nremainder of the story is as usual.[30]\n\nWe shall conclude this chapter with the class of stories in which giants\nare outwitted by men. The simplest form is found in two stories which\nare interesting examples of the survival of classic myths. Both stories\nare from Sicily, and one was told to Pitre by a girl eight years old\n(Pitre, No. 51). It is entitled \"The Little Monk,\" and is, in substance,\nas follows: There were once two monks who went begging for the church\nevery year. One was large and the other small. They lost their way once\nand came to a large cave, in which was a monster (lit. animal,\n_armalu_), who was building a fire. The two monks, however, did not\nbelieve it was a monster, but said: \"Let us go and rest there.\" They\nentered, and saw the monster killing a sheep and roasting it. He had\nalready killed and cooked twenty.\n\n\"Eat!\" said the monster to them. \"We don't want to eat; we are not\nhungry.\" \"Eat, I tell you!\" After they had eaten the sheep, they lay\ndown, and the monster closed the entrance to the cave with a great\nstone. Then he took a sharp iron, heated it in the fire, and stuck it in\nthe throat of the larger of the two monks, roasted the body, and wanted\nthe other monk to help eat it. \"I don't want to eat,\" said he; \"I am\nfull.\" \"Get up!\" said the monster. \"If you don't I will kill you.\"\n\nThe wretched monk arose in fright, seated himself at the table, and\npretended to eat, but threw the flesh away. In the night the good man\ntook the iron, heated it, and plunged it in the monster's eyes. Then the\nmonk in his terror slipped into the skin of a sheep. The monster felt\nhis way to the entrance of the cave, removed the stone, and let the\nsheep out one by one; and so the good man escaped and returned to\nTrapani, and told his story to some fishermen. The monster went fishing,\nand being blind, stumbled against a rock and broke his head. The other\nversion is from the Albanian colony of Piana de' Greci (Comparetti, No.\n70), in Sicily, and is substantially the same as the story just\ngiven.[31]\n\nGenerally, however, the stories in which giants are outwitted by men are\nmore complicated, and may be divided into two classes: one where the\ngiant is outwitted by superior cunning, the other where the giant's\nstupidity is deceived by the man's braggadocio. The first class may be\nrepresented by a Sicilian story (Pitre, No. 33), entitled:\n\n\nXVIII. THIRTEENTH.\n\nThere was once a father who had thirteen sons, the youngest of whom was\nnamed Thirteenth. The father had hard work to support his children, but\nmade what he could gathering herbs. The mother, to make the children\nquick, said to them: \"The one who comes home first shall have herb\nsoup.\" Thirteenth always returned the first, and the soup always fell to\nhis share, on which account his brothers hated him and sought to get rid\nof him.\n\nThe king issued a proclamation in the city that he who was bold enough\nto go and steal the ogre's coverlet should receive a measure of gold.\nThirteenth's brothers went to the king and said: \"Majesty, we have a\nbrother, named Thirteenth, who is confident that he can do that and\nother things too.\" The king said: \"Bring him to me at once.\" They\nbrought Thirteenth, who said: \"Majesty, how is it possible to steal the\nogre's coverlet? If he sees me he will eat me!\" \"No matter, you must\ngo,\" said the king. \"I know that you are bold, and this act of bravery\nyou must perform.\" Thirteenth departed and went to the house of the\nogre, who was away. The ogress was in the kitchen. Thirteenth entered\nquietly and hid himself under the bed. At night the ogre returned. He\nate his supper and went to bed, saying as he did so:\n\n    \"I smell the smell of human flesh;\n    Where I see it I will swallow it!\"\n\nThe ogress replied: \"Be still; no one has entered here.\" The ogre began\nto snore, and Thirteenth pulled the coverlet a little. The ogre awoke\nand cried: \"What is that?\" Thirteenth began to mew like a cat. The\nogress said: \"Scat! scat!\" and clapped her hands, and then fell asleep\nagain with the ogre. Then Thirteenth gave a hard pull, seized the\ncoverlet, and ran away. The ogre heard him running, recognized him in\nthe dark, and said: \"I know you! You are Thirteenth, without doubt!\"\n\nAfter a time the king issued another proclamation, that whoever would\nsteal the ogre's horse and bring it to the king should receive a measure\nof gold. Thirteenth again presented himself, and asked for a silk ladder\nand a bag of cakes. With these things he departed, and went at night to\nthe ogre's, climbed up without being heard, and descended to the stable.\nThe horse neighed on seeing him, but he offered it a cake, saying: \"Do\nyou see how sweet it is? If you will come with me, my master will give\nyou these always.\" Then he gave it another, saying: \"Let me mount you\nand see how we go.\" So he mounted it, kept feeding it with cakes, and\nbrought it to the king's stable.\n\nThe king issued another proclamation, that he would give a measure of\ngold to whoever would bring him the ogre's bolster. Thirteenth said:\n\"Majesty, how is that possible? The bolster is full of little bells, and\nyou must know that the ogre awakens at a breath.\" \"I know nothing about\nit,\" said the king. \"I wish it at any cost.\" Thirteenth departed, and\nwent and crept under the ogre's bed. At midnight he stretched out his\nhand very softly, but the little bells all sounded. \"What is that?\" said\nthe ogre. \"Nothing,\" replied the ogress; \"perhaps it is the wind that\nmakes them ring.\" But the ogre, who was suspicious, pretended to sleep,\nbut kept his ears open. Thirteenth stretched out his hand again. Alack!\nthe ogre put out his arm and seized him. \"Now you are caught! Just wait;\nI will make you cry for your first trick, for your second, and for your\nthird.\" After this he put Thirteenth in a barrel, and began to feed him\non raisins and figs. After a time he said: \"Stick out your finger,\nlittle Thirteenth, so that I can see whether you are fat.\" Thirteenth\nsaw there a mouse's tail, and stuck that out. \"Ah, how thin you are!\"\nsaid the ogre; \"and besides, you don't smell good! Eat, my son; take the\nraisins and figs, and get fat soon!\" After some days the ogre told him\nagain to put out his finger, and Thirteenth stuck out a spindle. \"Eh,\nwretch! are you still lean? Eat, eat, and get fat soon.\"\n\nAt the end of a month Thirteenth had nothing more to stick out, and was\nobliged to show his finger. The ogre cried out in joy: \"He is fat, he is\nfat!\" The ogress hastened to the spot: \"Quick, my ogress, heat the oven\nthree nights and three days, for I am going to invite our relatives, and\nwe will make a fine banquet of Thirteenth.\"\n\nThe ogress heated the oven three days and three nights, and then\nreleased Thirteenth from the barrel, and said to him: \"Come here,\nThirteenth; we have got to put the lamb in the oven.\" But Thirteenth\ncaught her meaning; and when he approached the oven, he said: \"Ah,\nmother ogress, what is that black thing in the corner of the oven?\" The\nogress stooped down a little, but saw nothing. \"Stoop down again,\" said\nThirteenth, \"so that you can see it.\" When she stooped down again,\nThirteenth seized her by the feet and threw her into the oven, and then\nclosed the oven door. When she was cooked, he took her out carefully,\ncut her in two, divided her legs into pieces, and put them on the table,\nand placed her trunk, with her head and arms, in the bed, under the\nsheet, and tied a string to the chin and another to the back of her\nhead.\n\nWhen the ogre arrived with his guests he found the dishes on the table.\nThen he went to his wife's bed and asked: \"Mother ogress, do you want to\ndine?\" Thirteenth pulled the string, and the ogress shook her head. \"How\nare you, tired?\" And Thirteenth, who was hidden under the bed, pulled\nthe other string and made her nod. Now it happened that one of her\nrelatives moved something and saw that the ogress was dead, and only\nhalf of her was there. She cried in a loud voice: \"Treason! treason!\"\nand all hastened to the bed. In the midst of the confusion Thirteenth\nescaped from under the bed and ran away to the king with the bolster and\nthe ogre's most valuable things.\n\nAfter this, the king said to Thirteenth: \"Listen, Thirteenth. To\ncomplete your valiant exploits, I wish you to bring me the ogre himself,\nin person, alive and well.\" \"How can I, your Majesty?\" said Thirteenth.\nThen he roused himself, and added: \"I see how, now!\" Then he had a very\nstrong chest made, and disguised himself as a monk, with a long, false\nbeard, and went to the ogre's house, and called out to him: \"Do you know\nThirteenth? The wretch! he has killed our superior; but if I catch him!\nIf I catch him, I will shut him up in this chest!\" At these words the\nogre drew near and said: \"I, too, would like to help you, against that\nwretch of an assassin, for you don't know what he has done to me.\" And\nhe began to tell his story. \"But what shall we do?\" said the pretended\nmonk. \"I do not know Thirteenth. Do you know him?\" \"Yes, sir.\" \"Then\ntell me, father ogre, how tall is he?\" \"As tall as I am.\" \"If that is\nso,\" said Thirteenth, \"let us see whether this chest will hold you; if\nit will hold you, it will hold him.\" \"Oh, good!\" said the ogre; and got\ninto the chest. Then Thirteenth shut the chest and said: \"Look\ncarefully, father ogre, and see whether there is any hole in the chest.\"\n\"There is none.\" \"Just wait; let us see whether it shuts well, and is\nheavy to carry.\"\n\nMeanwhile Thirteenth shut and nailed up the chest, took it on his back,\nand hastened to the city. When the ogre cried: \"Enough, now!\" Thirteenth\nran all the faster, and, laughing, sang this song to taunt the ogre:\n\n    \"I am Thirteenth,\n    Who carry you on my back;\n    I have tricked you and am going to trick you.\n    I must deliver you to the king.\"\n\nWhen he reached the king, the king had an iron chain attached to the\nogre's hands and feet, and made him gnaw bones the rest of his miserable\nlife. The king gave Thirteenth all the riches and treasures he could\nbestow on him, and always wished him at his side, as a man of the\nhighest valor.[32]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe second version of the above story, in which the giant is deceived by\nthe hero's braggadocio, is represented by several Italian stories; the\nsimplest are some Milanese versions (_Nov. fior._ pp. 575-580), one of\nwhich (_Ibid._ p. 575) is as follows:\n\n\nXIX. THE COBBLER.\n\nThere was once a cobbler who one day was so tired of cobbling that he\nsaid: \"Now I will go and seek my fortune.\" He bought a little cheese and\nput it on the table. It got full of flies, and he took an old shoe, and\nhit the cheese and killed all the flies. He afterward counted them, and\nfive hundred were killed, and four hundred wounded. He then girded on a\nsword, and put on a cocked hat, and went to the court, and said to the\nking: \"I am the chief warrior of the flies. Four hundred I have killed,\nand five hundred I have wounded.\" The king answered: \"Since you are a\nwarrior, you will be brave enough to climb that mountain there, where\nthere are two magicians, and kill them. If you kill them, you shall\nmarry my daughter.\" Then he gave him a white flag to wave when he had\nkilled them. \"And sound the trumpet, you will put his head in a bag,\nboth the heads, to show me.\" The cobbler then departed, and found a\nhouse, which was an inn, and the innkeeper and his wife were none other\nthan the magician and his wife. He asked for lodging and food, and all\nhe needed. Afterward he went to his room; but before going to bed, he\nlooked up at the ceiling. There he saw a great stone over the bed.\nInstead of getting into bed, he got into a corner. When a certain hour\nstruck, the magicians let the stone drop and it crushed the whole bed.\nThe next morning the cobbler went down and said that he could not sleep\nfor the noise. They told him they would change his room. The same thing\nhappened the next night, and in the morning they told him they would\ngive him another room. When it was a certain hour, the husband and wife\nwent to the forest to cut a bundle of fagots. Then the magician went\nhome; and the cobbler, who had made ready a sickle, said: \"Wait until I\nhelp you to take the bundle off your back.\" Then he gave the magician a\nblow with the sickle and cut off his head. He did the same thing when\nthe magician's wife returned. Then he unfurled his flag, and sounded his\ntrumpet, and the band went out to meet him. After he had arrived at the\ncourt, the king said to him: \"Now that you have killed the two\nmagicians, you shall marry my daughter.\" But the cobbler had got so used\nto drawing the thread that he did so in his sleep, and kept hitting his\nwife, so that she could not rest. Then the king gave him a great deal of\nmoney and sent him home.[33]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA more detailed version is found in a Sicilian story in Gonzenbach, \"The\nBrave Shoemaker\" (No. 41), the first part of which is like the Milanese\nversion. On his way to the giant's, the cobbler makes some balls of\nplaster of Paris and cream-cheese, and puts them in his pocket. When he\nheard the giant coming through the woods, he climbed a tree; but the\ngiant scented him, and told him to come down. The cobbler answered that\nif he did not leave him alone he would twist his neck; and to show him\nhow strong he was, he crushed the balls of plaster of Paris in his\nhands, telling the giant they were marble. The giant was frightened, and\ninvited the cobbler to remain with him, and took him home. After a\nwhile, the giant asked him to bring some water in a pitcher from the\nwell. The cobbler said that if the giant would give him a strong rope he\nwould bring the well itself. The giant in terror took the pitcher, and\ndrew the water himself. Then the giant asked the cobbler to cut some\nwood, but the latter asked for a strong rope to drag a whole tree to the\nhouse with. Then the giant proposed a trial of strength, to see which\ncould carry a heavy stick the longer. The cobbler said that the giant\nhad better wind something about the thick end, for when he, the\ncobbler, turned a somersault with it, he might hit the giant. When they\nwent to bed, the giant made the cobbler sleep with him; but the latter\ncrept under the bed, leaving a pumpkin in his place. The giant, who was\nanxious to get rid of the cobbler, took an iron bar and struck at the\npumpkin all night, believing it the cobbler's head. After he had beaten\nthe pumpkin to pieces, the cobbler, under the bed, gave a sigh. \"What is\nthe matter with you?\" asked the terrified giant. \"A flea has just bitten\nmy ear,\" answered the cobbler. The next day the cobbler proposed to the\ngiant to cook a great kettle of macaroni, and after they had eaten it,\nhe would cut open his stomach to show the giant that he had eaten it\nwithout chewing it; the giant was to do the same afterward. The cobbler,\nof course, secretly tied a sack about his neck, and put his macaroni in\nit; then he took a knife and ripped open the bag, and the macaroni fell\nout. The giant, in attempting to follow the cobbler's example, killed\nhimself. Then the cobbler cut his head off, carried it to the king, and\nclaimed his daughter's hand.[34]\n\nThe stories given in this chapter constitute, as we have already said in\nthe Introduction, but a small part of Italian fairy tales. They\nrepresent, however, as well as our space will allow, the great fairy\ncycles, so to speak. As our purpose has been to give only those stories\nwhich have been taken down from the mouths of the people, we have not\ndrawn, except for purposes of reference, upon the Pentamerone, one of\nthe most original and charming collections of fairy tales in any\nlanguage. Enough has been given, we trust, to show how the Italians have\ntreated the themes familiar to us from childhood, and to furnish the\nscholar with additional material for comparison.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nFAIRY TALES CONTINUED.\n\n\nThe fairy tales given in the last chapter belong to what may be called\nthe great fairy tale cycles; that is, to extensive classes that are\ntypical forms. It remains to notice in this chapter those stories which\ndo not belong to any of these typical classes, but constitute, so to\nspeak, independent forms.\n\nThe reader has perhaps noticed in the fairy tales of the first chapter\nthe conspicuous absence of the fairies to which we are accustomed in\nGerman or Celtic stories. We have met ogres and magicians with magic\npowers, old men and women, and hermits who have aided the hero and\nheroine, and played the role of the \"good fairy,\" but the fairy in the\nbright shape in which we see her in French and Irish stories, for\nexample, has been wanting. It will not be amiss, then, to give a few\nstories in which the fairies play a more important part. We shall first\nmention a curious story in which the fairies are represented in one of\ntheir most usual roles--that of bestowing good gifts. The story is from\nSicily (Gonz. No. 73), and is entitled:\n\n\nXXV. THE KING WHO WANTED A BEAUTIFUL WIFE.\n\nThere was once a king who wanted to marry. But his wife must be more\nbeautiful than the sun, and no matter how many maidens he saw, none was\nbeautiful enough to suit him. Then he called his trusty servant, and\ncommanded him to seek everywhere and see whether he could find a\nbeautiful girl. The servant set out, and wandered through the whole\nland, but found none who seemed handsome enough to him. One day,\nhowever, after he had run about a great deal and was very thirsty, he\ncame to a little house. He knocked and asked for a drink of water. Now\nthere dwelt in the house two very old women,--one eighty and the other\nninety years old,--who supported themselves by spinning. When the\nservant asked for water, the one eighty years old rose, opened a little\nwicket in the shutter, and handed him out the water. From spinning so\nmuch, her hands were very white and delicate; and when the servant saw\nthem he thought, \"It must be a handsome maiden, for she has such a\ndelicate white hand.\" So he hastened to the king, and said: \"Your royal\nMajesty, I have found what you seek; so and so has happened to me.\"\n\"Very well,\" answered the king, \"go once more and try to see her.\"\n\nThe servant returned to the little house, knocked, and asked again for\nsome water. The old woman did not open the window, but handed him the\npitcher through the little opening in the shutter. \"Do you live here all\nalone?\" asked the servant. \"No,\" she answered. \"I live here with my\nsister; we are poor girls and support ourselves by the work of our\nhands.\" \"How old are you, then?\" \"I am fifteen and my sister twenty.\"\nThe servant went back to the king and told him all, and the king said:\n\"I will take the one who is fifteen. Go and bring her to me.\" When the\nservant returned to the two old women, and told them that the king\nwished to elevate the younger to the position of his wife, she answered:\n\"Tell the king I am ready to do his will. Since my birth no ray of the\nsun has ever struck me, and if a ray of the sun or a beam of light\nshould strike me now, I would become perfectly black. Ask the king,\ntherefore, to send a closed carriage for me at night, and I will come to\nhis palace.\"\n\nWhen the king heard this he sent royal apparel and a closed carriage,\nand at night the old woman covered her face with a thick veil and rode\nto the palace. The king received her joyfully, and begged her to lay\naside the veil. She replied: \"There are too many lighted candles here;\ntheir light would make me black.\" So the king married her without\nhaving seen her face. When they came into the king's chamber, however,\nand she removed her veil, the king saw for the first time what an ugly\nold woman he had married, and in his rage he opened the window and threw\nher out. Fortunately there was a nail in the wall, on which she caught\nby her clothes, and remained hanging between heaven and earth. Four\nfairies chanced to pass by, and when they saw the old woman hanging\nthere, one of them cried: \"See, sisters, there is the old woman who\ncheated the king; shall we wish her dress to tear and let her fall?\"\n\"Oh, no! let us not do that,\" cried the youngest and most beautiful of\nthe fairies. \"Let us rather wish her something good. I wish her youth.\"\n\"And I, beauty.\" \"And I, prudence.\" \"And I, a good heart.\" Thus the\nfairies cried, and while they were yet speaking the old woman became a\nwondrous fair maiden.\n\nThe next morning, when the king looked out of the window and saw the\nbeautiful girl hanging there, he was terrified, and thought: \"Unhappy\nman! What have I done! Had I no eyes last night?\" Then he had her\ncarefully taken down with long ladders, and begged her pardon, saying:\n\"Now we will have a great festival and be right happy.\" So they\ncelebrated a splendid feast, and the young queen was the fairest in the\nwhole city.\n\nBut one day the sister ninety years old came to the palace to visit the\nqueen, her sister. \"Who is this ugly creature?\" asked the king. \"An old\nneighbor of mine who is half-witted,\" replied the queen, quickly. The\nold woman kept looking at her rejuvenated sister, and asked: \"What did\nyou do to become so young and lovely? I, too, would like to be young and\npretty again.\" She kept asking this the whole day, until the queen\nfinally lost her patience, and said: \"I had my old skin taken off, and\nthis new, smooth skin came to light.\" The old woman went to a barber and\nsaid: \"I will give you what you will to remove my old skin, so that I\nmay become young and handsome again.\" \"But good old woman, you will\nsurely die if I skin you.\" The old woman would not listen to him, and at\nlast he had to do her will. He took his knife and made a cut in her\nforehead. \"Oh!\" cried the old woman.\n\n            \"Who will look fair\n    Must grief and pain bear,\"\n\nanswered the barber. \"Then skin away, master,\" said the old woman. The\nbarber kept cutting on, until all at once the old woman fell down\ndead.[1]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis story leads quite naturally to the class in which gifts, good and\nbad, are bestowed by the fairies on two persons, one of whom is\ndeserving of good fortune; the other, of punishment or reproof. The\nsimplest form of this story is found in a Milanese tale (_Nov. fior._ p.\n190).\n\n\nXXVI. THE BUCKET.\n\nThere was once a mother who had two daughters: one was bad and the other\nwas very good. But the mother loved the bad one more than the good one.\nShe said one day to the bad one: \"Go and draw a bucket of water.\" The\nbad one did not want to go, and so she would not obey her mother. The\ngood daughter, however, said: \"I will go and draw it.\" She went to draw\nthe water, and the bucket fell down the well. She said: \"If I go home\nnow without the bucket, who knows what my mother will do to me?\" So she\nclimbed down the well, and at the bottom found a narrow passage, with a\ndoor. She knocked at the door. \"Have you not found a cord and bucket?\"\nThere was a saint there, who answered: \"No, my child.\" She continued her\nway and found another door. \"Have you not found a cord and bucket?\"\n\"No!\" That was the devil there. He answered her angrily because she was\na good girl; he did not say: \"My child.\" She knocked at another door.\n\"Have you not found a cord and bucket?\" It was the Madonna who replied:\n\"Yes, my child. Listen. You could do me a pleasure to stay here while I\nam away. I have my little son here, to whom you will give his soup; you\nwill sweep and put the house in order. When I come home I will give you\nyour bucket.\" The Madonna went away, and the good girl put the house in\norder, gave the child his broth, swept the house; and while she was\nsweeping, instead of finding dirt, she found coral and other beautiful\nthings. She saw that it was not dirt, and put it aside to give the\nMadonna when she returned. When the Madonna came back, she asked: \"Have\nyou done all I told you to do?\" The good girl answered: \"Yes, but I have\nkept these things here; I found them on the ground; it is not dirt.\"\n\"Very well; keep them for yourself. Would you like a dress of calico, or\none of silk?\" The girl answered: \"No, no! a calico dress.\" Instead of\nthat, the Madonna gave her the silk one. \"Do you wish a brass thimble,\nor a silver one?\" \"Give me the brass one.\" \"No, take the silver thimble.\nHere is the bucket and your cord. When you reach the end of this\npassage, look up in the air.\" The girl did so, and a beautiful star fell\non her brow.\n\nShe went home, and her mother ran to meet her to scold her for being\naway so long; and was about to strike her, when she saw the star on her\nbrow, which shone so that it was beautiful to see, and said: \"Where have\nyou been until now? Who put that thing on your forehead?\" The girl\nanswered: \"I don't know what there is there.\" Her mother tried to wash\nit away, but instead of disappearing, it shone more beautiful than ever.\nThen the girl told what had happened to her, and the other sister wished\nto go there, too. She went, and did the same as her sister. She let the\nbucket fall, climbed down, and knocked at the saint's door. \"Have you\nnot found a cord and bucket?\" \"No, my child.\" She knocked at the next\ndoor. \"Have you not found a cord and bucket?\" The devil answered: \"No, I\nhave not found them; but come here, my child, come here.\" But when she\nheard that he had not found her bucket, she said: \"No, I will go on.\"\nShe knocked at the Madonna's door. \"Have you not found a cord and\nbucket?\" The Madonna said that she had. \"I am going away: you will give\nmy son his broth, and then you will sweep. When I return I will give you\nyour bucket.\" Instead of giving the broth to the child, the bad girl\nate it herself. \"Oh!\" she said, \"how good it was!\" She swept and found a\ngreat deal of dirt. \"Oh, poor me! My sister found so many pretty\nthings!\" The Madonna returned. \"Have you done what I told you?\" \"Yes.\"\n\"Do you wish the brass or silver thimble?\" \"Oh! I want the silver one!\"\nShe gave her the brass one. \"Do you want the calico dress or the silk\none?\" \"Give me the silk dress.\" She gave her the calico dress. \"Here is\nyour bucket and cord. When you are out of here, look up into the air.\"\nWhen she was out she looked up into the air and there fell on her\nforehead a lump of dirt that soiled her whole face. She went home in a\nrage to weep and scold her sister because she had had the star, while\nshe had that dirt on her face. Her mother began to wash her face and rub\nit; and the more she did so the less the dirt went away. Then the mother\nsaid: \"I understand; the Madonna has done this to show me that I loved\nthe bad girl and neglected the good one.\"[2]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn other versions (mentioned in the note to the above story) the two\nsisters receive different gifts from the fairies. In a Sicilian tale\n(Pitre, No. 62) it is the children of unlike sisters who receive the\ngifts: the one, beauty. When she combs her hair jewels fall from it;\nwhen she washes the water becomes full of fishes; when she opens her\nmouth flowers fall out; her cheeks are like apples; and finally she can\nfinish her work in a short time. The cousin receives, of course, gifts\nthe very reverse of the above. The story ends with the trait of \"True\nBride,\" mentioned at length in Chapter I.\n\nThere is still a third version of the above story, which is popular in\nmany lands. The following example is from Florence (_Nov. fior._ p.\n559), and is entitled:\n\n\nXXVII. THE TWO HUMPBACKS.\n\nThere were once two companions who were humpbacks, but one more so than\nthe other. They were both so poor that they had not a penny to their\nnames. One of them said: \"I will go out into the world, for here there\nis nothing to eat; we are dying of hunger. I want to see whether I can\nmake my fortune.\" \"Go,\" said the other. \"If you make your fortune,\nreturn, and I will go and see if I can make mine.\" So the humpback set\noff on his journey. Now these two humpbacks were from Parma. When the\nhumpback had gone a long way, he came to a square where there was a\nfair, at which everything was sold. There was a person selling cheese,\nwho cried out: \"Eat the little Parmesan!\" The poor humpback thought he\nmeant him, so he ran away and hid himself in a court-yard. When it was\none o'clock, he heard a clanking of chains and the words \"Saturday and\nSunday\" repeated several times. Then he answered: \"And Monday.\" \"Oh,\nheavens!\" said they who were singing. \"Who is this who has harmonized\nwith our choir?\" They searched and found the poor humpback hidden. \"O\ngentlemen!\" he said, \"I have not come here to do any harm, you know!\"\n\"Well! we have come to reward you; you have harmonized our choir; come\nwith us!\" They put him on a table and removed his hump, healed him, and\ngave him two bags of money. \"Now,\" they said, \"you can go.\" He thanked\nthem and went away without his hump. He liked it better, you can\nbelieve! He returned to his place at Parma, and when the other humpback\nsaw him he exclaimed: \"Does not that look just like my friend? But he\nhad a hump! It is not he! Listen! You are not my friend so and so, are\nyou?\" \"Yes, I am,\" he replied. \"Listen! Were you not a humpback?\" \"Yes.\nThey have removed my hump and given me two bags of money. I will tell\nyou why. I reached,\" he continued, \"such and such a place, and I heard\nthem beginning to say, '_Eat the little Parmesan! eat the little\nParmesan!_' I was so frightened that I hid myself.\" (He mentioned the\nplace--in a court-yard.) \"At a certain hour, I heard a noise of chains\nand a chorus singing: '_Saturday and Sunday._' After two or three times,\nI said: '_And Monday._' They came and found me, saying that I had\nharmonized their chorus, and they wanted to reward me. They took me,\nremoved my hump, and gave me two bags of money.\" \"Oh, heavens!\" said the\nother humpback. \"I want to go there, too!\" \"Go, poor fellow, go!\nfarewell!\" The humpback reached the place, and hid himself precisely\nwhere his companion had. After a while he heard a noise of chains, and\nthe chorus: \"Saturday and Sunday!\" Then another chorus: \"And Monday!\"\nAfter the humpback had heard them repeat: \"Saturday and Sunday, and\nMonday!\" several times, he added: \"And Tuesday!\" \"Where,\" they\nexclaimed, \"is he who has spoiled our chorus? If we find him, we will\ntear him in pieces.\" Just think! they struck and beat this poor humpback\nuntil they were tired; then they put him on the same table on which they\nhad placed his companion, and said: \"Take that hump and put it on him in\nfront.\" So they took the other's hump and fastened it to his breast, and\nthen drove him away with blows. He went home and found his friend, who\ncried: \"Mercy! is not that my friend? but it cannot be, for this one is\nhumpbacked in front. Listen,\" he said, \"are you not my friend?\" \"The\nsame,\" he answered, weeping. \"I did not want to bear my own hump, and\nnow I have to carry mine and yours! and so beaten and reduced, you see!\"\n\"Come,\" said his friend, \"come home with me, and we will eat a mouthful\ntogether; and don't be disheartened.\" And so, every day, he dined with\nhis friend, and afterward they died, I imagine.[3]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are a number of Sicilian stories in which one's fate is\npersonified and appears in the role of a guardian angel, or good and bad\nfairy. In the same way fortune is personified in several stories. The\nbest example of the former class, which has also a point of contact with\nthe latter, is found in Gonzenbach, No. 21, and is entitled:\n\n\nXXVIII. THE STORY OF CATHERINE AND HER FATE.\n\nThere was once a merchant who was very rich and had greater treasures\nthan the king. In his reception room stood three wonderfully beautiful\nseats. One was of silver, the second of gold, and the third of diamonds.\nThis merchant had an only daughter, whose name was Catherine, and who\nwas fairer than the sun.\n\nOne day as Catherine was sitting in her chamber, the door suddenly\nopened of itself, and there entered a tall, beautiful lady, who held in\nher hand a wheel. \"Catherine,\" said she, \"when would you rather enjoy\nyour life, in youth or in old age?\" Catherine gazed at her in amazement,\nand could make no answer. The beautiful lady again asked: \"Catherine,\nwhen would you rather enjoy your life, in youth or in old age?\" Then\nthought Catherine: \"If I say in youth, I must suffer for it in old age;\nwherefore I will rather enjoy my life in old age, and in youth God's\nwill be done.\" So she answered: \"In old age.\" \"Be it as you have\nwished,\" said the beautiful woman, turned her wheel once, and\ndisappeared. Now this beautiful tall lady was poor Catherine's Fate.\n\nA few days later, her father suddenly received news that some of his\nships had been wrecked in a storm; a few days after, he learned that\nseveral more of his ships had foundered; and to cut the matter short,\nscarcely a month had passed when he was himself deprived of all his\nriches. He had to sell all that he had, and this, too, he lost, until at\nlast he remained poor and wretched. From grief he fell ill and died.\n\nSo poor Catherine remained all alone in the world, without a penny, and\nwith no one to give her shelter. She thought: \"I will go to another city\nand seek me a place there.\" So she set out and walked until she came to\nanother city. As she was going through the streets a noble lady happened\nto be standing by the window, and asked her: \"Where are you going, all\nalone, pretty maiden?\" \"Ah! noble lady, I am a poor girl, and would like\nto find a place to earn my bread. Can you not find use for me?\" So the\nnoble lady received her, and Catherine served her faithfully.\n\nSome days later the lady said one evening: \"Catherine, I must go out for\na time, and will lock the house door.\" \"Very well,\" said Catherine, and\nafter her mistress had gone she took her work and sat down and sewed.\nSuddenly the door opened, and her Fate entered. \"So?\" she cried, \"are\nyou here, Catherine? and do you think now that I am going to leave you\nin peace?\" With these words, her Fate ran to all the cupboards, dragged\nout the linen and clothes of Catherine's mistress, and tore everything\ninto a thousand pieces. Catherine thought: \"Woe is me if my mistress\nreturns and finds everything in this condition; she will certainly kill\nme!\" And in her anguish she opened the door and fled. Her Fate, however,\ngathered up all the torn and ruined things, made them whole, and laid\nthem away in their places. When the mistress returned she called\nCatherine, but Catherine was nowhere to be seen. \"Can she have robbed\nme?\" she thought; but when she looked about, nothing was gone. She was\nvery much astonished, but Catherine did not return, but hastened on\nuntil she came to another city. As she was passing through the streets,\nanother lady, standing by the window, asked her: \"Where are you going,\nall alone, pretty maiden?\" \"Ah! noble lady, I am a poor girl, and would\nlike a place to earn my bread. Can you not make use of me?\" Then the\nlady took her in, and Catherine served her and thought now she could\nrest in peace. It lasted, however, but a few days. One evening, when her\nmistress was out, her Fate appeared again and addressed her harshly:\n\"So, here you are now? Do you think you can escape me?\" Then the Fate\ntore and destroyed everything that it found, so that poor Catherine\nagain fled, in her anguish of heart. To cut the matter short, poor\nCatherine led this frightful life seven years, flying from one city to\nanother, and everywhere attempting to find a place. Her Fate always\nappeared after a few days, and tore and destroyed her employers' things,\nso that the poor girl had to flee. As soon as she had left the house\nthe Fate restored everything and put it in its place.\n\nFinally, after seven years, her Fate seemed weary of always persecuting\nthe unfortunate Catherine. One day Catherine came again to a city and\nsaw a lady standing at a window, who asked her: \"Where are you going,\nall alone, pretty girl?\" \"Ah! noble lady, I am a poor girl, and would\nlike to find a place to earn my bread. Can you not find use for me?\" The\nlady answered: \"I will give you a place willingly, but you must perform\ndaily a service, and I do not know whether you have strength for it.\"\n\"Tell me what it is,\" said Catherine, \"and if I can, I will do it.\" \"Do\nyou see yonder high mountain?\" asked the lady. \"Every morning you must\ncarry up there a large board covered with fresh bread, and cry with a\nloud voice: 'O my mistress' Fate! O my mistress' Fate! O my mistress'\nFate!' thrice. Then my Fate will appear and receive the bread.\" \"I will\ndo that willingly,\" said Catherine, and the lady took her into her\nservice.\n\nNow Catherine remained years with this lady, and every morning she took\na board with fresh bread and carried it up the mountain, and when she\nhad called three times: \"O my mistress' Fate!\" there appeared a\nbeautiful tall lady, who received the bread. Catherine often wept when\nshe thought that she, who had once been so rich, must now serve like a\npoor maid. One day her mistress said to her: \"Catherine, why do you weep\nso much?\" Then Catherine told her how ill it had fared with her, and her\nmistress said: \"I will tell you what, Catherine, when you take the bread\nto the mountain to-morrow, ask my Fate to try and persuade your Fate to\nleave you now in peace. Perhaps that will do some good.\" This advice\npleased poor Catherine, and the next morning, after she had taken the\nbread to her mistress' Fate, she disclosed her trouble to her, and said:\n\"O my mistress' Fate, beg my Fate to persecute me no longer.\" Then the\nFate answered: \"Ah, poor girl, your Fate is just now covered with seven\ncoverlets, so that she cannot hear you; but when you come to-morrow I\nwill take you to her.\" After Catherine had returned home, her mistress'\nFate went to the young girl's Fate and said: \"Dear sister, why are you\nnever weary of making poor Catherine suffer? Permit her again to see\nsome happy days.\" The Fate answered: \"Bring her to me to-morrow and I\nwill give her something that will help her out of all her trouble.\" When\nCatherine brought the bread the next morning, her mistress' Fate\nconducted her to her own Fate, who was covered with seven coverlets. Her\nFate gave her a small skein of silk, and said: \"Preserve it carefully;\nit will be of use to you.\" Then Catherine went home and said to her\nmistress: \"My Fate has given me a little skein of silk; what shall I do\nwith it? It is not worth three _grani_.\" \"Well,\" said her mistress,\n\"preserve it; who knows of what use it may be?\"\n\nNow it happened, some time after this, that the young king was to marry,\nand on that account had royal garments made for himself. As the tailor\nwas about to sew a beautiful dress, there was no silk of the same color\nto be found. So the king proclaimed throughout the whole land that\nwhoever had such silk should bring it to the court and would be well\nrewarded. \"Catherine,\" said her mistress, \"your skein is of that color;\ntake it to the king so that he may make you a handsome present.\" Then\nCatherine put on her best clothes, and went to the Court; and when she\nappeared before the king, she was so beautiful that he could not keep\nhis eyes from her. \"Royal Majesty,\" said she, \"I have brought you a\nlittle skein of silk, of the color that could not be found.\" \"I will\ntell you what, royal Majesty,\" cried one of his ministers, \"we will pay\nthe maiden for the silk with its weight in gold.\" The king was satisfied\nand they brought a balance; in one scale the king laid the silk, in the\nother, a gold coin. Now just imagine what happened: no matter how many\ngold coins the king laid in the scale, the silk was always heavier. Then\nthe king had a larger balance brought, and threw all his treasures into\nthe scale, but the silk still weighed the more. Then the king at last\ntook his crown from his head and placed it with all the other\ntreasures, and behold! the scale with gold sank and weighed exactly as\nmuch as the silk. \"Where did you get this silk?\" asked the king. \"Royal\nMajesty, it was a present from my mistress,\" answered Catherine. \"No,\nthat is impossible,\" cried the king. \"If you do not tell me the truth, I\nwill have your head cut off.\" Then Catherine related all that had\nhappened to her since she was a rich maiden.\n\nNow there lived at the court a wise lady, who said: \"Catherine, you have\nsuffered much, but you will now see happy days; and that it was not\nuntil the golden crown was put in the scale that the balance was even,\nis a sign that you will be a queen.\" \"If she is to be a queen,\" cried\nthe king, \"I will make her one, for Catherine and none other shall be my\nwife.\" And so it was; the king informed his betrothed that he no longer\nwished her, and married the fair Catherine. And after Catherine in her\nyouth had suffered so much, she enjoyed nothing but happiness in her old\nage, and was happy and contented.[4]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn the class of stories of which \"The Bucket\" is an example, we have\nseen the good sister rewarded, and the naughty one punished. Another\nwell-known moral story is the one in which a king's daughter is punished\nfor her pride, in refusing to marry a suitable lover, by being made to\nmarry the first one who asks her hand. This is the case in the Grimm\nstory \"King Thrush-Beard,\" or rather the king gives his proud daughter\nto the first beggar who comes to the palace gate. The same occurs in one\nof the Italian versions of this story, but usually the haughty princess,\nafter refusing a noble suitor, either falls in love with the same\nsuitor, who has disguised himself as a person of ignoble rank, or she\nsells herself to the disguised lover for some finery with which he\ntempts her. At all events, her pride is thoroughly humbled. An example\nof the more common version is found in Coronedi-Berti's Bolognese tales\n(No. 15), and is as follows:\n\n\nXXIX. THE CRUMB IN THE BEARD.\n\nThere was once a king who had a daughter whose name was Stella. She was\nindescribably beautiful, but was so whimsical and hard to please that\nshe drove her father to despair. There had been princes and kings who\nhad sought her in marriage, but she had found defects in them all and\nwould have none of them. She kept advancing in years, and her father\nbegan to despair of knowing to whom he should leave his crown. So he\nsummoned his council, and discussed the matter, and was advised to give\na great banquet, to which he should invite all the princes and kings of\nthe surrounding countries, for, as they said, there cannot fail to be\namong so many, some one who should please the princess, who was to hide\nbehind a door, so that she could examine them all as she pleased. When\nthe king heard this advice, he gave the orders necessary for the\nbanquet, and then called his daughter, and said: \"Listen, my little\nStella, I have thought to do so and so, to see if I can find any one to\nplease you; behold, my daughter, my hair is white, and I must have some\none to leave my crown to.\" Stella bowed her head, saying that she would\ntake care to please him. Princes and kings then began to arrive at the\ncourt, and when it was time for the banquet, they all seated themselves\nat the table. You can imagine what sort of a banquet that was, and how\nthe hall was adorned: gold and silver shone from all their necks; in the\nfour corners of the room were four fountains, which continually sent\nforth wine and the most exquisite perfumes. While the gentlemen were\neating, Stella was behind a door, as has been said, and one of her\nmaids, who was near by, pointed out to her now this one, now that one.\n\"See, your Majesty, what a handsome youth that is there.\" \"Yes, but he\nhas too large a nose.\" \"And the one near your father?\" \"He has eyes that\nlook like saucers.\" \"And that other at the head of the table?\" \"He has\ntoo large a mouth; he looks as if he liked to eat.\" In short, she found\nfault with all but one, who, she said, pleased her, but that he must be\na very dirty fellow, for he had a crumb on his beard after eating. The\nyouth heard her say this, and swore vengeance. You must know that he was\nthe son of the king of Green Hill, and the handsomest youth that could\nbe seen. When the banquet was finished and the guests had departed, the\nking called Stella and asked: \"What news have you, my child?\" She\nreplied, that the only one who pleased her was the one with the crumb in\nhis beard, but that she believed him to be a dirty fellow and did not\nwant him. \"Take care, my daughter, you will repent it,\" answered her\nfather, and turned away.\n\nYou must know that Stella's chamber looked into a court-yard into which\nopened the shop of a baker. One night, while she was preparing to\nretire, she heard, in the room where they sifted the meal, some one\nsinging so well and with so much grace that it went to her heart. She\nran to the window and listened until he finished. Then she began to ask\nher maid who the person with the beautiful voice could be, saying she\nwould like to know. \"Leave it to me, your Majesty,\" said the maid; \"I\nwill inform you to-morrow.\" Stella could not wait for the next day; and,\nindeed, early the next day she learned that the one who sang was the\nsifter. That evening she heard him sing again, and stood by the window\nuntil everything became quiet. But that voice had so touched her heart\nthat she told her maid that the next day she would try and see who had\nthat fine voice. In the morning she placed herself by the window, and\nsoon saw the youth come forth. She was enchanted by his beauty as soon\nas she saw him, and fell desperately in love with him.\n\nNow you must know that this was none other than the prince who was at\nthe banquet, and whom Stella had called \"dirty.\" So he had disguised\nhimself in such a way that she could not recognize him, and was\nmeanwhile preparing his revenge. After he had seen her once or twice he\nbegan to take off his hat and salute her. She smiled at him, and\nappeared at the window every moment. Then they began to exchange words,\nand in the evening he sang under her window. In short, they began to\nmake love in good earnest, and when he learned that she was free, he\nbegan to talk about marrying her. She consented at once, but asked him\nwhat he had to live on. \"I haven't a penny,\" said he; \"the little I earn\nis hardly enough to feed me.\" Stella encouraged him, saying that she\nwould give him all the money and things he wanted. To punish Stella for\nher pride, her father and the prince's father had an understanding, and\npretended not to know about this love affair, and let her carry away\nfrom the palace all she owned. During the day Stella did nothing but\nmake a great bundle of clothes, of silver, and of money, and at night\nthe disguised prince came under the balcony, and she threw it down to\nhim. Things went on in this manner some time, and finally one evening he\nsaid to her: \"Listen. The time has come to elope.\" Stella could not wait\nfor the hour, and the next night she quietly tied a cord about her and\nlet herself down from the window. The prince aided her to the ground,\nand then took her arm and hastened away. He led her a long ways to\nanother city, where he turned down a street and opened the first door he\nmet. They went down a long passage; finally they reached a little door,\nwhich he opened, and they found themselves in a hole of a place which\nhad only one window, high up. The furniture consisted of a straw bed, a\nbench, and a dirty table. You can imagine that when Stella saw herself\nin this place she thought she should die. When the prince saw her so\namazed, he said: \"What is the matter? Does the house not please you? Do\nyou not know that I am a poor man? Have you been deceived?\" \"What have\nyou done with all the things I gave you?\" \"Oh, I had many debts, and I\nhave paid them, and then I have done with the rest what seemed good to\nme. You must make up your mind to work and gain your bread as I have\ndone. You must know that I am a porter of the king of this city, and I\noften go and work at the palace. To-morrow, they have told me, the\nwashing is to be done, so you must rise early and go with me there. I\nwill set you to work with the other women, and when it is time for them\nto go home to dinner, you will say that you are not hungry, and while\nyou are alone, steal two shirts, conceal them under your skirt, and\ncarry them home to me.\" Poor Stella wept bitterly, saying it was\nimpossible for her to do that; but her husband replied: \"Do what I say,\nor I shall beat you.\" The next morning her husband rose with the dawn,\nand made her get up, too. He had bought her a striped skirt and a pair\nof coarse shoes, which he made her put on, and then took her to the\npalace with him, conducted her to the laundry and left her, after he had\nintroduced her as his wife, saying that she should remember what awaited\nher at home. Then the prince ran and dressed himself like a king, and\nwaited at the gate of the palace until it was time for his wife to come.\nMeanwhile poor Stella did as her husband had commanded, and stole the\nshirts. As she was leaving the palace, she met the king, who said:\n\"Pretty girl, you are our porter's wife, are you not?\" Then he asked her\nwhat she had under her skirt, and shook her until the shirts dropped\nout, and the king cried: \"See there! the porter's wife is a thief; she\nhas stolen some shirts.\" Poor Stella ran home in tears, and her husband\nfollowed her when he had put on his disguise again. When he reached home\nStella told him all that had happened and begged him not to send her to\nthe palace again; but he told her that the next day they were to bake,\nand she must go into the kitchen and help, and steal a piece of dough.\nEverything happened as on the previous day. Stella's theft was\ndiscovered, and when her husband returned he found her crying like a\ncondemned soul, and swearing that she had rather be killed than go to\nthe palace again. He told her, however, that the king's son was to be\nmarried the next day, and that there was to be a great banquet, and she\nmust go into the kitchen and wash the dishes. He added that when she had\nthe chance she must steal a pot of broth and hide it about her so that\nno one should see it. She had to do as she was told, and had scarcely\nconcealed the pot when the king's son came into the kitchen and told his\nwife she must come to the ball that had followed the banquet. She did\nnot wish to go, but he took her by the arm and led her into the midst of\nthe festival. Imagine how the poor woman felt at that ball, dressed as\nshe was, and with the pot of broth! The king began to poke his sword at\nher in jest, until he hit the pot, and all the broth ran on the floor.\nThen all began to jeer her and laugh, until poor Stella fainted away\nfrom shame, and they had to go and get some vinegar to revive her. At\nlast the king's mother came forward and said: \"Enough; you have revenged\nyourself sufficiently.\" Then turning to Stella: \"Know that this is your\nmother, and that he has done this to correct your pride and to be\navenged on you for calling him dirty.\" Then she took her by the arm and\nled her to another room, where her maids dressed her as a queen. Her\nfather and mother then appeared and kissed and embraced her. Her husband\nbegged her pardon for what he had done, and they made peace and always\nlived in harmony. From that day on she was never haughty, and had\nlearned to her cost that pride is the greatest fault.[5]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA curious feature in Italian stories is the part played by dolls or\npuppets. They sometimes serve to represent an absent mistress, or to\ntake her place and receive the brunt of the husband's anger. The most\npeculiar of these doll-stories are found in the south of Italy; the one\nthat follows is from Naples (_Nov. fior._ p. 333) and is entitled:\n\n\nXXX. THE FAIRY ORLANDA.\n\nThere was once a merchant who had no children. He was obliged to go away\nfor merchandise. His wife said to him: \"Here is a ring; put it on your\nfinger. You must bring me a doll as large as I am; one that can move,\nsew, and dress herself. If you forget, this ring will turn red, and your\nsteamer will go neither forward nor backward.\" And so it happened. He\nforgot the doll, embarked on the steamer, and it would not move. The\npilot said: \"Sir, have you forgotten anything?\" to all the gentlemen\nwho were there. \"No, sir; nothing.\" At the end of the steamer was this\nmerchant. \"Sir, have you forgotten anything; for the steamer cannot\nmove?\" He looked at his hand and replied: \"Yes, I have forgotten\nsomething--my wife's doll.\" He landed, got the doll, reembarked, and the\nsteamer continued its way. On his arrival at Naples, he carried the doll\nto his wife, well dressed and elegant; it seemed like a very handsome\nyoung girl. His wife, well pleased, talked to the doll, and they both\nworked near the balcony. Opposite lived a king's son, who fell in love\nwith the doll, and became ill from his passion. The queen, who saw that\nher son was ill, asked: \"My son, what is the matter with you? Tell your\nmamma. To-day or to-morrow we die, and you reign; and if you take an\nillness and die, who will reign?\" He answered: \"Mamma, I have taken this\nillness because there is a young girl, the daughter of the merchant who\nlives opposite, who is so beautiful that she has enamored me.\" The queen\nsaid: \"Yes, my son, I shall marry you to her. Were she the daughter of a\nscavenger, you shall marry her.\" \"You would do a good thing. Now let us\nsend for the merchant.\" They sent a servant to the merchant's house.\n\"Her Majesty wishes you at the palace!\" \"What does she want?\" \"She must\nspeak with you.\" The merchant went to the palace, and asked: \"Majesty,\nwhat do you wish?\" \"Have you a daughter?\" \"No, Majesty.\" \"What do you\nmean? My son has fallen ill from the love he has conceived for your\ndaughter.\" \"Your Majesty, I tell you it is a doll, and not a human\nbeing.\" \"I don't want to hear nonsense! If you don't present your\ndaughter to me in a fortnight, your head will fall under the\nguillotine.\" (Do you not know what the guillotine is? It is the gallows.\nHe was to be hung if he did not take her his daughter within a\nfortnight.) The merchant went home, weeping. His wife said: \"What is the\nmatter; what has the king said to you at the palace, to make you weep?\"\n\"Can you not guess what has happened to me? The king's son has fallen\nill for the sake of the doll you have!\" \"He has fallen ill? did he not\nsee that it was a doll?\" \"He would not believe it, and says it is my\ndaughter, and that if I do not bring her to him within a fortnight, my\nhead will fall under the guillotine.\" \"Well,\" said his wife, \"take the\ndoll, and carry her out into the country, and see what will happen.\" He\ndid so, and while he was going along, all confused, he met an old man\nwho asked him: \"Merchant, what are you doing?\" \"Ah, my old man, why\nshould I tell you?\" \"I know all.\" Then said the merchant: \"Since you\nknow all, find some remedy for my life.\" The old man said: \"Exactly. Go\nto such and such a place, where there is a fairy, who is called the\nfairy Orlanda. She has a palace with no doorkeeper, and no stairway.\nHere is a violin and a silk ladder. When you reach this palace, begin to\nplay. The fairy and all her twelve maidens will appear at the window.\nThis fairy Orlanda can give you help.\"\n\nThe merchant continued his journey, and found the palace without a\ndoorkeeper, and with no stairway. He began to play the violin, and the\nfairy and all her twelve damsels appeared and said: \"What do you want\nthat you call us?\" \"Ah! fairy Orlanda, help me!\" \"What help do you\nwant?\" \"I have this doll, and the king's son has fallen in love with it,\nand is ill. What shall I do? If I do not present her to him in a\nfortnight my head will be cut off.\" The fairy Orlanda said: \"Put this\nladder to the wall. Give me the doll. Wait two hours and I will give her\nback to you again.\" He waited two hours and then the fairy appeared:\n\"Here is your daughter. She will speak to all, to the king, to the\nqueen, but not to the prince. Farewell.\" The fairy Orlanda disappeared\nwithin, and the merchant departed with his daughter. He took her home to\nhis wife. The doll said: \"Mamma, how do you do?\" \"I am very well, my\ndaughter. Where have you been?\" \"I have been into the country with papa,\nand now I have returned.\" In a fortnight the merchant dressed her\nelegantly and carried her to the palace. As soon as the king saw her he\nsaid to the queen: \"My son was right; she is a beautiful girl!\" She went\ninto the gallery and spoke with the king and queen, but did not speak\nto the prince. The mortified prince thought: \"She speaks to papa, she\nspeaks to mamma, but not to me! What does it mean? Perhaps she does not\nspeak to me from embarrassment.\" They were married, but even then she\ndid not speak to him. So the prince was obliged to separate from her,\nand they lived in two rooms apart. The prince, meanwhile, courted\nanother princess. One morning, while he was breakfasting with his\nsweetheart, his wife called a servant: \"Come here; is the prince at\ntable?\" \"Yes, Highness.\" \"Wait!\" She cut off her two hands and put them\nin the oven, and there came out a roast, with ten sausages. \"Carry these\nto the prince.\" \"Prince, the princess sends you this.\" He asked: \"How\nwas it made?\" The servant replied: \"Prince, she cut off her two hands\nand put them in the oven. She amazed me.\" \"Enough,\" said the prince,\n\"let us eat them.\" His sweetheart said: \"I can do it, too.\" So she cut\noff her hands and put them in the oven; but they were burned and she\ndied. \"Oh, what have you done to me! you have killed one for me!\" said\nthe prince. After a time he made love to another. The first time he sat\nat table with her, the princess called another servant: \"Servant, where\nare you going?\" \"I am going, Majesty, to the prince's table.\" \"Wait!\"\nShe cut off her arms, and put them in the oven, and there came out a\nroast, with two blood-puddings. She said: \"Carry it to the prince, at\ntable.\" \"Prince!\" \"Go away, I don't want to hear any nonsense.\" \"But\nlisten; let me tell you!\" \"Well, tell away.\" So the servant told how the\nprincess had cut off her arms (which had grown out again) and put them\nin the oven, and the roast and puddings had come out. The second\nsweetheart tried to do the same and died. After a while the prince fell\nin love with another, and the same thing was repeated. The princess cut\noff her legs and put them in the oven, and a large roast came out, with\ntwo larded hams. The third sweetheart tried to do the same, and died\nlike the others. Then the prince said: \"Ah! she has done it to three for\nme! Unhappy me! I will not make love to any more.\"\n\nDuring the night when the princess had gone to bed, the lamp said:\n\"Lady, I want to drink.\" \"Oil-cruet, give the lamp a drink.\" \"Lady, it\nhas hurt me.\" \"Oil-cruet, why did you hurt the lamp? How beautiful is\nthe fairy Orlanda! How beautiful is the fairy Orlanda! How beautiful is\nthe fairy Orlanda!\" So she did all night until day. All these things\nwere enchanted: the lamp and the oil-cruet. The prince, who heard it,\nsaid one day to a servant: \"This evening you must enter the princess'\nroom. You must spend the night under her bed. You must see what she does\nin the night.\" The servant did so, and the same thing was repeated with\nthe lamp and the oil-cruet. The servant told the prince, who said:\n\"To-night, I will go.\" At night he crept under his wife's bed. The same\nthing was repeated. The lamp said: \"Lady, I want to drink!\" \"Oil-cruet,\ngive the lamp a drink.\" \"Lady, it has hurt me.\" \"Oil-cruet, why have you\nhurt the lamp? How beautiful is the fairy Orlanda!\" The whole night she\nrepeated: \"How beautiful is the fairy Orlanda!\" The prince responded:\n\"Blessed be the fairy Orlanda!\" \"Ah!\" said the princess, \"did it need so\nmuch to say a word?\" Then they embraced and kissed each other, and\nremained contented and happy.[6]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe now pass to an amusing class of stories, in which the hero comes in\npossession of enchanted objects and loses them, finally regaining them\nin various ways. There are three versions of this class. In the first,\nthe hero loses the objects by the cunning of a woman, and regains them\nby means of two kinds of fruits, one of which produces some bodily\ndefect and the other cures it. In the second, the episode of the fruits\nis wanting, and the owner regains his property either by preventing the\nprincess from cheating him at play or by making her fall in love with\nhim. In the third, a person (usually a landlord) substitutes worthless\nobjects for two enchanted ones, which are recovered by means of a third\nmagic object (usually a stick), which beats until the stolen property is\nrestored.[7] To illustrate the first version, we will give a Sicilian\nstory from Gonzenbach (No. 31), which is entitled:\n\n\nXXXI. THE SHEPHERD WHO MADE THE KING'S DAUGHTER LAUGH.\n\nThere was once a king and a queen who had an only daughter, whom they\nloved very dearly. When she was fifteen years old she became suddenly\nvery sad and would not laugh any more. So the king issued a proclamation\nthat whoever made his daughter laugh, whether he were a prince, peasant,\nor beggar, should become her husband. Many made the attempt, but none\nsucceeded. Now there was a poor woman who had an only son, who was idle\nand would not learn any trade; so finally his mother sent him to a\nfarmer to keep his sheep. One day, as he was driving the sheep over the\nfields, he came to a well, and bent over it to drink. As he did so he\nsaw a handsome ring on the wheel, and as it pleased him, he put it on\nthe ring finger of his right hand. He had scarcely put it on, however,\nwhen he began to sneeze violently, and could not stop until he had\naccidentally removed the ring. Then his sneezing ceased as suddenly as\nit had begun. \"Oh!\" thought he, \"if the ring has this virtue, I had\nbetter try my fortune with it, and see whether it will not make the\nking's daughter laugh.\" So he put the ring on his left hand, and no\nlonger had to sneeze. Then he drove the sheep home, took leave of his\nmaster, and set out toward the city where the king lived. He was\nobliged, however, to pass through a dense forest which was so extensive\nthat it grew dark before he left it. He thought: \"If the robbers find me\nhere they will take away my ring, and then I should be a ruined man. I\nwould rather climb a tree and spend the night there.\" So he climbed a\ntree, tied himself fast with his belt, and soon fell asleep. Before\nlong, thirteen robbers came and sat down under the tree, and talked so\nloud that the shepherd awoke. The captain of the robbers said: \"Let each\nrelate what he has accomplished to-day;\" and each exhibited what he had\ntaken. The thirteenth, however, pulled out a tablecloth, a purse, and a\nwhistle, and said: \"I have gained to-day the greatest treasures, for\nthese three things I have taken from a monk, and each of them has a\nparticular virtue. If any one spreads out the tablecloth and says: 'My\nlittle tablecloth, give me macaroni, or roast meat,' or whatever one\nwill, he will find everything there immediately. Likewise the purse will\ngive all the money one wants; and whoever hears the whistle must dance\nwhether he will or no.\" The robbers at once put the power of the\ntablecloth to the test, and then went to sleep, the captain laying the\nprecious articles near himself. When they were all snoring hard the\nshepherd descended, took the three articles, and crept away.\n\nThe next day he came to the city where the king lived, and went straight\nto the palace. \"Announce me to the king,\" said he to the servants; \"I\nwill try to make the king's daughter laugh.\" The servants tried to\ndissuade him, but he insisted on being led before the king, who took him\ninto a large room, in which was the king's daughter, sitting on a\nsplendid throne and surrounded by the whole court. \"If I am to make the\nprincess laugh,\" said the shepherd to the king, \"you must first do me\nthe kindness to put this ring on the ring-finger of your right hand.\"\nThe king had scarcely done so when he began to sneeze violently, and\ncould not stop, but ran up and down the room, sneezing all the time. The\nentire court began to laugh, and the king's daughter could not stay\nsober, but had to run away laughing. Then the shepherd went up to the\nking, took off the ring, and said: \"Your Majesty, I have made the\nprincess laugh; to me belongs the reward.\" \"What! you worthless\nshepherd!\" cried the king. \"You have not only made me the laughing-stock\nof the whole court, but now you want my daughter for your wife! Quick!\ntake the ring from him, and throw him into prison.\"\n\nWhile there the wonderful tablecloth provides him and his companions\nwith plenty to eat, and when it is discovered and taken from him by the\nking's orders, the purse enables them all to live in comfort. That is\nalso discovered, and nothing is left but the whistle. \"Well!\" thought\nthe shepherd, \"if we can't eat any more, we will at least dance;\" and he\npulled out his pipe and began to play on it, and all the prisoners began\nto dance, and the guards with them, and between them all they made a\ngreat noise. When the king heard it he came running there with his\nservants, and had to dance like all the rest, but found breath enough to\norder the pipe to be taken away from the shepherd, and all became quiet\nagain.\n\nSo now the shepherd had nothing left, and remained in prison some time,\nuntil he found an old file, and one night filed through the iron bars\nand escaped. He wandered about all day, and at last came to the same\nforest where he had formerly been. All at once he saw a large fig-tree\nbearing the most beautiful fruit,--on one side black figs, on the other,\nwhite ones. \"That is something I have never seen,\" thought the\nshepherd,--\"a fig-tree that bears black and white figs at the same time.\nI must try them.\" Scarcely had he tasted them when he felt something\nmove on the top of his head, and putting his hand up, found he had two\nlong horns. \"Unhappy man!\" he cried; \"what shall I do?\" However, as he\nwas very hungry, he picked some of the white figs and ate them, and\nimmediately one of the horns disappeared, and also the other after he\nhad eaten a few more white figs. \"My fortune is made!\" he thought. \"The\nking will have to give me all my things back, and his daughter in the\nbargain.\"\n\nThe shepherd disguised himself and went to the city with two baskets of\nfigs,--one of the black and one of the white kind, the former of which\nhe sold to the king's cook, whom he met in the market place. While the\nking was at the table the servant put the figs before him, and he was\nmuch pleased with them, and gave some to his wife and daughter; the rest\nhe ate himself. Scarcely had they eaten them when they saw with terror\nthe long horns that had grown from their heads. The queen and her\ndaughter began to weep, and the king, in a rage, called the cook and\nasked him who had sold him the figs. \"A peasant in the market,\"\nanswered the cook. \"Go at once and bring him here,\" cried the king.\n\nThe shepherd had remained near the palace, and as the cook came out, he\nwent up to him with the basket of white figs in his hand. \"What\nmiserable figs did you sell me this morning!\" cried out the cook to him.\n\"As soon as the king, queen, and princess had eaten your figs, great\nhorns grew on their heads.\" \"Be quiet,\" said the shepherd; \"I have a\nremedy here, and can soon remove the horns. Take me to the king.\" He was\nled before the king, who asked him what kind of figs he had sold. \"Be\nquiet, your Majesty,\" said the shepherd, \"and eat these figs,\" at the\nsame time giving him a white one; and as soon as the king had eaten it\none of the horns disappeared. \"Now,\" said the shepherd, \"before I give\nyou any more of my figs you must give me back my whistle; if not, you\nmay keep your horn.\" The king in his terror gave up the whistle, and the\nshepherd handed the queen a fig. When one of the queen's horns had\ndisappeared, he said: \"Now give me my purse back, or else I will take my\nfigs away.\" So the king gave him his purse, and the shepherd removed one\nof the princess' horns. Then he demanded his tablecloth; and when he had\nreceived it he gave the king another fig, so that the second horn\ndisappeared. \"Now give me my ring,\" he said; and the king had to give\nhim his ring before he would remove the queen's horn. The only one left\nnow was the princess, and the shepherd said: \"Now fulfil your promise\nand marry me to the princess; otherwise she may keep her horn as long as\nshe lives.\" So the princess had to marry him, and after the wedding he\ngave her another fig to eat, so that her last horn also disappeared.\nThey had a merry wedding, and when the old king died the shepherd became\nking, and so they remained contented and happy, and were like a bundle\nof roots.[8]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe second version of this story is represented by but three examples,\nnone of them worth giving at length. In one (_Pomiglianesi_, p. 110)\nthe princess wins the magic objects (purse, cloak that renders\ninvisible, and horn that blows out soldiers) at play. The loser\ndisguises himself as a priest and confesses the princess when she is\nill, and makes her give back the objects she has won or stolen. In a\nFlorentine version (_Nov. fior._ p. 349), the owner of the objects, a\npoor shepherd's son, pretends to be the son of the king of Portugal. He\nplays with the princess and wins, but his true origin is discovered and\nhe is thrown into prison. There he makes use of the magic tablecloth,\nwhich he sells to the king for the privilege of passing a night in the\nprincess' room. The same payment is asked for the box that fills itself\nwith money, and the little organ that makes every one dance. The\nshepherd, of course, becomes the princess' husband and inherits the\nkingdom when the king dies. In the Sicilian story (Pitre, No. 26) the\nfairies give Peter the purse, tablecloth, and violin, and he goes to\nplay chess with the daughter of the king of Spain, who is to marry\nwhoever beats her at the game. She cheats and wins, and Peter is thrown\ninto prison. There he uses the tablecloth, and when the princess hears\nof it, she proposes to play for it. Again she cheats by changing a\nchessman while Peter is looking away, and the loser is thrown into\nprison again. They play again for the magic violin, and Peter, who has\nbeen warned in prison by other losers of the princess' tricks, keeps a\nsharp lookout, detects, and defeats her. They are married, and Peter\nreleases all the defeated players from jail, and afterward gets rid of\nthem by means of the violin.[9]\n\nThe third version is the most popular one; the following example of it\nis from Nerucci's collection of Montalese tales (No. 43).\n\n\nXXXII. THE ASS THAT LAYS MONEY.\n\nThere was once a poor widow with an only son, and whose brother-in-law\nwas a steward. One day she said to her child: \"Go to your uncle and ask\nhim to give you something to keep you from starving.\" The boy went to\nthe farm and asked his uncle to help him a little. \"We are dying of\nhunger, uncle. My mother earns a little by weaving, and I am too small\nto find anything. Be charitable to us, for we are your relatives.\" The\nsteward answered: \"Why not? You should have come sooner and I would have\nhelped you the sooner. But now I will give you something to support you\nalways, without need of anything more. I will give you this little ass\nthat lays money. You have only to put a cloth under him, and he will\nfill it for you with handsome coins. But take care! Don't tell it, and\ndon't leave this animal with any one.\" The youth departed in joy, and\nafter he had travelled a long way, he stopped at an inn to sleep, for\nhis house was distant. He said to the landlord: \"Give me a lodging, but\nlook! my ass spends the night with me.\" \"What!\" said the landlord, \"what\nare you thinking about! It cannot be.\" The youth replied: \"Yes, it can\nbe, because my ass does not leave my side.\" They disputed a while, but\nthe landlord finally consented; but he had some suspicions; and when the\nboy and his beast were shut in the room, he looked through the key-hole,\nand saw that wonder of an ass that laid money in abundance. \"Bless me!\"\ncried the host. \"I should be a fool, indeed, if I let this piece of good\nfortune escape my hands!\" He at once looked for another ass of the same\ncolor and size, and while the lad was asleep, exchanged them. In the\nmorning the boy paid his bill and departed, but on the way, the ass no\nlonger laid any money. The stupefied child did not know what to think at\nfirst, but afterward examining it more closely, it appeared to him that\nthe ass was not his, and straightway he returned to the innkeeper, to\ncomplain of his deception. The landlord cried out: \"I wonder at your\nsaying such a thing! We are all honest people here, and don't steal\nanything from anybody. Go away, blockhead, or you will find something to\nremember a while.\"\n\nThe child, weeping, had to depart with his ass, and he went back to his\nuncle's farm, and told him what had happened. The uncle said: \"If you\nhad not stopped at the innkeeper's, you could not have met with this\nmisfortune. However, I have another present to help you and your mother.\nBut take care! Do not mention it to any one, and take good care of it.\nHere it is. I give you a tablecloth, and whenever you say: '_Tablecloth,\nmake ready_,' after having spread it out, you will see a fine repast at\nyour pleasure.\" The youth took the tablecloth in delight, thanked his\nuncle, and departed; but like the fool he was, he stopped again at the\nsame inn. He said to the landlord: \"Give me a room and you need not\nprepare anything to eat. I have all I want with me.\" The crafty\ninnkeeper suspected that there was something beneath this, and when the\nlad was in his room, he looked through the key-hole, and saw the\ntablecloth preparing the supper. The host exclaimed: \"What good luck for\nmy inn! I will not let it escape me.\" He quickly looked for another\ntablecloth like this one, with the same embroidery and fringe, and while\nthe child was sleeping, he exchanged it for the magic one, so that in\nthe morning the lad did not perceive the knavery. Not until he had\nreached a forest where he was hungry, did he want to make use of the\ntablecloth. But it was in vain that he spread it out and cried:\n\"_Tablecloth, make ready._\" The tablecloth was not the same one, and\nmade nothing ready for him. In despair the boy went back to the\ninnkeeper to complain, and the landlord would have thrashed him if he\nhad not run away, and he ran until he reached his uncle's. His uncle,\nwhen he saw him in such a plight, said: \"Oh! what is the matter?\"\n\"Uncle!\" said the boy, \"the same innkeeper has changed the tablecloth,\ntoo, for me.\" The uncle was on the point of giving the dunce a good\nthrashing; but afterward, seeing that it was a child, he calmed his\nanger, and said: \"I understand; but I will give you a remedy by which\nyou can get back everything from that thief of a landlord. Here it is!\nIt is a stick. Hide it under your bolster; and if any one comes to rob\nyou of it, say to it, in a low voice: '_Beat, beat!_' and it will\ncontinue to do so until you say to it, '_Stop_.'\"\n\nImagine how joyfully the boy took the stick! It was a handsome polished\nstick, with a gold handle, and delighted one only to see it. So the boy\nthanked his uncle for his kindness, and after he had journeyed a while,\nhe came to the same inn. He said: \"Landlord, I wish to lodge here\nto-night.\" The landlord at once drew his conclusions about the stick,\nwhich the boy carried openly in his hands, and at night when the lad\nappeared to be sound asleep, but really was on the watch, the landlord\nfelt softly under the bolster and drew out the stick. The boy, although\nit was dark, perceived the theft and said in a low voice: \"_Beat, beat,\nbeat!_\" Suddenly blows were rained down without mercy; everything broken\nto pieces, the chest of drawers, the looking-glass, all the chairs, the\nglass in the windows; and the landlord, and those that came at the\nnoise, beaten nearly to death. The landlord screamed to split his\nthroat: \"Save me, boy, I am dead!\" The boy answered: \"What! I will not\ndeliver you, if you do not give me back my property,--the ass that lays\ngold, and the tablecloth that prepares dinner.\" And if the landlord did\nnot want to die of the blows, he had to consent to the boy's wishes.\n\nWhen he had his things back, the boy went home to his mother and told\nher what had happened to him, and then said: \"Now, we do not need\nanything more. I have an ass that lays money, a tablecloth that prepares\nfood at my will, and a stick to defend me from whoever annoys me.\" So\nthat woman and her son, who, from want had become rich enough to cause\nevery one envy, wished from pride to invite their relatives to a\nbanquet, to make them acquainted with their wealth. On the appointed day\nthe relatives came to the woman's new house; but noon strikes, one\no'clock strikes, it is almost two, and in the kitchen the fire is seen\nextinguished, and there were no provisions anywhere. \"Are they playing a\njoke on us?\" said the relatives. \"We shall have to depart with dry\nteeth.\" At that moment, however, the clock struck two, and the lad,\nafter spreading the cloth on the table, commanded: \"Tablecloth, prepare\na grand banquet.\" In short, those people had a fine dinner and many\npresents in money, and the boy and his mother remained in triumph and\njoy.[10]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next story to which we shall direct our attention is \"Puss in\nBoots,\" which, in the form known to our children, is of French origin,\nbeing one of the tales which Perrault made so popular by his versions.\nBefore Perrault, however, two literary versions of this story existed:\none in Straparola and one in the Pentamerone. There are, besides,\nseveral popular versions of this story, which are somewhat peculiar. The\none that follows is from Sicily (Pitre, No. 88).\n\n\nXXXIII. DON JOSEPH PEAR.\n\nThere were once three brothers who owned a pear-tree and lived on the\npears. One day one of the brothers went to pick these pears, and found\nthat they had been gathered. \"Oh! my brothers! what shall we do, for our\npears have been picked?\" So the eldest went and remained in the garden\nto guard the pear-tree during the night. He fell asleep, however, and\nthe next morning the second brother came and said: \"What have you done,\nmy brother? Have you been sleeping? Do you not see that the pears have\nbeen picked? To-night I will stay.\" That night the second brother\nremained. The next morning the youngest went there and saw more of the\npears picked, and said: \"Were you the one that was going to keep a good\nwatch? Go, I will stay here to-night; we shall see whether they can\ncheat me to my face.\" At night the youngest brother began to play and\ndance under the pear-tree; while he was not playing, a fox, believing\nthat the youth had gone to sleep, came out and climbed the tree and\npicked the rest of the pears. When it was coming down the tree, the\nyouth quickly aimed his gun at it and was about to shoot. The fox said:\n\"Don't shoot me, Don Joseph; for I will have you called Don Joseph Pear,\nand will make you marry the king's daughter.\" Don Joseph answered: \"And\nwhere shall I see you again? What has the king to do with you? With one\nkick that he would give you, you would never appear before him again.\"\nHowever, Don Joseph Pear from pity let her escape. The fox went away to\na forest and caught all sorts of game, squirrels, hares, and quails, and\ncarried them to the king; so that it was a sight. \"Sir Majesty, Don\nJoseph Pear sends me; you must accept this game.\" The king said:\n\"Listen, little fox, I accept this game; but I have never heard this Don\nJoseph Pear mentioned.\" The fox left the game there, and ran away to Don\nJoseph. \"Softly, Don Joseph, I have taken the first step; I have been to\nthe king, and carried him the first game; and he accepted it.\"\n\nA week later the fox went to the forest, caught the best animals,\nsquirrels, hares, birds, and took them to the king. \"Sir Majesty, Don\nJoseph Pear sends me to you with this game.\" The king said to the fox:\n\"My daughter, I don't know who this Don Joseph Pear is; I am afraid you\nhave been sent somewhere else! I will tell you what: have this Don\nJoseph Pear come here, so that I can make his acquaintance.\" The fox\nwished to leave the game, and said: \"I am not mistaken; my master sent\nme here; and for a token, he said that he wished the princess for his\nwife.\"\n\nThe fox returned to Don Joseph Pear, and said to him: \"Softly, things\nare going well; after I have been to the king again, the matter is\nsettled.\" Don Joseph said: \"I will not believe you until I have my\nwife.\"\n\nThe fox now went to an ogress and said: \"Friend, friend, have we not to\ndivide the gold and silver?\" \"Certainly,\" said the ogress to the fox;\n\"go and get the measure and we will divide the gold from the silver.\"\nThe fox went to the king and did not say: \"The ogress wants to borrow\nyour measure;\" but she said: \"Don Joseph Pear wants to borrow, for a\nshort time, your measure to separate the gold from the silver.\" \"What!\"\nsaid the king, \"has this Don Joseph Pear such great riches? Is he then\nricher than I?\" And he gave the fox the measure. When he was alone with\nhis daughter he said to her, in the course of his conversation: \"It must\nbe that this Don Joseph Pear is very rich, for he divides the gold and\nsilver.\" The fox carried the measure to the ogress, who began to measure\nand heap up gold and silver. When she had finished, the fox went to Don\nJoseph Pear and dressed him in new clothes, a watch with diamonds,\nrings, a ring for his betrothed, and everything that was needed for the\nmarriage. \"Behold, Don Joseph,\" said the fox, \"I am going before you\nnow; you go to the king and get your bride and then go to the church.\"\nDon Joseph went to the king; got his bride, and they went to the church.\nAfter they were married, the princess got into the carriage and the\nbridegroom mounted his horse. The fox made a sign to Don Joseph and\nsaid: \"I will go before you; you follow me and let the carriages and\nhorses come after.\"\n\nThey started on their way, and came to a sheep-farm which belonged to\nthe ogress. The boy who was tending the sheep, when he saw the fox\napproach, threw a stone at her, and she began to weep. \"Ah!\" she said to\nthe boy; \"now I will have you killed. Do you see those horsemen? Now I\nwill have you killed!\" The youth, terrified, said: \"If you will not do\nanything to me I will not throw any more stones at you.\" The fox\nreplied: \"If you don't want to be killed, when the king passes and asks\nyou whose is this sheep-farm, you must tell him: 'Don Joseph Pear's,'\nfor Don Joseph Pear is his son-in-law, and he will reward you.\" The\ncavalcade passed by, and the king asked the boy: \"Whose is this\nsheep-farm?\" The boy replied at once: \"Don Joseph Pear's.\" The king gave\nhim some money.\n\nThe fox kept about ten paces before Don Joseph, and the latter did\nnothing but say in a low tone: \"Where are you taking me, fox? What lands\ndo I possess that you can make me believed to be rich? Where are we\ngoing?\" The fox replied: \"Softly, Don Joseph, and leave it to me.\" They\nwent on and on, and the fox saw another farm of cattle, with the\nherdsman. The same thing happened there as with the shepherd: the stone\nthrown and the fox's threat. The king passed. \"Herdsman, whose is this\nfarm of cattle?\" \"Don Joseph Pear's.\" And the king, astonished at his\nson-in-law's wealth, gave the herdsman a piece of gold.\n\nDon Joseph was pleased on the one hand, but on the other was perplexed\nand did not know how it was to turn out. When the fox turned around,\nJoseph said: \"Where are you taking me, fox? You are ruining me.\" The fox\nkept on as if she had nothing to do with the matter. Then she came to\nanother farm of horses and mares. The boy who was tending them threw a\nstone at the fox. She frightened him, and he told the king, when the\nking asked him, that the farm was Don Joseph Pear's.\n\nThey kept on and came to a well, and near it the ogress was sitting. The\nfox began to run and pretended to be in great terror. \"Friend, friend,\nsee, they are coming! These horsemen will kill us! Let us hide in the\nwell, shall we not?\" \"Yes, friend,\" said the ogress in alarm. \"Shall I\nthrow you down first?\" said the fox. \"Certainly, friend.\" Then the fox\nthrew the ogress down the well, and then entered the ogress' palace. Don\nJoseph Pear followed the fox, with his wife, his father-in-law, and all\nthe riders. The fox showed them through all the apartments, displaying\nthe riches, Don Joseph Pear contented at having found his fortune, and\nthe king still more contented because his daughter was so richly\nsettled. There was a festival for a few days, and then the king, well\nsatisfied, returned to his own country and his daughter remained with\nher husband. One day the fox was looking out of the window, and Don\nJoseph Pear and his wife were going up to the terrace. Don Joseph Pear\ntook up a little dust from the terrace and threw it at the fox's head.\nThe fox raised her eyes. \"What is the meaning of this, after the good I\nhave done you, miserable fellow?\" said she to Don Joseph. \"Take care or\nI will speak!\" The wife said to her husband: \"What is the matter with\nthe fox, to speak thus?\" \"Nothing,\" answered her husband. \"I threw a\nlittle dust at her and she got angry.\" Don Joseph took up a little more\ndust and threw it at the fox's head. The fox, in a rage, cried: \"Joe,\nyou see I will speak! and I declare that you were the owner of a\npear-tree!\" Don Joseph was frightened, for the fox told his wife\neverything; so he took an earthen jar and threw it at the fox's head,\nand so got rid of her. Thus--the ungrateful fellow that he was--he\nkilled the one who had done him so much kindness; but nevertheless he\nenjoyed all his wealth with his wife.[11]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe story we shall next consider is, in some of its versions, legendary\nin its nature, and might more properly, perhaps, have been treated in\nchapter IV. Its legendary character, however, is only accidental, and it\nreally belongs to the class of stories discussed in the present chapter.\nThe story in general maybe termed \"The Thankful Dead,\" from the most\nimportant episode in it. The hero shows some respect to a corpse (paying\nthe debts it incurred when alive, and so obtaining the right of burial\nfor it), the soul of which becomes the hero's good fairy, and assists\nhim when in danger, and finally brings about his good fortune. Around\nthis nucleus have gathered various episodes, which will be mentioned in\nthe notes. As an example of this story, we give, on account of its\nrarity, the Istrian version (Ive, _Nozze Ive-Lorenzetto_, III. p. 19).\n\n\nXXXV. FAIR BROW.\n\nThere was once a father who had a son. After this son had passed through\nschool, his father said to him: \"Son, now that you have finished your\nstudies, you are of an age to travel. I will give you a vessel, in order\nthat you may load it and unload it, buy and sell. Be careful what you\ndo; take care to make gains!\" He gave him six thousand _scudi_ to buy\nmerchandise, and the son started on his voyage. On his journey, without\nhaving yet purchased anything, he arrived at a town, and on the\nsea-shore he saw a bier, and noticed that those who passed by left there\nsome a penny, some two; they bestowed alms on the corpse. The traveller\nwent there and asked: \"Why do you keep this dead man here? _for the\ndead desires the grave_.\" They replied: \"Because he owed a world of\ndebts, and it is the custom here _to bury no one until his debts are\npaid_. Until this man's debts are paid by charity we cannot bury him.\"\n\"What is the use of keeping him here?\" he said. \"Proclaim that all those\nwhom he owed shall come to me and be paid.\" Then they issued the\nproclamation and he paid the debts; and, poor fellow! he did not have a\nfarthing left--not a penny of his capital. So he returned to his\nfather's house. \"What news, son? What means your return so soon?\" He\nreplied: \"On crossing the sea, we encountered pirates; they have robbed\nme of all my capital!\" His father said: \"No matter, son; it is enough\nthat they have left you your life. Behold, I will give you more money;\nbut you must not go again in that direction.\" He gave him another six\nthousand _scudi_. The son replied: \"Yes, father, don't worry; I will\nchange my course.\" He departed and began his journey. When he was well\nout at sea he saw a Turkish vessel. He said to himself: \"Now it is\nbetter for me to summon them on board than for them to summon us.\" They\ncame on board. He said to them: \"Whence do you come?\" They answered: \"We\ncome from the Levant.\" \"What is your cargo?\" \"Nothing but a beautiful\ngirl.\" \"How do you come to have this girl?\" \"For her beauty; to sell her\nagain. We have stolen her from the Sultan, she is so beautiful!\" \"Let me\nsee this girl.\" When he saw her he said: \"How much do you want for her?\"\n\"We want six thousand _scudi_!\" The money which his father gave him he\ngave to those corsairs, and took the girl and carried her away to his\nship. But he at once had her become a Christian and married her.\n\nHe returned to his father's house; he went up, and his father said to\nhim:\n\n    \"Welcome! O my handsome son.\n    What merchandise of women have you made?\"\n    \"My father, I bring you a handsome ring,\n    I bring it for your reward;\n    It cost me neither city nor castle,\n    But the most beautiful woman you have ever seen:\n    The daughter of the Sultan, who is in Turkey,\n    Her I bring for my first cargo!\"\n\n\"Ah, you miserable knave!\" cried his father. \"Is this the cargo you have\nbrought?\" He ill-treated them both, and drove them from the house. Those\npoor unfortunate ones did not know where to find shelter. They went\naway, and at a short distance from their town there were some rooms at a\nvilla. They went to live in one of those. He said: \"What shall we do\nhere? I do not know how to do anything; I have no profession or\nbusiness!\" She said: \"Now I can paint beautiful pictures; I will paint\nthem, and you shall go and sell them!\" He said: \"Very well!\" \"But,\nremember, you must tell no one that I paint them!\" \"No, no!\" he said.\n\nNow let us go to Turkey. The Sultan, meanwhile, had sent out many\nvessels in search of his daughter. These ships went here and there in\nquest of her. Now it happened that one of these vessels arrived in the\ntown near where she lived, and many of the sailors went on land. Now one\nday the husband said to his wife: \"Make many pictures, for to-day we\nshall sell them!\" She made them, and said to him that he should not sell\nthem for less than twenty _scudi_ apiece. She made a great many, and he\ncarried them to the public square. Some of the Turks came there; they\ngave a glance at the paintings, and said to themselves: \"Surely, it must\nbe the Sultan's daughter who has painted these.\" They came nearer, and\nasked the young man how he sold them. He said they were dear; that he\ncould not let them go for less than twenty _scudi_. They said: \"Very\nwell! we will buy them; but we want some more.\" He answered: \"Come to\nthe house of my wife who makes them!\" They went there, and when they saw\nthe Sultan's daughter, they seized her, bound her, and carried her far\naway to Turkey. This husband, then, unhappy, without wife, without a\ntrade, alone in that house, what could he do?\n\nEvery day he walked along the beach, to see if he could find a ship\nthat would take him on board; but he never saw any. One day he saw an\nold man fishing in a little boat; he cried: \"Good old man, how much\nbetter off you are than I!\" The old man asked: \"Why, my dear son?\" He\nsaid: \"Good old man, will you take me to fish with you?\" \"Yes, my son,\"\nsaid he; \"if you wish to come with me in this boat, I will take you!\"\n\"Thank heaven!\" said he. \"Good!\" said the old man:\n\n    \"You with the rod, and I with the boat,\n    Perhaps we shall catch some fish.\n\nI will go and sell the fish, for I am not ashamed, and we will live\ntogether!\" They ate, and afterward went to sleep; without knowing it,\nthere arose in the night a severe storm, and the wind carried them to\nTurkey. The Turks, seeing this boat arrive, went on board, seized them,\nmade slaves of them, and took them before the Sultan. He said: \"Let one\nof them make bouquets; let the other plant flowers; put them in the\ngarden!\" They placed the old man there as gardener, and the young man to\ncarry flowers to the Sultan's daughter, who with her maids was shut up\nin a very high tower for punishment. They were very comfortable there.\nEvery day they went into the garden and made friends with the other\ngardeners. As time went on, the old man made some fine guitars, violins,\nflutes, clarionets, piccolos--all sorts of instruments he made. The\nyoung man played them beautifully when he had time. One day his wife,\nwho was in the tower, hearing his fine songs,--Fair Brow had a voice\nwhich surpassed all instruments,--said: \"Who is playing, who is singing\nso beautifully?\" They went out on the balcony, and when she saw Fair\nBrow, she thought at once of having him come up. The Sultan's daughter\nsaid to one of those who filled the basket with flowers: \"Put that young\nman in the basket and cover him with flowers!\" He put him in, and the\nmaids drew him up. When he was up, he came out of the basket, and beheld\nhis wife. He embraced and kissed her and thought about escaping from\nthere. Then she told her damsels that she wished to depart without any\none knowing it. So they loaded a large ship with pearls and precious\nstones, with rods of gold and jewels; then they let down Fair Brow\nfirst, then his wife; finally the damsels. They embarked and departed.\nWhen they were out at sea the husband remembered that he had forgotten\nthe old man and left him on shore. Fair Brow said: \"My sister, even if I\nthought I should lose my life, I would turn back, for _the word which I\nhave given him is the mother of faith_!\" So they turned back, and saw\nthe old man, who was still awaiting them in a cave; they took him with\nthem, and put to sea again. When they were near home, the old man said:\n\"Now, my son, it is fitting for us to settle our accounts and divide\nthings!\" \"Know, good old man,\" said Fair Brow to him, \"that all the\nwealth that I have belongs half to you and half to me!\" \"Your wife, too,\nbelongs half to me!\" He said: \"Good old man, I will leave you three\nquarters, and I will take one only, but leave me my wife. Do you want me\nto divide her in two?\" Then the old man said: \"You must know that I am\nthe soul of him whom you had buried; and you have had all this good\nfortune because you did that good action, and converted and baptized\nyour wife!\" Then he gave him his blessing and disappeared. Fair Brow,\nwhen he heard this, as you can imagine, came near dying of joy. When\nthey reached his city, they fired a salute, for Fair Brow had arrived\nwith his wife, the wealthiest gentleman in the world. He sent for his\nfather and told him all that had happened to him. He went to live with\nthem, and as he was old, he died soon, and all his riches went to Fair\nBrow.[12]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have already stated in the preface that it was not our design to\nadmit into this work (except for occasional reference) any stories that\nwere literary in their character. For this reason we have not drawn on\nthe treasures of Straparola or Basile, or even on the more popular\nchap-books, of which there are in Italy, as elsewhere, a great\nprofusion. Of some of the stories contained in the last named class of\nworks there are purely popular versions. As an example of the class,\nand for purposes of comparison, we give the story of Leombruno, or\nLionbruno, one of the oldest and most popular of its kind. The most\ncomplete version is the one from the Basilicata, given by Comparetti,\nNo. 41, which is as follows:\n\n\nXXXVI. LIONBRUNO.\n\nThere was once a mariner who had a wife and three or four children. He\nfollowed the business of a fisherman, and he and his family lived on his\nfishing. For three or four years there had been a dearth of fish, so\nthat he had not been able to catch even a sardine. Poor mariner! From\nthis misfortune he had been obliged to sell, little by little, all he\npossessed, to live, and was reduced almost to beggary. One day he was\nfishing, and as you can imagine, poor fellow! he did not haul in even a\nshell. He cursed madonnas and saints. All at once a certain person (it\nwas the Enemy) rose in the midst of the sea before his bark. \"What is\nthe matter, mariner, that you are so angry?\" \"What should the matter be?\nMy bad luck. For three or four years I have been ruining myself, body\nand soul, in this sea with these nets, and I cannot catch even a string\nto hang myself with.\" \"Listen,\" said the Enemy. \"If you will agree to\ngive me your wife's next child in thirteen years, from now until you\ndeliver it to me I will cause you to catch so much fish that you shall\nbecome the richest of men by selling it.\" Then the mariner understood\nthat this was the Enemy, and said to himself: \"My wife has had no\nchildren for some years. Will she take it into her head to have another\njust now when I make this agreement with the Enemy? Oh, come! she is old\nnow; she will have no more.\" Then turning to the Enemy, he said: \"Well,\nsince you wish to make this contract, let us make it. But, remember, you\nmust make me rich.\" \"Don't fear,\" said the Enemy; \"let us make the\nagreement and then leave the matter to me.\" \"Softly, we must settle\nanother matter first; then we will make the contract.\" \"What is it?\"\n\"Listen. Suppose my wife should have no children during these thirteen\nyears?\" \"Then you will remain rich and give me nothing.\" \"That is what I\nwanted to know. Now we can make the contract.\" And they settled\neverything at once. Then the Enemy disappeared. The mariner began to\ndraw in his nets, and they were full to overflowing of all kinds of\nfish, and he became richer from day to day. In great joy he said: \"I\nhave played a trick on the devil!\"--and, poor man! he did not know that\nit was the devil who had played a trick on him. Now you must know that\njust when they were making the contract, the mariner's wife, old as she\nwas, expected to become a mother again, and the Enemy knew it. In due\ntime the wife gave birth to a boy so handsome that he seemed a flower.\nHis parents named him Lionbruno. The Enemy suddenly appeared: \"Mariner!\nmariner!\" \"How can I serve you?\" replied the poor man, all trembling.\n\"The promise is due. Lionbruno is mine.\" \"Yes, you are right. But you\nmust obey the contract. Remember that it is in thirteen years. Now only\na few months have passed.\" \"That is true,\" replied the Enemy; \"farewell,\nthen, until the end of the thirteen years.\" Then he vanished. Meanwhile\nLionbruno grew every day, and became constantly handsomer, and his\nparents sent him to school. But time passes, and behold the end of the\nthirteen years draws near. One day, before the time agreed upon, the\nEnemy appeared. \"Mariner! mariner!\" \"Oh, poor me!\" said the wretched\nman, who recognized him by his horrid voice. But he had to answer. And\nwhat could he do? The contract was clear and the time come. The poor\nmariner, willingly or unwillingly, was obliged to promise to send the\nboy the next day alone to the sea. The next day the mother sent her son,\nwhen he returned from school, to carry something to eat to his father.\nThe unhappy father had, however, gone far out to sea, so that his son\ncould not find him. The poor boy sat down on the beach, and to pass the\ntime, took pieces of wood and made little crosses of them, and stuck\nthem in the sand around him, so that he was surrounded by them, and held\none also in his hand, singing all the time.\n\nBehold, the Enemy comes to take him, and says to him: \"What are you\ndoing, boy?\" \"I am waiting for my father,\" he replied. The Enemy looked\nand saw that he could not take him, because he was seated in the midst\nof all those little crosses, and moreover had one in his hand. He\nregarded the boy with an ugly look, and cried: \"Destroy those crosses,\nmiserable boy!\" \"No, I will not destroy them.\" \"Destroy them at once,\nor--or\"--and he threatened him and frightened him with his ugly face.\nThen the poor child destroyed the little crosses around him, but still\nheld one in his hand. \"Destroy the other, quick!\" cried the Enemy, more\nenraged than ever. \"No, no!\" the poor child replied, all in tears; \"I\nwill not destroy this little cross.\" The Enemy threatened him again and\nterrified him with his rolling eyes, but the child was firm, and then a\nbright light appeared in the air. The fairy Colina, queen of the\nfairies, came down, took the good boy by the hair, and delivered him\nfrom the Enemy. Then if you had seen what lightnings and thunder! what\ndarts! The Enemy shot fire from his eyes, mouth, nose, ears, everywhere!\nBut with all his flames he remained duped, and the fairy carried the\ngood boy away to her splendid palace. There Lionbruno grew up in the\nmidst of the fairies. Imagine how well off he was there! He lacked\nnothing. Increasing always in beauty, he became a youth whom you should\nhave seen! Some years passed. One day Lionbruno said to the fairy\nColina: \"Listen. I want to go and see my mother and father a little. You\nwill not refuse me your permission, will you?\" \"No, I will not refuse\nyou it,\" said the fairy. \"I will give you twenty days to go and see your\nfamily. But do not stay any longer. Remember that I have saved you from\nthe Enemy and have brought you up in the midst of great wealth. Now this\nwealth we are to enjoy together, for you, Lionbruno, are to be my\nhusband.\" You can imagine whether the youth wished to say no. He replied\nat once: \"I will do your will in all things.\" Then the fairy said: \"My\nLionbruno, take this ruby; all that you ask of it you shall have.\" He\ntook the ruby. Then all the fairies gave him in turn some token. He\ntook them, and thanked them all. Then he embraced his bride and\ndeparted. Lionbruno travelled better than a prince, magnificently\ndressed, on a superb horse, with guards before him. He arrived at his\ntown, went to the square, and a crowd of people surrounded him out of\ncuriosity. He asked his way to the house of the mariner who was his\nfather. He did not reveal himself to his parents, but asked them for a\nlodging that night. At midnight Lionbruno changed, by virtue of the\nruby, the wretched hovel into a magnificent palace, and the next day he\nchanged himself into the thirteen-year-old Lionbruno and revealed\nhimself to his parents, telling them how the fairy Colina had liberated\nhim from the Enemy, brought him up, and made him her husband. \"For this\nreason, dear father and mother,\" said he, \"I cannot remain with you. I\nhave come to see you, to embrace you, to make you rich; but I can stay\nwith you a few days only, and then I must leave you.\" His father and\nmother saw that they could do nothing, and had to be contented. One fine\nmorning Lionbruno, by an order to the ruby, which he wore on his finger,\nbrought together a great mass of riches, and then called his parents and\nsaid: \"I leave you masters of all this wealth and of this palace. You\nwill no longer need anything. Now give me your blessing, for I wish to\ngo.\" The poor people began to weep, and said: \"Bless you, my son!\" They\nembraced each other in tears, and he departed.\n\nHe arrived at a great city,--like Naples, for example,--and went to\nlodge at the finest inn. Then he went out to walk and heard a\nproclamation which declared: \"Whatever prince or knight, on horse, with\nspear in hand, shall pierce and carry away a gold star, shall marry the\nking's daughter.\" Imagine how many princes and knights entered the\nlists! Lionbruno, more for braggadocio than for anything else, said to\nhimself: \"I wish to go and carry away the star;\" and he commanded the\nruby: \"My ruby, to-morrow, I wish to carry away the golden star.\" The\nprinces and knights began to assemble and try their skill. Every one\nreached the star and touched it with his spear, but there was no talk of\ntheir carrying it away. Lionbruno came, and with a master-stroke carried\noff the star. Then he quickly escaped with his horse to the inn, so that\nno one should see him. \"Who is he?\" \"Where is the winner?\" No one can\ngive any news of him. The king was ill-humored about it, and issued the\nproclamation again for the next day. But, to cut the matter short, the\nsame thing occurred the next day. Lionbruno duped them a second time.\nImagine how angry the king was! He issued a third proclamation. But this\ntime what does the crafty king do? He posts a large number of soldiers\nat all the places by which one could escape. The princes and knights\nbegin their courses. As usual, no one carries away the star, and\nLionbruno carries it off and rides away. But the soldiers, quicker than\nhe, seize him, arrest him, and carry him to the king. \"What do you take\nme for, that, not satisfied with duping me twice, you wish to dupe me a\nthird time?\" Thus spoke the king, who was seated on the throne. \"Pardon,\nMajesty. I did not dare to enter your presence.\" \"Then you ought not to\nhave undertaken to carry away the star. Now you have done so, and must\nbecome my daughter's husband.\" Lionbruno, _nolens volens_, was obliged\nto marry the princess. The king prepared a magnificent feast for the\nwedding, and invited all the princes, counts, and barons,--all sorts of\npersons. When the hall was filled with these gentlemen, Lionbruno,\nbefore marrying the princess, said to the king: \"Majesty, it is true\nthat your daughter is a very beautiful girl, but I had a bride by whose\nside your daughter could not stand for beauty, grace, everything.\"\nImagine how the king felt when he heard these words. The poor princess,\nat this affront in the presence of so many noblemen, became as red as\nfire. The king, greatly disturbed, said: \"Well, if it is so, we wish to\nsee your wife, if she is as beautiful as you say.\" \"Yes, yes!\" cried all\nthe noblemen; \"we, too, wish to see her; we wish to see her!\" Poor\nLionbruno was in a tight place. What could he do? He had recourse to\nthe ruby. \"Ruby mine, make fairy Colina come here.\" But this time he was\nmistaken. The ruby could do everything, but it could not compel the\nfairy to come, for it was she who had given it its magic power. The\nsummons, however, reached the fairy Colina; but she did not go. \"My\nfriend has done a pretty thing!\" said she. \"Bravo! good! Now I will fix\nhim as he deserves!\" She called the lowest of her servants, and made her\nsuddenly appear in the great hall of the king, where all were assembled\nfor the wedding. \"How beautiful she is! how beautiful she is!\" all said\nas soon as they saw her. \"Is this, then, your first bride?\" \"What!\"\nanswered Lionbruno, \"my first bride! This is the lowest of the servants\nof my first bride.\" \"Gracious!\" exclaimed the noblemen; \"if this is the\nlowest of the servants and is so beautiful, imagine what the mistress\nmust be!\" \"Then,\" said the king, \"if this is not your first bride, I\nwish you to make her come herself.\" \"Yes, yes, herself!\" cried the\nothers, likewise. Poor Lionbruno! He was obliged to have recourse again\nto the ring. But this time, also, the fairy did not go, but sent instead\nher next servant. Scarcely had they seen her when they all said: \"This\none, oh, this one, is really beautiful! This, now, is certainly your\nfirst bride, is she not, Lionbruno?\" \"No, no!\" replied Lionbruno; \"my\nfirst bride is a marvel of beauty. Different from this one! This one is\nonly the second servant.\" Then the king, in a threatening tone, said to\nhim: \"Lionbruno, let us put an end to this! I command you to cause your\nfirst wife to come here instantly.\" The matter was growing serious. Poor\nLionbruno had recourse for the third time to the ruby, and said to it:\n\"Ruby mine, if you really wish to help me, now is the moment. You must\ncause the fairy Colina herself to come here.\" The summons reached her at\nonce, and this time she went. When all those great lords and the king\nand his daughter saw that marvel of beauty, they became as so many\nstatues. But the fairy Colina approached Lionbruno, pretended to take\nhis hand, and drew off his ring, saying: \"Traitor! you cannot find me\nuntil you have worn out seven pairs of iron shoes.\" Then she vanished.\nThe king, in fury, said to Lionbruno: \"I understand. The power of\ncarrying off the star was not yours, but your ruby's. Leave my palace!\"\nHe had him seized and well beaten and sent away.\n\nAnd so poor Lionbruno was left without the fairy Colina and the king's\ndaughter, and departed from the city in great grief. When he had gone a\nfew steps, he heard a great noise. It was a smithy. He entered, and\ncalled the blacksmith: \"Master, I want seven pairs of iron shoes.\" \"I\nwill make you twelve if you wish, but it seems to me that you must have\nsome agreement with the Eternal to live who knows how many hundred years\nto wear out all these shoes.\" \"What does that matter to you? It is\nenough if I pay you. Make me the shoes and hold your tongue.\" He made\nthem for him at once. Lionbruno paid him, put on one pair, and stuck\nthree in one side of his travelling sack and three in the other, and set\nout. After walking a long time, he arrived late at night in a forest.\nAll at once three robbers came there. \"Good man,\" said they to\nLionbruno, \"how did you happen here?\" \"I am a poor pilgrim,\" he replied;\n\"it grew dark and I stopped here to rest. And who are you, gentlemen?\"\n\"We are travellers.\" And they all stopped there to rest. The next day\nLionbruno arose, took leave of the three robbers, and departed. But he\nhad scarcely gone a few steps when he heard them quarrelling. Now you\nmust know that those robbers had stolen three objects of great value,\nand were now disputing as to how they should divide them. One of them\nsaid: \"Fools that we are! We had here that pilgrim, who could have acted\nas judge and made the division, and we have let him go. Let us call him\nback.\" \"Yes, yes! let us call him,\" said the others. They called him,\nand he came back. \"How can I serve you, gentlemen?\" said he. \"Listen,\ngood man; we have three objects of great value to divide. You must be\nthe judge, and give to each one what belongs to him.\" \"Very well; but\nwhat objects are you talking of?\" \"Here is a pair of boots, a purse, and\na cloak. The boots have this virtue, that he who has them on runs\nfaster than the wind. If you say to the purse, 'open and shut,' it at\nonce gives you a hundred ducats. Finally he who puts on the cloak and\nbuttons it up, can see and yet not be seen.\" \"Very good. But to act the\njudge well, I must first examine these three objects carefully.\"\n\"Certainly, that is right.\" Lionbruno put on the boots, tried to run,\nand went marvellously. \"What do you think of these boots?\" asked the\nthieves. \"Excellent, indeed,\" replied Lionbruno, and kept them on. Then\nhe said: \"Now let us see the purse.\" He took it and said: \"Purse, open\nand shut,\" and at once there came forth a hundred silver ducats. \"Now\nlet us see what this cloak is,\" he said, at last. He put it on and began\nto button it up. While he was doing so he asked the robbers: \"Do you see\nme now?\" They answered: \"Yes.\" He kept on buttoning it and asked again:\n\"Now do you see me?\" \"Yes.\" Finally he reached the last button. \"Now do\nyou see me?\" \"No.\" \"If you don't see me now you never will see me\nagain.\" He threw away the iron shoes and cried: \"Now for you, boots!\"\nAnd away! faster than the wind. When the three robbers saw themselves\nduped in that way, what a rage they were in! They thrashed each other\nsoundly, and especially the one who had called Lionbruno back; and at\nlast they all found themselves with broken bones.\n\nLionbruno, after having cheated the robbers thus, continued his way\njoyfully. After a long journey, he arrived in the midst of a forest. He\nsaw at a distance a slight smoke, and among frightful rocks, a little\nold hovel all surrounded by dense wild shrubs, with a little door\nentirely covered with ivy, so that it could scarcely be seen. Lionbruno\napproached the door and knocked softly. \"Who is knocking?\" asked from\nwithin an old woman's voice. \"I am a poor Christian,\" replied Lionbruno;\n\"night has overtaken me here, and I am seeking a lodging, if it can be\nhad.\" The door opened and Lionbruno entered. \"Oh, poor youth! How have\nyou been tempted to come and ruin yourself in this remote place?\"\ndemanded, in great wonder, the old woman, who was within, and who was\nBorea.[13] (Do you know who Borea is? No less a person than the mother\nof the winds.) \"Oh, dear little old lady, my aunt,\" replied Lionbruno,\n\"I am lost in this great forest, for I have been travelling a long time\nto find my dear bride, the fairy Colina, and I have not yet been able to\nfind any trace of her.\" \"My son, you have made a great mistake! What\nshall we do now that my sons are coming home? Perhaps, God help you!\nthey will want to eat you.\" \"Oh, wretched me!\" cried Lionbruno, then,\nall trembling; \"who, my aunt, are these sons of yours who so devour\nChristians?\" \"My son,\" replied Borea, \"you do not know where you are. Do\nyou not know that this house in the midst of these precipices is the\nhouse of the winds? And I, you do not recognize me; I, my son, am Borea,\nthe mother of all the winds.\" \"What shall I do now? Oh, my dear aunt,\nhelp me; do not let your sons eat me up!\" The old woman finally\nconcealed him in a chest, telling him not to make the slightest noise\nwhen her sons returned. Soon a loud noise was heard at a distance: it\nwas the winds returning home. The nearer they approached the louder the\nnoise grew, and a sound of branches and trees broken off was heard. At\nlast the winds arrived, pushed open the door, and entered. \"Good\nevening, mamma.\" \"Welcome, my sons!\" replied their mother, all smiling.\nAnd so one after the other all the winds entered, and the last to enter\nwas Sirocco, for you must know that Sirocco is the youngest of Borea's\nsons. Scarcely had they entered when they began to say: \"What smell of\nhuman flesh is here? Here Christians, Christians!\" \"Oh, bad luck to you!\nwhat fools you are! Where is there any smell of human flesh here? Who do\nyou think would risk their lives by coming here?\" But her sons would not\nbe convinced, especially that obstinate Sirocco. Lionbruno commended his\nsoul to God, for he saw death at his heels. But finally Borea succeeded\nin convincing her sons. \"Oh, mamma, what is there to eat to-night? We\nhave travelled so far, and are so hungry!\" \"Here, my sons,\" the mother\nanswered, \"come here; for a nice polenta is cooking for you. I will\nfinish cooking it soon, and put it at once on the table.\" The next day\nBorea said to her sons: \"My sons, when you came you said you smelled\nhuman flesh. Tell me, should you really see a man now, what would you do\nto him?\" \"Now, we would not do anything to him. Last night, we should\nhave torn him in pieces.\" \"But you would not do anything to him, truly?\"\n\"Truly.\" \"Well, if you will give me your promise by St. John not to harm\nhim, I will show you a live man.\" \"Oh! just see! A man here! Yes, yes,\nmamma, show him to us at once. We swear by St. John! we will not touch a\nhair of his head.\" Then their mother opened the chest and made Lionbruno\ncome forth. If you had heard the winds then! They puffed and blowed\naround him and asked him, first of all, how he had come to that place,\nwhere no living soul had ever penetrated. Lionbruno said: \"Would to\nheaven that my journey ended here! I must go to the palace of the fairy\nColina; perhaps one of you can tell me where it is?\" Then Borea asked\nher sons one by one and each replied that he knew nothing of it. Finally\nshe questioned her youngest son: \"And you, Sirocco, do you not know\nanything about it?\" \"I? Should I not know something about it? Am I\nperchance like my brothers who never can find a hiding-place? The fairy\nColina is love-sick. She says that her lover has betrayed her, and\ncontinually weeps, and is so reduced by her grief that she can live but\nlittle longer. And I deserve to be hanged, for I have seen her in this\ncondition, and yet I have annoyed her so that I have driven her to\ndespair. I amused myself by making a noise about her palace, and more\nthan once I burst open windows and turned things upside down, even the\nbed she was resting on.\" \"Oh, my dear Sirocco!\" said Lionbruno; \"my good\nSirocco, you must aid me! Since you have given me news of her, you must\nalso do me the favor to show me the way to my bride's palace. I, dear\nSirocco, am the betrothed of the fairy Colina, and it is not true that I\nhave betrayed her; on the contrary, if I do not find her, I shall die of\ngrief.\" \"My son,\" said Sirocco, \"listen; for my part I would take you\nthere with all my heart. But I should have to carry you about my neck.\nAnd the trouble is I cannot do so, for I am wind, I am air, and you\nwould slip off. Were you like me the matter would go very well.\" \"Don't\nworry about that,\" said Lionbruno, \"show me the way, and I will not lag\nbehind.\" \"He is crazy,\" said Sirocco to himself; then he said to\nLionbruno: \"Very well, since you feel so strong, to-morrow we will make\nthe trial. Meanwhile let us go to bed, for it is late, and to-morrow,\nGod willing, we will rise early!\" And all went to sleep. In the morning\nearly Sirocco arose and cried: \"Lionbruno! Lionbruno! get up quickly!\"\nAnd Lionbruno put on his boots in a hurry, seized his purse, fixed his\ncloak carefully, and left the house with Sirocco. \"There,\" said Sirocco,\n\"is the way we must take. Be careful! Don't let me out of your sight,\nand leave the rest to me. If a few hours after sunset to-night I don't\nmake you find your beauty, you may call me an ass.\" They started. They\nran like the wind. Every little while Sirocco called out: \"Lionbruno!\"\nand he, who was ahead, answered at once: \"Oh! don't think I am going to\nlag behind!\" and with these questions and answers they finally reached\nthe palace of the fairy Colina about two hours after sunset. \"Here we\nare,\" said Sirocco. \"Here is your fair one's balcony! See how I am going\nto blow open the window for you. Attention, now! As soon as it is opened\nyou give a jump and spring in.\" And so he did. Before the servants could\nrun and shut the balcony window, Lionbruno was already under the fairy\nColina's bed. Afterwards one of the maids said to the fairy: \"My\nmistress, how do you feel now? Do you not feel a little better?\"\n\"Better? I am half dead. That cursed wind has nearly killed me.\" \"But,\nmistress, will you not take something this evening? A little coffee, or\nchocolate, or broth?\" \"I wish nothing at all.\" \"Take something, if you\ndon't, you will not rest to-night, you have eaten nothing for three or\nfour days. Really, you must take something.\" And the servant said so\nmuch that to get rid of her importunity the fairy said: \"Well, bring\nsomething; if I want it, I will take it.\" The servant brought a little\ncoffee, and left it by the side of the bed. Lionbruno, in his cloak so\nthat no one could see him, came from under the bed and drank the coffee\nhimself. The servant, believing her mistress had drunk it, brought the\nchocolate too, and Lionbruno drank that as before. Then the servant\nbrought the fairy some broth and a pigeon. \"Mistress,\" said she, \"since,\nthank God, you have taken the coffee and the chocolate, take this broth\nand a bit of pigeon, and so you will gain strength and be better\nto-morrow.\" The mistress on hearing all this believed that the servants\nwere making fun of her. \"Oh, stupid blockheads! What are you saying? Are\nnot the cups still here with the coffee and the chocolate? I have\ntouched nothing.\" The servants thought that their mistress was out of\nher mind. Then Lionbruno took off his cloak, came out from under the\nbed, and said: \"My bride, do you know me?\" \"Lionbruno mine, is it you?\"\nand she rose from the bed and embraced him. \"Then it is not true, my\nLionbruno, that you have forgotten me?\" \"If I had forgotten you I should\nnot have suffered so much to find you. But do you still love me?\" \"My\nLionbruno, if I had not always loved you, you would not have found me at\nthe point of death. And now you see I am cured only because I have seen\nyou.\"\n\nThen they ate and drank together, and summoned the servants and made a\ngreat festival. The next day they arranged everything for the wedding\nand were married with great splendor and joy. In the evening they gave a\ngrand ball and a fine banquet, which you should have seen![14]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe above story is extremely popular, and has long circulated among the\npeople as an independent work in the shape of a chap-book. We have,\nhowever, given the form which is handed down by oral tradition,\npurposely avoiding the use of any literary materials. Many similar tales\nmight be added to this chapter, but the most important and best known\nhave been given. To give those tales which cannot be described as fairy\ntales and which are usually found in the shape of chap-books in prose\nand poetry would fall without the scope of the present volume, and would\nbelong more appropriately to a work on Italian popular literature.[15]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nSTORIES OF ORIENTAL ORIGIN.\n\n\nThe geographical situation of Italy and its commercial connections\nduring the Middle Ages would lead us to expect a large foreign element\nin its popular tales. This foreign element, it is hardly necessary to\nsay, is almost exclusively Oriental, and was introduced either by direct\ncommunication with the East, or indirectly from France, which received\nit from Spain, whither it was brought by the Saracens. Although this\nOriental element is now perfectly popular, it is, as far as its origin\nis concerned, purely literary. That is to say, the stories we are about\nto examine are to be found in the great Oriental collections of tales\nwhich were early translated into all the languages of Europe, and either\npassed directly from these translations into circulation among the\npeople, or became familiar to them from the novelists who made such\nfrequent use of this element.[1] A few stories may have been taken from\nthe French _fabliaux_ or from the French translations of the _Disciplina\nClericalis_, as we shall afterwards see.[2] The Pentamerone, and\nespecially Straparola's tales, may finally be mentioned as the source\nfrom which many Oriental stories have flowed into popular\ncirculation.[3] In this chapter it is proposed to notice briefly only\nthose stories the Oriental origin of which is undoubted, and which may\nbe found in the great collections above mentioned and in some others\nless known. For convenience, some stories of this class have been\nreferred to chapter VI.\n\nThe first of this class which we shall mention is well known from the\nversion in Lafontaine (IX. 1), _Le Depositaire infidele_. The only\nItalian version we have found is Pitre, No. 194, which is as follows:\n\n\nXXXVII. THE PEASANT AND THE MASTER.\n\nA peasant one day, conversing in the farmhouse with his master and\nothers, happened, while speaking of sheep and cheese, to say that he had\nhad a present of a little cheese, but the mice had eaten it all up. Then\nthe master, who was rich, proud, and fat, called him a fool, and said\nthat it was not possible that the mice could have eaten the cheese, and\nall present said the master was right and the peasant wrong. What more\ncould the poor man say? Talk makes talk. After a while the master said\nthat having taken the precaution to rub with oil his ploughshares to\nkeep them from rusting, the mice had eaten off all the points. Then the\nfriend of the cheese broke forth: \"But, master, how can it be that the\nmice cannot eat my cheese, if they can eat the points of your\nploughshares?\" But the master and all the others began to cry out: \"Be\nsilent, you fool! Be silent, you fool! the master is right!\"[4]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe above story really belongs to the class of fables of which there are\nbut few of Oriental origin in the Italian collections.[5] The following\nversion of one of the most famous of the Eastern apologues is from\nMonferrato (Comparetti, No. 67). It is called:\n\n\nXXXVIII. THE INGRATES.\n\nThere was once a man who went into the forest to gather wood, and saw a\nsnake crushed under a large stone. He raised the stone a little with the\nhandle of his axe and the snake crawled out. When it was at liberty it\nsaid to the man: \"I am going to eat you.\" The man answered: \"Softly;\nfirst let us hear the judgment of some one, and if I am condemned, then\nyou shall eat me.\" The first one they met was a horse as thin as a\nstick, tied to an oak-tree. He had eaten the leaves as far as he could\nreach, for he was famished. The snake said to him: \"Is it right for me\nto eat this man who has saved my life?\" The nag answered: \"More than\nright. Just look at me! I was one of the finest horses. I have carried\nmy master so many years, and what have I gained? Now that I am so badly\noff that I can no longer work they have tied me to this oak, and after I\nhave eaten these few leaves I shall die of hunger. Eat the man, then;\nfor he who does good is ill rewarded, and he who does evil must be well\nrewarded. Eat him, for you will be doing a good day's work.\" They\nafterwards happened to find a mulberry-tree, all holes, for it was eaten\nby old age; and the snake asked it if it was right to eat the man who\nhad saved its life. \"Yes,\" the tree answered at once, \"for I have given\nmy master so many leaves that he has raised from them the finest\nsilk-worms in the world; now that I can no longer stand upright, he has\nsaid that he is going to throw me into the fire. Eat him, then, for you\nwill do well.\" Afterwards they met the fox. The man took her aside and\nbegged her to pronounce in his favor. The fox said: \"The better to\nrender judgment I must see just how the matter has happened.\" They all\nreturned to the spot and arranged matters as they were at first; but as\nsoon as the man saw the snake under the stone he cried out: \"Where you\nare, there I will leave you.\" And there the snake remained. The fox\nwished in payment a bag of hens, and the man promised them to her for\nthe next morning. The fox went there in the morning, and when the man\nsaw her he put some dogs in the bag, and told the fox not to eat the\nhens close by, for fear the mistress of the house would hear it. So the\nfox did not open the bag until she had reached a distant valley; then\nthe dogs came out and ate her; and so it is in the world; for who does\ngood is ill rewarded and who does evil is well rewarded.[6]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt would be surprising if we did not find the fascinating stories of the\nThousand and One Nights naturalized among the people. It is, of course,\nimpossible to tell whether they were communicated to the people directly\nfrom a literary source, or whether the separate stories came to Italy\nfrom the Orient by way of oral transmission.[7] These stories have\ncirculated among the people long enough to be treated as their own\nproperty and changed to suit their taste. Incidents from other stories\nhave been added and the original story remodelled until it is hardly\nrecognizable. The story of \"Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp,\" for\ninstance, is found from Sicily to Lombardy; but in no one version are\nall the features of the original story preserved. In one of the Sicilian\nversions (Messina) Aladdin does not lose his lamp; in another (Palermo),\nafter Aladdin has lost his lamp he goes in search of it, and on his\njourney settles the quarrel of an ant, an eagle, and a lion, who give\nhim the power to transform himself into any one of them. He finally\ndiscovers the magician, who has his life elsewhere than in his own body,\nand who is killed after the usual complicated process. In the Roman\nversion the point of the unfinished window in Aladdin's palace is\nmissed, the magician requires to be killed, as in the version from\nPalermo, and there are some additional incidents not in the Oriental\noriginal. In the Mantuan story, instead of a lamp we have a rusty ring,\nwhich the youngest brother finds inside of a dead cock bequeathed to\nthree brothers by their father. After the ring has fallen into the\npossession of the magician and the palace has disappeared, the hero goes\nin search of his wife and ring. On his way he is assisted by the \"King\nof the Fishes\" and the \"King of the Birds.\" The eagle carries a letter\nto the captive princess, who obtains the ring from the magician, rubs it\non a stone, and when it asks what she wishes, answers: \"I wish this\npalace to return where it first was and the magician to be drowned in\nthe sea.\"[8]\n\nOf almost equal popularity is the story of the \"Forty Thieves,\" who are,\nhowever, in the Italian versions, reduced to thirteen, twelve, or six in\nnumber. The versions in Pitre (No. 23 and variants) contain but one\nincident of the original story, where the robbers are detected in the\noil-jars, and killed by pouring boiling oil over them. In one of Pitre's\nversions the robbers are hidden in sacks of charcoal, and the cunning\ndaughter pierces the bags with a red-hot spit. In another, they are\nhidden in oil-skins, and sold to the abbess of a certain convent for\noil. One of the nuns has some suspicion of the trick, and invites her\ncompanions to tap the skins with red-hot irons. Another Sicilian version\n(Gonz. No. 79, \"The Story of the Twelve Robbers\") contains the first\npart of the Arabian tale, the robbers' cave which opens and closes by\nthe words, \"Open, door!\" and \"Shut, door!\" The story ends with the death\nof one of the brothers, who entered the cave and was killed by one of\nthe robbers who had remained. It is only in the version from Mantua\n(Visentini, No. 7, \"The Cunning Maid\") that we find the story complete;\nboiling water is used instead of oil in killing the thieves, and the\nservant girl afterwards kills the captain, who had escaped before. The\nstory of the \"Third Calendar\" is told in detail in Comparetti (No. 65,\n\"The Son of the King of France\") and the \"Two Envious Sisters\" furnishes\ndetails for a number of distinct stories.[9] The story of \"The\nHunchback\" is found in Pitre and Straparola, and as it is also the\nsubject of an Old-French _fabliau_, it may have been borrowed from the\nFrench, or, what is more likely, both French and Italians took it from a\ncommon source.[10] The fable of \"The Ass, the Ox, and the Peasant,\"\nwhich the Vizier relates to prevent his daughter becoming the Sultan's\nwife, is found in Pitre (No. 282) under the title of \"The Curious Wife,\"\nand is also in Straparola.[11] The beautiful story of \"Prince Ahmed and\nthe fairy Peribanu\" is found in Nerucci, No. 40, \"The Three Presents, or\nthe Story of the Carpets.\" The three presents are the magic telescope\nthat sees any distance, the carpet that carries one through the air, and\nthe magic grapes that bring to life. The Italian version follows closely\nthe Oriental original. The same may be said of another story in the same\ncollection, No. 48, \"The Traveller from Turin,\" which is nothing but\nSindbad's \"Fourth Voyage.\"[12] The last story taken from the Arabian\nNights which we shall mention is that of \"The Second Royal Mendicant,\"\nfound in Comparetti (No. 63, \"My Happiness\") from the Basilicata, and in\nthe collection of Mantuan stories. The latter (No. 8) is entitled:\n\"There is no longer any Devil.\" The magician is the devil, and the\nstory concludes, after the transformations in which the peasant's son\nkills the devil in the shape of a hen, with the words: \"And this is the\nreason why there is no longer any devil.\"[13]\n\nThe first collection of Oriental tales known in Europe as a collection\nwas the _Disciplina Clericalis_, that is, Instruction or Teaching for\nClerks or Clergymen. It was the work of a converted Spanish Jew, Petrus\nAlphonsi, and was composed before 1106, the date of the baptism of the\nauthor, the time and place of whose death are not known. The _Disciplina\nClericalis_ was early translated into French prose and poetry, and was\nthe storehouse from which all subsequent story-tellers drew abundant\nmaterial.[14] Precisely how the _Disciplina Clericalis_ became known in\nItaly we cannot tell; but the separate stories must have become popular\nand diffused by word of mouth at a very early date. One of the stories\nof this collection is found in Italian literature as early as the _Cento\nNovelle Antiche_.[15] Four of the stories in the _Disciplina Clericalis_\nare found in Pitre and other collections of popular tales, and although\nbelonging, with one exception, to the class of jests, they are mentioned\nhere for the sake of completeness.\n\nIn one of the stories of the _Disciplina Clericalis_, two citizens of a\ncertain town and a countryman were making the pilgrimage to Mecca\ntogether, and on the way ran so short of food that they had only flour\nenough left to make one small loaf. The two citizens in order to cheat\nthe countryman out of his share devised the following scheme: While the\nbread was baking they proposed that all three should sleep, and whoever\nshould have the most remarkable dream should have the whole loaf. While\nthe citizens were asleep, the countryman, who had divined their plan,\nstole the half-cooked bread from the fire, ate it, and then threw\nhimself down again. One of the other two pretended to wake up in a\nfright, and told his companion that he had dreamed that two angels had\nled him through the gates of heaven into the presence of God. The other\ndeclared that he had been led by two angels into the nether-world. The\ncountryman heard all this and still pretended to sleep. When his\ncompanions aroused him he asked in amazement: \"Who are those calling\nme?\" They answered: \"We are your companions.\" \"What,\" said he, \"have you\ngot back already?\" \"Where have we been to in order to return?\" The\ncountryman replied: \"It seemed to me that two angels led one of you to\nheaven, and afterwards two others conducted the other to hell. From this\nI imagined that neither of you would return, so I got up and ate the\nbread.\"[16]\n\nThe same story is told in Pitre (No. 173) of a monk who was an itinerant\npreacher, and who was accompanied on his journey by a very cunning lay\nbrother. One day the monk received a present of some fish which he\nwished to eat himself alone, and therefore proposed to the brother that\nthe one of them who dreamed the best dream should have all the fish. The\ndreams and the conclusion are the same as in the original.[17]\n\nThe next story is well known from the use made of it by Cervantes in Don\nQuixote (Part I., chap. xx.) where Sancho relates it to beguile the\nhours of the memorable night when the noise of the fulling-mill so\nterrified the doughty knight and his squire. The version in the\n_Disciplina Clericalis_ is as follows: A certain king had a story-teller\nwho told him five stories every night. It happened once that the king,\noppressed by cares of state, was unable to sleep, and asked for more\nthan the usual number of stories. The story-teller related three short\nones. The king wished for more still, and when the story-teller\ndemurred, said: \"You have told me several very short ones. I want\nsomething long, and then you may go to sleep.\" The story-teller yielded,\nand began thus: \"Once upon a time there was a certain countryman who\nwent to market and bought two thousand sheep. On his way home a great\ninundation took place, so that he was unable to cross a certain river by\nthe ford or bridge. After anxiously seeking some means of getting across\nwith his flock, he found at length a little boat in which he could\nconvey two sheep over.\" After the story-teller had got thus far he went\nto sleep. The king roused him and ordered him to finish the story he\nhad begun. The story-teller answered: \"The flood is great, the boat\nsmall, and the flock innumerable; let the aforesaid countryman get his\nsheep over, and I will finish the story I have begun.\"[18]\n\nThe version in Pitre (No. 138) lacks all connection and is poor, but we\ngive it here, as it is very brief.\n\n\nXXXIX. THE TREASURE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a prince who studied and racked his brains so\nmuch that he learned magic and the art of finding hidden treasures. One\nday he discovered a treasure in a bank, let us say the bank of Ddisisa:\n\"Oh, he says, now I am going to get it out.\" But to get it out it was\nnecessary that ten million million ants should cross one by one the\nriver Gianquadara (let us suppose it was that one) in a bark made of the\nhalf shell of a nut. The prince puts the bark in the river and begins to\nmake the ants pass over. One, two, three,----and he is still doing it.\n\nHere the person who is telling the story pauses and says: \"We will\nfinish this story when the ants have finished passing over.\"[19]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe version from Milan is still shorter:\n\n\nXL. THE SHEPHERD.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a shepherd who went to feed his sheep in the\nfields, and he had to cross a stream, and he took the sheep up one by\none to carry them over....\n\nWhat then? Go on!\n\nWhen the sheep are over, I will finish the story.[20]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn chapter V. we shall meet two popular figures in Sicilian tales, whose\njokes are repeated elsewhere as detached stories. One of these persons\nis Firrazzanu, the practical joker and knave, who is cunning enough to\nmake others bear the penalty of his own boldness. In the story in Pitre\n(No. 156, var. 2) Firrazzanu's master wants a tailor for some work, and\nFirrazzanu tells him he knows of one who is good, but subject to fits,\nwhich always make their approach known by a twitching of the mouth, and\nthe only remedy for them is a sound beating. Of course, when the unlucky\ntailor begins to cut his cloth, he twists his mouth, and receives, to\nhis amazement, a sudden beating.\n\nIn this version there is no reason given why Firrazzanu should play such\na joke on the innocent tailor. In the original, however, a motive is\ngiven for the trick.[21]\n\nThe last story we shall mention from the _Disciplina Clericalis_ is the\none known in Pitre (No. 197) as:\n\n\nXLI. THE THREE ADMONITIONS.\n\nA man once left his country to go to foreign parts, and there entered\nthe service of an abbot. After he had spent some time in faithful\nservice, he desired to see his wife and native land. He said to the\nabbot: \"Sir, I have served you thus long, but now I wish to return to my\ncountry.\" \"Yes, my son,\" said the abbot, \"but before departing I must\ngive you the three hundred ounces[C] that I have put together for you.\nWill you be satisfied with three admonitions, or with the three hundred\nounces?\" The servant answered: \"I will be satisfied with the three\nadmonitions.\" \"Then listen: First: When you change the old road for the\nnew, you will find troubles which you have not looked for. Second: See\nmuch and say little. Third: Think over a thing before you do it, for a\nthing deliberated is very fine.[22] Take this loaf of bread and break it\nwhen you are truly happy.\"\n\n[Footnote C: The ounce is equivalent to nearly thirteen francs (12.75).]\n\nThe good man departed, and on his journey met other travellers. These\nsaid to him: \"We are going to take the by-way. Will you come with us?\"\nBut he remembering the three admonitions of his master answered: \"No, my\nfriends, I will keep on this road.\" When he had gone half way, bang!\nbang! he heard some shots. \"What was that, my sons?\" The robbers had\nkilled his companions. \"I have gained the first hundred ounces!\" he\nsaid, and continued his journey. On his way he arrived at an inn as\nhungry as a dog and called for something to eat. A large dish of meat\nwas brought which seemed to say: \"Eat me, eat me!\" He stuck his fork in\nit and turned it over, and was frightened out of his wits, for it was\nhuman flesh! He wanted to ask the meaning of such food and give the\ninnkeeper a lecture, but just then he thought: \"See much and say\nlittle;\" so he remained silent. The innkeeper came, he settled his bill,\nand took leave. But the innkeeper stopped him and said: \"Bravo, bravo!\nyou have saved your life. All those who have questioned me about my food\nhave been soundly beaten, killed, and nicely cooked.\" \"I have gained the\nsecond hundred ounces,\" said the good man, who did not think his skin\nwas safe until then.\n\nWhen he reached his own country he remembered his house, saw the door\najar and slipped in. He looked about and saw no one, only in the middle\nof the room was a table, well set with two glasses, two forks, two\nseats, service for two. \"How is this?\" he said: \"I left my wife alone\nand here I find things arranged for two. There is some trouble.\" So he\nhid himself under the bed to see what went on. A moment after he saw his\nwife enter, who had gone out a short time before for a pitcher of water.\nA little after he saw a sprucely dressed young priest come in and seat\nhimself at the table. \"Ah, is that he?\" and he was on the point of\ncoming forth and giving him a sound beating; but there came to his mind\nthe final admonition of the abbot: \"Think over a thing before you do it,\nfor a thing deliberated is very fine;\" and he refrained. He saw them\nboth sit down at the table, but before eating his wife turned to the\nyoung priest and said: \"My son, let us say our accustomed Paternoster\nfor your father.\" When he heard this he came from under the bed crying\nand laughing for joy, and embraced and kissed them both so that it was\naffecting to see him. Then he remembered the loaf his master had given\nhim and told him to eat in his happiness; he broke the loaf and there\nfell on the table all the three hundred ounces, which the master had\nsecretly put in the loaf.[23]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe now turn to some stories taken from a collection more famous in some\nrespects than those previously mentioned, The Seven Wise Masters, which\nenjoyed during the Middle Ages a popularity second only to that of the\nBible. Of this collection there are several Italian translations\nreaching back to the fourteenth century.[24] From one of these, or\npossibly from oral tradition, the stories about to be mentioned passed\ninto the popular tales of Italy. The first story we shall cite is\ninteresting because popular tradition has connected it with Pier delle\nVigne, the famous chancellor of the Emperor Frederick the Second. The\nVenetian version (Bernoni, _Trad. pop. venez._ Punt. I. p. 11) is in\nsubstance as follows:\n\n\nXLII. VINEYARD I WAS AND VINEYARD I AM.\n\nA king, averse to marriage, commanded his steward to remain single. The\nlatter, however, one day saw a beautiful girl named Vigna, and married\nher secretly. Although he kept her closely confined in her chamber, the\nking became suspicious and sent the steward off on an embassy. After his\ndeparture the king entered the apartment occupied by him, and saw his\nofficer's wife sleeping. He did not disturb her, but, in leaving the\nroom, dropped one of his gloves accidentally on the bed. When the\nhusband returned he found it, but kept a discreet silence, ceasing,\nhowever, all demonstrations of affection, believing his wife had been\nfaithless. The king, anxious to see again the beautiful woman, made a\nfeast and ordered the steward to bring his wife. He denied in vain that\nhe had one, but brought her at last, and while every one else was\ntalking gayly at the feast she was silent. The king observed it and\nasked her the cause of her silence; and she answered with a pun on her\nname: \"Vineyard I was and Vineyard I am, I was loved and no longer am: I\nknow not for what reason the Vineyard has lost its season.\" Her husband,\nwho heard this, replied: \"Vineyard thou wast and Vineyard thou art,\nloved thou wast and no longer art: the Vineyard has lost its season for\nthe lion's claw.\" The king, who understood what he meant, answered: \"I\nentered the Vineyard, I touched the leaves, but I swear by my crown that\nI have not tasted the fruit.\" Then the steward understood that his wife\nwas innocent, and the two made peace and always after lived happy and\ncontented.[25]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis story is found only in the Greek and Hebrew versions of The Seven\nWise Masters, and in the Arabic Seven Viziers. It did not pass into any\nof the Occidental versions, although it was known to Boccaccio, who\nbased on it the fifth novel of the first day of the Decameron. Either,\nthen, the story is a late adaptation of the Oriental tale, which is\nunlikely, or it comes from some now lost, but once popular Italian\nversion of the Oriental form of The Seven Wise Masters.[26]\n\nThe three following stories are found only in the Western, or European\nversions of the collection. The first, technically called \"_Vaticinium_\"\nor \"The Prophecy,\" relates that a son who understood the language of\nbirds heard the prediction that his father and mother should come to\nsuch want that they would not have bread to eat; but that he, the son,\nshould rise so high that his father should offer him water to wash his\nhands with. The father, enraged at this prediction, threw his son into\nthe sea. He was rescued, and after many adventures, married the daughter\nof the king of Sicily. One day, while riding through Messina, he saw his\nfather and mother, meanly dressed, sitting at the door of an inn. He\nalighted from his horse, entered their house, and asked for food. After\nhis father and mother had brought him water to wash his hands he\nrevealed himself to them and forgave his father for his cruelty.\n\nThe only Italian version, and disfigured by some extraneous details, is\nin the Mantuan tales (Visentini, No. 50): \"Fortune aid me.\" Here the son\ndoes not hear the prophecy from the birds, but an angel tells a king,\nwho has long desired a son, that he shall have one whom he shall one day\nserve. When the child was ten years old the king was so vexed by the\nprediction that he exposed his son in a wood. The child was found by a\nmagician, who brought him up, and from whom he afterwards escaped. He\nwent to the court of the king, his father, and won the hand of the\nprincess (his own sister) by leaping his horse over a broad ditch. At\nthe marriage banquet the king handed his son a glass of wine, and the\nlatter recognized him and exclaimed: \"Behold, the father serves the\nson.\" The marriage was of course given up and the previous aversion of\nthe sister explained.[27]\n\nClosely connected with the original story in The Seven Wise Masters is\nthe class of stories where the hero is acquainted with the language of\nanimals, and attains by means of it some high position (generally\nbecoming pope) after he has been driven from home by his father. The\nfollowing version is from Monferrato (Comparetti, No. 56) and is\nentitled:\n\n\nXLIII. THE LANGUAGE OF ANIMALS.\n\nA father once had a son who spent ten years in school. At the end of\nthat time, the teacher wrote the father to take away his son because he\ncould not teach him anything more. The father took the boy home and gave\na grand banquet in his honor, to which he invited the most noble\ngentlemen of the country. After many speeches by those gentlemen, one of\nthe guests said to the host's son: \"Just tell us some fine thing that\nyou have learned.\" \"I have learned the language of dogs, of frogs, and\nof birds.\" There was universal laughter on hearing this, and all went\naway ridiculing the pride of the father and the foolishness of the son.\nThe former was so ashamed at his son's answer and so angry at him that\nhe gave him up to two servants, with orders to take him into a wood and\nkill him and to bring back his heart. The two servants did not dare to\nobey this command, and instead of the lad they killed a dog, and carried\nits heart to their master. The youth fled from the country and came to a\ncastle a long way off, where lived the treasurer of the prince, who had\nimmense treasures. There he asked for and obtained a lodging, but\nscarcely had he entered the house when a multitude of dogs collected\nabout the castle. The treasurer asked the young man why so many dogs had\ncome, and as the latter understood their language he answered that it\nmeant that a hundred assassins would attack the castle that very\nevening, and that the treasurer should take his precautions. The\ncastellan made two hundred soldiers place themselves in ambush about the\ncastle and at night they arrested the assassins. The treasurer was so\ngrateful to the youth that he wished to give him his daughter, but he\nreplied that he could not remain now, but that he would return within a\nyear and three days. After he left that castle he arrived at a city\nwhere the king's daughter was very ill because the frogs which were in a\nfountain near the palace gave her no rest with their croaking. The lad\nperceived that the frogs croaked because the princess had thrown a cross\ninto the fountain, and as soon as it was removed the girl recovered. The\nking, too, wished the lad to marry her, but he again said that he would\nreturn within a year and three days. After leaving the king he set out\nfor Rome, and on the way met three young men, who became his companions.\nOne day it was very warm and all three lay down to sleep under an oak.\nImmediately a great flock of birds flew into the oak and awakened the\npilgrims by their loud singing. One of them asked: \"Why are these birds\nsinging so joyfully?\" The youth answered: \"They are rejoicing with the\nnew Pope, who is to be one of us.\"\n\nAnd suddenly a dove alighted on his head, and in truth shortly after he\nwas made Pope. Then he sent for his father, the treasurer, and the king.\nAll presented themselves trembling, for they knew that they had\ncommitted some sin. But the Pope made them all relate their deeds, and\nthen turned to his father and said: \"I am the son whom you sent to be\nkilled because I said I understood the language of birds, of dogs, and\nof frogs. You have treated me thus, and on the other hand a treasurer\nand a king have been very grateful for this knowledge of mine.\" The\nfather, repenting his fault, wept bitterly, and his son pardoned him and\nkept him with him while he lived.[28]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next story is doubly interesting because it is found not only in the\nmediaeval collection last mentioned, but also in Greek literature, being\ntold of Rampsinitus, King of Egypt, by Herodotus (II. 121), and by\nPausanias of the two architects Agamedes and Trophonius who robbed the\ntreasury of Hyrieus.[29] There are four versions in Italian: two from\nSicily (Pitre, Nos. 159, 160), one from Bologna (Coronedi-Berti, No. 2),\nand one from Monferrato (Comparetti, No. 13). In one of the Sicilian\nversions (Pitre, No. 159), and in the other two from Bologna and\nMonferrato, the thieves are two friends. In the other Sicilian version\nthey are a father and son. We give a translation of the last named\nversion, which is called:\n\n\nXLIV. THE MASON AND HIS SON.\n\nThere was once a mason who had a wife and son. One day the king sent for\nthe mason to build a country-house in which to put his money, for he was\nvery rich and had no place to keep it. The mason set to work with his\nson. In one corner they put in a stone that could be taken out and put\nback, large enough for a man to enter. When the house was finished the\nking paid them and they went home. The king then had his money carted to\nthe house and put guards around it. After a few days he saw that no one\nwent there and took away the guard. Let us leave the king, who took away\nthe guard, and return to the mason. When his money was gone he said to\nhis son: \"Shall we go to the country-house?\" They took a sack and went\nthere. When they arrived at the house they took out the stone and the\nfather entered and filled the bag with gold. When he came out he put the\nstone back as it was before and they departed. The next day the king\nrode out to his house and saw that his pile of gold had diminished. He\nsaid to his servants: \"Who has been taking the money?\" The servants\nanswered: \"It is not possible, your Majesty; for who comes here; where\ncould they get in? It may be that the house has settled, being newly\nbuilt.\" So they took and repaired it. After a while the mason said again\nto his son: \"Let us go back there.\" They took the accustomed sack and\nwent there; arriving as usual they took out the stone and the father\nentered, filled the sack, and they departed. The same night they made\nanother trip, filled the same sack again, and went away. The next day\nthe king visited the house with his soldiers and councillors. When he\nentered he went to see the money and it was very greatly diminished; he\nturned to his councillors and said: \"Some one comes here and takes the\nmoney.\" The councillors said: \"But, your Majesty, while you are saying\nso, one thing can be done; take a few tubs, fill them with melted pitch,\nand place them around the walls on the inside, whoever enters will fall\nin them, and the thief is found.\"\n\nThey took the tubs and put them inside, and the king left sentinels and\nreturned to the city. The sentinels remained there a week; but as they\nsaw no one, they, too, left.\n\nLet us leave the sentinels, who have departed, and return to the mason.\nHe said to his son: \"Let us go to the accustomed place.\" They took the\nsack and went. Arriving there, they took out the stone, and the father\nentered. As he entered he stuck fast in the pitch. He tried to help\nhimself and get his feet loose, but his hands stuck fast. Then he said\nto his son: \"Do you hear what I tell you, my son? Cut off my head, tear\nmy coat to pieces, put back the stone as it was, and throw my head in\nthe river, so that I shall not be known.\" The son did as he was told,\nand returned home. When he told his mother what had become of his\nfather, she began to tear her hair. After a few days, the son, who did\nnot know any trade, entered the service of a carpenter, and told his\nmother not to say anything, as if nothing had happened.\n\nLet us leave these and return to the king, who went the next day with\nhis councillors to the country-house. They entered and saw the body, and\nthe king said: \"But it has no head! How shall we find out who it is?\"\nThe councillors said: \"Take him and carry him through the streets three\ndays; where you see weeping you will know who it is.\" They took the\nbody, and called Filippu Carruba and Brasi Vuturu,[D] and made them\ncarry it about. When they passed through the street where the mason's\nwidow lived, she began to weep. The son, whose shop was near by, heard\nit, and gave himself a blow in the hand with an axe and cut off his\nfingers. The police arrested the mother, saying: \"We have found out who\nit is.\" Meanwhile the son arrived there and said: \"She is not weeping\nfor that; she is weeping because I have cut off my fingers and can no\nlonger work and earn my bread.\" The police saw it was so, believed him,\nand departed. At night they carried the body to the palace and built\noutside a scaffold to put the body on, because they had to carry it\naround three days. About the scaffold they placed nine sentinels--eight\nsoldiers and a corporal. Now it was in the winter and was very cold; so\nthe son took a mule and loaded it with drugged wine, and passed up and\ndown. When the soldiers saw him they cried: \"Friend, are you selling\nthat wine?\" He said: \"I am.\" \"Wait until we drink, for we are trembling\nwith the cold.\" After they had drunk they threw themselves down and went\nto sleep, and the son took the body, and, after he had buried it outside\nof the town, returned home.\n\n[Footnote D: Names of two undertakers in Salaparuta, where the story was\ncollected.]\n\n[In the morning the soldiers awoke and told the king what had happened,\nand he issued a proclamation that whoever found the body should receive\na large sum of money. The body was found and carried about the street\nagain, but no one wept. That night new sentinels were appointed, but the\nsame thing happened as the night before. The soldiers were drugged and\ndressed in monks' robes, and the corporal had a cross stuck between his\nlegs. The next day another proclamation, the body again found and\ncarried about, but no one detected weeping. The story then continues:]\n\nThe mason's son (here called for the first time Ninu) could not rest,\nand went to Cianedda.[E] \"Will you do me a favor?\" \"If I can,\" answered\nCianedda; \"not one, but two. What can I do for you?\" \"Will you lend me\nyour goats this evening?\" \"I will.\" Ninu took them, bought four\n_rotula_[F] of candles and an old earthen pot, knocked out the bottom\nand fastened some candles around it. Then he took the goats and fixed\ntwo candles to the horns of each one and took them where the body was,\nand followed with the pot on his head and the candles lighted. The\nsoldiers ran away in terror, and the son took the body and threw it in\nthe sea.\n\n[Footnote E: The name of a goatherd in Salaparuta.]\n\n[Footnote F: A rotulu = .793 kilos.]\n\n[The next day the king commanded that the price of meat should be set at\ntwelve _tari_[G] a _rotulu_, and ordered that all the old women of the\ncity should assemble at the palace. A hundred came, and he told them to\ngo begging about the city and find out who was cooking meat; thinking\nthat only the thief could afford to buy meat at that price. Ninu, of\ncourse, bought some and gave it to his mother to cook. While it was\ncooking, and Ninu absent, one of the old women came begging, and the\nwidow gave her a piece of meat. As she was going down-stairs Ninu met\nher and asked her what she was doing. She explained that she was begging\nfor some bread. Ninu, suspecting the trick, took her and threw her into\nthe well.]\n\n[Footnote G: Frs. 5.10.]\n\nAt noon, when the old women were to present themselves to the king, one\nwas missing. The king then sent for the butchers, and found that just\none _rotulu_ of meat had been sold. When the king saw this, he issued a\nproclamation to find out who had done all these wonders, and said: \"If\nhe is unmarried, I will give him my daughter; if he is married, I will\ngive him two measures of gold.\" Ninu presented himself to the king and\nsaid: \"Your Majesty, it was I.\" The king burst out laughing, and asked:\n\"Are you married or single?\" He said: \"Your Majesty, I am single.\" And\nthe king said: \"Will you be satisfied with my daughter, or with two\nmeasures, of gold?\" \"Your Majesty,\" he said, \"I want to marry; give me\nyour daughter.\" So he did, and they had a grand banquet.[30]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe story in The Seven Wise Masters, known as \"_Inclusa_,\" or \"The\nElopement,\" is found only in Pitre (No. 176), where it is told of a\ntailor who lived next to the king's palace, with which his house\ncommunicated by a secret door known only to the king and the tailor's\nwife. The tailor, while at work in the palace, imagines he sees his wife\nthere, and pretending that he has forgotten his shears, etc., rushes\nhome to find his wife there. She finally elopes with the king, leaving\nat her window an image that deceives her husband until she is beyond\npursuit.[31]\n\nFar more curious than any of the stories above given is the last one we\nshall mention from The Seven Wise Masters. The story in this collection\nknown as \"_Avis_,\" or \"The Talking Bird,\" is briefly as follows: A\njealous husband has a talking bird that is a spy upon his wife's\nactions. In order to impair his confidence in the bird, one night while\nhe is absent the wife orders a servant to shower water over the bird's\ncage, to make a heavy sound like thunder, and to imitate the flashing of\nlightning with candles. The bird, on its master's return, tells him of\nthe terrific storm the night before, and is killed for its supposed\nfalsehood. This story is found in both the Eastern and Western versions\nof The Seven Wise Masters, and practically constitutes the framework of\nanother famous Oriental collection, the Cukasaptati (from _cuka_, a\nparrot, and _saptati_, seventy, The Seventy Tales of a Parrot), better\nknown by its Persian and Turkish name, Tuti-Nameh, Tales of a\nParrot.[32] The frame, or groundwork, of the various Oriental versions\nis substantially the same. A husband is obliged to leave home on\nbusiness, and while he is absent his wife engages in a love affair with\na stranger. A parrot, which the husband has left behind, prevents the\nwife meeting her lover by telling her stories which interest her so much\nthat she keeps putting off her appointment until her husband returns. In\nthe Turkish version the parrot reconciles the husband and wife; in the\nPersian versions the parrot relates what has happened, and the faithless\nwife is killed.\n\nThe Italian versions, as will soon be seen, are not derived from The\nSeven Wise Masters, but from the Cukasaptati; and what is very curious,\nthe framework has been retained and filled with stories that are not in\nthe original.[33] The most simple version is from Pisa (Comparetti, No.\n1), and is called:\n\n\nXLV. THE PARROT (FIRST VERSION).\n\nThere was once a merchant who had a beautiful daughter, with whom the\nking and the viceroy were both in love. The former knew that the\nmerchant would soon have to depart on business, and he would then have a\nchance to speak with the girl. The viceroy knew it, too, and pondered on\nhow he could prevent the king succeeding in his plan. He was acquainted\nwith a witch, and promised her immunity and a large sum of money if she\nwould teach him how to change himself into a parrot. This she did, and\nof course the merchant bought him for his daughter, and departed.\n\nWhen the parrot thought it was about time for the king to come, he said\nto the girl: \"Now, to amuse you, I will tell you a story; but you must\nattend to me and not see any one while I am telling it.\" Then he began\nhis story, and after he had gone a little way in it a servant entered\nand told her mistress that there was a letter for her. \"Tell her to\nbring it later,\" said the parrot, \"and now listen to me.\" \"I do not\nreceive letters while my father is away,\" said the mistress, and the\nparrot continued. After a while another interruption. A servant\nannounces the visit of an aunt. (It was not an aunt, but a woman who\ncame from the king.) The parrot said: \"Do not receive her; we are in the\nfinest part of our story,\" and the young girl sent word that she did not\nreceive any visits while her father was absent, and the parrot went on.\nWhen his story was ended the girl was so pleased that she would listen\nto no one else until her father returned. Then the parrot disappeared,\nand the viceroy visited the merchant and asked his daughter's hand. He\nconsented, and the marriage took place that very day. The wedding was\nscarcely over when a gentleman came to ask the girl's hand for the king;\nbut it was too late, and the poor king, who was much in love with her,\ndied of a broken heart, and the girl remained the wife of the viceroy,\nwho had been more cunning than the king.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have omitted the story told by the parrot because we shall meet it\nagain in the Sicilian version, and substantially in the following\nversion from Florence, which we give entire on account of the rarity of\nthe work in which it is found, and for its own merits.[34] It is also\nentitled:\n\n\nXLVI. THE PARROT. (SECOND VERSION.)\n\nOnce upon a time there was a merchant who, having to go on a journey,\ngave his wife a parrot to amuse her in her loneliness. The wife, vexed\nthat her husband should leave her so soon, threw the bird in a corner\nand thought no more about it. At evening she went to the window and saw\npass a young man, who fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. On\nthe first floor there lived a woman who sold coals, and the young man\nbegan to tempt her to help him in his love affair. She would not\npromise, because the merchant's wife had been married but a few days,\nand was an honest woman. She added, however, that there was a way; her\ndaughter was to be married shortly, she would invite the young wife to\nthe wedding, and the young man, being there too, could manage the rest.\nThe wife accepted the invitation, dressed herself in her finest clothes,\nand was on the point of leaving when the parrot cried from its corner:\n\"O mistress, where are you going? I wished to tell you a story; but suit\nyourself.\" The wife then dismissed the coal-woman, who, not to spoil\nmatters, promised to put off the wedding and return for her the next\nday. Then the parrot began:\n\n\"Once upon a time there was a king's son whose master was so learned in\nmagic that with certain words he could change himself into various\nanimals. The prince wanted to learn these words, too; but the magician\nhesitated and refused, although he had to yield at last. Then the prince\nbecame a crow and flew far away to a distant country and into the garden\nof a king, where he saw a beautiful girl with a mirror in which was set\nher portrait. The crow in wonder snatched the glass from her hands, and\nflew home and resumed his own form, but he fell so deeply in love with\nthe unknown girl that he became ill.\n\n\"She, meanwhile, who was the daughter of a king, seeing the glass taken\nfrom her, no longer had any peace of mind, and begged her father until\nhe gave her permission to go in search of it. She dressed herself like a\nphysician and departed. She came to a city and heard a proclamation by\nthe king, that whatever physician should pass that way should be obliged\nto visit and try to cure his daughter. Then the new physician had to go\nto the palace, but she could not discover any remedy for the grave\ndisease. At night, while sitting by the princess' bed, the light went\nout, and she left the room to light it, and saw in a little cottage\nthree old women sitting around a cauldron boiling over a great fire.\n'Good women, are you washing?' 'What a washing! these are three heads,\nand when they are cooked the princess will die.' 'Bravo, my good women;\nbring the wood and I will help, too.' She remained there some time and\npromised to return. The brighter the fire burned, the nearer the\nprincess came to death. The physician consoled the king and had a fine\nsupper prepared. The second night she carried food and a great deal of\nwine to the old women, and when they were drunk threw them into the\nfire and lifted off the cauldron with the boiling heads. The princess\nrecovered and the king wished to give her to the physician and reward\nhim with gems and gold, but the physician would take nothing, and\ndeparted.\"\n\n\"You know, mistress, it is late and I am tired,\" interrupted the parrot;\n\"I will tell you the rest to-morrow.\"\n\nThe next day the woman who sold coals came again, and the merchant's\nwife was on the point of accompanying her; but the parrot detained her,\npromising to finish the story. So the woman went away in anger, and the\nparrot continued:\n\n\"The princess disguised as a physician journeyed until she came to\nanother city, and heard a proclamation by the king, that every physician\nwho passed that way should be forced to visit and attempt to cure his\nson. The new physician, too, had to go to court; but could find no\nremedy for the severe disease. At night, while sitting at the bedside of\nthe prince, she heard a loud noise in the next room: went to the door\nand saw three old women, who were preparing a banquet. Afterwards they\napproached the invalid, anointed him from head to foot, and carried him\nhealed to the table; then when they were full of wine and merry, they\nanointed him again and replaced him on his bed worse than before. The\nphysician comforted the king, and the second night allowed the witches\nto take the prince to the table, then appeared and frightening the old\nwomen with threats of the king's anger drove them from the room and\nrestored the son to his father. The king, well pleased, wished to\nrecompense the physician, who would take nothing, and departed.\"\n\n\"But you know, mistress, it is late and I am weary. I will tell you the\nrest to-morrow.\"\n\nThe next day the woman who sold coals returned, and the merchant's wife\nwas on the point of following her; but the parrot detained her,\npromising to finish the story. The woman went away angry, and the parrot\ncontinued:\n\n\"After a long journey the princess disguised as a physician came to\nanother city, and heard a proclamation by the king, that every\nphysician who passed that way should be compelled to visit and attempt\nto cure his son. The new physician, too, had to go to court; but she\ncould find no remedy for the severe disease. The prince would speak to\nno one, but the physician at last made the invalid disclose the secret\nof his heart, and he told of the mirror and showed the portrait of the\nunknown lady whom he loved desperately. The physician consoled the king;\nhad garments and ornaments exactly like those of the young girl in the\nglass prepared; dressed in them, and as she appeared before the prince\nhe leaped from his bed, embracing his betrothed in the midst of\nrejoicings.\"\n\nBut here the lady hears her husband arriving. Joy makes her beside\nherself; and she throws from the window the poor parrot, which now seems\nto her only a tiresome companion. The merchant enters and inquires about\nthe bird; sees the parrot hurt upon the neighboring roof and picks it up\nkindly. The parrot narrates to him the wiles of the coal-woman and its\nown prudence; assures the husband that his wife is innocent; but\ncomplains of her being so ungrateful; she had promised him a gold vase,\nand now treats him thus. The merchant consoles the dying bird, and\nafterwards has him embalmed and placed in the gold vase. As for his\nwife, he loved her more than ever.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnother version from Piedmont (Comparetti, No. 2; De Gub. Zool. Myth.\nII. 322) differs materially from the ones just given. A king is obliged\nto go to war and leave behind him his wife, with whom another king is in\nlove. Before parting he forbids his wife to leave the palace during his\nabsence, and presents her with a parrot. No sooner has the king departed\nthan his rival attempts to obtain an interview with the queen by giving\na feast and inviting her to it. The parrot prevents her going by\nrelating the story contained in the first version. They are interrupted\nin the same manner by an old woman sent by the lover, but to no purpose.\nWhen the story is finished, the husband returns, and the parrot becomes\na young man, whom the king had engaged to watch over his wife's\nfidelity.\n\nThe Sicilian version of our story is the most interesting as well as the\nmost complete of all; the single story in the continental versions has\nbeen expanded into three, and the frame is more artistic. The story is\nthe second in Pitre, and is as follows:\n\n\nXLVII. THE PARROT WHICH TELLS THREE STORIES.\n\n(THIRD VERSION.)\n\nOnce upon a time there was a rich merchant who wanted to marry, and who\nhappened to find a wife as good as the day was long, and who loved her\nhusband desperately. One day she saw him a little annoyed, and said:\n\"What makes you feel so?\" \"What should make me feel so! I have important\nbusiness to attend to, and must go and see to it on the spot.\" \"And are\nyou annoyed about that? let us arrange matters thus: you will leave me\nprovisions and close up all the doors and windows but one high up; make\nme a wicket, and then depart.\" \"The advice pleases me,\" said her\nhusband, and he laid in at once a large provision of bread, flour, oil,\ncoals, and everything; had all the doors and windows closed up but one,\nto take the air, had a wicket made like those in the convents, and\ndeparted, and the wife remained with her maid. The next day a servant\ncalled at the wicket to do what was necessary and then went away. After\nten days the lady began to be oppressed, and had a great mind to cry.\nThe maid said: \"There is a remedy for everything, my mistress; let us\ndraw the table up to the window, and climb up and enjoy the sight of the\nCorso.\" They did so, and the lady looked out. \"Ah! I thank you, sirs!\"\nAs she uttered the ah! opposite her was a notary's office, and there\nwere the notary and a cavalier. They turned and saw this beautiful young\nwoman. \"Oh! what a handsome woman! I must speak with her!\" said the\ncavalier. \"No: I will speak first,\" said the notary. And \"I first,\" and\n\"I first.\" They laid a wager of four hundred ounces as to who would\nspeak with her first. The lady perceived them and withdrew from the\nwindow.\n\nThe notary and the cavalier thought about the bet, and had no rest\nrunning here and there and trying to speak with the lady. At last the\nnotary in despair went out into the fields and began to call his demon.\nThe demon appeared and the notary told him everything, saying: \"And this\ncavalier wishes to have the advantage of speaking with the lady first.\"\n\"What will you give me?\" said the demon. \"My soul.\" \"Then see what you\nhave to do; I will change you into a parrot and you must fly and alight\non the window of the lady. The maid will take you and have a silver cage\nmade for you and put you in it. The cavalier will find an old woman who\nis able to make the lady leave the house. But she will not make her\nleave, you know. You must say: 'My pretty mamma, sit down while I tell\nyou a story.' The old woman will come thrice; you must tear out your\nfeathers and fly into a passion and say always: 'My pretty mamma, don't\ngo with that old woman, she will betray you; sit down while I tell you a\nstory.' And then tell her any story you wish.\"\n\nThe demon ended with: \"Man you are, become a parrot!\" and the parrot\nflew away to the window. The maid saw it and caught it with her\nhandkerchief. When the lady saw the parrot she said: \"How beautiful you\nare! Now you will be my consolation.\" \"Yes, pretty mamma, I will love\nyou, too.\" The lady had a silver cage made, and shut the parrot up in\nit.\n\nLet us leave the parrot in the cage, and return to the cavalier, who was\nmaking desperate efforts to see the lady. An old woman met him, and\nasked him what the matter was. \"Must I tell you what the matter is?\" and\ndismissed her; but the old woman was persistent. At last to get rid of\nher he told her all about the wager. The old woman said: \"I am able to\nmake you speak with the lady. You must have prepared for me two handsome\nbaskets of early fruit.\" The cavalier was so anxious to see the lady\nthat he had the baskets of early fruit prepared and given to her. With\nthese things the old woman went to the wicket, pretending that she was\nthe lady's grandmother. The lady believed her. One word brings on\nanother. \"Tell me, my granddaughter, you are always shut up, but don't\nyou hear mass Sundays?\" \"How could I hear it shut up?\" \"Ah, my daughter,\nyou will be damned. No, this is not well. You must hear mass Sundays.\nTo-day is a feast day; let us go to mass.\"\n\nWhile the lady was being persuaded, the parrot began to lament. When its\nmistress opened the clothespress, the parrot said: \"My pretty mamma,\ndon't go, for the old woman will betray you. If you don't go I will tell\nyou a story.\" The lady took an idea into her head. \"Now, my\ngrandmother,\" she said, \"go away, for I cannot come.\" And the old woman\nwent away. When she had gone, the lady went to the parrot, which related\nto her this story:\n\n\nFIRST STORY OF THE PARROT.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a king who had an only daughter, who was very\nfond of dolls, and had one that was her delight. She dressed her and\nundressed her and put her to bed, in short did for her what is done for\nchildren. One day the king wished to go into the country, and the\nprincess wished to take the doll. While they were walking about, in a\nmoment of forgetfulness, she left her doll on a hedge. It was meal time,\nand after they had eaten they got into the carriage and returned to the\nroyal palace. What do you suppose the princess forgot? the doll!\n\nAs soon as they arrived at the palace the princess remembered the doll.\nWhat did she do? Instead of going up-stairs, she turned round and went\nto look for the doll. When she got outdoors, she became lost and\nwandered about like a person bereft of her senses. After a time she came\nto a royal palace and asked who was the king of that palace. \"The King\nof Spain,\" they said. She asked for a lodging. She entered; the king\ngave her lodging and treated her like a daughter. She made herself at\nhome in the palace and began to be the mistress. The king had no\ndaughters and gave her liberty to do as she pleased in spite of twelve\nroyal damsels. Now, as there is envy among equals, the damsels began to\noppose her. Said they: \"Just see! Who knows who she is? and is she to be\nour princess? Now this thing must stop!\" The next day they said to the\nprincess: \"Will you come with us?\" \"No, because papa does not wish it.\nIf he is willing, I will come.\" \"Do you know what you must do to make\nhim let you come? tell him: 'By the soul of his daughter he must let you\ngo.' When he hears that, he will let you go at once.\" The princess did\nso, but when the king heard her say: \"By the soul of his daughter!\" \"Ah!\nwretch,\" exclaimed the king; \"quick, throw her down the trap-door!\" When\nthe princess fell down the trap-door she found a door, then another, and\nanother, always feeling her way along. At a certain point she felt with\nher hands like the blind, and found tinder and matches. She then lighted\na candle which she found there, and saw a beautiful young girl, with a\npadlock on her mouth, so that she could not speak, but she made signs\nthat the key to open it with was under the pillow of the bed. The\nprincess got it and opened the padlock; then the young girl spoke, and\nsaid that she was the daughter of the king whom a magician had stolen.\nThis magician brought her, every day, something to eat, and then locked\nup her mouth, and she had to wait until the next day to open it again.\n\"But tell me,\" said the princess, \"what way is there to free you?\" \"How\ndo I know? I can do nothing but ask the magician when he opens my mouth;\nyou hide under the bed and listen, and afterwards think what has to be\ndone.\" \"Good! good!\" The princess locked her mouth, put the key under\nthe pillow, and crawled under the bed. But at midnight a great noise was\nheard; the earth opened, lightning, smoke, and smell of sulphur, and the\nmagician appeared in a magician's robe. With the magician was a giant\nwith a bowl of food, and two servants with two torches. The magician\nsent away the servants, and locked the doors, took the key, and opened\nthe mouth of the king's daughter. While they were eating, she said:\n\"Magician, I have a thought: out of curiosity I would like to know what\nit would be necessary for me to do to escape from here.\" \"You want to\nknow a great deal, my daughter!\" \"Never mind, I don't care to know.\"\n\"However, I will tell you. It would be necessary to make a mine all\naround the palace, and precisely at midnight, when I am on the point of\nentering, to explode the mine: you will find yourself with your father,\nand I will fly up in the air.\" \"It's as if you had not told any one,\"\nsaid the young girl. The magician dressed himself and went away. After a\nfew hours the princess came out from under the bed, took leave of her\nlittle sister, for she already called her \"little sister,\" and departed.\n\nShe went back to the trap-door and, at a certain point, stopped and\ncalled for help. The king heard her, and had a rope lowered. The\nprincess climbed up and related everything to the king. He was\nastounded, and began the mine, which he had filled with shot, powder,\nand balls. When it was full to the brim, the princess descended with a\nwatch and went to the king's daughter: \"Either both dead, or both\nalive!\" When she entered the room, she said: \"It is I,\" took the lock\nfrom her mouth, talked with her, and then concealed herself under the\nbed. At midnight the magician came, and the king was on the lookout,\nwith his watch in his hand. As the clock struck twelve, the princess\nfired the mine: boom! and a great noise was heard: the magician\nvanished, and the two young girls found themselves free and in each\nother's arms. When the king saw them, he exclaimed: \"Ah! my daughters!\nyour misfortune was your good fortune. My crown belongs to you,\" said he\nto the princess whom he had adopted. \"No, your Majesty, for I am a\nking's daughter, and I, too, have a crown.\"\n\nThis matter spread over the world, and her fame passed through all the\nkingdoms, and every one talked of nothing but the great courage and\ngoodness of this princess who had delivered the other princess from the\nmagician. And they remained happy and always enjoyed holy peace.\n\n\"What do you think, pretty mamma, of this story?\" \"It is very fine,\"\nsaid the lady to the parrot.\n\nA week passed after the story; the old woman again came with two other\nbaskets of fruit to her granddaughter: \"Pretty idea!\" said the parrot.\n\"Take care, pretty mamma; the old woman is coming.\" The old woman said:\n\"Come, my daughter, are you going to mass?\" \"Yes, my grandmother;\" and\nthe lady began dressing herself. When the parrot saw her dressing\nherself it began to tear out its feathers and weep: \"No, pretty mamma,\ndon't go to mass; that old woman will ruin you. If you will stay with\nme, I will tell you another story.\" \"Now go away,\" said the lady to the\nold woman, \"for I cannot kill my dear little parrot, for the sake of the\nmass.\" \"Ah! wicked woman! to lose your soul for an animal!\" The old\nwoman went away and the parrot told this story:\n\n\nSECOND STORY OF THE PARROT.\n\nWell then, my lady, there was once upon a time a king who had an only\ndaughter as beautiful as the sun and moon. When she was eighteen a\nTurkish king wished to marry her. When she heard that it was a Turkish\nking she said: \"What do I want of Turks!\" and refused him. Shortly after\nshe became very ill, convulsions, twisting of the body, rolling of her\neyes to the back of her head, and the doctors did not know what was the\nmatter. The poor father in confusion called his council together, and\nsaid: \"Gentlemen, my daughter is losing ground every day; what advice do\nyou give me?\" The sages said: \"Your Majesty, there is a young girl who\nfound the daughter of the King of Spain;[H] find her and she will tell\nyou what must be done for your daughter.\" \"Bravo! the council has been\nfavorable.\" The king ordered vessels to go for this young girl: \"And if\nthe King of Spain will not let her go, give him this iron glove and\ndeclare war!\" The vessels departed and reached Spain one morning. They\nfired a salute, the ambassador landed, presented himself to the king,\nand gave him a sealed letter. The king opened it and after reading it\nbegan to weep and said: \"I prefer war, and I will not give up this\ngirl.\" Meanwhile the girl entered: \"What is the matter, your Majesty?\n(and she saw the letter). What are you afraid of? I will go at once to\nthis king.\" \"How, my daughter, will you then leave me thus?\" \"I will\nreturn. I will go and see what is the matter with this young girl and\nthen come back.\"\n\n[Footnote H: The princess of the last story.]\n\nShe took leave of her half-sister and departed. When she arrived the\nking went to meet her: \"My daughter, if you cure this sick daughter of\nmine, I will give you my crown!\" \"That makes two crowns!\" she said to\nherself. \"I have a crown, your Majesty. Let us see what the matter is,\nand never mind the crowns.\" She went and saw the princess all wasted\naway. She turned to the king and said: \"Your Majesty! have some broth\nand substantial things made,\" and they were prepared at once. \"I am\ngoing to shut myself up with your daughter, and you must not open the\ndoor, for in three days I will give her to you alive or dead. And listen\nto what I say: even if I should knock you must not open.\" Everything was\narranged and the door was fastened with chains and padlocks, but they\nforgot the tinder to light the candle with at night. In the evening\nthere was great confusion. The young girl did not wish to knock, and as\nshe looked out of the window she saw a light at a distance. So she\ndescended by a ladder of silk, taking with her a candle. When she drew\nnear the light she saw a large cauldron placed on some stones and a\nfurnace under it, and a Turk who was stirring it with a stick. \"What are\nyou doing, Turk?\" \"My king wanted the daughter of the king, she did not\nwant him, he is bewitching her.\" \"My poor little Turk! You are tired,\nare you not? do you know what you must do? rest yourself a little while\nI stir.\" \"I will, by Mahomet!\" He got down; she got up and began to stir\nwith the stick. \"Am I doing it all right thus?\" \"Yes, by Mahomet.\" \"Well\nthen, you take a nap, and I will stir.\" When he was asleep, she came\ndown, seized him, and threw him into the boiling cauldron, where he\ndied. When she saw that he was dead, she lighted her candle and returned\nto the palace. She entered the room and found the invalid had fainted on\nthe floor. She brought her to with cologne water (_acqua d' oduri_) and\nin three days she had recovered. Then she knocked at the door and the\nking entered, beside himself at finding his daughter cured. \"Ah! my\ndaughter,\" he said to the young girl who had healed her, \"how much we\nowe you! you must remain here with me.\" \"It is impossible; you\nthreatened my father with war if he did not allow me to come; now my\nfather declares war with you if you do not let me return to him.\" She\nremained there a fortnight, then departed, and the king gave her\nquantities of riches and jewels. She returned to the king of Spain's\npalace.\n\nAnd so the story ends.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"What did you think of the story, pretty mamma?\" said the parrot.\n\"Beautiful, beautiful.\" \"But you must not go with the old woman, because\nthere is treason.\"\n\nAfter a week the old woman came with her baskets. \"My daughter, you must\ndo me this pleasure to-day, come and hear the holy mass.\" \"I will.\" When\nthe parrot heard that, he began to weep and tear out his feathers: \"No,\nmy pretty mamma, don't go with the old woman. If you will stay, I will\ntell you another story.\" \"Grandmother mine,\" says she, \"I can't come,\nfor I don't wish to lose the parrot for your sake.\" She closed the\nwicket and the old woman went away grumbling and cursing. The lady then\nseated herself near the parrot, which told this story:\n\n\nTHIRD STORY OF THE PARROT.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a king and a queen who had an only son, whose\nsole diversion was the chase. Once he wished to go hunting at a\ndistance, and took with him his attendants. Where do you think he\nhappened to go? To the country where the doll was.[I] When he saw the\ndoll he said: \"I have finished my hunt, let us return home!\" He took\nthe doll and placed it before him on the horse, and exclaimed every few\nminutes: \"How beautiful this doll is! think of its mistress!\" When he\nreached the palace he had a glass case made in the wall, and put the\ndoll in it, and kept looking at it continually and saying: \"How\nbeautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!\"\n\n[Footnote I: The doll of the first story.]\n\nThe young man would not see any one and became so melancholy that his\nfather summoned the physicians, who said: \"Your Majesty, we know nothing\nof this illness; see what he does with his doll.\" The king went to see\nhis son and found him gazing at the doll, and exclaiming: \"Oh! how\nbeautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!\" The physicians departed\nas wise as when they came. The prince meanwhile did nothing but sit and\nlook at the doll, and draw deep breaths, and sigh, and exclaim: \"How\nbeautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!\" The king at last, in\ndespair, summoned his council, and said: \"See how my son is reduced! He\nhas no fever, or pain in his head, but he is wasting away, and some one\nelse will enjoy my kingdom! Give me advice.\" \"Majesty, are you\nperplexed? Is there not that young girl who found the King of Spain's\ndaughter, and cured the other princess? Send for her. If her father will\nnot let her come, declare war with him.\"\n\nThe king sent his ambassadors with the message that the young girl\nshould be sent _nolens volens_. While the ambassadors were in the king's\npresence, his daughter entered, the one who had done the wonders, and\nfound her father perplexed: \"What is the matter, your Majesty?\"\n\"Nothing, my daughter. Another occasion has arrived, another king wants\nyou. Does he mean that I am no longer your master?\" \"Never mind, your\nMajesty; let me go; I will soon return.\"\n\nSo she embarked with all her attendants and began her journey. When she\narrived where the prince was, she saw him drawing such deep breaths that\nit seemed as if he would swallow himself, and always exclaiming: \"Oh!\nhow beautiful the doll is! think of the mistress!\" She said: \"You have\ncalled me none too soon! However, give me a week: bring me ointments,\nfood; and in a week, alive and well, or dead.\"\n\nShe shut herself up with him and listened to hear what the prince said,\nfor she had not yet heard what he was saying, he was so feeble. When she\nheard him whisper: \"Oh! how be-au-ti-ful is the doll; con-sid-er,\" and\nsaw the doll, she cried: \"Ah! wretch! it was you who had my doll! Leave\nit to me, I will cure you.\" When he heard these words he came to himself\nand said: \"Are you the doll's mistress?\" \"I am.\" Just think! he returned\nto life and she began to give him broth until she had restored him. When\nhe was restored she said: \"Now tell me how you got the doll,\" and the\nprince told her everything. To make the matter short, in a week the\nprince was cured, and they declared that they would marry each other.\nThe king, beside himself with joy because his son was healed, wrote\nseveral letters: one to the King of Spain to tell him that his daughter\nhad found her doll, another to the other king, her father, to tell him\nthat his daughter was found, and another to the king whose daughter she\nhad cured. Afterwards all these monarchs came together and made great\nfestivals, and the prince married the princess, and they lived together\nin great peace.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Has this story pleased you, pretty mamma?\" \"Yes, my son.\" \"But you must\nnot go with the old woman, you know.\"\n\nAfter the story was ended a servant came: \"My lady, my lady, the master\nis coming!\" \"Truly!\" said the lady. \"Now, parrot, listen; I will have a\nnew cage made for you.\" The master arrived, the windows were all opened,\nand he embraced his wife. At dinner they placed the parrot in the middle\nof the table, and when the joy was at its height the bird threw some\nsoup in its master's eyes. The master, when he felt it, put his hands to\nhis eyes, and the parrot darted at his throat, strangled him, and flew\naway.\n\nHe flew away to the country, and saying, \"I am a parrot, and I become a\nman,\" he was changed into a handsome, cunning, and well-kempt man on the\nCorso. He met the cavalier: \"Do you know,\" said this one, \"that the poor\nlady's husband is dead? a parrot strangled him!\" \"Truly? poor woman!\npoor woman!\" said the notary, and went his way without speaking of the\nwager. The notary learned that the lady had a mother, and went to her to\nask her daughter in marriage. After hesitating, the lady finally said\nyes, and they were married. That evening the notary said to the lady:\n\"Now tell me, who killed your husband?\" \"A parrot.\" \"And what about this\nparrot?\" The lady told him everything to where the parrot dashed the\nbroth in its master's eyes, and then flew away. \"True! true!\" said the\nnotary. \"Was I not the parrot?\" \"It was you! I am amazed.\" \"It was I,\nand I became a parrot for your sake!\"\n\nThe next day the notary went to the cavalier to get the four hundred\nounces of the wager, which he enjoyed with his wife.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe three stories related by the parrot are, as has been seen, in\nreality one story, and they are, in fact found as such independent of\nthe frame.[35] It has also been seen that the story or stories related\nby the parrot are, substantially, the same in all the versions. The\nFlorentine version alone does not contain the episode of the doll. The\nstory, as a whole, has no parallels, although it bears a slight\nresemblance to the story in the Pentamerone (II. 2), \"Green Meadow.\" The\nprincess as physician, and the secret malady of the prince or princess,\nare traits which abound in all the popular tales of Europe.[36]\n\nMany single stories of Oriental origin will be found in the chapters\nfollowing. We shall close this one with a story which was popular in\nEurope during the Middle Ages, being found in one of the great\ncollections of that period, the _Gesta Romanorum_. Of the various\nItalian versions we shall select one from Pomigliano d'Arco called:\n\n\nXLVIII. TRUTHFUL JOSEPH.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a mother who had a son named Joseph; and\nbecause he never told a lie she called him Truthful Joseph. One day when\nshe was calling him, the king happened to pass by, and hearing her call\nhim thus, asked her: \"Why do you call him Truthful Joseph?\" \"Because he\nnever tells a lie.\" Then the king said that he would like to have him in\nhis service, and set him to keeping his cows. Every morning Joseph\npresented himself to the king, and said: \"Your Majesty's servant.\" The\nking answered: \"Good morning, Truthful Joseph. How are the cows?\" \"Well\nand fat.\" \"How are the calves?\" \"Well and handsome.\" \"How is the bull?\"\n\"The same.\" So he did every morning. The king praised him so highly in\nthe presence of all his courtiers that they became angry at him; and one\nday, to make Joseph a liar, they sent to him a lady, who was to induce\nhim by her words to kill the bull. Joseph was urged so strongly that he\nconsented; but afterwards he was in great perplexity as to what he\nshould tell the king. So he put his cloak on a chair and pretended that\nit was the king, and said: \"Your Majesty's servant. Good morning,\nTruthful Joseph. How are the cows? Well and fat. How are the calves?\nWell and handsome. How is the bull? The same. But no; that will not do!\nI am telling a lie! When the king asks me how the bull is, I will tell\nhim that it is dead.\"\n\nHe presented himself to the king and said: \"Your Majesty's servant.\"\n\"Good morning, Truthful Joseph. How are the cows?\" \"Well and fat.\" \"How\nare the calves?\" \"Well and handsome.\" \"How is the bull?\" \"Your Majesty,\na lady came and with her manners made me kill the bull. Pardon me.\" The\nking answered: \"Bravo, Truthful Joseph!\" He summoned his courtiers and\nshowed them that Joseph had not yet told any lie. And so Joseph remained\nalways with the king, and the courtiers were duped, because they gained\nnothing that they had expected.[37]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nLEGENDS AND GHOST STORIES.\n\n\nThe Italian people possess an inexhaustible store of legends which they\nhave inherited from the Middle Ages. With the great mass of these\nstories--legends of the saints or local legends--we have at present\nnothing to do. It is enough to say that they do not differ materially\nfrom the legends of the other Catholic peoples of Europe. The class to\nwhich we shall devote our attention in this chapter is that of popular\nlegendary stories which have clustered around the person of our Lord and\nhis disciples, and around other favorite characters of mediaeval fancy,\nsuch as Pilate, The Wandering Jew, etc. To these may be added tales\nrelating to the other world and stories which are of a legendary nature.\nThe first stories which we shall mention are those referring to mythical\njourneys of our Lord and his apostles.\n\nThe first, \"St. Peter and the Robbers\" (Pitre, No. 121), relates that\nonce while the Master was journeying with the apostles they found\nthemselves at night out in the fields, and took shelter in a cabin\nbelonging to some shepherds, who received them very inhospitably and\ngave them nothing to eat. Soon after, a band of robbers attacked the\nflock and robbed the shepherds, who ran away. The robbers came to the\ncabin, and when they heard from the apostles how shabbily they had been\ntreated, gave them the supper that the shepherds had prepared for\nthemselves, and went their way. \"Blessed be the robbers!\" said St.\nPeter, \"for they treat the hungry poor better than the rich do.\"\n\"Blessed be the robbers!\" said the apostles, and ate their fill.\n\nThis story, as can easily be seen, is a tradition of the robbers who\npretend to have been blessed by Christ. St. Peter is the hero of several\nstories, in which he plays anything but a dignified role. In one (Pitre,\nNo. 122), he is sent to buy some wine, and allows himself to be\npersuaded by the wine merchant to eat some fennel-seed. After this he\ncannot distinguish between good and bad wine, and purchases an inferior\nkind. When the Master tasted it he said: \"Eh! Peter! Peter! you have let\nyourself be deceived.\"[J] Peter tasted it again and saw that it was\nsour. Another apostle was sent to get some good wine, and \"hence it is\nthat when you have to taste wine to see whether it is good, you must not\neat fennel-seed.\"\n\n[Footnote J: This story is an attempt to explain the origin of the word\n_'nfinucchiari_ (_infinocchiare_) to impose on one, by the word\n_finocchio_, fennel-seed.]\n\n\nL. THE LORD, ST. PETER, AND THE APOSTLES.\n\nOnce, while the Master was on a journey with the thirteen apostles, they\ncame to a village where there was no bread. The Master said: \"Peter, let\neach one of you carry a stone.\" They each took up a stone--St. Peter a\nlittle bit of a one. The others were all loaded down, but St. Peter went\nalong very easily. The Master said: \"Now let us go to another village.\nIf there is any bread there, we shall buy it; if there is none, I will\ngive you my blessing and the stones will become bread.\"\n\nThey went to another town, put the stones down, and rested. The Master\ngave them his blessing, and the stones became bread. St. Peter, who had\ncarried a little one, felt his heart grow faint. \"Master,\" he said, \"how\nam I going to eat?\" \"Eh! my brother, why did you carry a little stone?\nThe others, who loaded themselves down, have bread enough.\"\n\nThen they went on, and the Master made them each carry another stone.\nSt. Peter was cunning this time and took a large one and all the others\ncarried small ones. The Lord said to the others: \"Little ones, we will\nhave a laugh at Peter's expense.\" They arrived at another village, and\nall the apostles threw away their stones because there was bread there;\nand St. Peter was bent double, for he had carried a paving-stone with\nhim to no purpose.\n\nOn their journey they met a man; and as St. Peter was in advance of the\nothers, he said: \"The Lord is coming shortly; ask Him a favor for your\nsoul.\" The man drew near and said: \"Lord, my father is ill with old age.\nCure him, Master.\" The Lord said: \"Am I a physician? Do you know what\nyou must do? Put him in a hot oven and your father will become a boy\nagain.\" They did so, and his father became a little boy.\n\nThe idea pleased St. Peter, and when he found himself alone he went\nabout seeking to make some old men young. By chance there met him one\nwho was seeking the Master because his mother was at the point of death\nand he wanted her cured. St. Peter said: \"What do you want?\" \"I want the\nMaster, for I have an old mother who is very ill, and the Master alone\ncan cure her.\" \"Fortunately Peter is here! Do you know what you must do?\nHeat an oven and put her in it, and she will be cured.\" The poor man\nbelieved him, for he knew that the Lord loved St. Peter, so he went home\nand immediately put his mother in the hot oven. What more could you\nexpect? The old woman was burned to a coal. \"Ah! _santu di cca e di\ndda!_\"[K] cried the son; \"that scurvy fellow has made me kill my\nmother!\" He hastened to St. Peter. The Master was present, and when he\nheard the story could not control his laughter, and said: \"Ah, Peter!\nwhat have you done?\" St. Peter tried to excuse himself, but the poor man\nkept crying for his mother. What must the Master do? He had to go to the\nhouse of the dead, and with a blessing which he there pronounced he\nbrought the old woman to life again, a beautiful young girl, and\nrelieved St. Peter of his great embarrassment.\n\n[Footnote K: This is the strongest imprecation in Sicily.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe last anecdote is quite popular, and is found in a number of popular\nstories, as well as in the _Cento Novelle Antiche_[1]. A very amusing\nversion is from Venice (Widter-Wolf, No. 5), and is entitled:\n\n\nLI. THE LORD, ST. PETER, AND THE BLACKSMITH.\n\nIn a little town about as large as Sehio or Thiene once lived a\nmaster-smith,--a good, industrious, and skilful man, but so proud of his\nskill that he would not deign to reply to anyone who did not address him\nas \"Professor.\" This pride in a man otherwise so blameless gave\nuniversal dissatisfaction. One day our Lord appeared in the blacksmith's\nshop, accompanied by St. Peter, whom He was always in the habit of\ntaking with Him on such excursions. \"Professor,\" said the Lord, \"will\nyou be so good as to permit me to do a little work at your forge?\" \"Why\nnot? it is at your service,\" replied the flattered smith. \"What do you\nwish to make?\" \"That you will soon see,\" said the Lord, and took up a\npair of tongs, with which he seized Peter and held him in the forge\nuntil he was red-hot. Then he drew him out and hammered him on all\nsides, and in less than ten minutes the old bald-headed apostle was\nforged anew into a wonderfully handsome youth with beautiful hair. The\nblacksmith stood speechless with astonishment, while the Lord and St.\nPeter exchanged the most courteous thanks and compliments. Finally the\nmaster-smith recovered himself and ran straight up to the second story,\nwhere his sick old father lay in bed. \"Father,\" he cried, \"come quickly!\nI have just learned how to make a strong young man of you.\" \"My son,\nhave you lost your senses?\" said the old man, half terrified. \"No; only\nbelieve me. I have just seen it myself.\" Finding that the old man\nprotested against the attempt, his son seized him forcibly, carried him\nto the shop, and in spite of his shrieks and entreaties, thrust him into\nthe forge, but brought nothing out but a piece of charred leg, which\nfell to pieces at the first blow of the hammer. Then he was seized with\nanguish and remorse. He ran quickly in search of the two men, and\nfortunately found them in the market-place. \"Sir,\" he cried, \"what have\nyou done? You have misled me. I wanted to imitate your skill, and I have\nburned my father alive! Come with me quickly, and help me, if you can!\"\nThen the Lord smiled graciously, and said: \"Go home comforted. You will\nfind your father alive and well, but an old man again.\" And so he did\nfind him, to his great joy. From that time his pride disappeared, and\nwhenever any one called him \"Professor\" he would exclaim: \"Ah, what\nfolly that is! There are gentlemen in Venice and professors in Padua,\nbut I am a bungler.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe version in Knust is different. It is called \"A Journey of Our\nSaviour on Earth,\" and is, in substance, as follows: A father whose son\nis a gambler, makes him become a soldier. The son deserts during a\nstormy night and takes refuge in an inn. There he meets a man who seems\nacquainted with his whole life and whose name is Salvatore (Saviour). He\nknows that Peter has deserted and is pursued, but he will save him. To\ngain a livelihood, he proposes to him to travel together and heal the\nsick. An opportunity to do this is soon offered. A rich man is ill, and\nSalvatore promises to heal him in three days. He makes every one\nwithdraw, prepares a potion from herbs, and cures the patient. The\nrelatives of the rich man offer in their gratitude all manner of costly\nthings to Salvatore, who, however, accepts only enough to support life.\nSuch an unreasonable proceeding enrages his companion to such a degree\nthat he parts from him. He wishes to cure people independently, and\npromises a king to heal his sick daughter at once. But although he does\neverything exactly like Salvatore, the only effect of the potion is to\nkill the princess. As soon as the king learns this, he has Peter thrown\ninto prison. On his way there he meets Salvatore, who is ready to help\nhim at his request. The latter goes to the king and promises to raise\nhis daughter if he will release to him the prisoner. The king consents,\nbut threatens Salvatore with death in case of failure. The dead,\nhowever, comes to life, and in gratitude offers her hand, through her\nfather, to Salvatore, who declares that it is his vocation to wander\nover the earth. He asks that the maiden be given to his companion.[2]\n\nIn a story from Venice our Lord and St. Peter are hospitably received by\na poor woman who has no bed to offer them, but makes up one for them\nfrom some straw and five ells of linen which she has bought that day.\nWhen the Lord departs the next morning he bestows on the woman the power\nof doing all day the first thing she does in the morning. She begins by\ntaking the linen from the bed of her guests, and pulls off piece after\npiece of linen. A friend of hers learns this and determines to do the\nsame, but is punished by the Lord for her selfishness.[3]\n\n\nLII. IN THIS WORLD ONE WEEPS AND ANOTHER LAUGHS.\n\nOnce the Lord, while he was making the world, called one of the apostles\nand told him to look and see what the people were doing. The apostle\nlooked and said: \"How curious! the people are weeping.\" The Lord\nanswered: \"It is not the world yet!\" The next day he bade the apostle\nlook again and see what the people were doing. The apostle looked and\nsaw the people laughing, and said: \"The people are laughing.\" The Lord\nanswered: \"It is not the world yet.\" The third day he made him look\nagain, and the apostle saw that some were weeping, and some were\nlaughing, and said: \"Some of the people are weeping, and some are\nlaughing.\" The Lord said: \"Now it is the world, because in this world\none weeps and another laughs.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next legend accounts for the ass' long ears.\n\n\nLIII. THE ASS.\n\nIt is related that when the Lord created the world, he also made all the\nanimals, and gave each its name. He also created the ass, which said:\n\"Lord, what is my name?\" \"Your name is ass!\" The ass went away well\npleased. After a while it forgot its name, and went back to the Lord.\n\"Lord, what is my name?\" \"Ass!\" After a while it came back again.\n\"Excuse me, Lord, what is my name?\" \"Ass, ass!\" The ass turned and went\naway, but forgot it another time, and came back. \"Lord, I have forgotten\nmy name.\" The Lord could not stand it any longer, but seized its ears\nand pulled them sharply, exclaiming: \"Ass! Ass! Ass!\" The ears were\npulled so hard that they became long, and that is why the ass has long\nears, and why we pull a person's ears to keep him from forgetting a\nthing.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnother legend relates that when Christ was journeying through the world\nhe happened, dying with thirst, to enter a town. He saw a woman combing\nher hair, and said: \"Will you give me a drink of water? for I am dying\nof thirst.\" \"I am busy; it is not the time for water!\" Christ said at\nonce:\n\n    \"Cursed be the braid\n    That is braided Friday.\"\n\nAnd continued his journey. After a time he saw a woman making dough for\nbread. \"Good woman, will you give me a drink of water?\" \"As much as you\nwill!\" and went and drew some water and gave him. Christ said:\n\n    \"Blessed be the dough\n    That is kneaded on Friday.\"\n\nHence it is that certain women are accustomed not to comb their hair on\nFriday.\n\nThere is a satirical legend, called \"The Lord's Will,\" which relates\nthat when Christ came to leave the world, he was in doubt as to whom to\nleave all on the earth. If he left it to the gentlemen, what would the\nnobility do? if to the nobility, what would become of the gentry, and\nthe workmen, and the peasants? While He was reflecting, the noblemen\ncame and asked the Lord to give them everything, which he did. Then the\npriests came; and when they were told that everything had been given to\nthe nobility, \"Oh! the devil!\" they exclaimed. \"Then I leave you the\ndevil,\" said the Lord. To the monks, who, when they heard what had been\ndone, exclaimed, \"Patience!\" patience was left. The workmen cried: \"What\na fraud!\" and received that for their share. Finally the peasants came\nand said, with resignation: \"Let us do the will of God;\" and that was\ntheir portion. And this is the reason why in this world the noblemen\ncommand, the priests are helped by the devil, the monks are patient,\nworkmen fraudulent, and the peasants have to do many things they don't\nwant to, and are obliged to submit to the will of God.[4]\n\nSt. Peter's mother is the subject of a story which has given rise to a\nwide-spread proverb. She was, so runs the story, an avaricious woman,\nwho never was known to do good to any one. In fact, during her whole\nlife she never gave anything away, except the top of an onion to a\nbeggar woman. After her death St. Peter's mother went to hell, and the\nsaint begged our Lord to release her. In consideration of her one\ncharitable act, an angel was sent to draw her from hell with an\nonion-top. The other lost spirits clutched hold of her skirts, in order\nto escape with her, but the selfish woman tried to shake them off, and\nin her efforts to do so broke the onion-top, and fell back into hell.\nThis story has given rise to the saying, \"Like St. Peter's mamma,\" which\nis found, with slight variations, all over Italy.[5]\n\nA curious version of this story is given in Bernoni (_Leggende fant._\nNo. 8): After the onion-top was broken and St. Peter's mother had fallen\nback into hell, the story continues: \"Out of regard, however, for St.\nPeter, the Lord permitted her once a year, on St. Peter's day, to leave\nhell and wander about the earth a week; and, indeed, she does so every\nyear, and during this week she plays all sorts of pranks and causes\ngreat trouble.\"[6]\n\nSt. Peter's sisters are the subject of a story with a moral, contained\nin Schneller, p. 6.\n\n\nLIV. ST. PETER AND HIS SISTERS.\n\nSt. Peter had two sisters--one large, the other small. The little one\nentered a convent and became a nun. St. Peter was delighted at this and\ntried to persuade his big sister to become a nun also. She would not\nlisten to him, however, and said: \"I would rather marry.\" After St.\nPeter had suffered martyrdom, he became, as is well known, Porter of\nHeaven. One day the Lord said to him: \"Peter, open the gate of heaven\nto-day as wide as you can, and get out all the heavenly ornaments and\ndecorations, for to-day a very deserving soul is going to arrive here.\"\nSt. Peter did as he was told with great joy, and thought: \"Certainly my\nlittle sister is dead, and is coming to heaven to-day.\" When everything\nwas ready, there came the soul of ---- his big sister, who had died and\nleft many children, who bitterly lamented her loss. The Lord gave her an\nexalted place in heaven, much to the astonishment of St. Peter, who\nthought: \"I never should have imagined this; what shall I have to do\nwhen the soul of my little sister comes?\"\n\nNot long after, the Lord said to him: \"Peter, open the gate of heaven\nto-day a little way, but a very little,--do you hear?\" St. Peter did so\nand wondered: \"Who is coming to-day?\" Then came the soul of his little\nsister, and had so much trouble to squeeze through the gate that she\nhurt herself; and she received a much lower place in heaven than the big\nsister. At first St. Peter was amazed; afterwards he said: \"It has\nhappened differently from what I imagined; but I see now that every\nprofession has its merits, and every one, if he only wishes, can enter\nheaven.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe cycle of stories referring to our Lord would not be complete without\nlegends of Pilate, Judas, and the Wandering Jew. A powerful story is\ntold of the first in Pitre, No. 119, which is as follows:\n\n\nLV. PILATE.\n\nIt is said that the following once took place at Rome: A wagon loaded\nwith stones was crossing a solitary spot in the country when one of the\nwheels sank into the ground and it was impossible to extricate it for\nsome time. Finally they got it out, but there remained a large hole that\nopened into a dark room under ground. \"Who wishes to descend into this\nhole?\" \"I,\" said the carter. They soon procured a rope and lowered the\ncarter into the dark room. We will suppose that this carter's name was\nMaster Francis. Well, then, Master Francis, when he was let down, turned\nto the right and saw a door, which he opened, and found himself in\ndarkness that you could cut. He turned to the left, the same; he went\nforward, the same; he turned once more and when he opened the door what\ndid he see? He saw a man seated before a table; before him, pen, ink,\nand a written paper that he was reading; and when he finished it he\nbegan over again, and never raised his eyes from the paper. Master\nFrancis, who was of incomparable courage, went up to him and said: \"Who\nare you?\" The man made no answer, but continued to read. \"Who are you?\"\nsaid Master Francis again; but not a word. The third time, the man said:\n\"Turn around, open your shirt, and I will write who I am on your back.\nWhen you leave this place, go to the Pope and make him read who I am.\nRemember, however, that the Pope alone must read it.\" Master Francis\nturned about, opened his shirt, the man wrote on his back, and then sat\ndown again. Master Francis was courageous, it is true; but he was not\nmade of wood, and in that moment he was frightened to death. He fixed\nhis shirt and then asked: \"How long have you been here?\" but could get\nno answer from him. Seeing that it was time lost to question him, he\ngave the signal to those outside and was drawn up. When they saw him\nthey did not recognize him; he had grown entirely white and seemed like\nan old man of ninety. \"What was it? What happened?\" they all began to\nsay. \"Nothing, nothing,\" he replied; \"take me to the Pope, for I must\nconfess.\" Two of those who were present conducted him to the Pope. When\nhe was with him he related what had happened and taking off his shirt,\nsaid to him: \"Read, your Holiness!\" His Holiness read: \"I AM PILATE.\"\nAnd as he uttered these words the poor carter became a statue. And it is\nsaid that that man was Pilate, who was condemned to stay in a cave,\nalways reading the sentence that he had pronounced on Jesus Christ,\nwithout ever being able to take his eyes from the paper. This is the\nstory of Pilate who is neither saved nor damned.[7]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nJudas is believed to have hanged himself on a tamarind-tree, which,\nbefore that time, was a tall, beautiful tree. After Judas's death it\nbecame the diminutive, shapeless shrub called _vruca_, which is a\nsynonym for all that is worthless. The soul of the traitor is condemned\nto wander through the air, and every time it sees this shrub it pauses,\nand imagines it sees its miserable body dangling from it, the prey of\nbirds and dogs.[8] This popular legend is told in the following words:\n\n\nLVI. THE STORY OF JUDAS.\n\nYou must know that Judas was the one who betrayed Jesus Christ. Now when\nJudas betrayed him, his Master said: \"Repent, Judas, for I pardon you.\"\nBut Judas, not at all! he departed with his bag of money, in despair and\ncursing heaven and earth. What did he do? While he was going along thus\ndesperate he came across a tamarind-tree. (You must know that the\ntamarind was formerly a large tree, like the olive and walnut.) When he\nsaw this tamarind a wild thought entered his mind, remembering the\ntreason he had committed. He made a noose in a rope and hung himself to\nthe tamarind. And hence it is (because this traitor Judas was cursed by\nGod) that the tamarind-tree dried up, and from that time on it ceased\ngrowing up into a tree and became a short, twisted, and tangled bush;\nand its wood is good for nothing, neither to burn, nor to make anything\nout of, and all on account of Judas, who hanged himself on it.\n\nSome say that the soul of Judas went to the lowest hell, to suffer the\nmost painful torments; but I have heard, from older persons who can\nknow, that Judas's soul has a severer sentence. They say that it is in\nthe air, always wandering about the world, without being able to rise\nhigher or fall lower; and every day, on all the tamarind shrubs that it\nmeets, it sees its body hanging and torn by the dogs and birds of prey.\nThey say that the pain he suffers cannot be told, and that it makes the\nflesh creep to think of it. And thus Jesus Christ condemned him for his\ngreat treason.[9]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAn interesting legend (Pitre, No. 120) is told of the Jew who struck our\nLord with the palm of his hand (St. John xviii. 22), and whom the\npopular imagination has identified with the Malchus mentioned by St.\nJohn, xviii. 10. It is called\n\n\nLVII. DESPERATE MALCHUS.\n\nThis Malchus was one of those Jews who beat our Lord; a Jew more brutal\nthan can be told. When Christ was taken to Pilate's house, this Malchus,\nwith an iron glove, gave him a blow so heavy that it knocked out all his\nteeth. For the sacrilegious act, the Lord condemned him to walk\nconstantly, without ever resting, around a column in an underground\nroom. This column is in a round room, and Malchus walks and walks\nwithout ever having peace or rest. They say that he has walked so much\nthat he has worn the ground down many yards and made the column seem\nhigher than it was, for this Malchus has led this life ever since our\nLord's passion and death. It is said that this Malchus is desperate from\nhis remorse, and while he walks he beats the column, strikes his head\nagainst the wall, and rages and laments; but notwithstanding he does not\ndie, for the sentence of God is that he must live until the day of\njudgment.[10]\n\nThe same legend is found in Bernoni as follows:\n\n\nLVIII. MALCHUS AT THE COLUMN.\n\nMalchus was the head of the Jews who killed our Lord. The Lord pardoned\nthem all, and likewise the good thief, but he never pardoned Malchus,\nbecause it was he who gave the Madonna a blow. He is confined under a\nmountain, and condemned to walk around a column, without resting, as\nlong as the world lasts. Every time that he walks about the column he\ngives it a blow in memory of the blow he gave the mother of our Lord. He\nhas walked around the column so long that he has sunk into the ground.\nHe is now up to his neck. When he is under, head and all, the world will\ncome to an end, and God will then send him to the place prepared for\nhim. He asks all those who go to see him (for there are such) whether\nchildren are yet born; and when they say yes, he gives a deep sigh and\nresumes his walk, saying: \"The time is not yet!\" for before the world\ncomes to an end there will be no children born for seven years.[11]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis legend recalls the Wandering Jew, who is known in Sicilian\ntradition under the name of _Buttadeu_ (from _buttari_, to thrust away,\nand _deu_, God) or more commonly as \"The Jew who repulsed Jesus Christ.\"\nHe is reported to have appeared in Sicily, and the daughter of a certain\nAntonino Caseio, a peasant of Salaparuta, gives the following account of\nher father's encounter with _Buttadeu_:\n\n\nLIX. THE STORY OF BUTTADEU.\n\nIt was in the winter, and my good father was at Scalone, in the\nwarehouse, warming himself at the fire, when he saw a man enter, dressed\ndifferently from the people of that region, with breeches striped in\nyellow, red, and black, and his cap the same way. My good father was\nfrightened. \"Oh!\" he said, \"what is this person?\" \"Do not be afraid,\"\nthe man said. \"I am called _Buttadeu_.\" \"Oh!\" said my father, \"I have\nheard you mentioned. Be pleased to sit down a while and tell me\nsomething.\" \"I cannot sit, for I am condemned by my God always to walk.\"\nAnd while he was speaking he was always walking up and down and had no\nrest. Then he said: \"Listen. I am going away; I leave you, in memory of\nme, this, that you must say a _credo_ at the right hand of our Lord, and\nfive other _credos_ at his left, and a _salve regina_ to the Virgin, for\nthe grief I suffer on account of her son. I salute you.\" \"Farewell.\"\n\"Farewell, my name is _Buttadeu_.\"[12]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe have only a few legends of the saints to mention. Undoubtedly a large\nnumber are current among the people (Busk, pp. 196, 202, 203, 213-228,\ngives a good many), but they do not differ materially from the literary\nversions circulated by the Church. Those which we shall cite are purely\npopular and belong to the great mediaeval legend-cycle.\n\nThe first is the legend of \"Gregory on the Stone,\" which was so popular\nin the mediaeval epics. There are several Italian versions, but we select\nas the most complete the one in Gonzenbach, No. 85, called:\n\n\nLX. THE STORY OF CRIVOLIU.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a brother and sister who had neither father\nnor mother, and lived alone together. They loved each other so much that\nthey committed a sin which they should not have committed. When the time\ncame the sister gave birth to a boy, which the brother had secretly\nbaptized. Then he burnt into his shoulders a cross, with these words:\n\"Crivoliu, who is baptized; son of a brother and sister.\" After the\nchild was thus marked, he put it in a little box and threw it into the\nsea.\n\nNow it happened that a fisherman had just gone out to fish, and saw the\nbox floating on the waves. \"A ship must have sunk somewhere,\" he\nthought. \"I will get the box, perhaps there is something useful in it.\"\nSo he rowed after it and got it. When he opened it and saw the little\nchild in it, he had pity on the innocent child, took it home to his\nwife, and said: \"My dear wife, our youngest child is already old enough\nto wean; nurse in its place this poor innocent child.\" So his wife took\nlittle Crivoliu and nursed him, and loved him as though he were her own\nchild. The boy grew and thrived and became every day larger and\nstronger.\n\nThe fisherman's sons, however, were jealous because their parents loved\nthe little foundling as well as them, and when they played with Crivoliu\nand quarrelled, they called him a \"foundling.\" The boy's heart was\nsaddened by this and he went to his foster-parents and said: \"Dear\nparents, tell me, am I truly not your son?\" The fisherman's wife said:\n\"How should you not be my son? Have I not nursed you when you were a\nbaby?\" The fisherman forbade his children very strictly to call little\nCrivoliu a \"foundling.\"\n\nWhen the child was larger, the fisherman sent him to school with his\nsons. The children, when they were out of their father's hearing, began\nagain to mock little Crivoliu and to call him \"foundling,\" and the other\nchildren in the school did the same. Then Crivoliu went again to his\nfoster-parents and asked them if he was not their son. They persuaded\nhim out of it, however, and put him off until he was fourteen. Then he\ncould no longer stand being called \"foundling,\" and went to the\nfisherman and his wife, and said: \"Dear parents, I entreat you to tell\nme whether I am your child or not.\" Then the fisherman told him how he\nhad found him and what was written on his shoulders. \"Then I will go\nforth, and do penance for the sins of my parents,\" said Crivoliu. The\nfisherman's wife wept and lamented and would not let him go; but\nCrivoliu would not be detained and wandered out into the wide world.\n\nAfter he had wandered about a long time, he came one day to a lonely\nplace where there was only an inn. He asked the hostess: \"Tell me, good\nwoman, is there a cave near by, to which you alone know the entrance?\"\nShe answered: \"Yes, my handsome youth, I know such a cave and will take\nyou to it willingly.\" Then Crivoliu took two _grani's_ worth of bread\nand a little pitcher of water with him and had the hostess show him the\ncave. It was some distance from the inn, and the entrance was so covered\nwith thorns and bushes that he could scarcely penetrate into the cave.\nHe sent the hostess back, crept into the cave, put the bread and water\non the ground, knelt with folded arms, and so did penance for the sins\nof his parents.\n\nMany, many years passed, I know not how many, but so many, that his\nknees took root and he grew fast to the ground.\n\nNow it happened that the Pope died at Rome, and a new one was to be\nchosen. The cardinals all assembled, and a white dove was let loose: for\nhe on whom it should alight was to be Pope. The white dove made several\ncircles in the air, but alighted on no one. Then all the archbishops and\nbishops were summoned, and the dove was again let loose, but it did not\nsettle on any one. Then all the priests and monks and hermits were\ncollected, but the white dove would not choose any of them. The people\nwere in great despair, and the cardinals had to wander forth and search\nthe whole country to see whether another hermit was yet to be found, and\na crowd of people accompanied them.\n\nAt last they came to the inn in the lonely neighborhood, and asked the\nhostess whether she knew of any hermit or penitent who was yet unknown\nto the world. The hostess answered: \"Many years ago a sorrowful youth\ncame here and made me conduct him to a cave to do penance. He is surely\ndead long ago, for he took with him only two _grani's_ worth of bread\nand a pitcher of water.\" The cardinals said: \"We will look, however, and\nsee whether he is still alive; take us to him.\" Then the hostess\nconducted them to the cave; the entrance was scarcely to be recognized,\nso overgrown was it with brambles, and before they could enter the\nattendants had to cut away the brambles and bushes with axes. After they\nhad forced their way in, they saw Crivoliu kneeling in the cave, with\ncrossed arms, and his beard had grown so long that it touched the\nground, and before him lay the bread, and by it the pitcher of water;\nfor in all those years he had not eaten or drunken. When they let the\nwhite dove loose now, it flew about in a circle for a moment and then\nalighted on the head of the penitent. Then the cardinals perceived that\nhe was a saint, and begged him to come with them and be their Pope. As\nthey were going to raise him up, they noticed that his knees had grown\nfast, and they had to cut the roots. Then they took him to Rome with\nthem and he was made Pope.\n\nNow it happened that at the same time the sister said to her brother:\n\"Dear brother, when we were young, we committed a sin that we have not\nyet confessed, for the Pope alone can absolve us from it. Let us go,\nthen, to Rome, before death overtakes us, and confess there our sin.\" So\nthey started on their journey to Rome, and when they arrived there they\nentered the church where the Pope sat in the confessional.\n\nWhen they had confessed in a loud voice, for one always confesses openly\nto the Pope, the Pope said: \"Behold, I am your son, for on my shoulder\nis the mark you speak of. I have done penance many years for your sin,\nuntil it has been forgiven you. I absolve you, therefore, from your sin,\nand you shall stay with me and live in comfort.\" So they remained with\nhim, and when their time came, the Lord called them all three to his\nkingdom.[13]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAn important episode of the original legend is omitted in the above\nversion, but preserved in those in Pitre (No. 117) and Knust (No. 7).\nThe youth after discovering his origin sets out on his wanderings and\ncomes by chance to the country where his mother is living. They meet\nand, not knowing their relation, marry. In the Sicilian story this\nrelationship is disclosed the day of the marriage by the son showing his\nmother the box in which he was exposed as a child. In the version of\nKnust (from Leghorn), the child leaves his foster-father and goes in\nsearch of his parents. He encounters them without knowing it of course,\nand they, supposing him to be a beggar boy, give him shelter and care\nfor him until he has grown up. Then he marries his mother, who\nrecognizes him by a lock of red hair. At the conclusion of the story,\nafter the Pope has heard the confession of his parents he reveals\nhimself, they all three embrace, and die thus united. The story adds,\n\"their tomb is still preserved in St. Peter's at Rome.\"\n\nAnother Pope, Silvester I, is the subject of a legend in Pitre (No. 118)\nwhich contains the well-known myth of Constantine's leprosy healed by\nhis baptism at the hands of St. Silvester.\n\nOf greater interest is a legend of St. James the Elder, the patron-saint\nof Spain, a pilgrimage to whose shrine at Santiago in Galicia was so\npopular during the Middle Ages. The only popular version which we have\nfound is in a Sicilian story in Gonzenbach, No. 90.\n\n\nLXI. THE STORY OF ST. JAMES OF GALICIA.\n\nThere was once a king and queen who had no children, and who longed to\nhave a son or daughter. The queen prayed to St. James of Galicia, and\nsaid: \"O St. James! if you will grant me a son, he shall make a\npilgrimage to your shrine when he is eighteen years old.\" After a time\nthe queen had, through the favor of God and the saint, a beautiful boy\nwho was as handsome as if God had made him. The child grew rapidly and\nbecame larger and fairer every day. When he was twelve years old, the\nking died, and the queen remained alone with this son, whom she loved as\ndearly as her eyes. Many years passed and the time drew near when the\nprince should be eighteen. When the queen thought that she must soon\npart from him to send him alone on the long pilgrimage, she became very\nsorrowful and wept and sighed the whole day.\n\nOne day the prince said to her: \"Mother, why do you sigh all day?\" \"It\nis nothing, my son, only some cares of mine,\" she answered. \"What are\nyou concerned about?\" asked he. \"Are you afraid that your farms in the\nPlain (of Catania) are badly tilled? Let me go and look after them and\nbring you news of them.\" The queen consented and the prince rode to the\nPlain, to the property that belonged to them. He found everything in\ngood order, and returned to his mother and said: \"Dear mother, rejoice,\nand cease your care, for everything is going well on your property; the\ncattle are thriving; the fields are tilled, and the grain will soon be\nripe.\" \"Very well, my son,\" answered the queen, but she was not\ncheerful, and the next day began to sigh and weep again. Then the prince\nsaid to her: \"Dear mother, if you do not tell me why you are so sad, I\nwill depart, and wander out in the wide world.\" The queen answered: \"Ah,\nmy dear son, I am sad because you must now part from me. For before you\nwere born, when I longed for you so much, I vowed to St. James of\nGalicia, that if he would grant you to me, you should make a pilgrimage\nto his shrine when you were eighteen years old. And now you will soon be\neighteen, and I am sad because you must wander away alone, and be gone\nso many years; for to reach the saint, one must journey a whole year.\"\n\"Is it nothing but that, dear mother?\" asked her son. \"Be not so\nsorrowful. Only the dead return not. If I live, I will soon come back to\nyou.\"\n\nSo he comforted his mother, and when he was eighteen he took leave of\nthe queen, and said: \"Now farewell, dear mother, and, God willing, we\nshall meet again.\" The queen wept bitterly, and embraced him with many\ntears; then she gave him three apples, and said: \"My son, take these\nthree apples and give heed to my words. You shall not make the long\njourney alone. When, however, a youth joins you and wishes to accompany\nyou, take him with you to the inn, and let him eat with you. After the\nmeal cut an apple in two halves, one large and the other small, and\noffer them to the young man. If he takes the larger half, part from him,\nfor he will be no true friend to you; but if he takes the smaller half,\nregard him as your brother, and share everything that you have with\nhim.\" After these words she embraced her son and blessed him, and the\nprince departed.\n\nHe had already travelled a long time, and no one had met him. One day,\nhowever, he saw a youth coming along the road who joined him and asked:\n\"Where are you going, handsome youth?\" \"I am making a pilgrimage to St.\nJames of Galicia;\" and he told him of his mother's vow. \"I must go\nthere, too,\" said the other, \"for the same thing happened to my mother\nas to yours; if we have the same journey to make, we can make it\ntogether.\" They continued their journey together, but the prince was not\nconfidential towards his companion, for he thought: \"I must first make\nthe trial with the apple.\"\n\nAs they were passing an inn, the prince said: \"I am hungry: shall we not\nhave something to eat?\" The other was willing, so they went in and ate\ntogether. After they had eaten, the prince took out the apple, cut it in\ntwo unequal halves, and offered them to the other, who took the larger\nhalf. \"You are no true friend,\" thought the prince; and to get rid of\nhim, he pretended to be ill, and obliged to remain there. The other\nsaid: \"I cannot wait for you, for I have far to go yet; so farewell.\"\n\"Farewell,\" said the prince, and was glad to be rid of him.\n\nWhen he continued his journey again, he thought: \"Ah, if God would only\nsend me a true friend, so that I should not have to travel alone!\"\n\nNot long after, another youth joined him and asked: \"Handsome young man,\nwhere are you going?\" The prince answered him as he had done before, and\neverything happened the same as with the first young man. After the\nprince had got rid of him he resumed his journey and thought: \"O God,\nlet me find a true friend who shall be to me a brother on the long\njourney!\" While he was uttering this prayer he saw a youth coming along\nthe way, who was a handsome lad, and appeared so friendly that he liked\nhim at once, and thought: \"Ah, may this be the true friend!\" The youth\njoined him, and everything passed as before, except that this time the\nyouth took the smaller half of the apple, and the prince rejoiced that\nhe had found a true friend. \"Fair youth,\" said he to him, \"we must\nconsider ourselves as brothers now; what is mine shall be yours also,\nand what is yours, shall be mine. We will travel together, until we come\nto the shrine of the saint; and if one of us dies on the way, the other\nmust carry his body there. We will both promise this.\" They did so, and\nregarded each other as brothers, and continued their journey together.\n\nTo reach the shrine of the saint requires a whole year; imagine, then,\nhow long the two must travel. One day when they came, weary and\nexhausted, to a large, beautiful city, they said: \"We will stay here and\nrest a few days, and afterwards continue our journey.\" So they took a\nsmall house, and dwelt in it. Now opposite it was the royal palace, and\none morning as the king was standing on the balcony, he saw the two\nhandsome youths, and thought: \"Oh! how handsome these two youths are!\none is, however, much handsomer than the other. I will give him my\ndaughter in marriage.\" Now the prince was the handsomer of the two. In\norder to attain his aim, the king invited them both to dinner, and when\nthey came to the palace received them in a very friendly manner and had\nhis daughter called, who was more beautiful than the sun and moon. When\nthey retired for the night, the king had a poisonous drink given to the\nprince's companion, who fell down dead; for the king thought: \"If his\nfriend dies, the other will remain here willingly, and think no more of\nhis pilgrimage, but marry my daughter.\"\n\nThe next morning, when the prince awoke, he asked: \"Where is my friend?\"\n\"He died suddenly last night, and is to be buried at once,\" answered the\nservants. The prince said: \"If my friend is dead, I cannot remain here\nlonger, but must depart this very hour.\" \"Ah! do remain here,\" begged\nthe king. \"I will give you my daughter for your wife.\" \"No,\" said the\nprince, \"I cannot stay here. If you will grant me a wish, give me a\nhorse, and let me depart in peace; and when I have completed my\npilgrimage, I will return and marry your daughter.\" The king then gave\nhim a horse, which the prince mounted, and took his dead friend before\nhim on the saddle, and thus completed his journey. The young man,\nhowever, was not dead, but lay only in a deep sleep.\n\nWhen the prince reached the shrine of St. James of Galicia, he\ndismounted, took his friend in his arms like a child, and entered the\nchurch and laid the body on the steps of the altar before the saint, and\nprayed: \"O St. James of Galicia! behold, I have kept my vow. I have come\nto you and have brought you my friend, also. I confide him now to you;\nif you will restore him to life, we will laud your mercy; but if he is\nnot to come to life again, he has at least kept his vow.\" And behold,\nwhile he was still praying, his dead friend rose, and became again alive\nand well. Both thanked the saint, and gave him costly presents, and then\nstarted on their journey home.\n\nWhen they reached the city where the king lived, they occupied again the\nlittle house opposite the royal palace. The king was greatly rejoiced to\nsee the handsome prince there again, and much handsomer than before; he\narranged great festivities, and had a splendid marriage celebrated, and\nthus the prince married the fair princess. After the wedding they\nremained several months with her father, and then the prince said: \"My\nmother is expecting me at home with great anxiety; therefore I cannot\nstay longer here, but will return to my mother with my wife and my\nfriend.\" The king consented and they prepared for the journey.\n\nNow the king had a deadly hatred against the poor, innocent youth, to\nwhom he had before given the fatal drink, and who had nevertheless\nreturned alive, and in order to cause him sorrow, he sent him in great\nhaste on the morning of the departure into the country with an errand.\n\"Hasten,\" he said. \"Your friend will not start until you return.\" The\nyouth hastened away, without taking leave, and performed the king's\nerrand. The king, meanwhile, said to the prince: \"Hasten your departure,\notherwise you cannot reach your quarters for the night before evening.\"\n\"I cannot depart without my friend,\" answered the prince. The king,\nhowever, said: \"Set out on your journey; he will be here within an hour,\nand will soon overtake you on his swift horse.\" The prince allowed\nhimself to be persuaded, took leave of his father-in-law, and departed\nwith his wife. The poor friend could not fulfil the king's commission\nbefore several hours, and when he finally returned, the king said to\nhim: \"Your friend is already far from here; see how you can overtake\nhim.\"\n\nSo the poor youth had to leave the palace, and did not even receive a\nhorse, and began to run, and ran day and night until he overtook the\nprince. From his great exertions, however, he contracted leprosy, so\nthat he looked ill, wretched, and dreadful. The prince, nevertheless,\nreceived him in a friendly manner and cared for him like a brother.\n\nThey finally reached home, where the queen had awaited her son with\ngreat anxiety, and now embraced him with perfect joy. The prince had a\nbed prepared at once for his sick friend and summoned all the physicians\nof the town and state, but no one could help him. When the poor youth\ngrew no better the prince addressed himself to St. James of Galicia and\nsaid: \"O St. James of Galicia! you raised my friend from the dead; help\nhim now this time also, and let him recover from his leprosy.\" While he\nwas praying, a servant entered and said: \"A strange physician is\nwithout, who will make the poor youth well again.\" This physician was\nSt. James of Galicia himself, who had heard the prayer of the prince and\nhad come to help his friend. You must know now that the prince's wife\nhad had a little girl who was a pretty, lovely child.\n\nWhen the saint approached the bed of the sick youth, he first examined\nhim, and then said to the prince: \"Do you really wish to see your friend\nwell again at any price?\" \"At any price,\" answered the prince; \"only\ntell me what can help him.\" \"This evening, take your child,\" said the\nsaint, \"open all her veins, and anoint with her blood your friend's\nwounds, and he will be healed at once.\"\n\nThe prince was horrified when he heard that he himself must kill his\ndear little daughter, but he answered: \"I have promised my friend to\ntreat him like my brother; and if there is no other remedy, I will\nsacrifice my child.\"\n\nAt evening he took the child and opened her veins and anointed with the\nblood the sores of the sick youth, who was at once cleansed from his\nfoul leprosy. The child became pale and weak, and looked as if it were\ndead. Then they laid it in its cradle and the poor parents were deeply\ngrieved, for they believed they had lost their child.\n\nThe next morning the physician came and asked after the patient. \"He is\nwell and sound,\" answered the prince. \"And where have you put your\nchild?\" asked the saint. \"There it lies dead in its cradle,\" said the\npoor father, sadly. \"Just look at her once and see how she is,\" said the\nsaint; and when they hastened to the cradle, they saw the child in it\nalive and well again. Then the saint said: \"I am St. James of Galicia,\nand have come to help you, because I have seen what true friendship you\nhave displayed. Continue to love one another, and when you are in\ntrouble turn to me and I will come to your aid.\" With these words he\nblessed them and disappeared from their sight. They lived piously and\ndid much good to the poor, and were happy and contented.[14]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are several interesting legends found only in Gonzenbach's\ncollection. They can be mentioned but briefly here. The first (No. 87)\nis entitled: \"The Story of St. Oniria or Neria.\" Two huntsmen lost their\nway in a wood and found at night a hut in which was a table set for\nsupper, and a fire which emitted a heavenly odor. They examined it and\nfound in the coals a heart, which they took with them when they\ndeparted, the next morning. After they had travelled a while, they\nstopped at an inn, and the pious and virtuous daughter of the innkeeper\nwaited on them, and noticed the odor which came from the jacket that one\nof the huntsmen had laid aside on account of the heat. In the pocket she\nfound the heart, which she kept for a time on a table in her room. One\nday she was seized with a great longing to eat it. She did so, and it\nsoon was evident that she was about to become a mother. Her father\ntreated her cruelly, for the shame she was going to bring on the\nfamily, but her godmother interfered, and one night had a strange dream.\nThere appeared to her a saint, who said: \"I am St. Oniria, and was\nconsumed by fire. Only my heart was left, so that I might be born again.\nThis heart the host's daughter has eaten, and she will, in due time,\ngive birth to me.\" The child was born as predicted, and grew handsomer\nevery day. The grandfather, however, could not endure him, and\nill-treated him as well as his mother.\n\nOne day, when the child was five years old, the grandfather took him to\nthe city. On the way they passed a place where there was much filth, and\nthe child said to his grandfather: \"I wish you might wallow in it.\"\nAfterwards they saw a poor man being carried to the grave on a ladder,\nwithout any coffin. The child here wished that his grandfather, when he\ndied, might be like this one. Next they met the long funeral procession\nof a rich man, and the child wished that his grandfather might not be\nlike this rich man. The grandfather, of course, in each case was very\nangry, and was only restrained from beating the child by the mother's\ngodfather, who had accompanied them.\n\nAfter they had finished their business in the city they set out for\nhome; and when they came to the spot where they had met the rich man's\nfuneral procession, the child made his grandfather put his ear to the\nground, when he heard a great noise, as if of iron pestles and\nlamentations. The child explained that what he heard were the devils\ntormenting the rich man's soul. When they came where they had seen the\npoor man on the ladder, the grandfather listened again and heard the\nrejoicings of the angels on receiving the poor man's soul.\n\nWhen they came to the place where the filth was, the child made his\ngrandfather dig and find a pot of money which he told him to use better\nthan he had done his own. The child then said he was St. Oniria,\nexculpated his mother, and said his grandfather would see him again when\nthe dead spoke with the living. Then he was taken up into heaven.\n\nYears after, two men spent the night in the inn, and one murdered the\nother and hid the body under the straw, where it was afterwards found by\nother travellers, and the innkeeper accused of the murder. He was\ncondemned and was on the scaffold when a beautiful youth came riding in\nhot haste, crying: \"Pardon!\" The youth led the people into the church,\nbefore the coffin of the murdered man, and cried: \"Rise, dead one, and\nspeak with the living, and tell us who murdered you.\" The dead man\nreplied: \"The innkeeper is innocent; my treacherous companion killed\nme.\" Then the youth accompanied the innkeeper home, revealed himself as\nSt. Oniria, blessed them, and disappeared.[15]\n\nAnother legend (No. 92), \"The Story of the Hermit,\" has as its subject\nthe mystery of God's Providence, and is familiar to English readers in\nthe form of Parnell's Hermit. The substance of the Sicilian version is\nas follows: A hermit sees a man wrongfully accused of theft and\nshockingly maltreated. He thereupon concludes that God is unjust to\nsuffer such things, and determines to return to the world. On his way\nback a handsome youth meets him and they journey together. A muleteer\nallows them to ride his beasts, and in return the youth abstracts the\nmuleteer's money from his wallet and drops it in the road. A woman who\nkeeps an inn receives them hospitably, and on leaving the next morning,\nthe youth strangles her child in the cradle. All at once the youth\nbecomes a shining angel, and says to the hermit: \"Listen to me, O man\nwho has been bold enough to murmur against God's decrees;\" and then\nexplains that the person who had been wrongfully accused of theft had\nyears before murdered his father on that very spot; the muleteer's money\nwas stolen money, and the child of the hostess, had it lived, would have\nbecome a robber and murderer. Then the angel says: \"Now you see that\nGod's justice is more far-sighted than man's. Return, then, to your\nhermitage, and repent if so be that your murmuring be forgiven you.\" The\nangel disappears and the hermit returns to his mountain, does severer\npenance, and dies a saint.[16]\n\nThe legend in Gonzenbach (No. 91) entitled \"Joseph the Just\" is nothing\nbut the story of Joseph and his Brethren, taken from the Bible. In the\nSicilian version Joseph has only three brothers; otherwise the story\nfollows the account in Genesis very closely. Another legend in the same\ncollection (No. 89), \"The Story of Tobia and Tobiola,\" is the story of\nTobit and Tobias, taken from the apocryphal book of Tobit. The Sicilian\nstory differs in the names only.\n\nThere are several other Sicilian legends the heroes of which are pious,\nsimple youths, the religious counterparts of Giufa. One (Pitre, No.\n112), called \"The Poor Boy,\" tells the story of a simple youth who asked\nthe priest the way to paradise, and was told he must follow the strait\nand narrow way. He took the first one he came to, and reached a convent\nchurch during a festival, and imagined he had reached paradise. He was\nfound in the church when all had departed; but he persisted in\nremaining, and the superior sent him a bowl of soup, which he put on the\naltar; and when he was alone he began to converse confidentially with\nthe Lord on the crucifix, and said: \"Lord, who put you on the cross?\"\n\"Your sins!\" and so the Lord responded to all his questions. The youth,\nin tears, promised he would sin no more, and invited the Lord to descend\nand partake of his repast with him. The Lord did so, and commanded him\nto tell the monks in the convent that they would be damned unless they\nsold all their property and bestowed it on the poor. If they would do so\nand come and confess to the Lord himself, he would hear their confession\nand give them the communion, and when it was finished they would all\ndie, one after the other, and enter the glory of paradise. The poor\nyouth went to the superior and gave him the Lord's message. The superior\nsold the property of the convent, and everything turned out as the Lord\nhad said. The monks all confessed and died, and all who were present or\nheard of the event were converted and died in the grace of God.[17]\n\nThis legend leads quite naturally to another, in which intercourse with\nthe other world is represented as still occasionally permitted to\nmortals. It is found only in Sicily, having, curiously enough, parallels\nin the rest of Europe, but none in Italy. It is called:\n\n\nLXII. THE BAKER'S APPRENTICE.\n\nThere was once a baker who every morning loaded an ounceworth of bread\non a horse that came to his shop. One day he said: \"I give this\nounceworth of bread to this horse and he renders me no account of it.\"\nThen he said to his apprentice: \"Vincenzo, the horse will come to-morrow\nand I will give him the bread, but you must follow him and see where he\ngoes.\" The next day the horse came and the baker loaded him, and gave\nthe apprentice a piece of bread for himself. Vincenzo followed the\nhorse, and after a while came to a river of milk, and began to eat bread\nand milk, and could not overtake the horse again. He then returned to\nhis master, who, seeing him return to no purpose, said: \"To-morrow the\nhorse will come again; if you cannot tell me where he goes I will no\nlonger have you for my apprentice.\" The next day the apprentice followed\nthe horse again, and came to a river of wine, and began to eat bread and\nwine, and lost sight of the horse. He returned to his master in despair\nat having lost the horse. His master said: \"Listen. The first time, one\npardons; the second time, one condones; the third time, one beats. If\nto-morrow you do not follow the horse I will give you a good thrashing\nand send you home.\" What did poor Vincenzo do? He followed the horse the\nnext day with his eyes open. After a while he came to a river of oil.\n\"What shall I do? the horse will get away from me now!\" So he tied the\nhorse's reins to his girdle and began to eat bread and oil. The horse\npulled, but Vincenzo said: \"When I finish the bread I will come.\" When\nhe had finished the bread he followed the horse, and after a time he\ncame to a cattle-farm where the grass was long and thick and the cattle\nso thin that they could scarcely stand on their feet. Vincenzo was\nastonished at seeing the grass so long and the cattle so lean. Then he\ncame to another farm, and saw that the grass was dry and short, and the\ncattle fatter than you can believe. He said to himself: \"Just see!\nThere, where the grass was long, the cattle were lean; here, where you\ncan hardly see the grass, the cattle are so fat!\" The horse kept on, and\nVincenzo after him. After a while he met a sow with her tail full of\nlarge knots, and wondered why she had such a tail. Farther on he came to\na watering-trough, where there was a toad trying to reach a crumb of\nbread, and could not. Vincenzo continued his way, and arrived at a large\ngate. The horse knocked at the gate with his head, and the door opened\nand a beautiful lady appeared, who said she was the Madonna. When she\nsaw the youth she asked: \"And what are you here for?\" Vincenzo replied:\n\"This horse comes constantly to my master's to get an ounceworth of\nbread, and my master never has been able to find out where he carries\nit.\" \"Very well; enter,\" said the lady; \"I will show you where he\ncarries it.\" Then the lady began to call all the souls in purgatory: \"My\nchildren, come hither!\" The souls then descended; and to some she gave\nthe worth of a _grano_ of bread, to some the worth of a _baiocco_, and\nto others the worth of five _grani_, and the bread was gone in a moment.\nWhen the bread had disappeared, the lady said to Vincenzo: \"Did you see\nnothing on your way?\" \"Yes, lady. The first day that my master sent me\nto see where the horse went, I saw a river of milk.\" The lady said:\n\"That is the milk I gave my son.\" \"The second day I saw a river of\nwine.\" \"That,\" said the lady, \"is the wine with which my son was\nconsecrated.\" \"The third day I saw a river of oil.\" \"That is the oil\nthat they ask of me and of my son. What else did you see the third day?\"\n\"I saw,\" answered Vincenzo, \"a farm with cattle. There was plenty of\ngrass, but the cattle were lean. Afterwards I saw another farm, where\nyou could scarcely see the grass, and the cattle were fine and fat.\"\n\"These, my son, are the rich, who are in the midst of wealth; and no\nmatter how much they eat, it does no good; and the fat ones, that have\nno grass to eat, are the poor, for my son supports and fattens them.\nWhat else did you see?\" \"I saw a sow with her tail full of knots.\"\n\"That, my son, is those who repeat their rosaries and do not offer their\nprayers to me or to my son; and my son makes knots in them.\" \"I also saw\na watering-trough, with a toad that was reaching after a crumb of bread,\nand could not get it.\" She said: \"A poor person asked a woman for a bit\nof bread, and she gave his hand such a blow that she made him drop it.\nAnd what else did you see, my son?\" \"Nothing, lady.\" \"Then come with me,\nand I will show you something else.\" She took him by the hand and led\nhim into hell. When the poor youth heard the clanking of chains and saw\nthe darkness, he came near dying, and wanted to get out. \"You see,\" said\nthe lady, \"those who are lamenting and in chains and darkness are those\nwho are in mortal sin. Now come, and I will take you to purgatory.\"\nThere they heard nothing, and the darkness was so great that they could\nsee nothing. Vincenzo wished to depart, for he felt oppressed by\nanguish. \"Now,\" said the lady, \"I will take you to the church of the\nHoly Fathers. Do you see it, my son? This is the church of the Holy\nFathers, which first was full and now is empty. Come; now I will take\nyou to limbo. Do you see these little ones? These are those who died\nunbaptized.\" The lady wished to show him paradise; but he was too\nconfused, so the lady made him look through a window. \"Do you see this\ngreat palace? There are three seats there; one for you, one for your\nmaster, and one for your mistress.\" After this she took him to the gate.\nThe horse was no longer there. \"Now,\" said Vincenzo, \"how shall I find\nmy way back? I will follow the tracks of the horse, and so will get\nhome.\" The lady answered: \"Close your eyes!\" Vincenzo closed his eyes,\nand found himself behind his master's door. When he entered he told all\nthat had occurred to his master and mistress. When he had finished his\nstory all three died and went to paradise.[18]\n\nThe most famous story of the class we are now considering is, however,\nthe one best known by its French title, \"_Bonhomme Misere._\" The French\nversion was popular as a chap-book as early as 1719, running through\nfifteen editions from that date. The editor of the reprint referred to\nin the note, as well as Grimm (II. 451), believed the story to be of\nItalian origin and that the original would some day be discovered.[19]\nThis has proved to be the case, and we have now before us a number of\nversions. These may be divided into two classes: one independent, the\nother constituting a part only of some other story. The latter class is\ngenerally connected with the cycle of our Lord's journeys upon earth,\nand is represented by \"The Master Thief\" and \"Brother Lustig\" in\nGermany, and \"Beppo Pipetta\" from Venice. The Sicilian versions which we\nshall mention first, although independent stories, are connected with\nthe cycle of our Lord's journeys upon earth. We give first two versions\nfrom Pitre (Nos. 124, 125).\n\n\nLXIII. OCCASION.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a father and a mother who had a little boy.\nThey died and the child was left in the street. One of the neighbors had\npity upon him and took him in. The boy throve well and when he had grown\nup the one who had sheltered him said: \"Come now, Occasion (for this was\nthe boy's name), you are a man; why do you not think about supporting\nyourself and relieving us from that care?\" So the lad made up a bundle\nand departed. He journeyed and journeyed until his clothes were worn out\nand he was almost dead from hunger. One day he saw an inn and entered\nit, and said to the innkeeper: \"Do you want me for a servant? I wish\nonly a piece of bread for my wages.\" The host said to his wife: \"What do\nyou say, Rosella? We have no children; shall we take this lad?\" \"Yes;\"\nand so they took him.\n\nThe boy was very attentive and did willingly whatever was commanded him,\nand at last his master and mistress, who had grown to love him like a\nson, went before the judge and adopted him.\n\nTime passed and the innkeeper and his wife died and left all their\nproperty to the young man, who, when he saw himself in possession of it,\nmade known: \"That whoever should come to Occasion's inn could have food\nfor nothing.\" You can imagine the people that went there!\n\nNow the Master and his apostles happened once to pass that way, and when\nSt. Thomas read this announcement he said: \"Unless I see and touch with\nmy hands I shall not believe it. Let us go to this inn.\" They went there\nand ate and drank and Occasion treated them like gentlemen. Before\nleaving St. Thomas said: \"Occasion, why don't you ask a favor of the\nMaster?\" Then Occasion said: \"Master, I have before my door this\nfig-tree, and the children do not let me eat one of the figs. Whoever\ngoes by climbs up and pulls off some. Now I would like this favor, that\nwhen any one climbs this tree, he must stay there until I permit him to\ncome down.\" \"Your request is granted,\" said the Lord, and blessed the\ntree.\n\nIt was a fine thing! The first who climbed up for figs stuck fast to the\ntree without being able to move; another came, the same thing; and so\non; all stuck fast, one by the hand, another by the foot, another by the\nhead. When Occasion saw them he gave them a sound scolding and let them\ngo. The children were frightened and touched the figs no more.\n\nYears passed and Occasion's money was coming to an end; so he called a\ncarpenter and told him to cut up the fig-tree and make him a bottle out\nof it. This bottle had the property that Occasion could shut up in it\nwhoever he wished. One day Death went to fetch him, for Occasion was now\nvery old. Occasion said: \"At your service; we will go. But see here,\nDeath, first do me a favor. I have this bottle of wine, and there is a\nfly in it, and I don't like to drink from it; just go in there and take\nit out for me, and then we will go.\" Death very foolishly entered the\nbottle, when Occasion corked it and put it in his wallet, saying: \"Stay\na bit with me.\"\n\nWhile Death was shut up no one died; and everywhere you might see old\nmen with such long white beards that it was a sight. The apostles,\nseeing this, went to the Master about it several times, and at last he\nvisited Occasion. \"What is this? Here you have kept Death shut up so\nmany years, and the people are falling down from old age without dying!\"\n\"Master,\" said Occasion, \"do you want me to let Death out? If you will\ngive me a place in paradise, I will let him out.\" The Lord thought:\n\"What shall I do? If I don't grant him this favor, he will not leave me\nin peace.\" So he said: \"Your request is granted!\" At these words Death\nwas set at liberty; Occasion was permitted to live a few years longer,\nand then Death took him. Hence it is \"That there is no death without\nOccasion.\"\n\n\nLXIV. BROTHER GIOVANNONE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a convent at Casteltermini which contained\nmany monks, one of whom was named Brother Giovannone. At the time when\nthe Lord and all his apostles were on their travels they visited this\nconvent, and all the monks asked the Lord to pardon their souls; Brother\nGiovannone asked nothing. St. Peter said to him: \"Why do you not ask\npardon for your soul, like the others?\" \"I don't wish anything.\" St.\nPeter said: \"Nothing? When you come to paradise we will talk about it.\"\nWhen the Master had taken his departure and had gone some distance,\nBrother Giovannone began to cry out: \"Master, Master, wait! I want a\nfavor, and it is that any one I command must get into my pouch.\" The\nMaster said: \"This request is granted.\"\n\nBrother Giovannone was old and one day Death came and said to him:\n\"Giovannone, you have three hours to live!\" Brother Giovannone replied:\n\"When you come for me you must let me know half an hour before.\" After a\nwhile Death came and said: \"You are a dead man!\" Brother Giovannone\nreplied: \"In the name of Brother Giovannone, into my pouch with you,\nDeath!\" Then he carried his pouch to a baker and asked him to hang it\nup in the chimney until he came for it. For forty years no one died. At\nthe end of that time Brother Giovannone went and set Death free, so that\nhe might himself die, for he was so old he could do no more. The first\none that Death killed when he was free was Brother Giovannone, and then\nhe destroyed all those who had not died in the forty years.\n\nAfter he was dead Brother Giovannone went and knocked at the gate of\nparadise and St. Peter said to him: \"There is no room for you here.\"\n\"Where must I go, then?\" asked Brother Giovannone. \"To purgatory,\"\nanswered St. Peter. So he knocked at purgatory and they told him: \"There\nis no place for you here.\" \"Where must I go, then?\" \"To hell.\" He\nknocked at hell and Lucifer asked: \"Who is there?\" \"Brother Giovannone.\"\nThen Lucifer said to his devils: \"You take the mace; you, the hammer;\nyou, the tongs!\" Brother Giovannone asked: \"What are you going to do\nwith these instruments?\" \"We are going to beat you.\" \"In the name of\nBrother Giovannone, into my pouch with you, all you devils!\" Then he\nhung the pouch about his neck and carried all the devils to a smith who\nhad eight apprentices, and the master, nine. \"Master-smith, how much do\nyou want to hammer this pouch eight days and nights?\" They agreed upon\nforty ounces, and hammered day and night and the pouch was not reduced\nto powder, and Brother Giovannone was always present. The last day the\nsmiths said: \"What the devil are these; for they cannot be pounded\nfine!\" Brother Giovannone answered: \"They are indeed devils! Pound\nhard!\" After they were through hammering, he took the pouch and emptied\nit out in the plain; the devils were so bruised and mangled that they\ncould hardly drag themselves back to hell. Then Brother Giovannone went\nand knocked again at paradise. \"Who is there?\" \"Brother Giovannone.\"\n\"There is no room for you.\" \"Peter, if you don't let me in I will call\nyou baldhead.\" \"Now that you have called me baldhead,\" said St. Peter,\n\"you shall not enter.\" Brother Giovannone said: \"Ah, what is that you\nsay? I will be even with you!\" So he stood near the gate of paradise\nand said to all the souls who were going to enter: \"In the name of\nBrother Giovannone, into my pouch, all you souls!\" and no more souls\nentered paradise. One day St. Peter said to the Master: \"Why do no more\nsouls enter?\" The Lord answered: \"Because Brother Giovannone is behind\nthe gate putting them all in his pouch.\" \"What shall we do?\" said St.\nPeter. The Lord answered: \"See if you can get hold of the pouch and\nbring them all in together.\" Brother Giovannone heard all this outside.\nWhat did he do? He said: \"Into the pouch with myself!\" and in a moment\nwas in his own pouch. When St. Peter looked Brother Giovannone was not\nto be seen, so he seized the pouch and dragged it into paradise and shut\nthe gate at once, and opened the pouch. The first one who came out was\nBrother Giovannone himself, who began at once to quarrel with St. Peter\nbecause St. Peter wished to put him out, and Brother Giovannone did not\nwant to go. Then the Lord said: \"When one once enters the house of\nJesus, he does not leave it again.\"[20]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThese stories have close parallels in two Roman legends collected by\nMiss Busk. In the first, the innkeeper asks first for the faculty of\nalways winning at cards; and second, that any one who climbs his\nfig-tree must stay there. When Death comes the host asks her (Death is\nfeminine in Italian) to climb the tree and pick him a few figs. When\nonce up the tree, the host refuses to let her down until she promises\nhim four hundred years of life. Death has to consent and the host in\nturn promises to go quietly with her when she comes again. At the end of\nthe four hundred years Death takes the host to paradise. They pass by\nhell on the way and the host proposes to the devil to play for the newly\nreceived souls. The host wins fifteen thousand, which he carries with\nhim to paradise. St. Peter objects to letting the \"rabble\" in, and Jesus\nChrist himself says: \"The host may come in himself, but he has no\nbusiness with the others.\" Then the host says that he has made no\ndifficulty about numbers when Christ has come to his inn With as many as\nhe pleased. \"That is true! that is right!\" answered Jesus Christ. \"Let\nthem all in! let them all in!\"[21]\n\nIn the other story, a priest, Pret' Olivo, received from the Lord, in\nreward for his hospitality, the favor of living a hundred years, and\nthat when Death came to fetch him he should be able to give her what\norders he pleased, and that she must obey him. Death called at the end\nof the hundred years, and Pret' Olivo made her sit by the fire while he\nsaid a mass. The fire grew hotter and hotter, but Death could not stir\nuntil Pret' Olivo permitted her to, on condition that she should leave\nhim alone a hundred years. The second time Death called, Pret' Olivo\nasked her to gather him some figs and commanded her to stay in the tree.\nSo Death a second time was obliged to promise him a respite of a hundred\nyears. The next time Death called, Pret' Olivo put on his vestments and\na cope, and took a pack of cards in his hand and went with Death. She\nwanted to take him directly to paradise, but he insisted on going around\nby the way of hell and playing a game of cards with the Devil. The\nstakes were souls, and as fast as Pret' Olivo won, he hung a soul on his\ncope until it was covered with them; then he hung them on his beretta,\nand at last was obliged to stop, for there was no more room to hang any\nsouls. Death objected to taking all these souls to paradise, but could\nnot take Pret' Olivo without them. When they arrived at paradise St.\nPeter made some objection to admitting them, but the Master gave his\npermission and they all got in.[22]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Tuscan version, which contains some of the traits of the last story,\nis as follows:\n\n\nLXV. GODFATHER MISERY.\n\nGodfather Misery was old,--God knows how old! One day Jesus and St.\nPeter, while wandering through the world to name the countries, came to\nGodfather Misery's, who offered his visitors some polenta, and gave them\nhis own bed. Jesus, pleased with this reception, gave him some money,\nand granted him these three favors: that whoever sits on his bench near\nthe fire cannot get up; that whoever climbs his fig-tree cannot descend;\nand finally, out of regard to St. Peter, the salvation of his soul. One\nday Death came to Godfather Misery, and wanted to carry him off.\nGodfather Misery said: \"It is too cold to travel.\" Death pressed him;\nthen he asked her to sit by the fire and warm herself a moment, and he\nwould soon be ready. Meanwhile he piled wood on the fire. Death felt\nherself burning, and tried to move, but could not; so she had to grant\nGodfather Misery another hundred years of life. Death was released; the\nhundred years passed, and Death returned. Godfather Misery was at the\ndoor, pretending to wait for her, and looking at his fig-tree in sorrow.\nHe begged Death to pick him a few figs for their journey. So Death\nclimbed up, but could not descend until she granted Godfather Misery\nanother hundred years. Even these passed, and Death reappeared. This\ntime there was no help, he must go. Death gave him time only to recite\nan Ave Maria, and a Paternoster. Godfather Misery, however, could not\nfind this time, and said to Death, who was hurrying him: \"You have given\nme time, and I am taking it.\" Then Death had recourse to a stratagem,\nand disguised herself like a Jesuit, and went where Godfather Misery\nlived, and preached. Godfather Misery at first did not attend these\nsermons, but his wife finally persuaded him to go to the church and hear\na sermon. Just as he entered, the preacher cried out that whoever said\nan Ave Maria should save his soul. Godfather Misery, who recognized\nDeath, answered from a distance: \"Go away! you will not get me.\" Then\nDeath went away in despair, and never got hold of him again. Godfather\nMisery still lives, since misery never ends.[23]\n\nIn another Tuscan story, similar gifts are bestowed upon a smith, who\nhad always been a good Christian, to enable him to avoid a contract he\nhad made with the Devil, to sell him his soul for two years of life. The\nfirst time the Devil comes he sits on the bench near the fire, and\ncannot rise again until he extends his contract two years. The next time\nhe comes he does not enter the house, but looks in at a window that has\nthe power to detain any one who looks through it. Again the contract is\nextended. The third time the Devil is caught in the fig-tree, and then a\nnew contract is drawn up, that the Devil and the smith are never to see\neach other again.[24]\n\nThe second class of versions of the story of \"_Bonhomme Misere_\" is\nwhere the legend is merely an episode of some other story. This class\ncomprises two stories from the territory of Venice. The first is\nentitled \"Beppo Pipetta,\" from the hero who saved the king's life, which\nis threatened by some robbers. The king was in disguise, and Beppo did\nnot know who he was until he was summoned to the palace to be rewarded.\nThe king told Beppo that he need not be a soldier any longer, but might\nremain with him or wherever he pleased, and offered to pay for all he\nneeded; for he had saved his life. We give the rest of the story in the\nwords of the original.\n\n\nLXVI. BEPPO PIPETTA.\n\nWhen his first joy at this good fortune was over, Beppo decided to visit\nhis relations. There he met a man in the street who entered into\nconversation with him, and they chatted for a long time, until they\nfinally went into an inn to refresh themselves with something to eat and\ndrink. \"How happens it,\" asked his new friend, who was vastly\nentertained by Beppo's conversation, \"that you, a soldier, carry no\nknapsack?\" \"Hm!\" said Beppo, \"I don't care to weigh myself down on a\nmarch with unnecessary things. I have no effects, and if I need\nanything, I have a good master who pays all my bills.\" \"Now,\" said the\nstranger, \"I will give you a knapsack, and a very valuable one too; for\nif you say to any one, 'Jump in,' he will jump into the sack.\" With\nthese words the stranger took his leave.\n\n\"Wait,\" thought Beppo; \"I will put this to the proof.\" And, indeed, a\nfavorable opportunity offered itself, for just then the landlord\nappeared to demand the payment of his bill. \"What do you want?\" asked\nBeppo. \"My money; you might know that of yourself.\" \"Let me alone! I\nhave no money.\" \"What? you ragged soldier\"--\"Jump in!\" said Beppo; and\nthe landlord went over his ears into the sack. Only after long entreaty,\nand on condition that he would never again present his bill, would Beppo\nlet him out again. \"Just wait, fellow! I'll teach you how to insult\nsoldiers,\" said he to the landlord, as he went out.\n\nTired and hungry after a long walk, Beppo again turned into an inn.\nThere he saw a man who was continually emptying a purse, but never\nfinished, for it always became full again. He quickly snatched the purse\nout of the man's hand, and ran out of the inn, but no less quickly did\nthe owner run after him; and since he had not walked as far as Beppo,\nwho had been wandering about all day, he soon caught up with him. Then\nBeppo cried: \"Jump in!\" and the owner was in the sack. \"Listen,\" said\nBeppo, after he had somewhat recovered his breath, \"listen and be\nreasonable. You have had the purse long enough; give it to me now, or\nelse you shall always stay in the sack.\" What could the man do?\nWillingly or unwillingly, he had to give up the purse in order to get\nout of the accursed sack.\n\nFor two years Beppo stayed at home, doing much good with the purse, and\nmuch mischief with the sack, until at last he began to long for the\ncapital again, and returned there; but what was his astonishment at\nseeing everything hung with black, and everybody in mourning. \"Do you\nnot know what the trouble is?\" he was asked, in reply to his questions\nas to the cause of this sorrow; \"don't you know that to-morrow the Devil\nis going to carry away the king's daughter, on account of a foolish vow\nthat her father once made?\" Then he went directly to the king, in order\nto console him, but the latter would not put any faith in him. \"Your\nMajesty,\" said he, \"you do not know what Beppo Pipetta can do. Only let\nme have my own way.\"\n\nThen he prepared, in a room of the palace, a large table, with paper,\npen, and ink, while the princess, in the next room, awaited her sad fate\nin prayer. At midnight a fearful noise was heard, like the roaring of\nthe tempest; and at the last stroke of the clock, the Devil came through\nthe window into--the sack which Beppo held open for him, crying, \"Jump\nin!\" \"What are you doing here?\" asked Beppo of the raging Devil. \"How\ndoes that concern you?\" \"I have my reasons,\" was the bold reply. \"Wait a\nlittle, you rascal!\" cried Beppo; \"I'll teach you manners!\" and he\nseized a stick and belabored the sack until the Devil in anguish called\nupon all the saints. \"Are you going to carry off the princess, now?\"\n\"No, no; only let me out of this infamous sack!\" \"Do you promise never\nto molest her?\" \"I promise, only let me out!\" \"No,\" said Beppo; \"you\nmust repeat your promise before witnesses, and also give it in writing.\"\nThen he called some gentlemen of the court into the room, had the\npromise repeated, and permitted the Devil to stretch one hand out of the\nsack, in order to write as follows: \"I, the very Devil, herewith promise\nthat I will neither carry away H. R. H., the Princess, nor ever molest\nher in future. SATAN, SPIRIT OF HELL.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said Beppo; \"the affair of the princess is now ended. But now,\non account of your previous impoliteness, allow me to give you a few\nblows that may serve as reminders of me on your journey.\" When he had\ndone this, he opened the sack, and the Devil went out as he had come in,\nthrough the window.\n\nThen the king gave a great feast, at which Beppo sat between him and the\nprincess; and there was joy throughout the whole kingdom.\n\nAfter a while Beppo took a pleasure trip and came to a place that\npleased him so much that he decided to remain there; but the police must\nneeds go through certain ceremonies and wanted to know who he was,\nwhence he came, and a multitude of other things. Then he answered: \"I am\nmyself; let that suffice you. If you want to know anything more, write\nto the king.\" Accordingly they wrote to the king, but he commanded them\nto treat him with respect and not to disturb him.\n\nWhen he had lived for many years in this place and had grown old, Death\ncame and knocked at his door. Beppo opened it and asked: \"Who are you?\"\n\"I am Death,\" was the answer. \"Jump in!\" cried Beppo, in great haste,\nand behold! Death was in the sack. \"What!\" he exclaimed, \"shall I, who\nhave so much to do, loiter my time away here?\" \"Just stay where you are,\nyou old villain,\" replied Beppo, and did not let him out for a year and\na half. Then there was universal satisfaction throughout the world, the\nphysicians being especially jubilant, for none of them ever lost a\npatient. Then Death begged so humbly and represented so forcibly what\nwould be the consequences of this disorder, that Beppo agreed to let him\nout, on condition that Death should not come back for him unless he was\nwilling. Death departed and sought by means of a few wars and\npestilences to make up for lost time.\n\nAt length Beppo grew so old that life became distasteful to him. Then he\nsent for Death, who, however, would not come, fearing that Beppo might\nchange his mind. So the latter decided to go himself to Death. Death was\nnot at home; but remembering his vacation in the sack, had prudently\nleft the order that in case a certain Beppo Pipetta should come, he was\nto be beaten soundly; an order which was executed punctiliously. Beaten\nand cast out by Death, he went sadly to hell; but there the Devil had\ngiven the porter orders to show him the same attention that he had\nreceived at Death's abode, and that command also was conscientiously\nobeyed.\n\nSmarting from the blows he had received, and vexed that neither Death\nnor the Devil wanted him, he went to paradise. Here he announced himself\nto St. Peter, but the saint thought that he had better first consult the\nLord.\n\nMeanwhile Beppo threw his cap over the wall into paradise. After he had\nwaited a while, St. Peter reappeared and said: \"I am very sorry, but our\nLord doesn't want you here.\" \"Very well,\" said Beppo, \"but you will at\nleast let me get my cap,\" and with that he slipped through the gate and\nsat down on the cap. When St. Peter commanded him to get up and begone,\nhe replied, composedly: \"Gently, my dear sir! at present I am sitting on\nmy own property, where I do not receive orders from any one!\"\n\nAnd so he remained in paradise.[25]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe story known to our readers from the Grimm collection, \"Godfather\nDeath,\" is found in Sicily and Venice. The version from the latter place\ngiven in Bernoni (_Trad. pop._ p. 6) is as follows:\n\n\nLXVII. THE JUST MAN.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a peasant and his wife who had a child that\nthey would not baptize until they could find a just man for his\ngodfather. The father took the child in his arms and went into the\nstreet to look for this just man. After he had walked along a while, he\nmet a man, who was our Lord, and said to him: \"I have this child to\nbaptize, but I do not want to give him to any one who is not just; are\nyou just?\" The Lord answered: \"But--I don't know whether I am just.\"\nThen the peasant passed on and met a woman, who was the Madonna, and\nsaid to her: \"I have this child to baptize and do not wish to give him\nto any one who is not just; are you just?\" \"I don't know,\" said the\nMadonna; \"but go on, for you will find some one who is just.\" He went\nhis way and met another woman, who was Death, and said to her: \"I have\nbeen sent to you, for I have been told that you are just, and I have\nthis child to baptize, and do not wish to give it to one who is not\njust; are you just?\" Death said: \"Yes, I believe I am just! Let us\nbaptize the child, and then I will show you whether I am just.\" Then\nthey baptized the child, and afterwards Death led the peasant into a\nvery long room, where there were many lights burning. \"Godmother,\" said\nthe man, astonished at seeing all the lights, \"what are all these\nlights?\" Death said: \"These are the lights of all the souls in the\nworld. Would you like to see, friend? this is yours and this is your\nson's.\" When the peasant saw that his light was about to expire, he\nsaid: \"And when the oil is all consumed, godmother?\" \"Then,\" answered\nDeath, \"you must come with me, for I am Death.\" \"Oh! for mercy's sake,\"\ncried the peasant, \"let me at least take a little oil from my son's lamp\nand put it in mine!\" \"No, no, godfather,\" said Death, \"I don't do\nanything of that sort; you wished to see a just person, and a just\nperson you have found. And now go home and arrange your affairs, for I\nam waiting for you.\"[26]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe can mention but briefly another Venetian legend which, like several\nof those already given, reaches back to the Middle Ages. A wealthy\nknight, who has led a wicked life, repents when he grows old, and his\nconfessor enjoins on him a three years' penance. The knight refuses, for\nhe might die at the end of two years and lose all that amount of\npenance. He refuses in turn a penance of two years, of one year, and\neven of a month, but agrees to do penance for one night. He mounts his\nhorse, takes leave of his family, and rides away to the church, which is\nat some distance. After he has ridden for a time, his daughter comes\nrunning after him and calls him back, for robbers have attacked the\ncastle. He will not be diverted from his purpose, and tells her that\nthere are servants and soldiers enough to defend the house. Then a\nservant cries out that the castle is in flames, and his own wife calls\nfor help against violence. The knight calmly continues his way, leaving\nhis servants to act for him, and simply saying: \"I have no time for it\nnow.\"\n\nFinally he enters the church and begins his penance. Here he is\ndisturbed by the sexton, who bids him depart, so that he can close the\nchurch; a priest orders him to leave, as he is not worthy to hear a\nmass; at midnight twelve watchmen come and order him to go with them to\nthe judge, but he will not move for any of them; at two o'clock a band\nof soldiers surround him and order him to depart, and at five o'clock a\nwild throng of people burst into the church and cry: \"Let us drive him\nout!\" then the church begins to burn, and the knight finds himself in\nthe midst of flames, but still he moves not. At last, when the appointed\nhour comes, he leaves the church and rides home to find that none of his\nfamily had left the castle, but the various persons who had tried to\ndivert him from his penance were emissaries of the Devil. Then the\nknight sees how great a sinner he was and declares that he will do\npenance all the rest of his life.[27]\n\nBernoni in his _Leggende fantastiche_ gives nine legends, one of which\nis the story of St. Peter's mother, mentioned above. Of the remaining\nones, several may be classed under ghost stories, and two illustrate the\ngreat sanctity attached by the Italian to the spiritual relationship\ncontracted by godmothers and godfathers, and by groomsmen and the bride.\nIt is well known that in the Romish Church a godfather or godmother\ncontracts a spiritual relationship with the godson or goddaughter and\ntheir parents which would prevent marriage between the parties. This\nrelationship the popular imagination has extended to the godfather and\ngodmother, and any improper intimacy between the two is regarded as the\nmost deadly sin. The first of Bernoni's legends is entitled:\n\n\nLXVIII. OF A GODFATHER AND A GODMOTHER OF ST. JOHN WHO MADE LOVE.\n\nHere in Venice, heaven knows how many centuries ago, there was a\ngentleman and a lady, husband and wife, who were rich people. Well,\nthere frequented their house a _compare_ (godfather) of St. John; and it\ncame to pass that he and his _comare_ (godmother, _i. e._ the one who\nhad been godmother to the same child to which he had been godfather),\nthe lady of the house, made love to each other in secret. This lady had\na maid, and this maid knew everything. So one day this lady said to the\nmaid: \"Hold your tongue, and you'll see that you will be satisfied with\nme. When I come to die, you shall have an allowance of a dollar a day.\"\nSo this maid kept always on good terms with the lady. It happened that\nthe _compare_ fell very ill. The lady was so desperately sorry, that her\nhusband kept saying to her: \"Come, will you make yourself ill too? It's\nno use fretting, for it's what we must all come to.\" At last the\n_compare_ died. And she took it so to heart, that she fell ill in\nearnest. When her husband saw her giving way to such low spirits, he\nbegan to suspect that there had been something between her and the\n_compare_; but he never said a word about it to annoy her, but bore it\nlike a philosopher. The maid was always by her mistress' bedside, and\nthe mistress said to her: \"Remember that, if I die, you must watch by me\nquite alone, for I won't have any one else.\" And the maid promised her\nthat she would. Well, that day went by, and the next day, and the next,\nand the lady got worse and worse, until at last she died. You can fancy\nhow sorry her husband was. And the maid and the other servants were very\nsorry, too, for she was a very good lady. The other servants offered to\nsit up and watch with the maid; but she said: \"No; I must sit up by\nmyself, for my mistress said she would have no others.\" And they said:\n\"Very well. If you want anything, ring the bell, and we shall be ready\nto do anything you want.\" Then the maid had four tapers lighted, and\nplaced at the foot of the bed, and she took the Office for the Dead in\nher hand and began to read it.\n\nJust at midnight the door of the room burst open, and she saw the figure\nof the _compare_ come in. Directly she saw him she felt her blood turn\nto water. She tried to cry out, but she was so terrified that she\ncouldn't make a sound. Then she got up from her chair and went to ring\nthe bell; and the dead man, without saying a word (because, of course,\ndead folks can't talk), gave her a sharp blow on the hand to prevent\nher from ringing. And he signed her to take a taper in her hand, and\ncome with him to her mistress' bed. She obeyed. When the dead man got to\nthe bedside, he took the lady, and sat her up on the bed, and he began\nto put her stockings on her feet, and he dressed her from head to foot.\nWhen she was dressed, he pulled her out of bed, took her by the arm, and\nthey both went out at the door, with the maid going before them to light\nthe way. In this palace there was an underground passage--there are many\nlike it in Venice--and they went down into it. When they got to a\ncertain part of it, he gave a great knock to the taper that the maid had\nin her hand, and left her in the dark. The maid was so terrified that\nshe fell down on the ground, all rolled up together like a ball, and\nthere she lay.\n\nAt daybreak the other servants thought they would go and see how the\nmaid was getting on, as she had not called them all night. So they went\nand opened the door of the room, and saw nobody there at all, either\nliving or dead. They were frightened out of their wits, and ran to their\nmaster, and said: \"Oh, mercy on us, there's nobody left, neither the\ndead woman nor the live one! The room's quite empty.\" Said the master:\n\"You don't say so!\" Then he dressed himself as fast as he could, and\nwent and looked, and found nobody. And he saw that the clothes his wife\nwore to go out in were gone too. Then he called the servants, and said\nto them: \"Here, take these torches, and let us go and look in the\nunderground passage.\" So all the people went down there with lighted\ntorches; and after searching about a bit, they found the poor maid, who\ngave no sign of life. The servants took her by one arm; but it was all\nbent up stiff, and wouldn't move. And they tried the other arm, and that\nwas the same, and all her body was knotted together quite stiff. Then\nthey took up this ball of a woman, and carried her up-stairs, and put\nher on her bed. The master sent for the doctors, to see if they could\nbring back life to her. And by degrees she began to open her eyes and\nmove her fingers. But she had had a stroke and couldn't speak. But by\nthe movements of her fingers they could make out nearly everything she\nwanted to say. Then the master had the torches lighted again, and went\ndown again into the underground passage, to see if he could find any\ntrace of the dead woman. They looked and looked, but they could find\nnothing but a deep hole. And the master understood directly that that\nwas where his wife and her _compare_ had been swallowed up. And upon\nthat he went up-stairs again; but he wouldn't stay any longer in that\npalace, nor even in Venice, and he went away to Verona. And in the\npalace he left the maid, with her dollar a day and people to take care\nof her and feed her, for to the end of her days she was bedridden and\ncouldn't speak. And the master would have every one free to go and see\nthat sight, that it might be a warning to all people who had the evil\nintention of not respecting the baptismal relationship.[28]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe second of Bernoni's legends turns on the peculiar sanctity of the\nrelation of a groomsman (_compare de l'anelo_) to the bride. The full\ntitle is: \"About a _compare de l'anelo_ who pressed the bride's hand\nwith evil intent.\" It is as follows:\n\n\nLIX. THE GROOMSMAN\n\nYou must know that we Venetians have a saying that the groomsman is the\ngodfather of the first child. Well, in the parish of the Angel Raphael\nit happened that there was a young man and woman who were in love with\neach other. So they agreed to be married, and the bridegroom looked out\nfor his best man. According to custom, directly he had chosen his best\nman, he took him to the bride's house, and said to her: \"Look here, this\nis your groomsman.\" Directly the groomsman saw the bride he fell so much\nin love with her that he consented more than willingly to be the best\nman. Well, the wedding day came, and this man went into the church with\nevil thoughts in his heart. When they came out of the church they had a\ncollation, according to custom, and then in the afternoon they had a\ngondola to go to the tavern, as people used to do on such days. First\nthe bride got into the gondola, with the best man, and then the\nbridegroom and the relations. When they were getting into the boat the\ngroomsman took the bride's hand to help her in, and he squeezed it, and\nsqueezed it so hard that he hurt her severely.\n\nAs time went on he saw that the bride thought nothing about him, and he\nbegan not to care for her, either. But by and by he began to have a sort\nof scruple of conscience about what he had done to his _comare_ on the\nwedding day. And the more he thought of it, the more he felt this\nscruple. So he made up his mind to go to confession, and to tell his\nconfessor what he had done, and with what evil intention. \"You have\ncommitted a great sin, my son,\" said the priest; \"I shall give you a\npenance,--a heavy penance. Will you do it?\" \"Yes, father,\" said he;\n\"tell me what it is.\" The priest answered: \"Listen. You must make a\njourney in the night-time to a place that I shall tell you of. But mind;\nwhatever voices you hear, you must never turn back for an instant! And\ntake three apples with you, and you will meet three noblemen, and you\nmust give one apple to each of them.\" Then the priest told him the place\nhe was to go to, and the groomsman left him. Well, he waited until\nnight-fall, and then he took his three apples and set out. He walked and\nwalked and walked, until at last he came to the place the priest had\ntold him of, and he heard such a talking and murmuring, you can't think!\nOne voice said one thing, and one another. These were all folks who had\ncommitted great sins against St. John; but he knew nothing about that.\nHe heard them calling out: \"Turn back! turn back!\" But not he! No; he\nwent straight on, without ever looking round, let them call ever so\nmuch. After he had gone on a while he saw the three noblemen, and he\nsaluted them and gave them an apple apiece. The last of the three had\nhis arm hidden under his cloak, and the _compare_ saw that the gentleman\nhad great difficulty in stretching his arm out to take the apple. At\nlength he pulled his arm from under his cloak, and showed a hand\nswelled up to such a huge size that the _compare_ was frightened to look\nat it. But he gave him the apple, the same as to the others, and they\nall three thanked him and went away. The _compare_ returned home again,\nand went to his confessor and told him all that had happened. Then the\npriest said: \"See, now, my son, you are saved. For the first of the\nthree noblemen was the Lord, the second was St. Peter, and the third was\nSt. John. You saw what a hand he had. Well, that was the hand you\nsqueezed on the wedding day; and so, instead of squeezing the bride's\nhand, you really hurt St. John!\"[29]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe third legend is entitled: \"Of two _compari_ of St. John who swore by\nthe name of St. John.\" Two _compari_ who had not seen each other for\nsome time met one day, and one invited the other to lunch and paid the\nbill. The other declared that he would do the same a week hence. When he\nsaid this they happened to be standing where two streets crossed. \"Then\nwe meet a week from to-day at this spot and at this hour!\" \"Yes.\" \"By\nSt. John, I will not fail!\" \"I swear by St. John that I will be here\nawaiting you!\" During the week, however, the _compare_ who had paid for\nthe lunch died. The other did not know he was dead, and at the appointed\ntime he went to the place to meet him. While there a friend passed, who\nasked: \"What are you doing here?\" \"I am waiting for my _compare_ Tony.\"\n\"You are waiting for your _compare_ Tony! Why, he has been dead three\ndays! You will wait a long time!\" \"You say he is dead? There he is\ncoming!\" And, indeed, he saw him, but his friend did not. The dead man\nstopped before his _compare_ and said: \"You are right in being here at\nthis spot, and you can thank God; otherwise, I would teach you to swear\nin the name of St. John!\" Then he suddenly disappeared and his _compare_\nsaw him no more, for his oath was only to be at that spot.\n\nThe sanctity of an ordinary oath is shown in the fourth story: \"Of two\nlovers who swore fidelity in life and death.\" Two young persons made\nlove, unknown to the girl's parents. The youth made her swear that she\nwould love him in life and death. Some time after, he was killed in a\nbrawl. The girl did not know it, and the young man's ghost continued to\nvisit her as usual, and she began to grow pale and thin. The father\ndiscovered the state of the case, and consulted the priest, who learned\nfrom the girl, in confession, how matters stood, and came with a black\ncat, a stole, and book, to conjure the spirit and save the girl.\n\nThe fifth legend is entitled: \"The Night of the Dead\"; _i. e._ the eve\nof All Saints' Day. A servant girl, rising early one morning as she\nsupposed (it was really midnight), witnesses a weird procession, which\nshe unwittingly disturbs by lowering her candle and asking the last\npasser-by to light it. This he does; but when she pulls up her basket\nshe finds in it, besides the lighted candle, a human arm. Her confessor\ntells her to wait a year, until the procession passes again, then hold a\nblack cat tightly in her arms, and restore the arm to its owner. This\nshe does, with the words: \"Here, master, take your arm; I am much\nobliged to you.\" He took the arm angrily, and said: \"You may thank God\nyou have that cat in your arms; otherwise, what I am, that you would be\nalso.\"\n\nThe sixth legend is of an incredulous priest, who believes that where\nthe dead are, there they stay. It is as follows:\n\n\nLXX. THE PARISH PRIEST OF SAN MARCUOLA.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a parish priest at San Marcuola, here in\nVenice, who was a very good man. He couldn't bear to see women in church\nwith hats or bonnets on their heads, and he had spirit enough to go and\nmake them take them off. \"For,\" said he, \"the church is the house of\nGod; and what is not permitted to men ought not to be permitted to\nwomen.\" But when a woman had a shawl over her shoulders he would have\nher throw it over her head, that she might not be stared at and ogled.\nBut this priest had one fault: he did not believe in ghosts; and one\nday he was preaching a sermon, and in this sermon he said to the people:\n\"Listen, now, dearly beloved brethren. This morning, when I came into\nthe church here, there comes up to me one of my flock, and she says to\nme, all in a flutter: 'Oh, Father, what a fright I have had this night!\nI was asleep in my bed, and the ghosts came and twitched away my\ncoverlet!' But I answered her: 'Dear daughter, that is not possible;\nbecause _where the dead are, there they stay_.'\" And so he declared\nbefore all the congregation that it was not true that the dead could\ncome back and be seen and heard. In the evening the priest went to bed\nas usual, and about midnight he heard the house-bell ring loudly. The\nservant went out on to the balcony and saw a great company of people in\nthe street, and she called out: \"Who's there?\" and they asked her if the\nPriest of San Marcuola was at home. And she said Yes; but he was in bed.\nThen they said he must come down. But the priest, when he heard about\nit, refused to go. They then began to ring the bell again and tell the\nservant to call her master; and the priest said he wouldn't go anywhere.\nThen all the doors burst open, and the whole company marched up-stairs\ninto the priest's bedroom, and bade him get up and dress himself and\ncome with them; and he was obliged to do what they said. When they\nreached a certain spot they set him in the midst of them, and they gave\nhim so many knocks and cuffs that he didn't know which side to turn\nhimself; and then they said: \"This is for a remembrance of the poor\ndefunct;\" and upon that they all vanished away and were seen no more,\nand the poor priest went back home, bruised from head to foot. And so\nthe ghosts proved plain enough that it isn't true to say: \"_Where the\ndead are, there they stay_.\"[30]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe story of Don Juan appears in the seventh legend, entitled:\n\n\nLXXI. THE GENTLEMAN WHO KICKED A SKULL.\n\nThere was once a youth who did nothing but eat, drink, and amuse\nhimself, because he was immensely wealthy and had nothing to think\nabout. He scoffed at every one; he dishonored all the young girls; he\nplayed all sorts of tricks, and was tired of everything. One day he took\nit into his head to give a grand banquet; and thereupon he invited all\nhis friends and many women and all his acquaintances.\n\nWhile they were preparing the banquet he took a walk, and passed through\na street where there was a cemetery. While walking he noticed on the\nground a skull. He gave it a kick, and then he went up to it and said to\nit in jest: \"You, too, will come, will you not, to my banquet to-night?\"\nThen he went his way, and returned home. At the house the banquet was\nready and the guests had all arrived. They sat down to the table, and\nate and drank to the sound of music, and diverted themselves joyfully.\n\nMeanwhile midnight drew near, and when the clock was on the stroke a\nringing of bells was heard. The servants went to see who it was, and\nbeheld a great ghost, who said to them: \"Tell Count Robert that I am the\none he invited this morning to his banquet.\" They went to their master\nand told him what the ghost had said. The master said: \"I? All those\nwhom I invited are here, and I have invited no one else.\" They said: \"If\nyou should see him! It is a ghost that is terrifying.\" Then it came into\nthe young man's mind that it might be that dead man; and he said to the\nservants: \"Quick! quick! close the doors and balconies, so that he\ncannot enter!\" The servants went to close everything; but hardly had\nthey done so when the doors and balconies were thrown wide open and the\nghost entered. He went up where they were feasting, and said: \"Robert!\nRobert! was it not enough for you to profane everything? Have you wished\nto disturb the dead, also? The end has come!\" All were terrified, and\nfled here and there, some concealing themselves, and some falling on\ntheir knees. Then the ghost seized Robert by the throat and strangled\nhim and carried him away with him; and thus he has left this example,\nthat it is not permitted to mock the poor dead.[31]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe ninth and last of Bernoni's legends is a story about Massariol, the\ndomestic spirit of the Venetians. A man of family, whose business takes\nhim out at night, finds in the street a basket containing an infant. The\nweather is very cold, so the good man carries the foundling home, and\nhis wife, who already has a young child, makes the little stranger as\ncomfortable as possible. He is cared for and put in the cradle by the\nside of the other child. The husband and wife have to leave the room a\nmoment; when they return the foundling has disappeared. The husband asks\nin amazement: \"What can it mean?\" She answers: \"I am sure I don't know;\ncan it be Massariol?\" Then he goes out on the balcony and sees at a\ndistance one who seems like a man, but is not, who is clapping his hands\nand laughing and making all manner of fun of him, and then suddenly\ndisappears.\n\nThe same mischievous spirit plays many other pranks. Sometimes he cheats\nthe ferrymen out of their toll; sometimes he disguises himself like the\nbaker's lad, and calls at the houses to take the bread to the oven, and\nthen carries it away to some square or bridge; sometimes, when the\nwashing is hung out, he carries it off to some distant place, and when\nthe owners have at last found their property, Massariol laughs in their\nfaces and disappears. The woman who related these stories to Bernoni\nadded: \"Massariol has never done anything bad; he likes to laugh and\njoke and fool people. He, too, has been shut up, I don't know where, by\nthe Holy Office, the same as the witches, fairies, and magicians.\"\n\nPitre's collection contains little that falls under the second heading\nof this chapter. The following story, however, is interesting from its\nEnglish parallels:\n\n\nLXXIII. SADDAEDDA.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a girl called Saddaedda, who was crazy. One\nday, when her mother had gone into the country and she was left alone in\nthe house, she went into a church where the funeral service was being\nread over the body of a rich lady. The girl hid herself in the\nconfessional. No one knew she was there; so, when the other people had\ngone, she was left alone with the corpse. It was dressed out in a\nrose-colored robe and everything else becoming, and it had ear-rings in\nits ears and rings on its fingers. These the girl took off, and then she\nbegan to undress the body. When she came to the stockings she drew off\none easily, but at the other she had to pull so hard that at last the\nleg came off with it. Saddaedda took the leg, carried it to her lonely\nhome, and locked it up in a box. At night came the dead lady and knocked\nat the door. \"Who's there?\" said the girl. \"It is I,\" answered the\ncorpse. \"Give me back my leg and stocking!\" But Saddaedda paid no heed\nto the request. Next day she prepared a feast and invited some of her\nplayfellows to spend the night with her. They came, feasted, and went to\nsleep. At midnight the dead woman began to knock at the door and to\nrepeat last night's request. Saddaedda took no notice of the noise but\nher companions, whom it awoke, were horrified, and as soon as they\ncould, they ran away. On the third night just the same happened. On the\nfourth she could persuade only one girl to keep her company. On the\nfifth she was left entirely alone. The corpse came, forced open the\ndoor, strode up to Saddaedda's bed, and strangled her. Then the dead\nwoman opened the box, took out her leg and stocking, and carried them\noff with her to her grave.[32]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis chapter would be incomplete without reference to treasure stories.\nA number of these are given by Miss Busk in her interesting collection.\nA few are found in Pitre, only one of which needs mention here, on\naccount of its parallels in other countries. It is called _Lu Vicerre\nTunnina_, \"Viceroy Tunny\" (_tunnina_ is the flesh of the tunny-fish).\nThere was at Palermo a man who sold tunny-fish. One night he dreamed\nthat some one appeared to him and said: \"Do you wish to find your Fate?\nGo under the bridge _di li Testi_ (of the Heads, so the people call the\n_Ponte dell' Ammiraglio_, a bridge now abandoned, constructed in 1113 by\nthe Admiral Georgios Antiochenos); there you will find it.\" For three\nnights he dreamed the same thing. The third time, he went under the\nbridge and found a poor man all in rags. The fish-seller was frightened\nand was going away, when the man called him. It was his Fate. He said:\n\"To-night, at midnight, where you have placed the barrels of fish, dig,\nand what you find is yours.\"\n\nThe fish-dealer did as he was told; dug, and found a staircase, which he\ndescended, and found a room full of money. The fish-dealer became\nwealthy, lent the king of Spain money, and was made viceroy and raised\nto the rank of prince and duke.[33]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nNURSERY TALES.\n\n\nThe tales we have thus far given, although they may count many young\npeople among their auditors, are not distinctly children's stories. The\nfew that follow are, and it is greatly to be regretted that their number\nis not larger. That many more exist, cannot be doubted; but collectors\nhave probably overlooked this interesting class. Even Pitre in his large\ncollection gives but eleven (Nos. 130-141), and those in the other\ncollections are mostly parallels to Pitre's.\n\nWe will begin with those that are advantages taken of children's love\nfor stories. The first is from Venice (Bernoni, Punt. II. p. 53) and is\ncalled:\n\n\nLXXIV. MR. ATTENTIVE.\n\n\"Do you want me to tell you the story of Mr. Attentive?\"\n\n\"Tell me it.\"\n\n\"But you must not say 'tell me it,' for it is\n\n    The story of Mr. Attentive,\n      Which lasts a long time,\n    Which is never explained:\n      Do you wish me to tell it, or relate it?\"\n\n\"Relate it.\"\n\n\"But you must not say 'relate it,' for it is\n\n    The story of Mr. Attentive,\n      Which lasts a long time,\n    Which is never explained:\n      Do you wish me to tell it, or relate it?\"\n\n\"But come! tell me it.\"\n\n\"But you must not say,\" etc., etc.[1]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe following are intended to soothe restless children, and are so short\nthat they may be given entire.\n\n\nLXXV. THE STORY OF THE BARBER.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a barber.... Be good and I will tell it to\nyou again.[2]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next is from the same source.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a king, a pope, and a dwarf.... This king,\nthis pope, and this dwarf....\n\n(Then the story-teller begins again).\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut it is time to give some of the stories that are told to the good\nchildren. The first is from Pitre (No. 130) and is called:\n\n\nLXXVI. DON FIRRIULIEDDU.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a farmer who had a daughter who used to take\nhis dinner to him in the fields. One day he said to her: \"So that you\nmay find me I will sprinkle bran along the way; you follow the bran, and\nyou will come to me.\"\n\nBy chance the old ogre passed that way, and seeing the bran, said: \"This\nmeans something.\" So he took the bran and scattered it so that it led to\nhis own house.\n\nWhen the daughter set out to take her father his dinner, she followed\nthe bran until she came to the ogre's house. When the ogre saw the young\ngirl, he said: \"You must be my wife.\" Then she began to weep. When the\nfather saw that his daughter did not appear, he went home in the\nevening, and began to search for her; and not finding her, he asked God\nto give him a son or a daughter.\n\nA year after, he had a son whom they called \"_Don Firriulieddu_.\" When\nthe child was three days old it spoke, and said: \"Have you made me a\ncloak? Now give me a little dog and the cloak, for I must look for my\nsister.\" So he set out and went to seek his sister.\n\nAfter a while he came to a plain where he saw a number of men, and\nasked: \"Whose cattle are these?\" The herdsman replied: \"They belong to\nthe ogre, who fears neither God nor the saints, who fears _Don\nFirriulieddu_, who is three days old and is on the way, and gives his\ndog bread and says: 'Eat, my dog, and do not bark, for we have fine\nthings to do.'\"\n\nAfterwards he saw a flock of sheep, and asked: \"Whose are these sheep?\"\nand received the same answer as from the herdsman. Then he arrived at\nthe ogre's house and knocked, and his sister opened the door and saw the\nchild. \"Who are you looking for?\" she said. \"I am looking for you, for I\nam your brother, and you must return to mamma.\"\n\nWhen the ogre heard that _Don Firriulieddu_ was there, he went and hid\nhimself up-stairs. _Don Firriulieddu_ asked his sister: \"Where is the\nogre?\" \"Up-stairs.\" _Don Firriulieddu_ said to his dog: \"Go up-stairs\nand bark, and I will follow you.\" The dog went up and barked, and\n_Firriulieddu_ followed him, and killed the ogre. Then he took his\nsister and a quantity of money, and they went home to their mother, and\nare all contented.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCertain traits in the above story, as the size of the hero and the bran\nserving to guide the girl to her father, recall somewhat faintly, it is\ntrue, our own \"Tom Thumb.\" It is only recently that a Tuscan version of\n\"Tom Thumb\" has been found.[3] It is called:\n\n\nLXXVII. LITTLE CHICK-PEA.[L]\n\nOnce upon a time there was a husband and wife who had no children. The\nhusband was a carpenter, and when he came home from his shop he did\nnothing but scold his wife because she had no children, and the poor\nwoman was constantly weeping and despairing. She was charitable, and\nhad festivals celebrated in the church; but no children. One day a woman\nknocked at her door and asked for alms; but the carpenter's wife\nanswered: \"I will not give you any, for I have given alms and had masses\nsaid, and festivals celebrated for a long time, and have no son.\" \"Give\nme alms and you will have children.\" \"Good! in that case I will do all\nyou wish.\" \"You must give me a whole loaf of bread, and I will give you\nsomething that will bring you children.\" \"If you will, I will give you\ntwo loaves.\" \"No, no! now, I want only one; you can give me the other\nwhen you have the children.\" So she gave her a loaf, and the woman said:\n\"Now I will go home and give my children something to eat, and then I\nwill bring you what will make you have children.\" \"Very well.\"\n\n[Footnote L: _Cecino_, dim. of _Cece_, chick-pea.]\n\nThe woman went home, fed her children, and then took a little bag,\nfilled it with chick-peas, and carried it to the carpenter's wife, and\nsaid: \"This is a bag of peas; put them in the kneading-trough, and\nto-morrow they will be as many sons as there are peas.\" There were a\nhundred peas, and the carpenter's wife said: \"How can a hundred peas\nbecome a hundred sons?\" \"You will see to-morrow.\" The carpenter's wife\nsaid to herself: \"I had better say nothing about it to my husband,\nbecause if by any mischance the children should not come, he would give\nme a fine scolding.\"\n\nHer husband returned at night and began to grumble as usual; but his\nwife said not a word and went to bed repeating to herself: \"To-morrow\nyou will see!\" The next morning the hundred peas had become a hundred\nsons. One cried: \"Papa, I want to drink.\" Another said: \"Papa, I want to\neat.\" Another: \"Papa, take me up.\" He, in the midst of all this tumult,\ntook a stick and went to the trough and began to beat, and killed them\nall. One fell out (imagine how small they were!) and ran quickly into\nthe bedroom and hid himself on the handle of the pitcher. After the\ncarpenter had gone to his shop his wife said: \"What a rascal! he has\ngrumbled so long about my not having children and now he has killed them\nall!\" Then the son who had escaped said: \"Mamma, has papa gone?\" She\nsaid: \"Yes, my son. How did you manage to escape? Where are you?\" \"Hush!\nI am in the handle of the pitcher; tell me: has papa gone?\" \"Yes, yes,\nyes, come out!\" Then the child who had escaped came out and his mamma\nexclaimed: \"Oh! how pretty you are! How shall I call you?\" The child\nanswered: \"Cecino.\" \"Very well, bravo, my Cecino! Do you know, Cecino,\nyou must go and carry your papa's dinner to him at the shop.\" \"Yes, you\nmust put the little basket on my head, and I will go and carry it to\npapa.\"\n\nThe carpenter's wife, when it was time, put the basket on Cecino's head\nand sent him to carry her husband's dinner to him. When Cecino was near\nthe shop, he began to cry: \"O papa! come and meet me; I am bringing you\nyour dinner.\"\n\nThe carpenter said to himself: \"Oh! did I kill them all, or are there\nany left?\" He went to meet Cecino and said: \"O my good boy! how did you\nescape my blows?\" \"I fell down, ran into the room, and hid myself on the\nhandle of the pitcher.\" \"Bravo, Cecino! Listen. You must go around among\nthe country people and hear whether they have anything broken to mend.\"\n\"Yes.\"\n\nSo the carpenter put Cecino in his pocket, and while he went along the\nway did nothing but chatter; so that every one said he was mad, because\nthey did not know that he had his son in his pocket. When he saw some\ncountrymen he asked: \"Have you anything to mend?\" \"Yes, there are some\nthings about the oxen broken, but we cannot let you mend them, for you\nare mad.\" \"What do you mean by calling me mad? I am wiser than you. Why\ndo you say I am mad?\" \"Because you do nothing but talk to yourself on\nthe road.\" \"I was talking with my son.\" \"And where do you keep your\nson?\" \"In my pocket.\" \"That is a pretty place to keep your son.\" \"Very\nwell, I will show him to you;\" and he pulls out Cecino, who was so small\nthat he stood on one of his father's fingers.\n\n\"Oh, what a pretty child! you must sell him to us.\" \"What are you\nthinking about! I sell you my son who is so valuable to me!\" \"Well,\nthen, don't sell him to us.\" What does he do then? He takes Cecino and\nputs him on the horn of an ox and says: \"Stay there, for now I am going\nto get the things to mend.\" \"Yes, yes, don't be afraid; I will stay on\nmy horn.\" So the carpenter went to get the things to mend.\n\nMeanwhile two thieves passed by, and seeing the oxen, one said: \"See\nthose two oxen there alone. Come, let us go and steal them.\" When they\ndrew near, Cecino cried out: \"Papa, look out! there are thieves here!\nthey are stealing your oxen!\" \"Ah! where does that voice come from?\" And\nthey approached nearer to see; and Cecino, the nearer he saw them come,\nthe more he called out: \"Look out for your oxen, papa; the thieves are\nstealing them!\"\n\nWhen the carpenter came the thieves said to him: \"Good man, where does\nthat voice come from?\" \"It is my son.\" \"If he is not here, where is he?\"\n\"Don't you see? there he is, up on the horn of one of the oxen.\" When he\nshowed him to them, they said: \"You must sell him to us; we will give\nyou as much money as you wish.\" \"What are you thinking about! I might\nsell him to you, but who knows how much my wife would grumble about it!\"\n\"Do you know what you must tell her? that he died on the way.\"\n\nThey tempted him so much that at last he gave him to them for two sacks\nof money. They took their Cecino, put him in one of their pockets, and\nwent away. On their journey they saw the king's stable. \"Let us take a\nlook at the king's stable and see whether we can steal a pair of\nhorses.\" \"Very good.\" They said to Cecino: \"Don't betray us.\" \"Don't be\nafraid, I will not betray you.\"\n\nSo they went into the stable and stole three horses, which they took\nhome and put in their own stable.\n\nAfterwards they went and said to Cecino: \"Listen. We are so tired! save\nus the trouble, go down and give the horses some oats.\" Cecino went to\ndo so, but fell asleep on the halter and one of the horses swallowed\nhim. When he did not return, the thieves said: \"He must have fallen\nasleep in the stable.\" So they went there and looked for him and\ncalled: \"Cecino, where are you?\" \"Inside of the black horse.\" Then they\nkilled the black horse; but Cecino was not there. \"Cecino, where are\nyou?\" \"In the bay horse.\" So they killed the bay horse; but Cecino was\nnot there. \"Cecino, where are you?\" But Cecino answered no longer. Then\nthey said: \"What a pity! that child who was so useful to us is lost.\"\nThen they dragged out into the fields the two horses that they had cut\nopen.\n\nA famished wolf passed that way and saw the dead horses. \"Now I will eat\nmy fill of horse,\" and he ate and ate until he had finished and had\nswallowed Cecino.[M] Then the wolf went off until it became hungry again\nand said: \"Let us go and eat a goat.\"\n\n[Footnote M: It appears from this that Cecino had been in one of the\nhorses all the time, but the thieves had not seen him because he was so\nsmall.]\n\nWhen Cecino heard the wolf talk about eating a goat, he cried out:\n\"Goat-herd, the wolf is coming to eat your goats!\"\n\n[The wolf supposes that it has swallowed some wind that forms these\nwords, hits itself against a stone, and after several trials gets rid of\nthe wind and Cecino, who hides himself under a stone, so that he shall\nnot be seen.]\n\nThree robbers passed that way with a bag of money. One of them said:\n\"Now I will count the money, and you others be quiet or I will kill\nyou!\" You can imagine whether they kept still! for they did not want to\ndie. So he began to count: \"One, two, three, four, and five.\" And\nCecino: \"One, two, three, four, and five.\" (Do you understand? he\nrepeats the robber's words.) \"I hear you! you will not keep still. Well,\nI will kill you; we shall see whether you will speak again.\" He began to\ncount the money again: \"One, two, three, four, and five.\" Cecino\nrepeats: \"One, two, three, four, and five.\" \"Then you will not keep\nquiet! now I will kill you!\" and he killed one of them. \"Now we shall\nsee whether you will talk; if you do I will kill you too.\" He began to\ncount: \"One, two, three, four, and five.\" Cecino repeats: \"One, two,\nthree, four, and five.\" \"Take care, if I have to tell you again I will\nkill you!\" \"Do you think I want to speak? I don't wish to be killed.\" He\nbegins to count: \"One, two, three, four, and five.\" Cecino repeats:\n\"One, two, three, four, and five.\" \"You will not keep quiet either; now\nI will kill you!\" and he killed him. \"Now I am alone and can count by\nmyself and no one will repeat it.\" So he began again to count: \"One,\ntwo, three, four, and five.\" And Cecino: \"One, two, three, four, and\nfive.\" Then the robber said: \"There is some one hidden here; I had\nbetter run away or he will kill me.\" So he ran away and left behind the\nsack of money.\n\nWhen Cecino perceived that there was no one there, he came out, put the\nbag of money on his head, and started for home. When he drew near his\nparents' house he cried: \"Oh, mamma, come and meet me; I have brought\nyou a bag of money!\"\n\nWhen his mother heard him she went to meet him and took the money and\nsaid: \"Take care you don't drown yourself in these puddles of\nrain-water.\" The mother went home, and turned back to look for Cecino,\nbut he was not to be seen. She told her husband what Cecino had done,\nand they went and searched everywhere for him, and at last found him\ndrowned in a puddle.[4]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next story is one that has always enjoyed great popularity over the\nwhole of Europe, and is a most interesting example of the diffusion of\nnursery tales. It is also interesting from the attempt to show that it\nis of comparatively late date, and has been borrowed from a people not\nof European extraction.[5] The story belongs to the class of what may be\ncalled \"accumulative\" stories, of which \"The House that Jack built\" is a\ngood example. It is a version of the story so well known in English of\nthe old woman who found a little crooked sixpence, and went to market\nand bought a little pig. As she was coming home the pig would not go\nover the stile. The old woman calls on a dog to bite pig, but the dog\nwill not. Then she calls in turn on a stick, fire, water, ox, butcher,\nrope, rat, and cat. They all refuse to help her except the cat, which\npromises help in exchange for a saucer of milk. \"So away went the old\nwoman to the cow. But the cow said to her: 'If you will go to yonder\nhay-stack and fetch me a handful of hay, I'll give you the milk.' So\naway went the old woman to the hay-stack; and she brought the hay to the\ncow. As soon as the cow had eaten the hay, she gave the old woman the\nmilk; and away she went with it in a saucer to the cat.\n\n\"As soon as the cat had lapped up the milk, the cat began to kill the\nrat; the rat to gnaw the rope; the rope began to hang the butcher; the\nbutcher began to kill the ox; the ox began to drink the water; the water\nbegan to quench the fire; the fire began to burn the stick; the stick\nbegan to beat the dog; the dog began to bite the pig; the little pig in\na fright jumped over the stile, and so the old woman got home that\nnight.\"[6]\n\nThe Italian versions may be divided into two classes: first, where the\nanimals and inanimate objects are invoked to punish some human being;\nsecond, where all the actors are animals. The first version of the first\nclass that we shall give is from Sicily, Pitre, No. 131, and is called:\n\n\nLXXVIII. PITIDDA.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a mother who had a daughter named Pitidda.\nShe said to her: \"Go sweep the house.\" \"Give me some bread first.\" \"I\ncannot,\" she answered. When her mother saw that she would not sweep the\nhouse, she called the wolf. \"Wolf, go kill Pitidda, for Pitidda will not\nsweep the house.\" \"I can't,\" said the wolf. \"Dog, go kill the wolf,\"\nsaid the mother, \"for the wolf will not kill Pitidda, for Pitidda will\nnot sweep the house.\" \"I can't,\" said the dog. \"Stick, go kill the dog,\nfor the dog will not kill the wolf, for the wolf won't kill Pitidda, for\nPitidda won't sweep the house.\" \"I can't,\" said the stick. \"Fire, burn\nstick, for stick won't kill dog, for dog won't kill wolf, for wolf won't\nkill Pitidda, for Pitidda won't sweep the house.\" \"I can't,\" said the\nfire. \"Water, quench fire, for fire won't burn stick, for stick won't\nkill dog, for dog won't kill wolf, for wolf won't kill Pitidda, for\nPitidda won't sweep the house.\" \"I can't.\" \"Cow, go drink water, for\nwater won't quench fire, for fire won't burn stick, for stick won't kill\ndog, for dog won't kill wolf, for wolf won't kill Pitidda, for Pitidda\nwon't sweep the house.\" \"I can't,\" said the cow. \"Rope, go choke cow,\"\netc.\n\n[Then the mother calls on the mouse to gnaw the rope, the cat to eat the\nmouse, and the story ends.]\n\nThe cat runs and begins to eat the mouse, the mouse runs and begins to\ngnaw the rope, the rope to choke the cow, the cow to drink the water,\nthe water to quench the fire, the fire to burn the stick, the stick to\nkill the dog, the dog to kill the wolf, the wolf to kill Pitidda,\nPitidda to sweep the house, and her mother runs and gives her some\nbread.[7]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Italian story, it will be seen, has a moral. The animals, etc., are\ninvoked to punish a disobedient child. In the Neapolitan version a\nmother sends her son to gather some fodder for the cattle. He does not\nwish to go until he has had some macaroni that his mother has just\ncooked. She promises to keep him some, and he departs. While he is gone\nthe mother eats up all the macaroni, except a small bit. When her son\nreturns, and sees how little is left for him, he begins to cry and\nrefuses to eat; and his mother calls on stick, fire, water, ox, rope,\nmouse, and cat to make her son obey, and eat the macaroni.[8] The\ndisobedient son is also found in two Tuscan versions, one from Siena,\nand one from Florence, which are almost identical.[9]\n\nIn the Venetian version, a naughty boy will not go to school, and his\nmother invokes dog, stick, fire, water, ox, butcher, and soldier.[10]\n\nThe Sicilian story of \"The Sexton's Nose\" (Pitre, No. 135) will serve as\nthe connecting link between the two classes above mentioned. Properly\nspeaking, only the second part of it belongs here; but we will give a\nbrief analysis of the first also.\n\n\nLXXIX. THE SEXTON'S NOSE.\n\nA sexton, one day in sweeping the church, found a piece of money (it was\nthe fifth of a cent) and deliberated with himself as to what he would\nbuy with it. If he bought nuts or almonds, he was afraid of the mice; so\nat last he bought some roasted peas, and ate all but the last pea. This\nhe took to a bakery near by, and asked the mistress to keep it for him;\nshe told him to leave it on a bench, and she would take care of it. When\nshe went to get it, she found that the cock had eaten it. The next day\nthe sexton came for the roast pea, and when he heard what had become of\nit, he said they must either return the roast pea or give him the cock.\nThis they did, and the sexton, not having any place to keep it, took it\nto a miller's wife, who promised to keep it for him. Now she had a pig,\nwhich managed to kill the cock. The next day the sexton came for the\ncock, and on finding it dead, demanded the pig, and the woman had to\ngive it to him. The pig he left with a friend of his, a pastry-cook,\nwhose daughter was to be married the next day. The woman was mean and\nsly, and killed the pig for her daughter's wedding, meaning to tell the\nsexton that the pig had run away. The sexton, however, when he heard it,\nmade a great fuss, and declared that she must give him back his pig or\nher daughter. At last she had to give him her daughter, whom he put in a\nbag and carried away. He took the bag to a woman who kept a shop, and\nasked her to keep for him this bag, which he said contained bran. The\nwoman by chance kept chickens, and she thought she would take some of\nthe sexton's bran and feed them. When she opened the bag she found the\nyoung girl, who told her how she came there. The woman took her out of\nthe sack, and put in her stead a dog. The next day the sexton came for\nhis bag, and putting it on his shoulder, started for the sea-shore,\nintending to throw the young girl in the sea. When he reached the shore,\nhe opened the bag, and the furious dog flew out and bit his nose. The\nsexton was in great agony, and cried out, while the blood ran down his\nface in torrents: \"Dog, dog, give me a hair to put in my nose, and heal\nthe bite.\"[N] The dog answered: \"Do you want a hair? give me some\nbread.\" The sexton ran to a bakery, and said to the baker: \"Baker, give\nme some bread to give the dog; the dog will give a hair; the hair I will\nput in my nose, and cure the bite.\" The baker said: \"Do you want bread?\ngive me some wood.\" The sexton ran to the woodman. \"Woodman, give me\nwood to give the baker; the baker will give me bread; the bread I will\ngive to the dog; the dog will give me a hair; the hair I will put in my\nnose, and heal the bite.\" The woodman said: \"Do you want wood? give me a\nmattock.\" The sexton ran to a smith. \"Smith, give me a mattock to give\nthe woodman; the woodman will give me wood; I will carry the wood to the\nbaker; the baker will give me bread; I will give the bread to the dog;\nthe dog will give me a hair; the hair I will put in my nose, and heal\nthe bite.\" The smith said: \"Do you want a mattock? give me some coals.\"\nThe sexton ran to the collier. \"Collier, give me some coals to give the\nsmith; the smith will give me a mattock; the mattock I will give the\nwoodman; the woodman will give me some wood; the wood I will give the\nbaker; the baker will give me bread; the bread I will give the dog; the\ndog will give me a hair; the hair I will put in my nose, and heal the\nbite.\" \"Do you want coals? give me a cart.\" The sexton ran to the\nwagon-maker. \"Wagon-maker, give me a cart to give the collier; the\ncollier will give me some coals; the coals I will carry to the smith;\nthe smith will give me a mattock; the mattock I will give the woodman;\nthe woodman will give me some wood; the wood I will give the baker; the\nbaker will give me bread; the bread I will give to the dog; the dog will\ngive me a hair; the hair I will put in my nose, and heal the bite.\"\n\n[Footnote N: As with us the hair of a dog is supposed to heal the bite\nthe same dog has inflicted.]\n\nThe wagon-maker, seeing the sexton's great lamentation, is moved to\ncompassion, and gives him the cart. The sexton, well pleased, takes the\ncart and goes away to the collier; the collier gives him the coals; the\ncoals he takes to the smith; the smith gives him the mattock; the\nmattock he takes to the woodman; the woodman gives him wood; the wood he\ncarries to the baker; the baker gives him bread; the bread he carries to\nthe dog; the dog gives him a hair; the hair he puts in his nose, and\nheals the bite.[11]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe second class contains the versions in which all the actors are\nanimals or personified inanimate objects. The first example we shall\ngive is from Avellino in the Principato Ulteriore (Imbriani, p. 239),\nand is called:\n\n\nLXXX. THE COCK AND THE MOUSE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a cock and a mouse. One day the mouse said to\nthe cock: \"Friend Cock, shall we go and eat some nuts on yonder tree?\"\n\"As you like.\" So they both went under the tree and the mouse climbed up\nat once and began to eat. The poor cock began to fly, and flew and flew,\nbut could not come where the mouse was. When it saw that there was no\nhope of getting there, it said: \"Friend Mouse, do you know what I want\nyou to do? Throw me a nut.\" The mouse went and threw one and hit the\ncock on the head. The poor cock, with its head broken and all covered\nwith blood, went away to an old woman. \"Old aunt, give me some rags to\ncure my head.\" \"If you will give me two hairs, I will give you the\nrags.\" The cock went away to a dog. \"Dog, give me some hairs; the hairs\nI will give the old woman; the old woman will give me rags to cure my\nhead.\" \"If you will give me a little bread,\" said the dog, \"I will give\nyou the hairs.\" The cock went away to a baker. \"Baker, give me bread; I\nwill give the bread to the dog; the dog will give hairs; the hairs I\nwill carry to the old woman; the old woman will give me rags to cure my\nhead.\" The baker answered: \"I will not give you bread unless you give me\nsome wood!\" The cock went away to the forest. \"Forest, give me some\nwood; the wood I will carry to the baker; the baker will give me some\nbread; the bread I will give to the dog; the dog will give me hairs; the\nhairs I will carry to the old woman; the old woman will give me rags to\ncure my head.\" The forest answered: \"If you will bring me a little\nwater, I will give you some wood.\" The cock went away to a fountain.\n\"Fountain, give me water; water I will carry to the forest; forest will\ngive wood; wood I will carry to the baker; baker will give bread; bread\nI will give dog; dog will give hairs; hairs I will give old woman; old\nwoman will give rags to cure my head.\" The fountain gave him water; the\nwater he carried to the forest; the forest gave him wood; the wood he\ncarried to the baker; the baker gave him bread; the bread he gave to the\ndog; the dog gave him the hairs; the hairs he carried to the old woman;\nthe old woman gave him the rags; and the cock cured his head.[12]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are other versions from Florence (_Nov. fior._ p. 551), Bologna\n(Coronedi-Berti, X. p. 16), and Venice (Bernoni, Punt. III. p. 74),\nwhich do not call for any detailed notice. In the Florentine version a\ncock gives a peck at a mouse's head and the mouse cries out: \"Where must\nI go to be cured?\" Then follow the various objects which are almost\nidentical with those in the other versions. The mouse, however, is\nkilled by the ox, to which he goes last. The Venetian version is the\nmost elaborate; in it the cock and mouse go nutting together, and while\nthe former flies up into the tree and throws the nuts down, the mouse\neats them all up. When the cock comes down he flies into a passion and\ngives the mouse a peck at his head. The mouse runs off in terror, and\nthe rest of the story is as above until the end. The last person the\nmouse calls on is a cooper, to make him a bucket to give to the well, to\nget water, etc. The cooper asks for money, which the mouse finds after a\nwhile. He gives the money to the cooper and says: \"Take and count it;\nmeanwhile I am going to drink, for I am dying of thirst.\" As he is going\nto drink he sees Friend Cock coming along. \"Ah, poor me,\" says he to\nhimself, \"I am a dead mouse!\" The cock sees him and goes to meet him\nand says: \"Good day, friend, are you still afraid of me? Come, let us\nmake peace!\" The mouse then takes heart and says: \"Oh, yes, yes! let us\nmake peace!\"\n\nSo they made peace, and Friend Mouse said to Friend Cock: \"Now that you\nare here you must do me the favor to hold me by the tail while I hang\nover the ditch to drink, and when I say _slapo, slapo_, pull me back.\"\nThe cock said: \"I will do as you wish.\"\n\nThen the mouse went to the ditch and Friend Cock held him by the tail.\nAfter the mouse had drunk his fill, he said: \"Friend, _slapo, slapo_!\"\nThe cock answered: \"Friend, and I let you go by the tail!\" And in truth\nhe did let go his tail, and the poor mouse went to the bottom and was\nnever seen or heard of more.[13]\n\nThe following story from Sicily (Pitre, No. 132) belongs also to a class\nof tales very popular and having only animals for its actors. It is\ncalled:\n\n\nLXXXI. GODMOTHER FOX.[O]\n\nOnce upon a time there was Godmother Fox and Godmother Goat.[P] The\nformer had a little bit of a house adorned with little chairs, cups, and\ndishes; in short, it was well furnished. One day Godmother Goat went out\nand carried away the little house. Godmother Fox began to lament, when\nalong came a dog, barking, that said to her: \"What are you crying\nabout?\" She answered: \"Godmother Goat has carried off my house!\" \"Be\nquiet. I will make her give it back to you.\" So the dog went and said to\nGodmother Goat: \"Give the house back to Godmother Fox.\" The goat\nanswered: \"I am Godmother Goat. I have a sword at my side, and with my\nhorns I will tear you in pieces.\" When the dog heard that, he went away.\n\n[Footnote O: _Cummari Vurpidda_ (diminutive of Fox).]\n\n[Footnote P: _Cummari Crapazza_ (diminutive of Goat).]\n\nThen a sheep passed by and said to the little fox: \"What are you crying\nabout?\" and she told her the same thing. Then the sheep went to\nGodmother Goat and began to reprove her. The goat made the same answer\nshe had made the dog, and the sheep went away in fright.\n\nIn short, all sorts of animals went to the goat, with the same result.\nAmong others the mouse went and said to the little fox: \"What are you\ncrying about?\" \"Godmother Goat has carried off my house.\" \"Be still. I\nwill make her give it back to you.\" So the mouse went and said to\nGodmother Goat: \"Give Godmother Fox her house back right away.\" The goat\nanswered: \"I am Godmother Goat. I have a sword at my side, and with my\nfist and with my horns I will smash you!\" The mouse answered at once: \"I\nam Godfather Mouse. By my side I have a spit. I will heat it in the fire\nand stick it in your tail.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe inference of course is that Godmother Goat gave back the house. The\nstory does not say so, but ends with the usual formula:\n\n    Story told, story written,\n    Tell me yours, for mine is said.\n\nPitre (No. 133) gives another version in which a goat gets under a nun's\nbed and she calls on her neighbors, a dog, pig, and cricket, to put the\ngoat out. The cricket alone succeeds, with a threat similar to that in\nthe last story.\n\nIn the Neapolitan version (Imbriani, _Dodici Conti Pomiglianesi_, p.\n273) an old woman, in sweeping the church, found a piece of money and,\nlike the sexton in the story of \"The Sexton's Nose,\" did not know what\nto buy with it. At last she bought some flour and made a hasty-pudding\nof it. She left it on the table and went again to church, but forgot to\nclose the window. While she was gone a herd of goats came along, and one\nsmelled the pudding, climbed in at the window, and ate it up. When the\nold woman came back and tried to open the door, she could not, for the\ngoat was behind it. Then she began to weep and various animals came\nalong and tried to enter the house. The goat answered them all: \"I am\nthe goat, with three horns on my head and three in my belly, and if you\ndon't run away I will eat you up.\" The mouse at last replied: \"I am\nGodfather Mouse, with the halter, and if you don't run away, I will tear\nyour eyes out.\" The goat ran away and the old woman went in with\nGodfather Mouse, whom she married, and they both lived there together.\n\nThe Florentine version (_Nov. fior._ p. 556) is called \"The Iron Goat.\"\nIn it a widow goes out to wash and leaves her son at home, with orders\nnot to leave the door open so that the Iron Goat, with the iron mouth\nand the sword tongue, can enter. The boy after a time wanted to go after\nhis mother, and when he had gone half way he remembered that he had left\nthe door open and went back. When he was going to enter he saw there the\nIron Goat. \"Who is there?\" \"It is I; I am the Iron Goat, with the iron\nmouth and the sword tongue. If you enter I will slice you like a\nturnip.\" The poor boy sat down on the steps and wept. A little old woman\npassed by and asked the cause of his tears; he told her and she said she\nwould send the goat away for three bushels of grain. The old woman\ntried, with the usual result, and finally said to the boy: \"Listen, my\nchild. I don't care for those three bushels of grain; but I really\ncannot send the goat away.\" Then an old man tried his luck, with no\nbetter success. At last a little bird came by and promised for three\nbushels of millet to drive the goat away. When the goat made its usual\ndeclaration, the little bird replied: \"And I with my beak will peck your\nbrains out.\" The goat was frightened and ran away, and the boy had to\npay the little bird three bushels of millet.[14]\n\nThe next story affords, like \"Pitidda,\" a curious example of the\ndiffusion of nursery tales.\n\nOur readers will remember the Grimm story of \"The Spider and the Flea.\"\nA spider and a flea dwelt together in one house and brewed their beer in\nan egg-shell. One day, when the spider was stirring it up, she fell in\nand scalded herself. Thereupon the flea began to scream. And then the\ndoor asked: \"Why are you screaming, flea?\" \"Because Little Spider has\nscalded herself in the beer-tub,\" replied she. Thereupon the door began\nto creak as if it were in pain, and a broom, which stood in the corner,\nasked: \"What are you creaking for, door?\"\n\n\"May I not creak?\" it replied.\n\n    \"The little spider scalded herself,\n    And the flea weeps.\"\n\nSo a broom sweeps, a little cart runs, ashes burn furiously, a tree\nshakes off its leaves, a maiden breaks her pitcher, and a streamlet\nbegins to flow until it swallows up the little girl, the little tree,\nthe ashes, the cart, the broom, the door, the flea, and, last of all,\nthe spider, all together.[15]\n\nThe first Italian version of this story which we shall mention is from\nSicily (Pitre, No. 134), and is called:\n\n\nLXXXII. THE CAT AND THE MOUSE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a cat that wanted to get married. So she\nstood on a corner, and every one who passed by said: \"Little Cat, what's\nthe matter?\" \"What's the matter? I want to marry.\" A dog passed by and\nsaid: \"Do you want me?\" \"When I see how you can sing.\" The dog said:\n\"Bow, wow!\" \"Fy! What horrid singing! I don't want you.\" A pig passed.\n\"Do you want me, Little Cat?\" \"When I see how you sing.\" \"Uh! uh!\" \"Fy!\nYou are horrid! Go away! I don't want you.\" A calf passed and said:\n\"Little Cat, will you take me?\" \"When I see how you sing.\" \"Uhm!\" \"Go\naway, for you are horrid! What do you want of me?\" A mouse passed by:\n\"Little Cat, what are you doing?\" \"I am going to get married.\" \"Will you\ntake me?\" \"And how can you sing?\" \"Ziu, ziu!\" The cat accepted him, and\nsaid: \"Let us go and be married, for you please me.\" So they were\nmarried.\n\nOne day the cat went to buy some pastry, and left the mouse at home.\n\"Don't stir out, for I am going to buy some pastry.\" The mouse went into\nthe kitchen, saw the pot on the fire, and crept into it, for he wanted\nto eat the beans. But he did not; for the pot began to boil, and the\nmouse stayed there. The cat came back and began to cry; but the mouse\ndid not appear. So the cat put the pastry in the pot for dinner. When it\nwas ready the cat ate, and put some on a plate for the mouse, also. When\nshe took out the pastry she saw the mouse stuck fast in it. \"Ah! my\nlittle mouse! ah! my little mouse!\" so she went and sat behind the door,\nlamenting the mouse.\n\n\"What is the matter,\" said the door, \"that you are scratching yourself\nso and tearing out your hair?\"\n\nThe cat said: \"What is the matter? My mouse is dead, and so I tear my\nhair.\"\n\nThe door answered: \"And I, as door, will slam.\"\n\nIn the door was a window, which said: \"What's the matter, door, that you\nare slamming?\"\n\n\"The mouse died, the cat is tearing her hair, and I am slamming.\"\n\nThe window answered: \"And I, as window, will open and shut.\"\n\nIn the window was a tree, that said: \"Window, why do you open and shut?\"\nThe window answered: \"The mouse died, the cat tears her hair, the door\nslams, and I open and shut.\" The tree answered and said: \"And I, as\ntree, will throw myself down.\"\n\nA bird happened to alight in this tree, and said: \"Tree, why did you\nthrow yourself down?\" The tree replied: \"The mouse died, the cat tears\nher hair, the door slams, the window opens and shuts, and I, as tree,\nthrew myself down.\" \"And I, as bird, will pull out my feathers.\" The\nbird went and alighted on a fountain, which said: \"Bird, why are you\nplucking out your feathers so?\" The bird answered as the others had\ndone, and the fountain said: \"And I, as fountain, will dry up.\" A cuckoo\nwent to drink at the fountain, and asked: \"Fountain, why have you dried\nup?\" And the fountain told him all that had happened. \"And I, as cuckoo,\nwill put my tail in the fire.\" A monk of St. Nicholas passed by, and\nsaid: \"Cuckoo, why is your tail in the fire?\" When the monk heard the\nanswer he said: \"And I, as monk of St. Nicholas, will go and say mass\nwithout my robes.\" Then came the queen, who, when she heard what the\nmatter was, said: \"And I, as queen, will go and sift the meal.\" At last\nthe king came by, and asked: \"O Queen! why are you sifting the meal?\"\nWhen the queen had told him everything, he said: \"And I, as king, am\ngoing to take my coffee.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd thus the story abruptly ends. In one of Pitre's variants a sausage\ntakes the place of the mouse; in another, a tortoise.\n\nIn the version from Pomigliano d'Arco (Imbriani, p. 244), an old woman,\nwho finds a coin in sweeping a church, hesitates in regard to what she\nwill spend it for, as in the stories above mentioned. She finally\nconcludes to buy some paint for her face. After she has put it on, she\nstations herself at the window. A donkey passes, and asks what she\nwants. She answers that she wishes to marry. \"Will you take me?\" asks\nthe donkey. \"Let me hear what kind of a voice you have.\" \"_Ingo! Ingo!\nIngo!_\" \"Away! away! you would frighten me in the night!\" Then a goat\ncomes along, with the same result. Then follows a cat, and all the\nanimals in the world; but none pleases the old woman. At last a little\nmouse passes by, and says: \"Old Aunt, what are you doing there?\" \"I want\nto marry.\" \"Will you take me?\" \"Let me hear your voice.\" \"_Zivuzi!\nzivuzi! zivuzi! zivuzi!_\" \"Come up, for you please me.\" So the mouse\nwent up to the old woman, and stayed with her. One day the old woman\nwent to mass, and left the pot near the fire and told the mouse to be\ncareful not to fall in it. When she came home she could not find the\nmouse anywhere. At last she went to take the soup from the pot, and\nthere she found the mouse dead. She began to lament, and the ashes on\nthe hearth began to scatter, and the window asked what was the matter.\nThe ashes answered: \"Ah! you know nothing. Friend Mouse is in the pot;\nthe old woman is weeping, weeping; and I, the ashes, have wished to\nscatter.\" Then the window opens and shuts, the stairs fall down, the\nbird plucks out its feathers, the laurel shakes off its leaves, the\nservant girl who goes to the well breaks her pitcher, the mistress who\nwas making bread throws the flour over the balcony, and finally the\nmaster comes home, and after he hears the story, exclaims: \"And I, who\nam master, will break the bones of both of you!\" And therewith he takes\na stick and gives the servant and her mistress a sound beating.[16]\n\nThere is a curious class of versions of the above story, in which the\nprincipal actors are a mouse and a sausage, reminding one of the Grimm\nstory of \"The Little Mouse, the Little Bird, and the Sausage.\" In the\nVenetian version (Bernoni, Punt. III. p. 81), the beginning is as\nfollows: Once upon a time there was a mouse and a sausage, and one day\nthe mouse said to the sausage: \"I am going to mass; meanwhile get ready\nthe dinner.\" \"Yes, yes,\" answered the sausage. Then the mouse went to\nmass, and when he returned he found everything ready. The next day the\nsausage went to mass and the mouse prepared the dinner. He put on the\npot, threw in the rice, and then went to taste if it was well salted.\nBut he fell in and died. The sausage returned home, knocked at the\ndoor,--for there was no bell,--and no one answered. She called: \"Mouse!\nmouse!\" But he does not answer. Then the sausage went to a smith and had\nthe door broken in, and called again: \"Mouse, where are you?\" And the\nmouse did not answer. \"Now I will pour out the rice, and meanwhile he\nwill come.\" So she went and poured out the rice, and found the mouse\ndead in the pot. \"Ah! poor mouse! Oh! my mouse! What shall I do now? Oh!\npoor me!\" And she began to utter a loud lamentation. Then the table\nbegan to go around the room, the sideboard to throw down the plates, the\ndoor to lock and unlock itself, the fountain to dry up, the mistress to\ndrag herself along the ground, and the master threw himself from the\nbalcony and broke his neck. \"And all this arose from the death of this\nmouse.\"\n\nThe version from the Marches (Gianandrea, p. 11) resembles the above\nvery closely; the conclusion is as follows: \"The mouse, the master of\nthis castle, is dead; the sausage weeps, the broom sweeps, the door\nopens and shuts, the cart runs, the tree throws off its leaves, the bird\nplucks out its feathers, the servant breaks her pitcher,\" etc.\n\nThe version from Milan (_Nov. fior._ p. 552) resembles the one from\nVenice. Instead of the mouse and the sausage we have the big mouse and\nthe little mouse. In the version from Leghorn (Papanti, p. 19) called\n\"Vezzino and Lady Sausage,\"[Q] the actors are Lady Sausage and her son\nVezzino, who falls into the pot on the fire while his mother is at mass.\nThe rest of the story does not differ materially from the above\nversions.\n\n[Footnote Q: _Vezzino e Madonna Salciccia. Vezzino_ is the dim. of\n_vezzo_, delight, pastime.]\n\nIn the Grimm story of the \"Golden Goose,\" the goose has the power of\ncausing anything that touches it to stick fast. This same idea is\nreproduced in several Italian stories. The best is from Venice (Bernoni,\n_Fiabe_, p. 21) and is called:\n\n\nLXXXIII. A FEAST DAY.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a husband and wife; the husband was a\nboatman. One feast day the boatman took it into his head to buy a fowl,\nwhich he carried home and said: \"See here, wife, to-day is a feast day;\nI want a good dinner; cook it well, for my friend Tony is coming to dine\nwith us and has said that he would bring a tart.\" \"Very well,\" she said,\n\"I will prepare the fowl at once.\" So she cleaned it, washed it, put it\non the fire, and said: \"While it is boiling I will go and hear a mass.\"\nShe shut the kitchen door and left the dog and the cat inside. Scarcely\nhad she closed the door when the dog went to the hearth and perceived\nthat there was a good odor there and said: \"Oh, what a good smell!\" He\ncalled the cat, also, and said: \"Cat, you come here, too; smell what a\ngood odor there is! see if you can push off the cover with your paws.\"\nThe cat went and scratched and scratched and down went the cover.\n\"Now,\" said the dog, \"see if you can catch it with your claws.\" Then the\ncat seized the fowl and dragged it to the middle of the kitchen. The dog\nsaid: \"Shall we eat half of it?\" The cat said: \"Let us eat it all.\" So\nthey ate it all and stuffed themselves like pigs. When they had eaten it\nthey said: \"Alas for us! What shall we do when the mistress comes home?\nShe will surely beat us both.\" So they both ran all over the house, here\nand there, but could find no place in which to hide. They were going to\nhide under the bed. \"No,\" they said, \"for she will see us.\" They were\ngoing under the sofa; but that would not do, for she would see them\nthere. Finally the cat looked up and saw under the beams a cobweb. He\ngave a leap and jumped into it. The dog looked at him and said: \"Run\naway! you are mad! you can be seen, for your tail sticks out! come down,\ncome down!\" \"I cannot, I cannot, for I am stuck fast!\" \"Wait, I will\ncome and pull you out.\" He gave a spring to catch him by the tail and\npull him down. Instead of that he, too, stuck fast to the cat's tail. He\nmade every effort to loosen himself, but he could not and there he had\nto stay.\n\nMeanwhile the mistress does not wait until the priest finishes the mass,\nbut runs quickly home. She runs and opens the door and is going to skim\nthe pot, when she discovers that the fowl is no longer there, and in the\nmiddle of the kitchen she sees the bones all gnawed. \"Ah, poor me! the\ncat and the dog have eaten the fowl. Now I will give them both a\nbeating.\" So she takes a stick and then goes to find them. She looks\nhere, she looks there, but does not find them anywhere. In despair she\ncomes back to the kitchen, but does not find them there. \"Where the\ndeuce have they hidden?\" Just then she raises her eyes and sees them\nboth stuck fast under the beams. \"Ah, are you there? now just wait!\" and\nshe climbs on a table and is going to pull them down, when she sticks\nfast to the dog's tail. She tries to free herself, but cannot.\n\nHer husband knocked at the door. \"Here, open!\" \"I cannot, I am fast.\"\n\"Loosen yourself and open the door! where the deuce are you fastened?\"\n\"I cannot, I tell you.\" \"Open! it is noon.\" \"I cannot, for I am fast.\"\n\"But where are you fast?\" \"To the dog's tail.\" \"I will give you the\ndog's tail, you silly woman!\" He gave the door two or three kicks, broke\nit in, went into the kitchen, and saw cat, dog, and mistress all fast.\n\"Ah, you are all fast, are you? just wait, I will loosen you.\" He went\nto loosen them, but stuck fast himself. Friend Tony comes and knocks.\n\"Friend? Open! I have the tart here.\" \"I cannot; my friend, I am fast!\"\n\"Bad luck to you! Are you fast at this time? You knew I was coming and\ngot fast? Come, loosen yourself and open the door!\" He said again: \"I\ncannot come and open, for I am fast.\" Finally the friend became angry,\nkicked in the door, went into the kitchen, and saw all those souls stuck\nfast and laughed heartily. \"Just wait, for I will loosen you now.\" So he\ngave a great pull, the cat's tail was loosened, the cat fell into the\ndog's mouth, the dog into his mistress' mouth, the mistress into her\nhusband's, her husband into his friend's, and his friend into the mouth\nof the blockheads who are listening to me.[17]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe following nonsense story from Venice (Bernoni, Punt. I. p. 18) will\ngive a good idea of a class that is not very well represented in Italy.\nIt is called:\n\n\nLXXXIV. THE THREE BROTHERS.\n\nOnce upon a time there were three brothers: two had no clothes and one\nno shirt. The weather was very bad and they make up their minds to go\nshooting. So they took down three guns,--two were broken and one had no\nbarrel,--and walked and walked until they came at last to a meadow,\nwhere they saw a hare. They began to fire at it, but could not catch it.\n\"What shall we do?\" said one of them. They remembered that near by a\ngodmother of theirs lived; so they went and knocked at her door and\nasked her to lend them a pot to cook the hare they had not caught. The\ngodmother was not at home, but nevertheless she answered: \"My children,\ngo in the kitchen and there you will find three pots, two broken and one\nwith no bottom; take whichever you wish.\" \"Thanks, Godmother!\" They went\ninto the kitchen and chose the one without a bottom and put the hare in\nit to cook. While the hare was cooking, one said: \"Let us ask our\ngodmother whether she has anything in her garden.\" So they asked her and\nshe said: \"Yes, yes, my children, I have three walnut-trees; two are\ndead and one has never borne any nuts; knock off as many as you wish.\"\nOne went and shook the tree that had never borne nuts, and a little nut\nfell on his hat and broke his heel. Thereupon they picked up the nuts\nand went to get the hare, which meanwhile was cooked, and said: \"What\nshall we do with so much stuff?\" So they went to a village where there\nwere many ill, and they put up a notice in the street that whoever\nwished might, at such and such a place, get broth given him in charity.\nEvery one went to get some, and they took it in the salad-basket, and it\nwas given to them with a skimmer. One who did not belong to the village,\ndrank so much of this broth that he was at the point of death. Then they\nsent for three physicians: one was blind, one deaf, and one dumb. The\nblind man went in and said: \"Let me look at your tongue.\" The deaf man\nasked: \"How are you?\" The dumb said: \"Give me some paper, pen and ink.\"\nThey gave them to him and he said:\n\n    \"Go to the apothecary,\n    For he knows the business;\n    Buy two cents' worth of I know not what,\n    Put it wherever you wish.\n    He will get well I know not when,\n    I will leave and commend him to you.\"[18]\n\nOne of the most popular of Italian tales, as the collector tells us, is\none of which we give the version from Leghorn (Papanti, p. 25). It is\ncalled:\n\n\nLXXXV. BUCHETTINO.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a child whose name was Buchettino. One\nmorning his mamma called him and said: \"Buchettino, will you do me a\nfavor? Go and sweep the stairs.\" Buchettino, who was very obedient, did\nnot wait to be told a second time, but went at once to sweep the stairs.\nAll at once he heard a noise, and after looking all around, he found a\npenny. Then he said to himself: \"What shall I do with this penny? I have\nhalf a mind to buy some dates... but no! for I should have to throw away\nthe stones. I will buy some apples... no! I will not, for I should have\nto throw away the core. I will buy some nuts... but no, for I should\nhave to throw away the shells! What shall I buy, then? I will buy--I\nwill buy--enough; I will buy a pennyworth of figs.\" No sooner said than\ndone: he bought a pennyworth of figs, and went to eat them in a tree.\nWhile he was eating, the ogre passed by, and seeing Buchettino eating\nfigs in the tree, said:\n\n    \"Buchettino,\n    My dear Buchettino,\n    Give me a little fig\n    With your dear little hand,\n    If not I will eat you!\"\n\nBuchettino threw him one, but it fell in the dirt. Then the ogre\nrepeated:\n\n    \"Buchettino,\n    My dear Buchettino,\n    Give me a little fig\n    With your dear little hand,\n    If not I will eat you!\"\n\nThen Buchettino threw him another, which also fell in the dirt. The ogre\nsaid again:\n\n    \"Buchettino,\n    My dear Buchettino,\n    Give me a little fig\n    With your dear little hand,\n    If not I will eat you!\"\n\nPoor Buchettino, who did not see the trick, and did not know that the\nogre was doing everything to get him into his net and eat him up, what\ndoes he do? he leans down and foolishly gives him a fig with his little\nhand. The ogre, who wanted nothing better, suddenly seized him by the\narm and put him in his bag; then he took him on his back and started for\nhome, crying with all his lungs:\n\n    \"Wife, my wife,\n    Put the kettle on the fire,\n    For I have caught Buchettino!\n    Wife, my wife,\n    Put the kettle on the fire,\n    For I have caught Buchettino!\"\n\nWhen the ogre was near his house he put the bag on the ground, and went\noff to attend to something else. Buchettino, with a knife that he had in\nhis pocket, cut the bag open in a trice, filled it with large stones,\nand then:\n\n    \"My legs, it is no shame\n    To run away when there is need.\"\n\nWhen the rascal of an ogre returned he picked up the bag, and scarcely\nhad he arrived home when he said to his wife: \"Tell me, my wife, have\nyou put the kettle on the fire?\" She answered at once: \"Yes.\" \"Then,\"\nsaid the ogre, \"we will cook Buchettino; come here, help me!\" And both\ntaking the bag, they carried it to the hearth and were going to throw\npoor Buchettino into the kettle, but instead they found only the stones.\nImagine how cheated the ogre was. He was so angry that he bit his hands.\nHe could not swallow the trick played on him by Buchettino and swore to\nfind him again and be revenged. So the next day he began to go all about\nthe city and to look into all the hiding places. At last he happened to\nraise his eyes and saw Buchettino on a roof, ridiculing him and laughing\nso hard that his mouth extended from ear to ear. The ogre thought he\nshould burst with rage, but he pretended not to see it and in a very\nsweet tone he said: \"O Buchettino; just tell me, how did you manage to\nclimb up there?\" Buchettino answered: \"Do you really want to know? Then\nlisten. I put dishes upon dishes, glasses upon glasses, pans upon pans,\nkettles upon kettles; afterwards I climbed up on them and here I am.\"\n\"Ah! is that so?\" said the ogre; \"wait a bit!\" And quickly he took so\nmany dishes, so many glasses, pans, kettles, and made a great mountain\nof them; then he began to climb up, to go and catch Buchettino. But when\nhe was on the top--_brututum_--everything fell down; and that rascal of\nan ogre fell down on the stones and was cheated again.\n\nThen Buchettino, well pleased, ran to his mamma, who put a piece of\ncandy in his little mouth--See whether there is any more![19]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe will end this chapter with two stories in which the chief actors are\nanimals. One of these stories will doubtless be very familiar to our\nreaders. The first is from Venice (Bernoni, Punt. III. p. 65).\n\n\nLXXXVI. THE THREE GOSLINGS.\n\nOnce upon a time there were three goslings who were greatly afraid of\nthe wolf; for if he found them he would eat them. One day the largest\nsaid to the other two: \"Do you know what I think? I think we had better\nbuild a little house, so that the wolf shall not eat us, and meanwhile\nlet us go and look for something to build the house with.\" Then the\nother two said: \"Yes, yes, yes... good! let us go!\" So they went and\nfound a man who had a load of straw and said to him: \"Good man, do us\nthe favor to give us a little of that straw to make a house of, so that\nthe wolf shall not eat us.\" The man said: \"Take it, take it!\" and he\ngave them as much as they wanted. The goslings thanked the man and took\nthe straw and went away to a meadow, and there they built a lovely\nlittle house, with a door, and balconies, and kitchen, with everything,\nin short. When it was finished the largest gosling said: \"Now I want to\nsee whether one is comfortable in this house.\" So she went in and said:\n\"Oh! how comfortable it is in this house! just wait!\" She went and\nlocked the door with a padlock, and went out on the balcony and said to\nthe other two goslings: \"I am very comfortable alone here; go away, for\nI want nothing to do with you.\"\n\nThe two poor little goslings began to cry and beg their sister to open\nthe door and let them in; if she did not, the wolf would eat them. But\nshe would not listen to them. Then the two goslings went away and found\na man who had a load of hay. They said to him: \"Good man, do us the\nkindness to give us a little of that hay to build a house with, so that\nthe wolf shall not eat us!\" \"Yes, yes, yes, take some, take some!\" And\nhe gave them as much as they wanted. The goslings, well pleased, thanked\nthe man and carried the hay to a meadow and built a very pretty little\nhouse, prettier than the other. The middle-sized gosling said to the\nsmallest: \"Listen. I am going now to see whether one is comfortable in\nthis house; but I will not act like our sister, you know!\" She entered\nthe house and said to herself: \"Oh! how comfortable it is here! I don't\nwant my sister! I am very comfortable here alone.\" So she went and\nfastened the door with a padlock, and went out on the balcony and said\nto her sister: \"Oh! how comfortable it is in this house! I don't want\nyou here! go away, go away!\" The poor gosling began to weep and beg her\nsister to open to her, for she was alone, and did not know where to go,\nand if the wolf found her he would eat her; but it did no good: she shut\nthe balcony and stayed in the house.\n\nThen the gosling, full of fear, went away and found a man who had a load\nof iron and stones and said to him: \"Good man, do me the favor to give\nme a few of those stones and a little of that iron to build me a house\nwith, so that the wolf shall not eat me!\" The man pitied the gosling so\nmuch that he said: \"Yes, yes, good gosling, or rather I will build your\nhouse for you.\" Then they went away to a meadow, and the man built a\nvery pretty house, with a garden and everything necessary, and very\nstrong, for it was lined with iron, and the balcony and door of iron\nalso. The gosling, well pleased, thanked the man and went into the house\nand remained there.\n\nNow let us go to the wolf.\n\nThe wolf looked everywhere for these goslings, but could not find them.\nAfter a time he learned that they had built three houses. \"Good, good!\"\nhe said; \"wait until I find you!\" Then he started out and journeyed and\njourneyed until he came to the meadow where the first house was. He\nknocked at the door and the gosling said: \"Who is knocking at the door?\"\n\"Come, come,\" said the wolf; \"open, for it is I.\" The gosling said: \"I\nwill not open for you, because you will eat me.\" \"Open, open! I will not\neat you, be not afraid. Very well,\" said the wolf, \"if you will not open\nthe door I will blow down your house.\" And indeed he did blow down the\nhouse and ate up the gosling. \"Now that I have eaten one,\" he said, \"I\nwill eat the others too.\" Then he went away and came at last to the\nhouse of the second gosling, and everything happened as to the first,\nthe wolf blew down the house and ate the gosling. Then he went in search\nof the third and when he found her he knocked at the door, but she would\nnot let him in. Then he tried to blow the house down, but could not;\nthen he climbed on the roof and tried to trample the house down, but in\nvain. \"Very well,\" he said to himself, \"in one way or another I will eat\nyou.\" Then he came down from the roof and said to the gosling: \"Listen,\ngosling. Do you wish us to make peace? I don't want to quarrel with you\nwho are so good, and I have thought that to-morrow we will cook some\nmacaroni and I will bring the butter and cheese and you will furnish the\nflour.\" \"Very good,\" said the gosling, \"bring them then.\" The wolf, well\nsatisfied, saluted the gosling and went away. The next day the gosling\ngot up early and went and bought the meal and then returned home and\nshut the house. A little later the wolf came and knocked at the door and\nsaid: \"Come, gosling, open the door, for I have brought you the butter\nand cheese!\" \"Very well, give it to me here by the balcony.\" \"No indeed,\nopen the door!\" \"I will open when all is ready.\" Then the wolf gave her\nthe things by the balcony and went away. While he was gone the gosling\nprepared the macaroni, and put it on the fire to cook in a kettle full\nof water. When it was two o'clock the wolf came and said: \"Come,\ngosling, open the door.\" \"No, I will not open, for when I am busy I\ndon't want any one in the way; when it is cooked, I will open and you\nmay come in and eat it.\" A little while after, the gosling said to the\nwolf: \"Would you like to try a bit of macaroni to see whether it is well\ncooked?\" \"Open the door! that is the better way.\" \"No, no; don't think\nyou are coming in; put your mouth to the hole in the shelf and I will\npour the macaroni down.\" The wolf, all greedy as he was, put his mouth\nto the hole and then the gosling took the kettle of boiling water and\npoured the boiling water instead of the macaroni through the hole into\nthe wolf's mouth; and the wolf was scalded and killed. Then the gosling\ntook a knife and cut open the wolf's stomach, and out jumped the other\ngoslings, who were still alive, for the wolf was so greedy that he had\nswallowed them whole. Then these goslings begged their sister's pardon\nfor the mean way in which they had treated her, and she, because she was\nkind-hearted, forgave them and took them into her house, and there they\nate their macaroni and lived together happy and contented.[20]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA curious variant of the above story is found in the same collection (p.\n69) under the title:\n\n\nLXXXVII. THE COCK.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a cock, and this cock flew here and flew\nthere, and flew on an arbor, and there he found a letter. He opened the\nletter and saw: \"Cock, steward,\"----and that he was invited to Rome by\nthe Pope.\n\nThe cock started on his journey, and after a time met the hen: \"Where\nare you going, Friend Cock?\" said the hen. \"I flew,\" said he, \"upon an\narbor and found a letter, and this letter said that I was invited to\nRome by the Pope.\" \"Just see, friend,\" said the hen, \"whether I am there\ntoo.\" \"Wait a bit.\" Then he turned the letter, and saw written there:\n\"Cock, steward; Hen, stewardess.\" \"Come, friend, for you are there too.\"\n\"Very well!\"\n\nThen the two started off, and soon met the goose, who said: \"Where are\nyou going, Friend Cock and Friend Hen?\" \"I flew,\" said the cock, \"upon\nan arbor, and I found a letter, and this letter said that we were\ninvited to Rome by the Pope.\" \"Just look, friend, whether I am there\ntoo.\" Then the cock opened the letter, read it, and saw that there was\nwritten: \"Cock, steward; Hen, stewardess; Goose, abbess.\" \"Come, come,\nfriend; you are there too.\" So they took her along, and all three went\ntheir way.\n\n[After a time they found the duck, and the cock saw written in the\nletter: \"Cock, steward; Hen, stewardess; Goose, abbess; Duck, countess.\"\nThey next met a little bird, and found he was down in the letter as\n\"little man-servant.\" Finally they came across the wood-louse, whom they\nfound mentioned in the letter as \"maid-servant.\" On their journey they\ncame to a forest, and saw a wolf at a distance. The cock, hen, goose,\nand duck plucked out their feathers and built houses to shelter\nthemselves from the wolf. The poor bug, that had no feathers, dug a hole\nin the ground and crept into it. The wolf came, and as in the last\nstory, blew down the four houses and devoured their occupants. Then he\ntried to get at the bug in the same way; but blew so hard that he burst,\nand out came the cock, hen, goose, and duck, safe and sound, and began\nto make a great noise. The bug heard it and came out of her hole, and\nafter they had rejoiced together, they separated and each returned home\nand thought no more of going to Rome to the Pope.]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is a version from the Marches (Gianandrea, p. 21), called, \"The\nMarriage of Thirteen.\" The animals are the same as in the last story. On\ntheir journey they meet the wolf, who accompanies them, although his\nname is not in the letter. After a time the wolf becomes hungry, and\nexclaims: \"I am hungry.\" The cock answers: \"I have nothing to give you.\"\n\"Very well; then I will eat you;\" and he swallows him whole. And so he\ndevours one after the other, until the bird only remains. The bird flies\nfrom tree to tree and bush to bush, and around the wolf's head, until he\ndrives him wild with anger. At last along comes a woman with a basket on\nher head, carrying food to the reapers. The bird says to the wolf that\nif he will spare his life he will get him something to eat from the\nbasket. The wolf promises, and the bird alights near the woman, who\ntries to catch him; the bird flies on a little way, and the woman puts\ndown her basket and runs after him. Meanwhile the wolf draws near the\nbasket and begins eating its contents. When the woman sees that, she\ncries: \"Help!\" and the reapers run up with sticks and scythes, and kill\nthe wolf, and the animals that he had devoured all came out of his\nstomach, safe and sound.[21]\n\nThere are two Sicilian versions of the story of \"The Cock.\" One (Pitre,\nNo. 279), \"The Wolf and the Finch,\" opens like the Venetian. The animals\nare: Cock, king; Hen, queen; Viper, chambermaid; Wolf, Pope; and Finch,\nkeeper of the castle. The wolf then proceeds to confess the others, and\neats them in turn until he comes to the finch, which plays a joke on him\nand flies away. The conclusion of the story is disfigured, nothing being\nsaid of the wolf's punishment or the recovery of the other animals.\n\nThe other Sicilian version is in Gonzenbach (No. 66). We give it,\nhowever, for completeness and because it recalls a familiar story in\nGrimm.[22] It is entitled:\n\n\nLXXXVIII. THE COCK THAT WISHED TO BECOME POPE.\n\nIt occurred once to the cock to go to Rome and have himself elected\nPope. So he started out, and on the way found a letter, which he took\nwith him. The hen met him, and asked: \"Mr. Cock, where are you going?\"\n\"I am going to Rome, to be Pope.\" \"Will you take me with you?\" she\nasked. \"First I must look in my letter,\" said the cock, and looked at\nhis letter. \"Come along; if I become Pope, you can be the Popess.\" So\nMr. Cock and Mrs. Hen continued their journey and met a cat, who said:\n\"Mr. Cock and Mrs. Hen, where are you going?\" \"We are going to Rome, and\nwish to be Pope and Popess.\" \"Will you take me with you?\" \"Wait until I\nlook in my letter,\" said the cock, and glanced at it. \"Very well; come\nalong; you can be our lady's-maid.\" After a while they met a weasel, who\nasked: \"Where are you going, Mr. Cock, Mrs. Hen, and Mrs. Cat?\" \"We are\ngoing to Rome, where I intend to become Pope,\" answered the cock. \"Will\nyou take me with you?\" \"Wait until I look in my letter,\" said he. When\nthe cock looked in his letter, he said: \"Very well; come along.\"\n\nSo the three animals continued their journey together towards Rome. At\nnight-fall they came to a little house where lived an old witch, who had\njust gone out. So each animal chose a place to suit him. The weasel sat\nhimself in the cupboard, the cat on the hearth in the warm ashes, and\nthe cock and the hen flew up on the beam over the door.\n\nWhen the old witch came home she wanted to get a light out of the\ncupboard, and the weasel struck her in the face with his tail. Then she\nwanted to light the candle, and went to the hearth. She took the bright\neyes of the cat for live coals and tried to light the match by them, and\nhit the cat in the eyes. The cat jumped in her face and scratched her\nfrightfully. When the cock heard all the noise he began to crow loudly.\nThen the witch saw that they were no ghosts, but harmless domestic\nanimals, and took a stick and drove all four out of the house.\n\nThe cat and the weasel had no longer any desire to prolong their\njourney; but the cock and hen continued their way.\n\nWhen they reached Rome they entered an open church, and the cock said\nto the sexton: \"Have all the bells rung, for now I will be Pope.\"\n\"Good!\" answered the sexton; \"that may be, but just come in here.\" Then\nhe led the cock and the hen into the sacristry, shut the door, and\ncaught them both. After he had caught them he twisted their necks and\nput them in the pot. Then he invited his friends, and they ate with\ngreat glee Mr. Cock and Mrs. Hen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nSTORIES AND JESTS.\n\n\nUntil the Reformation, Europe was, by its religion and the culture\ngrowing out of it, a homogeneous state. Not only, however, did the\nlegends of the Church find access to the people everywhere, but the\nstories imported from the Orient were equally popular and wide-spread.\nThe absence of other works of entertainment and the monotonous character\nof the legends increased the popularity of tales which were amusing and\ninteresting. We have considered in other places the fairy tales and\nthose stories which are of more direct Oriental origin. In the present\nchapter we shall examine those stories which are of the character of\njests or amusing stories, some of which are also Oriental, but may more\nappropriately be classed in this chapter. The first story we shall\nmention is familiar to the reader from the ballad of \"King John and the\nAbbot of Canterbury,\" in Percy and Buerger's poem of _Der Kaiser und der\nAbt_. There are two popular versions in Italian, as well as several\nliterary ones. The shortest is from Milan (Imbriani, _Nov. fior._ p.\n621), and is entitled:\n\n\nXCI. THE COOK.\n\nThere was once a lord whose name was\n\"Abbot-who-eats-and-drinks-without-thinking.\" The king went there and\nsaw this name on the door, and said that if he had nothing to think of,\nhe would give him something to think of. He told him that he must do in\na week the three things which he told him. First, to tell him how many\nstars there were in heaven, how many fathoms of rope it would take to\nreach to heaven, and what he, the king, was thinking of. The cook saw\nthat his master was sad, and sat with his head bent over the table, and\nasked him what was the matter, and his master told him everything. The\ncook promised to settle the matter if he would give him half of his\nproperty. He also asked for the skin of a dead ass, a cart-load of rope,\nand his master's hat and cloak. Then the cook went to the king, who said\nto him: \"Well, how many stars are there in heaven?\" The cook answered:\n\"Whoever counts the hairs on this ass' skin will know how many stars\nthere are in heaven.\" Then the king told him to count them, and he\nanswered that his share was already counted, and that it was for the\nking to count now. Then the king asked him how many fathoms of rope it\nwould take to reach to heaven, and the cook replied: \"Take this rope and\ngo to heaven, and then come back and count how many fathoms there are.\"\nFinally the king asked: \"What am I thinking of?\" \"You are thinking that\nI am the abbot; instead of that, I am the cook, and I have here the\nstew-pan to try the broth.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe version in Pitre (No. 97) is much better. It is called:\n\n\nXCII. THE THOUGHTLESS ABBOT.\n\nThere was once in a city a priest who became an abbot, and who had his\ncarriages, horses, grooms, steward, secretary, valet, and many other\npersons on account of the wealth that he had. This abbot thought only of\neating, drinking, and sleeping. All the priests and laymen were jealous\nof him, and called him the \"Thoughtless Abbot.\"\n\nOne day the king happened to pass that way, and stopped, and all the\nabbot's enemies went to him straightway, and accused the abbot, saying:\n\"Your Majesty, in this town there is a person happier than you, very\nrich, and lacking nothing in the world, and he is called the\n'Thoughtless Abbot.'\"\n\nAfter reflection the king said to the accusers: \"Gentlemen, depart in\npeace, for I will soon make this abbot think.\" The king sent directly\nfor the abbot, who had his carriage made ready, and went to the king in\nhis coach and four. The king received him kindly, made him sit at his\nside, and talked about various things with him. Finally he asked him why\nthey called him the \"Thoughtless Abbot,\" and he replied that it was\nbecause he was free from care, and that his servants attended to his\ninterests.\n\nThen the king said: \"Well, then, Sir Abbot, since you have nothing to\ndo, do me the favor to count all the stars in the sky, and this within\nthree days and three nights; otherwise you will surely be beheaded.\" The\npoor \"Thoughtless Abbot\" on hearing these words began to tremble like a\nleaf, and taking leave of the king, returned home, in mortal fear for\nhis neck.\n\nWhen meal-time came, he could not eat on account of his great anxiety,\nand went at once out on the terrace to look at the sky, but the poor man\ncould not see a single star. When it grew dark, and the stars came out,\nthe poor abbot began to count them and write it down. But it grew dark\nand light again, without the abbot succeeding in his task. The cook, the\nsteward, the secretaries, the grooms, the coachmen, and all the persons\nin the house became thoughtful when they saw that their master did not\neat or drink, and always watched the sky. Not knowing what else to\nthink, they believed that he had gone mad. To make the matter short, the\nthree days passed without the abbot counting the stars, and the poor man\ndid not know how to present himself to the king, for he was sure he\nwould behead him. Finally, the last day, an old and trusty servant\nbegged him so long, that he told him the whole matter, and said: \"I have\nnot been able to count the stars, and the king will cut my head off this\nmorning.\" When the servant had heard all, he said: \"Do not fear, leave\nit to me; I will settle everything.\"\n\nHe went and bought a large ox-hide, stretched it on the ground, and cut\noff a piece of the tail, half an ear, and a small piece out of the side,\nand then said to the abbot: \"Now let us go to the king; and when he asks\nyour excellency how many stars there are in heaven, your excellency\nwill call me; I will stretch the hide on the ground, and your excellency\nwill say: 'The stars in heaven are as many as the hairs on this hide;\nand as there are more hairs than stars, I have been obliged to cut off\npart of the hide.'\"\n\nAfter the abbot had heard him, he felt relieved, ordered his carriage,\nand took his servant to the king. When the king saw the abbot, he\nsaluted him, and then said: \"Have you fulfilled my command?\" \"Yes, your\nMajesty,\" answered the abbot, \"the stars are all counted.\"\n\n\"Then tell me how many they are.\" The abbot called his servant, who\nbrought the hide, and spread it on the ground, while the king, not\nknowing how the matter was going to end, continued his questioning.\n\nWhen the servant had stretched out the hide, the abbot said to the king:\n\"Your Majesty, during these three days I have gone mad counting the\nstars, and they are all counted.\" \"In short, how many are they?\" \"Your\nMajesty, the stars are as many as the hairs of this hide, and those that\nwere in excess, I have had to cut off, and they are so many hundreds of\nmillions; and if you don't believe me, have them counted, for I have\nbrought you the proof.\"\n\nThen the king remained with his mouth open, and had nothing to answer;\nhe only said: \"Go and live as long as Noah, without thoughts, for your\nmind is enough for you;\" and so speaking, he dismissed him, thanking\nhim, and remaining henceforth his best friend.\n\nThe abbot returned home with his servant, delighted and rejoicing. He\nthanked his servant, made him his steward and intimate friend, and gave\nhim more than an ounce of money a day to live on.[1]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn another Sicilian version referred to by Pitre, vol. IV., p. 437, the\nPope, instead of the king, wishes to know from the abbot: \"What is the\ndistance from heaven to earth; what God is doing in heaven; what the\nPope is thinking of.\" The cook, disguised as the abbot, answers: \"As\nlong as this ball of thread. Rewarding the good, and punishing the\nwicked. He thinks he is speaking with the abbot, and on the contrary, is\ntalking to the cook.\"\n\nThe following story from Venice (Bernoni, _Fiabe_, No. 6) is a\ncombination of the two stories in Grimm, \"Clever Alice\" and the \"Clever\nPeople.\" It is called:\n\n\nXCIII. BASTIANELO.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a husband and wife who had a son. This son\ngrew up, and said one day to his mother: \"Do you know, mother, I would\nlike to marry!\" \"Very well, marry! whom do you want to take?\" He\nanswered: \"I want the gardener's daughter.\" \"She is a good girl; take\nher; I am willing.\" So he went, and asked for the girl, and her parents\ngave her to him. They were married, and when they were in the midst of\nthe dinner, the wine gave out. The husband said: \"There is no more\nwine!\" The bride, to show that she was a good housekeeper, said: \"I will\ngo and get some.\" She took the bottles and went to the cellar, turned\nthe cock, and began to think: \"Suppose I should have a son, and we\nshould call him Bastianelo, and he should die. Oh! how grieved I should\nbe! oh! how grieved I should be!\" And thereupon she began to weep and\nweep; and meanwhile the wine was running all over the cellar.\n\nWhen they saw that the bride did not return, the mother said: \"I will go\nand see what the matter is.\" So she went into the cellar, and saw the\nbride, with the bottle in her hand, and weeping, while the wine was\nrunning over the cellar. \"What is the matter with you, that you are\nweeping?\" \"Ah! my mother, I was thinking that if I had a son, and should\nname him Bastianelo, and he should die, oh! how I should grieve! oh! how\nI should grieve!\" The mother, too, began to weep, and weep, and weep;\nand meanwhile the wine was running over the cellar.\n\nWhen the people at the table saw that no one brought the wine, the\ngroom's father said: \"I will go and see what is the matter. Certainly\nsomething wrong has happened to the bride.\" He went and saw the whole\ncellar full of wine, and the mother and bride weeping. \"What is the\nmatter?\" he said; \"has anything wrong happened to you?\" \"No,\" said the\nbride, \"but I was thinking that if I had a son and should call him\nBastianelo, and he should die, oh! how I should grieve! oh! how I should\ngrieve!\" Then he, too, began to weep, and all three wept; and meanwhile\nthe wine was running over the cellar.\n\nWhen the groom saw that neither the bride, nor the mother, nor the\nfather came back, he said: \"Now I will go and see what the matter is\nthat no one returns.\" He went into the cellar and saw all the wine\nrunning over the cellar. He hastened and stopped the cask, and then\nasked: \"What is the matter, that you are all weeping, and have let the\nwine run all over the cellar?\" Then the bride said: \"I was thinking that\nif I had a son and called him Bastianelo and he should die, oh! how I\nshould grieve! oh! how I should grieve!\" Then the groom said: \"You\nstupid fools! are you weeping at this, and letting all the wine run into\nthe cellar? Have you nothing else to think of? It shall never be said\nthat I remained with you! I will roam about the world, and until I find\nthree fools greater than you I will not return home.\"\n\nHe had a bread-cake made, took a bottle of wine, a sausage, and some\nlinen, and made a bundle, which he put on a stick and carried over his\nshoulder. He journeyed and journeyed, but found no fool. At last he\nsaid, worn out: \"I must turn back, for I see I cannot find a greater\nfool than my wife.\" He did not know what to do, whether to go on or to\nturn back. \"Oh!\" he said, \"it is better to try and go a little farther.\"\nSo he went on and shortly he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves at a well,\nall wet with perspiration and water. \"What are you doing, sir, that you\nare so covered with water and in such a sweat?\" \"Oh! let me alone,\" the\nman answered, \"for I have been here a long time drawing water to fill\nthis pail and I cannot fill it.\" \"What are you drawing the water in?\" he\nasked him. \"In this sieve,\" he said. \"What are you thinking about, to\ndraw water in that sieve? Just wait!\" He went to a house near by, and\nborrowed a bucket, with which he returned to the well and filled the\npail. \"Thank you, good man, God knows how long I should have had to\nremain here!\" \"Here is one who is a greater fool than my wife.\"\n\nHe continued his journey and after a time he saw at a distance a man in\nhis shirt who was jumping down from a tree. He drew near, and saw a\nwoman under the same tree holding a pair of breeches. He asked them what\nthey were doing, and they said that they had been there a long time, and\nthat the man was trying on those breeches and did not know how to get\ninto them. \"I have jumped, and jumped,\" said the man, \"until I am tired\nout and I cannot imagine how to get into those breeches.\" \"Oh!\" said the\ntraveller, \"you might stay here as long as you wished, for you would\nnever get into them in this way. Come down and lean against the tree.\"\nThen he took his legs and put them in the breeches, and after he had put\nthem on, he said: \"Is that right?\" \"Very good, bless you; for if it had\nnot been for you, God knows how long I should have had to jump.\" Then\nthe traveller said to himself: \"I have seen two greater fools than my\nwife.\"\n\nThen he went his way and as he approached a city he heard a great noise.\nWhen he drew near he asked what it was, and was told it was a marriage,\nand that it was the custom in that city for the brides to enter the city\ngate on horseback, and that there was a great discussion on this\noccasion between the groom and the owner of the horse, for the bride was\ntall and the horse high, and they could not get through the gate; so\nthat they must either cut off the bride's head or the horse's legs. The\ngroom did not wish his bride's head cut off, and the owner of the horse\ndid not wish his horse's legs cut off, and hence this disturbance. Then\nthe traveller said: \"Just wait,\" and came up to the bride and gave her a\nslap that made her lower her head, and then he gave the horse a kick,\nand so they passed through the gate and entered the city. The groom and\nthe owner of the horse asked the traveller what he wanted, for he had\nsaved the groom his bride, and the owner of the horse his horse. He\nanswered that he did not wish anything and said to himself: \"Two and one\nmake three! that is enough; now I will go home.\" He did so and said to\nhis wife: \"Here I am, my wife; I have seen three greater fools then you;\nnow let us remain in peace and think about nothing else.\" They renewed\nthe wedding and always remained in peace. After a time the wife had a\nson whom they named Bastianelo, and Bastianelo did not die, but still\nlives with his father and mother.[2]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere is a Sicilian version of this story (Pitre, No. 148) called, \"The\nPeasant of Larcara,\" in which the bride's mother imagines that her\ndaughter has a son who falls into the cistern. The groom (they are not\nyet married) is disgusted and sets out on his travels with no fixed\npurpose of returning if he finds some fools greater than his\nmother-in-law, as in the Venetian tale. The first fool he meets is a\nmother, whose child, in playing the game called _nocciole_,[R] tries to\nget his hand out of the hole while his fist is full of stones. He\ncannot, of course, and the mother thinks they will have to cut off his\nhand. The traveller tells the child to drop the stones, and then he\ndraws out his hand easily enough. Next he finds a bride who cannot enter\nthe church because she is very tall and wears a high comb. The\ndifficulty is settled as in the former story.\n\n[Footnote R: A game played with peach-pits, which are thrown into holes\nmade in the ground and to which certain numbers are attached.]\n\nAfter a while he comes to a woman who is spinning and drops her spindle.\nShe calls out to the pig, whose name is Tony, to pick it up for her. The\npig does nothing but grunt, and the woman in anger cries: \"Well, you\nwon't pick it up? May your mother die!\"\n\nThe traveller, who had overheard all this, takes a piece of paper, which\nhe folds up like a letter, and then knocks at the door. \"Who is there?\"\n\"Open the door, for I have a letter for you from Tony's mother, who is\nill and wishes to see her son before she dies.\" The woman wonders that\nher imprecation has taken effect so soon, and readily consents to Tony's\nvisit. Not only this, but she loads a mule with everything necessary for\nthe comfort of the body and soul of the dying pig.\n\nThe traveller leads away the mule with Tony, and returns home so pleased\nwith having found that the outside world contains so many fools that he\nmarries as he had first intended.\n\nThe credulity of the woman in the last version, in allowing Tony to\nvisit his sick mother, finds a parallel in a Neapolitan story (Imbriani,\n_Pomiglianesi_, p. 226) called:\n\n\nXCIV. CHRISTMAS.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a husband who had a wife who was a little\nfoolish. One day he said to her: \"Come, put the house in order, for\nChristmas is coming.\" As soon as he left the house his wife went out on\nthe balcony and asked every one who passed if his name was Christmas.\nAll said No; but finally, one--to see why she asked--said Yes. Then she\nmade him come in, and gave him everything that she had (in order to\nclean out the house). When her husband returned he asked her what she\nhad done with things. She responded that she had given them to\nChristmas, as he had ordered. Her husband was so enraged at what he\nheard that he seized her and gave her a good beating.\n\nAnother time she asked her husband when he was going to kill the pig. He\nanswered: \"At Christmas.\" The wife did as before, and when she spied the\nman called Christmas she called him and gave him the pig, which she had\nadorned with her earrings and necklace, saying that her husband had so\ncommanded her. When her husband returned and learned what she had done,\nhe gave her a sound thrashing; and from that time he learned to say\nnothing more to his wife.[3]\n\nIn the Sicilian version, Pitre, No. 186, \"Long May,\"[S] the wife, who is\nvery anxious to make more room in her house by getting rid of the grain\nstored in it, asks her husband when they shall clean out the house. He\nanswers: \"When Long May comes.\" The wife asks the passers-by if they are\nLong May; and at last a swindler says he is, and receives as a gift all\nthe grain. The swindler was a potter, and the woman told him that he\nought to give her a load of pots. He did so, and the wife knocked a hole\nin the bottom of each, and strung them on a rope stretched across the\nroom. It is needless to say that when the husband returned the wife\nreceived a beating \"that left her more dead than alive.\"\n\n[Footnote S: There is a Sicilian phrase: \"Long as the month of May,\" to\nindicate what is very long.]\n\nAnother story about foolish people is the following Venetian tale\n(Bernoni, _Fiabe_, xiii.), entitled:\n\n\nXCV. THE WAGER.\n\nThere was once a husband and a wife. The former said one day to the\nlatter: \"Let us have some fritters.\" She replied: \"What shall we do for\na frying-pan?\" \"Go and borrow one from my godmother.\" \"You go and get\nit; it is only a little way off.\" \"Go yourself; I will take it back when\nwe are done with it.\" So she went and borrowed the pan, and when she\nreturned said to her husband: \"Here is the pan, but you must carry it\nback.\" So they cooked the fritters, and after they had eaten, the\nhusband said: \"Now let us go to work, both of us, and the one who speaks\nfirst shall carry back the pan.\" Then she began to spin and he to draw\nhis thread,--for he was a shoemaker,--and all the time keeping silence,\nexcept that when he drew his thread he said: \"_Leulero, leulero_;\" and\nshe, spinning, answered: \"_Picici, picici, picicio_.\" And they said not\nanother word.\n\nNow there happened to pass that way a soldier with a horse, and he asked\na woman if there was any shoemaker in that street. She said that there\nwas one near by, and took him to the house. The soldier asked the\nshoemaker to come and cut his horse a girth, and he would pay him. The\nlatter made no answer but: \"_Leulero, leulero_,\" and his wife: \"_Picici,\npicici, picicio_.\" Then the soldier said: \"Come and cut my horse a\ngirth, or I will cut your head off!\" The shoemaker only answered:\n\"_Leulero, leulero_,\" and his wife: \"_Picici, picici, picicio_.\" Then\nthe soldier began to grow angry, and seized his sword and said to the\nshoemaker: \"Either come and cut my horse a girth, or I will cut your\nhead off!\"\n\nBut to no purpose. The shoemaker did not wish to be the first one to\nspeak, and only replied: \"_Leulero, leulero_,\" and his wife: \"_Picici,\npicici, picicio_.\" Then the soldier got mad in good earnest, seized the\nshoemaker's head, and was going to cut it off. When his wife saw that,\nshe cried out: \"Ah! don't, for mercy's sake!\" \"Good!\" exclaimed her\nhusband, \"good! Now you go and carry the pan back to my godmother, and I\nwill go and cut the horse's girth.\" And so he did, and won the wager.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn a Sicilian story with the same title (Pitre, No. 181), the husband\nand wife fry some fish, and then set about their respective\nwork,--shoemaking and spinning,--and the one who finishes first the\npiece of work begun is to eat the fish. While they were singing and\nwhistling at their work, a friend comes along, who knocks at the door,\nbut receives no answer. Then he enters and speaks to them, but still no\nreply; finally, in anger, he sits down at the table and eats up all the\nfish himself.[4]\n\nOne of our most popular stories illustrating woman's obstinacy is found\neverywhere in Italy. The following is the Sicilian version:\n\n\nXCVI. SCISSORS THEY WERE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a husband and a wife. The husband was a\ntailor; so was the wife, and in addition was a good housekeeper. One\nday the husband found some things in the kitchen broken,--pots, glasses,\nplates. He asked: \"How were they broken?\" \"How do I know?\" answered the\nwife. \"What do you mean by saying 'how do I know?' Who broke them?\" \"Who\nbroke them? I, with the scissors,\" said the wife, in anger. \"With the\nscissors?\" \"With the scissors!\" \"Are you telling the truth? I want to\nknow what you broke them with. If you don't tell me, I will beat you.\"\n\"With the scissors!\" (for she had the scissors in her hand). \"Scissors,\ndo you say?\" \"Scissors they were!\" \"Ah! what do you mean? Wait a bit; I\nwill make you see whether it was you with the scissors.\" So he tied a\nrope around her and began to lower her into the well, saying: \"Come, how\ndid you break them? You see I am lowering you into the well.\" \"It was\nthe scissors!\" The husband, seeing her so obstinate, lowered her into\nthe well; and she, for all that, did not hold her tongue. \"How did you\nbreak them?\" said the husband. \"It was the scissors.\" Then her husband\nlowered her more, until she was half way down. \"What did you do it\nwith?\" \"It was the scissors.\" Then he lowered her until her feet touched\nthe water. \"What did you do it with?\" \"It was the scissors!\" Then he let\nher down into the water to her waist. \"What did you do it with?\" \"It was\nthe scissors!\" \"Take care!\" cried her husband, enraged at seeing her so\nobstinate, \"it will take but little to put you under the water. You had\nbetter tell what you did it with; it will be better for you. How is it\npossible to break pots and dishes with the scissors! What has become of\nthe pieces, if they were cut?\" \"It was the scissors! the scissors!\" Then\nhe let go the rope. Splash! his wife is all under the water. \"Are you\nsatisfied now? Do you say any longer that it was with the scissors?\" The\nwife could not speak any more, for she was under the water; but what did\nshe do? She stuck her hand up out of the water, and with her fingers\nbegan to make signs as if she were cutting with the scissors. What could\nthe poor husband do? He said: \"I am losing my wife, and then I shall\nhave to go after her. I will pull her out now, and she may say that it\nwas the scissors or the shears.\" Then he pulled her out, and there was\nno way of making her tell with what she had broken all those things in\nthe kitchen.[5]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnother familiar story is:\n\n\nXCVII. THE DOCTOR'S APPRENTICE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a doctor who took his apprentice with him\nwhen he made his visits. One day while visiting a patient, the doctor\nsaid: \"Why do you not listen to my orders that you are not to eat\nanything?\" The invalid said: \"Sir, I assure you that I have eaten\nnothing.\" \"That is not true,\" answered the doctor, \"for I have found\nyour pulse beating like that of a person who has eaten grapes.\" The\npatient, convicted, said: \"It is true that I have eaten some grapes; but\nit was only a little bunch.\" \"Very well; do not risk eating again, and\ndon't think you can fool me.\"\n\nThe poor apprentice, who was with the doctor, was amazed to see how his\nmaster guessed from the pulse that his patient had eaten grapes; and as\nsoon as they had left the house he asked: \"Master, how did you perceive\nthat he had eaten grapes?\" \"Listen,\" said the doctor. \"A person who\nvisits the sick must never pass for a fool. As soon as you enter, cast\nyour eyes on the bed and under the bed, too, and from the crumbs that\nyou see you can guess what the patient has eaten. I saw the stalk of the\ngrapes, and from that I inferred that he had eaten grapes.\"\n\nThe next day there were many patients in the town, and the doctor, not\nbeing able to visit them all, sent his apprentice to visit a few. Among\nothers, the apprentice went to see the man who had eaten the grapes; and\nwishing to play the part of an expert like his master, to show that he\nwas a skilful physician, when he perceived that there were bits of straw\nunder the bed, said angrily: \"Will you not understand that you must not\neat?\" The invalid said: \"I assure you that I have not even tasted a\ndrop of water.\" \"Yes, sir, you have,\" answered the apprentice; \"you have\nbeen eating straw, for I see the bits under the bed.\" The sick man\nreplied at once: \"Do you take me for an ass like yourself?\" And so the\napprentice cut the figure of the fool that he was.[6]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are two figures in Sicilian folk-lore around whom many jokes have\ngathered which are, in other parts of Italy, told of some nameless\nperson or attributed to the continental counterparts of the insular\nheroes. These two are Firrazzanu and Giufa. The former is the practical\njoker; the second, the typical booby found in the popular literature of\nall peoples.\n\nThe following stories of Firrazzanu (unless otherwise indicated) are\nfrom Pitre, No. 156.\n\n\nXCVIII. FIRRAZZANU'S WIFE AND THE QUEEN.\n\nFirrazzanu was the valet of a prince in Palermo, on whom he also played\nhis tricks; but as Firrazzanu was known and everybody was amused by him,\nthe prince overlooked them.\n\nThe queen was once in Palermo, and wished to know Firrazzanu. He went to\nsee her, and amused her somewhat. The queen said: \"Are you married, or\nsingle?\" \"Married, your Majesty.\" \"I wish to make your wife's\nacquaintance.\" \"How can that be, your Majesty, for my wife is deaf?\"\n(Firrazzanu made this up out of his own head, for it was not true.) \"No\nmatter; when I speak with her I will scream. Go, have your wife come\nhere.\"\n\nFirrazzanu went home. \"Fanny, the queen wants to know you; but you must\nremember that she is a little hard of hearing, and if you wish to speak\nto her, you must raise your voice.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said his wife, \"let us go.\" When they arrived at the palace\nshe said to the queen, in a loud voice: \"At your Majesty's feet!\" The\nqueen said to herself: \"You see, because she is deaf, she screams as if\neverybody else were deaf!\" Then she said to her, loudly: \"Good day, my\nfriend; how do you do?\" \"Very well, your Majesty!\" answered Firrazzanu's\nwife, still louder. The queen, to make herself heard, raised her voice\nand screamed, also, and Fanny, for her part, cried out louder and\nlouder, so that it seemed as if they were quarrelling. Firrazzanu could\ncontain himself no longer, and began to laugh, so that the queen\nperceived the joke; and if Firrazzanu had not run away, perhaps she\nwould have had him arrested, and who knows how the matter had ended?[7]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe second story, \"The Tailor who twisted his Mouth,\" has already been\nmentioned in Chapter III.\n\nOn one occasion (No. 7) the viceroy gave a feast, and needed some\npartridges. Now the word _pirnicana_ means both partridge and humpback;\nso Firrazzanu said he would get the viceroy as many _pirnicani_ as he\nwanted, although they were very scarce. The viceroy said twenty would\ndo. Firrazzanu then collected a score of humpbacks and introduced them\ninto the viceroy's kitchen, sending word to the viceroy that the\n_pirnicani_ were ready. His excellency wished to see them, and\nFirrazzanu led his troop to his apartment. When they were all in,\nFirrazzanu said: \"Here they are.\" The viceroy looked around and said:\n\"Where?\" \"Here. You wanted _pirnicani_, and these are _pirnicani_.\" The\nviceroy laughed, gave each of the humpbacks a present, and dismissed\nthem.[8]\n\nAnother time, while the prince was at dinner, Firrazzanu led a number of\nasses under his window, and made them bray so that the poor prince was\ndriven almost to distraction. The author of the joke, as usual, took to\nhis heels, and escaped.\n\nOnce a very wealthy prince, having a great number of rents to collect,\nand not succeeding, thought of making Firrazzanu collector. \"Here,\" said\nhe to him, \"take my authority, and collect for me, and I will give you\ntwenty per cent.\" Firrazzanu went into the places where the rents were\nto be collected, and called together all the debtors. What do you\nsuppose he did? He made them pay his share, that is, twenty per cent.,\nand nothing more. \"The rest,\" he said, \"you can pay another year to the\nprince; now you may depart.\"\n\nThen he went back to the prince. \"What have you done, Firrazzanu? Have\nyou collected all the rents?\" \"What are you talking about collecting! I\nhad hard work to collect my share.\" \"What do you mean?\" \"I collected\nwith difficulty the twenty per cent. that belonged to me; your share\nwill be paid next year.\" The prince was obliged to laugh at last, and\nFirrazzanu went away happy and satisfied.[9]\n\nAnother time the prince went hunting, and ordered Firrazzanu, when it\nwas convenient, to tell the princess that he should not be home to\ndinner that day. Firrazzanu did not find it convenient to deliver the\nmessage for a week, when he said that the prince would not be home to\ndine that day. On the first occasion, of course, the princess waited for\nher husband in great anxiety until midnight; on the second she went out\nto pay visits, and when the prince returned, he found his wife out, and\nno dinner prepared. Firrazzanu, when scolded, excused himself by saying\nthat the prince told him to deliver the message when convenient.\n\nThis recalls the story in Straparola (XIII. 6) where a master orders his\nlazy servant to go to market and buy some meat, and says to him,\nsarcastically: \"Go and stay a year!\" which command the servant obeys to\nthe letter.\n\nThe viceroy at last, angry at one of Firrazzanu's jokes, banished him to\nthe town of Murriali. When Firrazzanu grew tired of the place, he had a\ncart filled with the earth of the town, and rode into Palermo on it. The\nviceroy had him arrested as soon as he saw him, but Firrazzanu protested\nthat he had not broken the viceroy's command, for he was still on the\nearth of Murriali.\n\nThe same story is told of Gonnella, the Italian counterpart of\nFirrazzanu, by Sacchetti (Nov. 27), and Bandello (IV. 18).\n\nThe prince desired once to give Firrazzanu a lesson that would correct\nhim of his fondness for jokes; so he told the commandant of the castle\nthat he would send him one day a servant of his with a letter, and that\nhe, the commandant, should carry out the orders contained in it.\n\nA week after, the prince called Firrazzanu and said: \"Go to the\ncommandant of the castle and ask him to give you what this letter says.\"\n\nFirrazzanu went, turning over the letter and in doubt about the matter.\nJust then he met another servant and said to him: \"Carry this letter for\nme to the commandant of the castle, and tell him to give you what he has\nto give you. When you return, we will have a good drink of wine.\"\n\nThe servant went and delivered the letter to the commandant, who opened\nit, and read: \"The commandant will give my servant, who is a rascal, a\nhundred lashes, and then send him back to me.\" The order was carried\nout, and the poor servant returned to the palace more dead than alive.\nWhen Firrazzanu saw him, he burst out laughing, and said: \"My brother,\nfor me and for you, better you than me.\"\n\nThis story is told in Gonzenbach (No. 75) as the way in which the queen\ntried to punish Firrazzanu for the joke he played on her by telling her\nhis wife was deaf.\n\nThere are other stories told of Firrazzanu, but they do not deserve a\nplace here, and we can direct our attention at once to Giufa, the\ntypical booby, who appears in the various provinces of Italy under\ndifferent names.[10]\n\nThe first story told of him in Pitre's collection (No. 190) is:\n\n\nXCIX. GIUFA AND THE PLASTER STATUE.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a very poor woman who had a son called Giufa,\nwho was stupid, lazy, and cunning. His mother had a piece of cloth, and\nsaid one day to Giufa: \"Take this cloth, and go and sell it in a distant\ntown, and take care to sell it to those who talk little.\" So Giufa set\nout, with the cloth on his shoulder.\n\nWhen he came to a town, he began to cry: \"Who wants cloth?\" The people\ncalled him, and began to talk a great deal; one thought it coarse,\nanother dear. Giufa thought they talked too much, and would not sell it\nto them. After walking a long way, he entered a court-yard where he\nfound nothing but a plaster image. Giufa said to it: \"Do you want to buy\nthe cloth?\" The statue said not a word, and Giufa, seeing that it spoke\nlittle, said: \"Now I must sell you the cloth, for you speak little;\" and\nhe took the cloth and hung it on the statue, and went away, saying:\n\"To-morrow I will come for the money.\"\n\nThe next day he went after the money, and found the cloth gone. \"Give me\nthe money for the cloth.\" The statue said nothing. \"Since you will not\ngive me the money, I will show you who I am;\" and he borrowed a mattock,\nand struck the statue until he overthrew it, and inside of it he found a\njar of money. He put the money in a bag, and went home to his mother,\nand told her that he had sold the cloth to a person who did not speak,\nand gave him no money; that he had killed him with a mattock, and thrown\nhim down, and he had given him the money which he had brought home. His\nmother, who was wise, said to him: \"Say nothing about it, and we will\neat this money up little by little.\"[11]\n\nAnother time his mother said to him: \"Giufa, I have this piece of cloth\nto be dyed; take it and leave it with the dyer, the one who dyes green\nand black.\" Giufa put it on his shoulder, and went off. On his way he\nsaw a large, beautiful snake, and because it was green he said to it:\n\"My mother has sent me with this cloth which she wants dyed. To-morrow I\nwill come for it.\" And there he left it.\n\nHe went home and told his mother, who began to tear her hair. \"Ah!\nshameless fellow! how you ruin me! Hasten and see whether it is there\nstill!\" Giufa went back, but the cloth had disappeared.[12]\n\n\nC. GIUFA AND THE JUDGE.\n\nOne day Giufa went out to gather herbs, and it was night before he\nreturned. On his way back the moon rose through the clouds, and Giufa\nsat down on a stone and watched the moon appear and disappear behind the\nclouds, and he exclaimed constantly: \"It appears, it appears! it sets,\nit sets!\"\n\nNow there were near the way some thieves, who were skinning a calf which\nthey had stolen, and when they heard: \"It appears, it sets!\" they feared\nthat the officers of justice were coming, so they ran away and left the\nmeat. When Giufa saw the thieves running away, he went to see what it\nwas and found the calf skinned. He took his knife and cut off flesh\nenough to fill his sack and went home. When he arrived there his mother\nasked him why he came so late. He said it was because he was bringing\nsome meat which she was to sell the next day, and the money was to be\nkept for him. The next day his mother sent him into the country and sold\nthe meat.\n\nIn the evening Giufa returned and asked his mother: \"Did you sell the\nmeat?\" \"Yes, I sold it to the flies on credit.\" \"When will they give you\nthe money?\" \"When they get it.\" A week passed and the flies brought no\nmoney, so Giufa went to the judge and said to him: \"Sir, I want justice.\nI sold the flies meat on credit and they have not come to pay me.\" The\njudge said: \"I pronounce this sentence on them: wherever you see them\nyou may kill them.\" Just then a fly lighted on the judge's nose, and\nGiufa dealt it such a blow that he broke the judge's head.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe anecdote of the fly in the latter part of the story is found\nindependently in a version from Palermo. \"The flies plagued Giufa and\nstung him. He went to the judge and complained of them. The judge\nlaughed and said: 'Wherever you see a fly you can strike it.' While the\njudge was speaking a fly rested on his face and Giufa dealt it such a\nblow that he broke the judge's nose.\"\n\nThis story, which, as we shall see, has variants in different parts of\nItaly, is of Oriental origin and is found in the _Pantschatantra_. A\nking asked his pet monkey to watch over him while he slept. A bee\nsettled on the king's head; the monkey could not drive it away, so he\ntook the king's sword and killed the bee--and the king, too. A similar\nparable is put into the mouth of Buddha. A bald carpenter was attacked\nby a mosquito. He called his son to drive it away; the son took the axe,\naimed a blow at the insect, but split his father's head in two, in\nkilling the mosquito. In the _Anvar-i-Suhaili_, the Persian translation\nof the _Pantschatantra_, it is a tame bear who keeps the flies from the\nsleeping gardener by throwing a stone at his head.[13]\n\nThe only popular European versions of this story, as far as we know, are\nfound in Italy. Besides those from Sicily, there are versions from\nFlorence, Leghorn, and Venice. The first is called:\n\n\nCI. THE LITTLE OMELET.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a little woman who had a little room and a\nlittle hen. The hen laid an egg and the little woman took it and made a\nlittle omelet of it, and put it to cool in the window. Along came a fly\nand ate it up. Imagine what an omelet that must have been! The little\nwoman went to the magistrate and told him her story. He gave her a club\nand told her to kill the fly with it wherever she saw it. At that moment\na fly lighted on the magistrate's nose, and the woman, believing it to\nbe the same fly, gave it a blow and broke the magistrate's nose.\n\n\nThe versions from Leghorn and Venice are in almost the same words.[14]\n\nThe literary versions are quite abundant, four or five being found in\nItaly, and a number in France, the best known of which is La Fontaine's\nfable of \"The Bear and the Amateur Gardener,\" Book VIII. 10.[15]\n\nOne morning, before Giufa was up, he heard a whistle and asked his\nmother who was passing. She answered that it was the morning-singer. One\nday Giufa, tired of the noise, went out and killed the man who was\nblowing the whistle, and came back and told his mother that he had\nkilled the morning-singer. His mother went out and brought the body into\nthe house and threw it into the well, which happened to be dry. Then she\nremembered that she had a lamb, which she killed and also threw in the\nwell.\n\nMeanwhile the family of the murdered man had learned of the murder and\nhad gone to the judge, with their complaint, and all together went to\nGiufa's house to investigate the matter. The judge said to Giufa: \"Where\ndid you put the body?\" Giufa, who was silly, replied: \"I threw it in the\nwell.\" Then they tied Giufa to a rope and lowered him into the well.\nWhen he reached the bottom he began to feel around and touched wool, and\ncried out to the son of the murdered man: \"Did your father have wool?\"\n\"My father did not have wool.\" \"This one has wool; he is not your\nfather.\" Then he touched the tail: \"Did your father have a tail?\" \"My\nfather did not have a tail.\" \"Then it's not your father.\" Then he felt\nfour feet and asked: \"How many feet did your father have?\" \"My father\nhad two feet.\" Giufa said: \"This one has four feet; he is not your\nfather.\" Then he felt the head and said: \"Did your father have horns?\"\n\"My father did not have horns.\" Giufa replied: \"This one has horns; he\nis not your father.\" Then the judge said: \"Giufa, bring him up either\nwith the horns or with the wool.\" So they drew up Giufa with the lamb on\nhis shoulder, and when the judge saw that it was a real lamb, they set\nGiufa at liberty.\n\nIn a variant of the above story Giufa's mother, to get rid of him, one\nday tells him to take his gun and go off and shoot a cardinal-bird.\nGiufa asks what a cardinal is, and his mother tells him that it is one\nthat has a red head. Giufa, of course, shoots a cardinal and carries him\nhome. The remainder of the story is as above. In another variant Giufa's\nmother has a cock which she cooks one day, and Giufa, who had never\neaten anything of the kind before, likes it greatly and asks what it\nis. His mother tells him it is the night-singer. One evening Giufa saw a\npoor man singing behind a door, and thinking he was a night-singer,\nkilled him and carried him home. The rest of the story is like the first\nversion.[16]\n\nGiufa is not without an occasional gleam of wit, as is shown in the\nfollowing story (Pitre No. 190, Sec. 8), entitled:\n\n\nCII. EAT, MY CLOTHES!\n\nAs Giufa was half a simpleton no one showed him any kindness, such as to\ninvite him to his house or give him anything to eat. Once Giufa went to\na farm-house for something, and the farmers, when they saw him looking\nso ragged and poor, came near setting the dogs on him, and made him\nleave in a hurry. When his mother heard it she procured for him a fine\ncoat, a pair of breeches, and a velvet vest. Giufa dressed up like an\noverseer, went to the same farm-house, and then you should see what\ngreat ceremonies they made! they invited him to dine with them. While at\nthe table all were very attentive to him. Giufa, on the one hand, filled\nhis stomach, and on the other, put into his pockets, coat, and hat\nwhatever was left over, saying: \"Eat, my clothes, for you were invited!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt is interesting to note that this story is told of no less a person\nthan Dante, about whom cluster more popular traditions than many are\naware of. It is the subject of one of Sercambi's novels, and will be\nfound with many other interesting traditions of the great poet in\nPapanti's _Dante secondo la Tradizione e i Novellatori_, Leghorn,\n1873.[17]\n\nGiufa was not a very safe person to leave alone in the house. Once his\nmother went to church and told him to make some porridge for his little\nsister. Giufa made a great kettle of boiling porridge and fed it to the\npoor child and burned her mouth so that she died. On another occasion\nhis mother, on leaving home, told him to feed the hen that was sitting\nand put her back on the nest, so that the eggs should not get cold.\nGiufa stuffed the hen with the food until he killed her, and then sat on\nthe eggs himself until his mother returned.[18]\n\nGiufa's mother went to mass once and said to him: \"Pull the door to!\"\nWhen his mother had gone out Giufa took hold of the door and began to\npull it, and pulled and pulled until it came off. Giufa put it on his\nback and carried it to the church, and threw it down before his mother,\nsaying: \"There is the door!\"[19]\n\nA number of other stories about Giufa are found in Gonzenbach (No. 37)\nwhich we give here for completeness.\n\n\nCIII. GIUFA'S EXPLOITS.\n\nAfter Giufa had scalded his little sister to death, his mother drove him\nfrom the house, and he entered the service of a priest. \"What wages do\nyou want?\" asked the priest. \"One egg a day, and as much bread as I can\neat with it; and you must keep me in your service until the screech-owl\ncries in the ivy.\" The priest was satisfied and thought he could not\nfind such a cheap servant again. The next morning Giufa received his egg\nand a loaf of bread. He opened the egg and ate it with a pin, and every\ntime he licked off the pin he ate a great piece of bread. \"Bring me a\nlittle more bread,\" he cried; \"this is not enough;\" and the priest had\nto get him a large basket of bread.\n\nSo it was every morning. \"Alas for me!\" cried the priest; \"in a few\nweeks he will reduce me to beggary.\" It was winter then and would be\nseveral months until the screech-owl cried in the ivy. In despair the\npriest said to his mother: \"This evening you must hide in the ivy and\nscream like an owl.\" The old woman did as she was told and began to cry:\n\"Miu, miu!\" \"Do you hear, Giufa?\" said the priest, \"the screech-owl is\ncrying in the ivy; we must part.\" So Giufa took his bundle and was going\nto return to his mother.\n\nAs he was going by the place where the priest's mother was still crying\n\"Miu, miu,\" he exclaimed: \"O you cursed screech-owl suffer punishment\nand sorrow!\" and threw stones into the ivy and killed the old woman.\n\nGiufa's mother would not allow him to remain at home, and made him take\nservice as a swineherd with a farmer, who sent him into the woods to\nkeep the swine until they were fat and then drive them back. So Giufa\nlived several months in the woods until the swine were fat. As he was\ndriving them home he met a butcher and said to him: \"Would you like to\nbuy these swine? I will sell them to you at half price if you will give\nme back the ears and tails.\" The butcher bought the whole herd, and paid\nGiufa the money, together with the ears and tails.\n\nGiufa then went to a bog near by and planted two ears close together and\nthree spans off a tail, and so with all of them. Then he ran in great\ntrouble to the farmer and cried: \"Sir, imagine what a great misfortune\nhas happened to me. I had fattened your swine beautifully and was\ndriving them home when they fell into a bog and are all swallowed up in\nit. The ears and tails only are still sticking out.\" The farmer hastened\nwith all his people to the bog, where the ears and tails still stuck\nout. They tried to pull the swine out, but whenever they seized an ear\nor a tail it came right off and Giufa exclaimed: \"You see how fat the\nswine were: they have disappeared in the marsh from pure fatness.\" The\nfarmer was obliged to return home without his swine, while Giufa took\nthe money home to his mother and remained a time with her.\n\nOne day his mother said to him: \"Giufa, we have nothing to eat to-day;\nwhat shall we do?\" \"Leave it to me,\" said he, and went to a butcher.\n\"Gossip, give me half a _rotulu_ of meat; I will give you the money\nto-morrow.\" The butcher gave him the meat and he went in the same way to\nthe baker, the oil-merchant, the wine-dealer, and the cheese-merchant\nand took home to his mother the meat, macaroni, bread, oil, wine, and\ncheese which he had bought on credit, and they ate together merrily.\n\nThe next day Giufa pretended he was dead and his mother wept and\nlamented. \"My son is dead, my son is dead!\" He was put in an open\ncoffin and carried to the church and the priests sang the mass for the\ndead over him. When, however, every one in the city heard that Giufa was\ndead, the butcher, the baker, the oil-merchant, and the wine-dealer\nsaid: \"What we gave him yesterday is as good as lost. Who will pay us\nfor it now?\" The cheese-dealer, however, thought: \"Giufa, it is true,\nowes me only four _grani_[T] but I will not give them to him. I will go\nand take his cap from him.\" So he crept into the church, but there was\nstill a priest there praying over Giufa's coffin. \"As long as the priest\nis there, it is not fitting for me to take his cap,\" thought the\ncheese-merchant, and hid himself behind the altar. When it was night the\nlast priest departed and the cheese-merchant was on the point of coming\nout from his hiding-place when a band of thieves rushed into the church.\nThey had stolen a large bag of money and were going to divide it in the\ndark church. They quarrelled over the division and began to cry out and\nmake a noise. Thereupon Giufa sat up in his coffin and exclaimed: \"Out\nwith you!\" The thieves were greatly frightened when the dead man rose\nup, and believed he was calling to the other dead, so they ran out in\nterror, leaving the sack behind. As Giufa was picking up the sack, the\ncheese-merchant sprang from his hiding-place and claimed his share of\nthe money. Giufa, however, kept crying: \"Your share is four _grani_.\"\nThe thieves outside thought he was dividing the money among the dead and\nsaid to each other: \"How many he must have called if they receive but\nfour _grani_ apiece!\" and ran away as fast as they could run. Giufa took\nthe money home to his mother, after he had given the cheese-merchant a\nlittle to say nothing about what had happened.\n\n[Footnote T: About a cent and a half.]\n\nGiufa's mother once bought a large stock of flax and said to her son:\n\"Giufa, you can surely spin a little so as to be doing something.\" Giufa\ntook a skein from time to time, and instead of spinning it put it in the\nfire and burned it. Then his mother became angry and beat him. What did\nGiufa do then? He took a bundle of twigs and wound it with flax like a\ndistaff; then he took a broom for a spindle and sat himself on the roof\nand began to spin. While he was sitting there three fairies came by and\nsaid: \"Just see how nicely Giufa is sitting there and spinning. Shall we\nnot give him something?\" The first fairy said: \"I will enable him to\nspin as much flax in a night as he touches.\" The second said: \"I will\nenable him to weave in a night as much yarn as he has spun.\" The third\nsaid: \"I will enable him to bleach all the linen he has woven in one\nnight.\" Giufa heard this and at night when his mother had gone to bed,\nhe got behind her stock of flax, and as often as he touched a skein it\nwas at once spun. When the flax was all gone he began to weave, and as\nsoon as he touched the loom the linen began to roll from it. Finally he\nspread the linen out and had scarcely wet it a little when it was\nbleached. The next morning Giufa showed his mother the fine pieces of\nlinen, and she sold them and earned much money. Giufa continued this for\nseveral nights; finally he grew tired and wanted to go out to service\nagain.\n\nHe found a place with a smith, whose bellows he was to blow. He blew\nthem so hard, however, that he put the fire out. The smith said: \"Leave\noff blowing and hammer the iron on the anvil.\" But Giufa pounded on the\nanvil so hard that the iron flew into a thousand pieces. Then the smith\nbecame angry, but he could not send him away, for he had agreed to keep\nhim a year. So he went to a poor man and said: \"I will make you a\nhandsome present if you will tell Giufa that you are Death, and that you\nhave come to take him away.\" The poor man met Giufa one day, and said\nwhat the smith had told him. Giufa was not slow. \"What, are you Death?\"\ncried he, seized the poor man, put him in his sack, and carried him to\nthe smithy. There he laid him on the anvil and began to hammer away on\nhim. \"How many years shall I yet live?\" he asked, while he was\nhammering. \"Twenty years,\" cried the man in the sack. \"That is not near\nenough.\" \"Thirty years, forty years, as long as you will,\" screamed the\nman; but Giufa kept on hammering until the poor man was dead.\n\nThe bishop once announced to the whole town that every goldsmith should\nmake him a crucifix, and he would pay four hundred ounces for the most\nbeautiful one. Whoever brought a crucifix that did not please him must\nlose his head. So a goldsmith came and brought him a handsome crucifix,\nbut the bishop said it did not please him and had the poor man's head\ncut off, but kept the crucifix. The next day a second goldsmith came,\nwho brought a still handsomer crucifix, but it went no better with him\nthan with the first. This lasted for some time and many a poor man lost\nhis head. When Giufa heard of this he went to a goldsmith and said:\n\"Master, you must make me a crucifix with a very thick body, but\notherwise as fine as you can make it.\" When the crucifix was done Giufa\ntook it on his arm and carried it to the bishop. Scarcely had the bishop\nseen it when he cried out: \"What are you thinking of, to bring me such a\nmonster? Wait, you shall pay me for it!\" \"Ah, worthy sir,\" said Giufa,\n\"just hear me and learn what has happened to me. This crucifix was a\nmodel of beauty when I started with it; on the way it began to swell\nwith anger and the nearer your house I came the more it swelled, most of\nall when I was mounting your stairs. The Lord is angry with you on\naccount of the innocent blood that you have shed, and if you do not at\nonce give me the four hundred ounces and an annuity to each of the\ngoldsmiths' widows, you, too, will swell in the same way, and God's\nwrath will visit you.\" The bishop was frightened and gave him the four\nhundred ounces, and bade him send all the widows to him so that he could\ngive each of them a yearly pension. Giufa took the money and went to\neach widow and said: \"What will you give me if I will procure you an\nannuity from the bishop?\" Each gave him a handsome sum and Giufa took\nhome to his mother a great heap of money.\n\nOne day Giufa's mother sent him to another town, where there was a fair.\nOn the way some children met him, who asked: \"Where are you going,\nGiufa?\" \"To the fair.\" \"Will you bring me back a whistle?\" \"Yes!\" \"And\nme, too?\" \"Yes!\" \"Me, too?\" \"Me, too?\" asked one after the other, and\nGiufa said \"Yes\" to all. At last there was a child who said: \"Giufa,\nbring me a whistle, too. Here is a penny.\" When Giufa came back from the\nfair, he brought one whistle only and gave it to the last boy. \"Giufa,\nyou promised each of us one,\" cried the other children. \"You did not\ngive me a penny to buy it with,\" answered Giufa.[20]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe counterpart of Giufa is found in a Venetian story (Bernoni, _Fiabe_,\nNo. 11) entitled \"The Fool,\" which is, in substance, as follows:\n\n\nCIV. THE FOOL.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a mother who had a son with little brains.\nOne morning she said: \"We must get up early, for we have to make bread.\"\nSo they both rose early and began to make bread. The mother made the\nloaves, but took no pains to make them the same size. Her son said to\nher finally: \"How small you have made this loaf, mother!\" \"Oh!\" said\nshe, \"it does not matter whether they are big or little; for the proverb\nsays: 'Large and small, all must go to mass.'\" \"Good, good!\"\n\nWhen the bread was made, instead of carrying it to the baker's, the son\ntook it to the church, for it was the hour for mass, saying: \"My mother\nsaid that, 'Large and small, all must go to mass.'\" So he threw the\nloaves down in the middle of the church. Then he went home to his mother\nand said: \"I have done what you told me to do.\" \"Good! did you take the\nbread to the baker's?\" \"Oh! mother, if you had seen how they all looked\nat me!\" \"You might also have cast an eye on them in return,\" said his\nmother. \"Wait, wait, I will cast an eye at them, too,\" he exclaimed, and\nwent to the stable and cut out the eyes of all the animals, and putting\nthem in a handkerchief, went to the church and when any man or woman\nlooked at him he threw an eye at them.\n\nWhen his mother learned what he had done she took to her bed and sent\nher son for a physician. When the doctor came he felt her pulse and\nsaid: \"Oh! how weak this poor woman is!\" Then he told the son that he\nmust take good care of his mother and make her some very thin broth and\ngive her a bowlful every minute. The son promised to obey him and went\nto the market and bought a sparrow and put on the fire a pail of water.\nWhen it boiled he put in the sparrow and waited until it boiled up two\nor three times, and then took a bowl of the broth to his mother, and\nrepeated the dose as fast as he could.\n\nThe next day the physician found the poor woman weaker than ever, and\ntold her son he must put something heavy on her so as to throw her into\na perspiration. When the doctor had gone the son piled all the heavy\nfurniture in the room on her, and when she could no longer breathe he\nran for the doctor again. This time the doctor saw that nothing was to\nbe done, and advised her son to have her confess and prepare for death.\nSo her son dressed her and carried her to church and sat her in the\nconfessional and told the priest that some one was waiting for him and\nthen went home. The priest soon saw that the woman was dead and went to\nfind her son. When the son heard that his mother was dead, he declared\nthat the priest had killed her, and began to beat him.[21]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere are many stories in Italy which turn on the tricks played by a\nsharper on his credulous friends; a good specimen of the class is the\nfollowing from Sicily (Pitre, No. 157):\n\n\nCV. UNCLE CAPRIANO.\n\nThere was once a husband and wife who had a daughter. The man's name was\nUncle Capriano and he owned near the town a piece of property, where he\nalways worked. One day thirteen robbers happened to pass that way, saw\nUncle Capriano, dismounted, and began to talk with him, and soon formed\na friendship for him. After this they frequently went to divert\nthemselves with him. When they arrived they always saluted him with:\n\"Good day, Uncle Capriano,\" and he answered: \"Your servant, gentlemen;\nwhat are your worships doing?\" \"We have come to amuse ourselves. Go,\nUncle Capriano, go and lunch, for we will do the work meanwhile.\" So he\nwent and ate and they did his work for him. Finally, what do you suppose\nUncle Capriano tried to do? He sought to invent some way to get money\nfrom the robbers. When he went home he said to his wife: \"I am on\nfriendly terms with the robbers and I would like to see whether I can\nget a little money out of them, and I have invented this story to tell\nthem: that we have a rabbit, which I send home alone every evening with\nfire-wood and things for soup, which my wife cooks.\" Then he said to his\ndaughter: \"When I come with the thieves, you bathe the rabbit in water\nand come out of the door to meet me and say: 'Is that the way to load\nthe poor little rabbit so that it comes home tired to death?'\"\n\nWhen the thieves heard that he had a rabbit that carried things, they\nwanted it, saying: \"If we had it we could send it to carry money, food,\nand other things to our houses.\" Uncle Capriano said to them one day: \"I\nshould like to have you come to my house to-day.\" There were thirteen of\nthe thieves; one said Yes, another said No. The captain said: \"Let us go\nand see the rabbit.\" When they arrived at the house the daughter came to\nthe door and said: \"Is that the way to load the poor little rabbit so\nthat it comes home tired to death?\" When they entered the house all felt\nof the rabbit and exclaimed: \"Poor little animal! poor little animal! it\nis all covered with sweat.\" When the thieves saw this they looked at\neach other and said: \"Shall we ask him to give us this little rabbit?\"\nThen they said: \"Uncle Capriano, you must give us the rabbit without any\nwords, and we will pay you whatever you ask.\" He answered: \"Ask me for\nanything except this rabbit, for if I give you that I shall be ruined.\"\nThey replied: \"You must give it to us without further words, whether you\nare ruined or not.\" Finally Uncle Capriano let them have the rabbit for\ntwo hundred ounces, and they gave him twenty besides to buy himself a\npresent with. After the thieves had got possession of the rabbit, they\nwent to a house in the country to try it. They each took a bag of money\nand said: \"Let us send a bag to each of our houses.\" The captain said:\n\"First, carry a bag to mine.\" So they took the rabbit to load it, and\nafter they had put the bags on it, the rabbit could not move and one of\nthe thieves struck it on the haunch with a switch. Then the rabbit ran\naway instantly. The thieves went in great anger to Uncle Capriano and\nsaid: \"Did you have the boldness to play such a trick on us, to sell us\na rabbit that could not stir when we put a few bags of money on it?\"\n\"But, gentlemen,\" said the old man, \"did you beat it?\" \"Of course,\"\nanswered one of the thieves, \"my companion struck it with a switch on\nthe haunch.\" The old man asked: \"But where did you strike it, on the\nright or on the left haunch?\" \"On the left.\" \"That is why the rabbit ran\naway,\" said the old man. \"You should have hit it on the right. If you\ndid not observe these conditions, what fault is it of mine?\" \"This is\ntrue,\" said the thieves, \"Uncle Capriano is right; so go and eat and we\nwill attend to the work.\" And so their friendship was not broken this\ntime.\n\nAfter a time Uncle Capriano said to his wife: \"We must get some more\nmoney from the thieves.\" \"In what way?\" \"To-morrow you must buy a new\npot, and then you must cook in an old pot somewhere in the house, and at\nAve Maria, just before I come home, you must empty the old pot into the\nnew one, and put it on the hearth without any fire. To-morrow I will\ntell the thieves that I have a pot that cooks without any fire.\"\n\nThe next evening Uncle Capriano persuaded the thieves to go home with\nhim. When they saw the pot they looked at one another and said: \"We must\nask him to give it to us.\" After some hesitation, he sold it to them for\nfour hundred ounces, and twenty over as before.\n\nWhen the thieves arrived at their house in the country, they killed a\nfine kid, put it into the pot, and set it on the hearth, without any\nfire, and went away. In the evening they all ran and tried to see who\nwould arrive first, and find the meat cooked. The one who arrived first\ntook out a piece of meat, and saw that it was as they had left it. Then\nhe gave the pot a kick, and broke it in two. When the others came and\nfound the meat not cooked, they started for Uncle Capriano's, and\ncomplained to him that he had sold them a pot that cooked everything,\nand that they had put meat into it, and found it raw. \"Did you break the\npot?\" asked Uncle Capriano. \"Of course we broke it.\" \"What kind of a\nhearth did you have, high or low?\" One of the thieves answered: \"Rather\nhigh.\" \"That was why the pot did not cook; it should have been low. You\ndid not observe the conditions and broke the pot; what fault is that of\nmine?\" The thieves said: \"Uncle Capriano is right; go, Uncle Capriano,\nand eat, for we will do your work.\"\n\nSome time after, Uncle Capriano said again to his wife: \"We must get\nsome more money out of them.\" \"But how can we manage it?\" \"You know that\nwe have a whistle in the chest; have it put in order, and to-morrow go\nto the butcher's, and get a bladder of blood, and fix it about your\nneck, and put on your mantilla; and when I return home, let me find you\nsitting down and angry, and the candle not lighted. I will bring my\nfriends with me, and when I find the candle not lighted, I will begin to\ncry out, and you will not utter a word; then I will take my knife and\ncut your throat. You will fall down on the floor; the blood will run out\nof the bladder, and the thieves will believe that you are dead. You\"\n(turning to his daughter)--\"what I say I mean, when I tell you: 'Get the\nwhistle'--get it and give it to me. When I blow it three times, you\"\n(speaking to his wife) \"will get up from the floor. When the thieves see\nthis operation they will want the whistle, and we will get another six\nhundred ounces from them.\"\n\n[Everything took place as Uncle Capriano had arranged; the thieves paid\nhim six hundred ounces, and twenty over as usual, and then went home and\nkilled their wives, to try the whistle on them. The rage of the thieves\ncan be imagined when they found they had been deceived again. In order\nto avenge themselves, they took a sack and went to Uncle Capriano, and\nwithout any words seized him, put him in it, and taking him on a horse,\nrode away. They came after a time to a country-house, where they stopped\nto eat, leaving Uncle Capriano outside in the bag.]\n\nUncle Capriano, who was in the bag, began to cry: \"They want to give me\nthe king's daughter, and I don't want her!\" There happened to be near by\na herdsman, who heard what he was saying about the king's daughter, and\nhe said to himself: \"I will go and take her myself.\" So he went to Uncle\nCapriano and said: \"What is the matter with you?\" \"They want to give me\nthe king's daughter, and I don't want her, because I am married.\" The\nherdsman said: \"I will take her, for I am single; but how can we arrange\nit?\" Uncle Capriano answered: \"Take me out, and get into the bag\nyourself.\" \"That is a good idea,\" said the herdsman; so he set Uncle\nCapriano at liberty, and got into the bag himself. Uncle Capriano tied\nhim fast, took his crook, and went to tend the sheep. The herdsman soon\nbegan to cry: \"They want to give me the king's daughter. I will take\nher, I will take her!\" In a little while the thieves came and put the\nbag on a horse, and rode away to the sea, the herdsman crying out all\nthe time: \"They want to give me the king's daughter. I will take her, I\nwill take her!\" When they came to the sea, they threw the bag in, and\nreturned home. On their way back, they happened to look up on the\nmountain, and exclaimed: \"See there! is that not Uncle Capriano?\" \"Yes,\nit is.\" \"How can that be; did we not throw him into the sea, and is he\nthere now?\" Then they went to him and said: \"How is this, Uncle\nCapriano, didn't we throw you in the sea?\" \"Oh! you threw me in near the\nshore, and I found these sheep and oxen; if you had thrown me in farther\nout, I would have found many more.\" Then they asked Uncle Capriano to\nthrow them all in, and they went to the sea, and he began to throw them\nin, and each said: \"Quick, Uncle Capriano, throw me in quickly before my\ncomrades get them all!\" After he had thrown them all in, Uncle Capriano\ntook the horses and sheep and oxen, and went home and built palaces, and\nbecame very rich, and married his daughter, and gave a splendid\nbanquet.[22]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA very interesting class of stories is found in Pitre (Nos. 246-270)\nillustrating proverbial sayings. The first, on the text \"The longer one\nlives, the more one learns,\" relates that a child came to an old man and\nasked for some coals to light a fire with. The old man said he would\nwillingly give them, but the child had nothing to carry them in. The\nchild, however, filled his palm with ashes, put a coal on them, and went\naway. The old man gave his head a slap, and exclaimed: \"With all my\nyears and experience, I did not know this thing. 'The longer one lives,\nthe more one learns.'\" And from that time these words have remained for\na proverb.\n\nAnother (No. 252) recalls one of Giufa's pranks. A husband, to test his\nwife and friend, who is a bailiff, throws a goat's head into the well,\nand tells the wife that he has killed a person and cut off the head to\nprevent the body from being recognized. The wife promises secrecy, but\nsoon tells the story to her friend, who denounces the supposed murderer\nto the judge. The house is entered by an arbor, from which they climb\ninto a window, and the husband is arrested and taken to the well, which\na bailiff descends, and finds the goat's head. The husband explains his\ntrick, which gave rise to the saying: \"Do not confide a secret to a\nwoman; do not make a bailiff your friend, and do not rent a house with\nan arbor.\"[23]\n\nAnother shows how the stories of classic times survive among the people.\nNero, a wicked king, goes about in disguise to hear what the people say\nof him. One day he meets an old woman in the field, and when Nero's name\nis mentioned, instead of cursing him as others do, she says: \"May God\npreserve him.\" She explains her words by saying that they have had\nseveral kings, each worse than the other, and now they have Nero, who\ntears every son from his mother, wherefore may God guard and preserve\nhim, for \"There is no end to evil.\"[24]\n\nThere was once a whimsical prince who thought he could arrange the world\nand animals as he pleased and overcome Nature. He taught his horse to\ndevour flesh and his dogs to eat grass. He trained an ass to dance and\naccompany himself by his braying: in short, the prince boasted that by\nmeans of Art one could rule Nature. Among other things he trained a cat\nto stand on the table and hold a lighted candle while he was eating. No\nmatter what was brought on the table, the cat never moved, but held the\ncandle as if it had been a statue of wood. The prince showed the cat to\nhis friends and said, boastingly: \"Nature is nothing; my art is more\npowerful and can do this and other things.\" His friends often said that\neverything must be true to its nature; \"Art departs and Nature\nprevails.\" The prince invited them to make any trial they wished,\nasserting that the cat would never forget the art he had taught it. One\nof his friends caught a mouse one day and wrapped it up in a\nhandkerchief and carried it with him to the prince's. When the cat heard\nand saw the mouse, it dropped the candlestick and ran after the mouse.\nThe friend began to laugh, and said to the prince, who stood with his\nmouth wide open with amazement: \"Dear prince, I always told you Art\ndeparts and Nature prevails!\"\n\nThis story is told of Dante and Cecco d' Ascoli, the former playing the\nrole of the prince.[25]\n\nTo counterbalance the stories of foolish people which have been related\nabove, we will conclude this chapter with some stories of clever people,\nstories which were popular as long ago as the Middle Ages.\n\nThe first is from Sicily (Gonz., No. 50) and is called:\n\n\nCVII. THE CLEVER PEASANT.\n\nThere was once a king who, while hunting, saw a peasant working in the\nfields and asked him: \"How much do you earn in a day?\" \"Four _carlini_,\nyour Majesty,\" answered the peasant. \"What do you do with them?\"\ncontinued the king. The peasant said: \"The first I eat; the second I\nput out at interest; the third I give back, and the fourth I throw\naway.\"\n\nThe king rode on, but after a time the peasant's answer seemed very\ncurious to him, so he returned and asked him: \"Tell me, what do you mean\nby eating the first _carlino_, putting the second out to interest,\ngiving back the third, and throwing away the fourth?\" The peasant\nanswered: \"With the first I feed myself; with the second I feed my\nchildren, who must care for me when I am old; with the third I feed my\nfather, and so repay him for what he has done for me, and with the\nfourth I feed my wife, and thus throw it away, because I have no profit\nfrom it.\" \"Yes,\" said the king, \"you are right. Promise me, however,\nthat you will not tell any one this until you have seen my face a\nhundred times.\" The peasant promised and the king rode home well\npleased.\n\nWhile sitting at table with his ministers, he said: \"I will give you a\nriddle: A peasant earns four _carlini_ a day; the first he eats; the\nsecond he puts out at interest; the third he gives back, and the fourth\nhe throws away. What is that?\" No one was able to answer it.\n\nOne of the ministers remembered finally that the king had spoken the day\nbefore with the peasant, and he resolved to find the peasant and obtain\nfrom him the answer. When he saw the peasant he asked him for the answer\nto the riddle, but the peasant answered: \"I cannot tell you, for I have\npromised the king to tell no one until I have seen his face a hundred\ntimes.\" \"Oh!\" said the minister, \"I can show you the king's face,\" and\ndrew a hundred coins from his purse and gave them to the peasant. On\nevery coin the king's face was to be seen of course. After the peasant\nhad looked at each coin once, he said: \"I have now seen the king's face\na hundred times, and can tell you the answer to the riddle,\" and told\nhim it.\n\nThe minister went in great glee to the king and said: \"Your Majesty, I\nhave found the answer to the riddle; it is so and so.\" The king\nexclaimed: \"You can have heard it only from the peasant himself,\" had\nthe peasant summoned, and took him to task. \"Did you not promise me not\nto tell it until you had seen my face a hundred times?\" \"But, your\nMajesty,\" answered the peasant, \"your minister showed me your picture a\nhundred times.\" Then he showed him the bag of money that the minister\nhad given him. The king was so pleased with the clever peasant that he\nrewarded him, and made him a rich man for the rest of his life.[26]\n\n\nCVIII. THE CLEVER GIRL.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a huntsman who had a wife and two children, a\nson and a daughter; and all lived together in a wood where no one ever\ncame, and so they knew nothing about the world. The father alone\nsometimes went to the city and brought back the news. The king's son\nonce went hunting and lost himself in that wood, and while he was\nseeking his way it became night. He was weary and hungry. Imagine how he\nfelt! But all at once he saw a light shining at a distance. He followed\nit and reached the huntsman's house and asked for lodging and something\nto eat. The huntsman recognized him at once and said: \"Highness, we have\nalready supped on our best. But if we can find anything for you, you\nmust be satisfied with it. What can we do? We are so far from the towns,\nthat we cannot procure what we need every day.\" Meanwhile he had a capon\ncooked for him. The prince did not wish to eat it alone, but called all\nthe huntsman's family, and gave the head of the capon to the father, the\nback to the mother, the legs to the son, and the wings to the daughter,\nand ate the rest himself. In the house there were only two beds, in the\nsame room. In one the husband and wife slept, in the other the brother\nand sister. The old people went and slept in the stable, giving up their\nbed to the prince. When the girl saw that the prince was asleep, she\nsaid to her brother: \"I will wager that you do not know why the prince\ndivided the capon among us in the manner he did.\" \"Do you know? Tell me\nwhy.\" \"He gave the head to papa because he is the head of the family,\nthe back to mamma because she has on her shoulders all the affairs of\nthe house, the legs to you because you must be quick in performing the\nerrands which are given you, and the wings to me to fly away and catch a\nhusband.\" The prince pretended to be asleep; but he was awake and heard\nthese words, and perceived that the girl had much judgment; and as she\nwas also pretty, he fell in love with her.\n\nThe next morning he left the huntsman's; and as soon as he reached the\ncourt, he sent him, by a servant, a purse of money. To the young girl he\nsent a cake in the form of a full moon, thirty patties, and a cooked\ncapon, with three questions: \"Whether it was the thirtieth of the month\nin the wood, whether the moon was full, and whether the capon crowed in\nthe night.\" The servant, although a trusty one, was overcome by his\ngluttony and ate fifteen of the patties, and a good slice of the cake,\nand the capon. The young girl, who had understood it all, sent back word\nto the prince that the moon was not full but on the wane; that it was\nonly the fifteenth of the month and that the capon had gone to the mill;\nand that she asked him to spare the pheasant for the sake of the\npartridge. The prince, too, understood the metaphor, and having summoned\nthe servant, he cried: \"Rogue! you have eaten the capon, fifteen\npatties, and a good slice of the cake. Thank that girl who has\ninterceded for you; if she had not, I would have hung you.\"\n\nA few months after this, the huntsman found a gold mortar, and wished to\npresent it to the prince. But his daughter said: \"You will be laughed at\nfor this present. You will see that the prince will say to you: 'The\nmortar is fine and good, but, peasant, where is the pestle?'\" The father\ndid not listen to his daughter; but when he carried the mortar to the\nprince, he was greeted as his daughter had foretold. \"My daughter told\nme so,\" said the huntsman. \"Ah! if I had only listened to her!\" The\nprince heard these words and said to him: \"Your daughter, who pretends\nto be so wise, must make me a hundred ells of cloth out of four ounces\nof flax; if she does not I will hang you and her.\" The poor father\nreturned home weeping, and sure that he and his daughter must die, for\nwho could make a hundred ells of cloth with four ounces of flax. His\ndaughter came out to meet him, and when she learned why he was weeping,\nsaid: \"Is that all you are weeping for? Quick, get me the flax and I\nwill manage it.\" She made four small cords of the flax and said to her\nfather: \"Take these cords and tell him that when he makes me a loom out\nof these cords I will weave the hundred ells of cloth.\" When the prince\nheard this answer he did not know what to say, and thought no more about\ncondemning the father or the daughter.\n\nThe next day he went to the wood to visit the girl. Her mother was dead,\nand her father was out in the fields digging. The prince knocked, but no\none opened. He knocked louder, but the same thing. The young girl was\ndeaf to him. Finally, tired of waiting, he broke open the door and\nentered: \"Rude girl! who taught you not to open to one of my rank? Where\nare your father and mother?\" \"Who knew it was you? My father is where he\nshould be and my mother is weeping for her sins. You must leave, for I\nhave something else to do than listen to you.\" The prince went away in\nanger and complained to the father of his daughter's rude manners, but\nthe father excused her. The prince, at last seeing how wise and cunning\nshe was, married her.\n\nThe wedding was celebrated with great splendor, but an event happened\nwhich came near plunging the princess into misfortune. One Sunday two\npeasants were passing a church; one of them had a hand-cart and the\nother was leading a she-ass ready to foal. The bell rang for mass and\nthey both entered the church, one leaving his cart outside and the other\ntying the ass to the cart. While they were in the church the ass foaled,\nand the owner of the ass and the owner of the cart both claimed the\ncolt. They appealed to the prince, and he decided that the colt belonged\nto the owner of the cart, because, he said, it was more likely that the\nowner of the ass would tie her to the cart in order to lay a false claim\nto the colt than that the owner of the cart would tie it to the ass.\nThe owner of the ass had right on his side, and all the people were in\nhis favor, but the prince had pronounced sentence and there was nothing\nto say. The poor man then applied to the princess, who advised him to\ncast a net in the square when the prince passed. When the prince saw the\nnet, he said: \"What are you doing, you fool? Do you expect to find fish\nin the square?\" The peasant, who had been advised by the princess,\nanswered: \"It is easier for me to find fish in the square than for a\ncart to have foals.\" The prince revoked the sentence, but when he\nreturned to the palace, knowing that the princess had suggested the\nanswer to the peasant, he said to her: \"Prepare to return to your own\nhome within an hour. Take with you what you like best and depart.\" She\nwas not at all saddened by the prospect, but ate a better dinner than\nusual, and made the prince drink a bottle of wine in which she had put a\nsleeping potion; and when he was as sound asleep as a log, she had him\nput in a carriage and took him with her to her house in the wood. It was\nin January, and she had the roof of the house uncovered and it snowed on\nthe prince, who awoke and called his servants: \"What do you wish?\" said\nthe princess. \"I command here. Did you not tell me to take from your\nhouse the thing I liked best? I have taken you, and now you are mine.\"\nThe prince laughed and they made peace.[27]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe next story is the Italian version of the tale familiar to the\nreaders of Grimm by the title of \"Doctor Knowall.\" There is a Sicilian\nversion in Pitre, No. 167, in which our story forms one of several\nepisodes. It is found, however, independently in the Mantuan collection\nfrom which we take it, changing the name slightly to suit the conclusion\nof the story.\n\n\nCIX. CRAB.\n\nThere was once a king who had lost a valuable ring. He looked for it\neverywhere, but could not find it. So he issued a proclamation that if\nany astrologer could tell him where it was he would be richly rewarded.\nA poor peasant by the name of Crab heard of the proclamation. He could\nneither read nor write, but took it into his head that he wanted to be\nthe astrologer to find the king's ring. So he went and presented himself\nto the king, to whom he said: \"Your Majesty must know that I am an\nastrologer, although you see me so poorly dressed. I know that you have\nlost a ring and I will try by study to find out where it is.\" \"Very\nwell,\" said the king, \"and when you have found it, what reward must I\ngive you?\" \"That is at your discretion, your Majesty.\" \"Go, then, study,\nand we shall see what kind of an astrologer you turn out to be.\"\n\nHe was conducted to a room, in which he was to be shut up to study. It\ncontained only a bed and a table on which were a large book and writing\nmaterials. Crab seated himself at the table and did nothing but turn\nover the leaves of the book and scribble the paper so that the servants\nwho brought him his food thought him a great man. They were the ones who\nhad stolen the ring, and from the severe glances that the peasant cast\nat them whenever they entered, they began to fear that they would be\nfound out. They made him endless bows and never opened their mouths\nwithout calling him \"Mr. Astrologer.\" Crab, who, although illiterate,\nwas, as a peasant, cunning, all at once imagined that the servants must\nknow about the ring, and this is the way his suspicions were confirmed.\nHe had been shut up in his room turning over his big book and scribbling\nhis paper for a month, when his wife came to visit him. He said to her:\n\"Hide yourself under the bed, and when a servant enters, say: 'That is\none;' when another comes, say: 'That is two;' and so on.\" The woman hid\nherself. The servants came with the dinner, and hardly had the first one\nentered when a voice from under the bed said: \"That is one.\" The second\none entered; the voice said: \"That is two;\" and so on. The servants were\nfrightened at hearing that voice, for they did not know where it came\nfrom, and held a consultation. One of them said: \"We are discovered; if\nthe astrologer denounces us to the king as thieves, we are lost.\" \"Do\nyou know what we must do?\" said another. \"Let us hear.\" \"We must go to\nthe astrologer and tell him frankly that we stole the ring, and ask him\nnot to betray us, and present him with a purse of money. Are you\nwilling?\" \"Perfectly.\"\n\nSo they went in harmony to the astrologer, and making him a lower bow\nthan usual, one of them began: \"Mr. Astrologer, you have discovered that\nwe stole the ring. We are poor people and if you reveal it to the king,\nwe are undone. So we beg you not to betray us, and accept this purse of\nmoney.\" Crab took the purse and then added: \"I will not betray you, but\nyou must do what I tell you, if you wish to save your lives. Take the\nring and make that turkey in the court-yard swallow it, and leave the\nrest to me.\" The servants were satisfied to do so and departed with a\nlow bow. The next day Crab went to the king and said to him: \"Your\nMajesty must know that after having toiled over a month I have succeeded\nin discovering where the ring has gone to.\" \"Where is it, then?\" asked\nthe king. \"A turkey has swallowed it.\" \"A turkey? very well, let us\nsee.\"\n\nThey went for the turkey, opened it, and found the ring inside. The\nking, amazed, presented the astrologer with a large purse of money and\ninvited him to a banquet. Among the other dishes, there was brought on\nthe table a plate of crabs. Crabs must then have been very rare, because\nonly the king and a few others knew their name. Turning to the peasant\nthe king said: \"You, who are an astrologer, must be able to tell me the\nname of these things which are in this dish.\" The poor astrologer was\nvery much puzzled, and, as if speaking to himself, but in such a way\nthat the others heard him, he muttered: \"Ah! Crab, Crab, what a plight\nyou are in!\" All who did not know that his name was Crab rose and\nproclaimed him the greatest astrologer in the world.[28]\n\n\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n[1] There are some popular tales, chiefly Oriental in their origin, in\nthe _Cente novelle antiche_ (see the notes to Chapter III.), and\nBoccaccio and his imitators undoubtedly made use of popular material.\nThese popular elements, however, are almost exclusively of the class of\njests. The fairy tale, which constitutes by far the largest and most\nimportant class of popular tales, is not found in European literature\nuntil Straparola. For a few earlier traces of fairy tales in mediaeval\nliterature, see an article by the writer, \"Two Mediaeval Folk-Tales,\" in\nthe _Germania_, XVIII. [New Series], p. 203.\n\n[2] The little that is known of Straparola and a very complete\nbibliography of his _Piacevoli Notti_ will be found in an excellent\nmonograph entitled, _Giovan Francesco Straparola da Caravaggio_,\nInaugural-Dissertation von F. W. J. Brakelmann aus Soest, Goettingen,\n1867. Straparola's work, especially the unexpurgated editions, is\nscarce, and the student will ordinarily be obliged to consult it in the\nFrench translation of Louveau and Larivey, of which there is an\nexcellent edition in the _Bibliotheque Elzevirienne_ of P. Jannet,\nParis, 1857. There is a German translation with valuable notes of the\n_maerchen_ contained in the _Piacevoli Notti_ by F. W. Val. Schmidt,\nBerlin, 1817. Schmidt used, without knowing it, an expurgated edition,\nand translated eighteen instead of twenty-two popular tales.\n\n[3] The reader will find all the necessary references to Straparola's\nborrowed materials in Liebrecht's translation of Dunlop's History of\nFiction, pp. 283, 493; in Brakelmann's dissertation above cited; in the\nFrench version in the _Bib. Elzevir._; and in Grimm, II. 477.\n\n[4] A comparison of Straparola's tales with those of Grimm, and an\nanalysis of those lacking in Schmidt's translation, will be found in\nGrimm, II. 477-481.\n\n[5] The imitations of Straparola will be found in Dunlop-Liebrecht, p.\n284. It is impossible to say with absolute certainty that Perrault\nborrowed his \"_Chat Botte_\" and \"_Peau d'Ane_\" from Straparola. It is,\nhowever, quite likely. Perrault's stories appeared 1694-97, and twelve\neditions of the French translation of Straparola had been issued before\nthat date.\n\n[6] The few details of Basile's life will be found in Grimm, II. 481,\nLiebrecht's translation, II. p. 316, and Taylor's translation, p. v. An\narticle in a recent number of the periodical named from Basile, vol. II.\np. 17, gives the conflicting testimony of a number of Italian writers as\nto Basile's birth and death. The writer has discovered a mention of\nBasile's burial in the church of St. Sophia at Giugliano, near Naples,\nand in a record of deaths kept in the same town, an entry stating that\nBasile died there on the 23d of February, 1632. The following are all\nthe editions of which I can find mention: Naples, 1637, 8vo, 1644, 12mo,\n1645, 1674, 1694 (Graesse), 1697 (Pitre), 1714, 1722, 1728, 1747, 1749\n(Liebrecht), 1788, _Collezione di Tutti i Poemi_, etc.; Rome, 1679, 1797\n(Pitre). Italian translations appeared at Naples in 1754, 1769, 1784,\nand 1863, and in Bolognese at Bologna, 1742, 1813, 1872, and at Venice\nin 1813. The editions used in the preparation of this work will be found\nin the Bibliography. In spite of the numerous editions above cited, the\n_Pentamerone_ is a very scarce work, and the scholar will usually have\nto content himself with Liebrecht's excellent translation. Thirty-one of\nthe fifty stories have been admirably translated by John Edward Taylor,\nLondon, 1848, 1850. The _Pentamerone_ suffered the same fate as the\n_Piacevoli Notti_. It was not known, for instance, in Germany, until\nFernow described it in his _Roemische Studien_, Zuerich, 1808, vol. III.\npp. 316, 475, although Wieland had taken the material for his \"Pervonte\"\nfrom the third story of the first day.\n\n[7] The frame of the _Pentamerone_ is the story of the \"False Bride:\"\nsee Gonz., Nos. 11, 12; Pitre, No. 13; Imbriani, \"_'E Sette\nMane-Mozze_;\" and Hahn, Nos. 12, 49. Grimm, II. p. 483, gives the\nstories in the _Pent._ which have parallels among his own _Kinder- und\nHausmaerchen_. The notes to Liebrecht's translation are to be\nsupplemented by the same author's additional notes in his translation of\nDunlop, p. 515.\n\n[8] This story is usually printed with Perrault's tales, but its author\nwas really Mlle. Lheritier. See the latest edition of Perrault's tales,\n_Les Contes de Charles Perrault_, par Andre Lefevre, Paris, Lemerre,\n1875, p. xli.\n\n[9] See Dunlop-Liebrecht, p. 408 _et seq._; and Grimm, II. p. 489 _et\nseq._\n\n[10] References to four of the five stories will be found as follows:\nI., Pitre, vol. IV. pp. 372, 375; II., Pitre, _ibid._ p. 381; III.,\n_Nov. fior._ pp. 93, 112, Pitre, No. 36; V., Pitre, vol. IV. p. 391. The\ntwo editions of Naples, 1684 and 1751, are extremely scarce and the\nstudent will be obliged to have recourse to the edition of 1789,\ncontained in the _Collezione di tutti li poeti in lingua Napoletana_.\n\n[11] Pitre, vol. I. p. xliii., mentions some other names, as, _rumanzi_\nby the inhabitants of Termini, and _pugaret_ by the Albanian colonists.\nTo these may be added another Milanese appellation, _panzanega_.\n\n[12] Other endings are given by Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, p. 129:--\n\n    Cuccurucu,\n    No' noe n' cchiu.\n\n(Cuccurucu, there is no more.)\n\n    Cuccurucu.\n    Sa' 'o vuo' cchiu bello, t' o dice tu.\n\n(Cuccurucu, if you want it finer, tell it yourself.) See also Pitre,\nvol. I. p. 196, note 2. The most curious introductions and endings are\nthose in De Nino, _Usi e Costumi abruzzesi_, vol. III. There is no\ngeneral formula, but each _fiaba_ has one of its own. Some are\nmeaningless jingles, but others are quite extensive poems on religious\nsubjects. Among these may be found legends of various saints, St.\nNicholas, p. 335, etc.\n\n[13] An interesting article might be written on the Italian\nstory-tellers, generally illiterate women, from whose lips the stories\nin the modern collections have been taken down. Some details may be\nfound in Pitre, vol. I. p. xvii. (repeated in Ralston's article in\n_Fraser's Magazine_).\n\n[14] Any attempt at an explanation of these facts would lead into the\nvexed question of the origin and diffusion of popular tales in general.\nWe cannot refrain, however, from calling attention to a remark by\nNerucci in the preface to his _Nov. pop. montalesi_, p. v. He thinks\nthat the Italian popular tale will be found to have much the same origin\nas the Italian popular poetry, that is, that very much is of a literary\norigin which has usually been deemed popular. This is undoubtedly true\nof many stories; but may not two versions of a given story, a popular\nand a literary one, have had a source common to both? A very interesting\nstudy might be made of the Italian popular tales in their relation to\nliterary versions which may be the originals.\n\nThe most valuable contributions to the question of the origin of Italian\npopular tales are those by Pitre in the first volume of his _Fiabe_, pp.\nxli.-cxlv., and in the same author's _Nov. pop. tosc._ pp. v.-xxxviii.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nFAIRY TALES.\n\n[1] This story is a variant of Pitre, No. 17, _Marvizia_ (the name of\nthe heroine who was as small as a _marva_, the mallow plant), in which\nthe introduction is wanting. The heroine falls in love with a green bird\nshe sees in her garden, and goes in search of it. After many adventures,\nshe restores the bird to its former human shape and marries it. Other\nItalian versions of the story in the text are: Sicilian, Pitre, No.\n281, _Nuovo Saggio_, V.; Gonz., No. 15; Neapolitan, _Pent._ II. 9, V. 4;\nComp., No. 33 (from the Basilicata); Roman, Busk, p. 99; Tuscan, De\nGub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 14; and Tyrolese, Schneller, No. 13.\n\nAn important trait in the above class is \"Tasks set Wife.\" Besides in\nthe above stories, this trait is also found in those belonging to other\nclasses: see De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 2, and _Nov. fior._ p. 209.\n\nAnother important trait is the following: When after a long search the\nwife discovers her husband, it is only to find him in the power of a\nsecond wife, who, however, by various bribes, is induced to permit the\nfirst wife to spend a night in her husband's chamber. She is unable to\nawaken her husband, who has been drugged by the second wife. The third\nnight she succeeds, makes herself known to him, and they escape. As an\nexample of this trait, we give in full De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 14,\nreferred to above.\n\n\nXX. SIR FIORANTE, MAGICIAN.\n\nA woodman had three daughters. Every morning one after the other, in\nturn, carried him his bread to the wood. The father and the daughters\nnoticed in a thicket a large snake, which one day asked the old man for\none of his daughters in marriage, threatening him with death if none of\nthem would accept such an offer. The father told his daughters of the\nsnake's offer, and the first and second immediately refused. If the\nthird had refused too, there would have been no hope of salvation for\nthe father; but for his sake she declared at once that snakes had always\npleased her, and she thought the snake proposed by her father very\nhandsome. At this the snake shook his tail in token of great joy, and\nmaking his bride mount it, carried her away to the midst of a beautiful\nmeadow, where he caused a splendid palace to arise while he himself\nbecame a handsome man, and revealed himself as Sir Fiorante with the red\nand white stockings. But woe to her if she ever disclosed to any one his\nexistence and name! She would lose him forever, unless, to obtain\npossession of him again, she wore out a pair of iron shoes, a staff and\na hat, and filled with her tears seven bottles. The maiden promised; but\nshe was a woman; she went to visit her sisters; one of them wished to\nknow her husband's name, and was so cunning that at last her sister told\nher, but when the poor girl went back to see her husband, she found\nneither husband nor palace. To find him again, she was obliged in\ndespair to do penance. She walked and walked and walked, and wept\nunceasingly. She had already filled one bottle with tears, when she met\nan old woman who gave her a fine walnut to crack in time of need, and\ndisappeared. When she had filled four bottles, she met another old\nwoman, who gave her a hazel-nut to crack in time of need, and\ndisappeared. She had filled all seven bottles when a third old woman\nappeared to her, and left her an almond to be cracked in a third case\nof need, and she, too, disappeared. At last the young girl reached the\ncastle of Sir Fiorante, who had taken another wife. The girl broke first\nthe walnut, and found in it a beautiful dress which the second wife\nwanted herself. The young girl said: \"You may have it if you will let me\nsleep with Sir Fiorante.\" The second wife consented, but meanwhile she\ngave Sir Fiorante some opium. In the night, the young girl said: \"Sir\nFiorante with the red and white stockings, I have worn out a pair of\niron shoes, the staff and the hat, and filled seven bottles with tears,\nwherefore you must recognize your first wife.\"\n\nHe made no answer, for he had taken opium. The next day the girl opened\nthe hazel-nut, and out came a dress more beautiful than the first; Sir\nFiorante's second wife wanted this, and obtained it on the same\ncondition as the first, but took care that Sir Fiorante should take some\nopium before going to bed. The third day, a faithful servant asked Sir\nFiorante if he had not heard in the night the cries that were uttered\nnear him. Sir Fiorante replied, No, but was careful not to take any\nopium the third night, when, having broken the almond and found in it a\ndress of unapproachable beauty, the young girl obtained the second\nwife's consent to sleep anew with Sir Fiorante. The latter pretended\nthis time to take the opium, but did not. Then he feigned to be asleep,\nbut remained awake in order to hear the cries of his abandoned wife,\nwhich he could not resist, and began to embrace her. The next day they\nleft that palace to the second wife, and departed together and went to\nlive in happiness at another more wonderful castle.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis episode is found in the _Pent._ V. 3, otherwise not belonging to\nthis class; and in Comp., No. 51, and _Nov. fior._ p. 168, which\nproperly belong to the formula of \"Animal Children.\"\n\nHahn's formula No. 6, in which a maiden sells herself for three costly\npresents, and is obliged to marry the buyer, is sufficiently illustrated\nby Gonz., No. 18, Pitre, No. 105, and Nerucci, No. 50. In the last story\nthe person to whom the maiden has sold herself refuses to marry her.\n\nThe wedding torch is found also in Pitre, No. 17, and is clearly a\nsurvival of the classic custom. The episode in which the birth of the\nchild is hindered recalls the myths of Latona and Alcmene, see Koehler's\nnotes to Gonz., No. 12 (II. p. 210). Other cases of malicious arrest of\nchildbirth in popular literature may be found in Child's _English and\nScottish Pop. Ballads_, Part I. p. 84. Pandora's box is also found in\n_Pent._ V. 4.\n\nCopious references to other Europeans versions of our story will be\nfound in Koehler's notes to Gonz., No. 15 (II. 214), and to Blade,\n_Contes pop. rec. en Agenais_, p. 145, to which may be added the notes\nto the Grimm stories Nos. 88, 113, 127 (\"The Soaring Lark,\" \"The Two\nKings' Children,\" and \"The Iron Stove\"), and Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 255.\n\n[2] The lamp lighted at night to enable the wife to see her husband is\nfound in Pitre, No. 82, and in a Calabrian story in De Gub., _Zool.\nMyth._ II. 286-287, where the drop of wax falls on the mirror of the\nsleeping youth. The same incident occurs in the curious story of \"The\nEnchanted Palace,\" in Comp., No. 27, which is simply a reversal of the\nCupid and Psyche myth, and in which the husband is the curious one, and\nthe drop of wax falls on the sleeping wife, and awakens her.\n\nThe \"iron shoes\" are found in Comp., No. 51; Pitre, No. 56; _Pent._ V.\n4; De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 14; Gradi, _Vigilia_, p. 26; and Ortoli,\np. 8. See also Hahn, Nos. 73, 102, and _Basque Legends_, p. 39.\n\n[3] See Koehler to Gonz., No. 16; Dunlop-Liebrecht, p. 406 (_Anmerkung._\n475, and _Nachtrag_, p. 544); Graesse, _Sagen-Kreise_, p. 380; Benfey,\nI. 254; and Simrock, _D.M._ pp. 332, 391, 427.\n\n[4] Other Italian versions of this story are: Nerucci, Nos. 33, 59;\nComparetti, No. 27 (Monferrato), mentioned already in Note 2; and\nSchneller, No. 13. Pitre, No. 27, has some points of contact also with\nour story.\n\n[5] Nerucci, No. 1, and _Nov. fior._ p. 319. For the story of \"Beauty\nand the Beast\" in general, see Ralston's article with this title in the\n_Nineteenth Century_, No. 22, December, 1878; and notes to Schiefner's\n_Tibetan Tales_, London, 1882, p. xxxvii.\n\n[6] The following versions all contain the episodes of the father asking\nhis daughters what gifts he shall bring them, and daughter's tardy\nreturn to the monster: Busk, p. 115; Gradi, _Saggio_, p. 189;\nComparetti, No. 64 (Montale); and _Zooel. Myth._ II. p. 382 (Leghorn),\nwith which compare _Indian Fairy Tales_, p. 292. In _Fiabe Mant._ No.\n24, we have father's gifts and sympathetic ring; but the danger to\nmonster does not depend on the tardiness of his bride. In _Zool. Myth._\nII. p. 381 (Piedmont), we have father's gift; but danger to monster\nresults from wife's revealing his name to her sisters. Schneller, No.\n25, contains the usual introduction (father's gifts), but the monster, a\nsnake, accompanies his bride on her visit home, and while they are\ndancing together she steps on his tail and crushes it, whereupon the\nsnake becomes a handsome young man. A Sicilian story, \"Zafarana\" (Gonz.,\nNo. 9), contains both episodes above mentioned, but otherwise differs\nfrom the class of stories we are now examining.\n\nClosely allied with the formula of \"Beauty and the Beast\" is that of\n\"Animal Children.\" In the latter class the introduction (father's gift)\nis wanting, and also the episode of visit of wife and tardy return. The\n\"animal child\" is usually born in accordance with a rash wish of\nchildless mother that she might have a son, even if he were like one of\nthe animals which she happens to see (Hahn, Formula No. 7). When the\n\"animal child\" is grown up his parents attempt to obtain a wife for him;\ntwo of three sisters show their disgust and are killed; the third is\nmore prudent, and ultimately disenchants her husband, usually by\nburning his skin, which he puts on and off at pleasure. The typical\nstory of this class is Pitre, No. 56, \"The Serpent.\" To Pitre's copious\nreferences may be added: Comparetti, No. 9 (Monferrato), in which the\nprince resumes his shape after his third marriage without any further\nmeans of disenchantment; No 66 (Monferrato), the prince takes off seven\nskins, and from a dragon becomes a handsome youth. In both these stories\nthe prince is enchanted and not born in accordance with mother's wish.\nGianandrea, p. 15, is a version of Comp., No. 9. Corazzini, p. 429\n(Benevento), belongs more properly to \"Beauty and the Beast;\" the\nhusband disappears on wife's revealing to his mother the secret of his\nbeing a handsome youth by night. A somewhat similar version is in Prato,\nNo. 4, \"_Il Re Serpente_.\" See also Finamore, _Nov. pop. abruzzesi_,\nNos. 6, 21, and _Archivio_, I. 424 (Piedmont), 531 (Tuscany); II. 403\n(Marches); III. 362 (Abruzzi).\n\nFor other references to this class see Koehler's notes to Widter-Wolf,\n_Jahrb._ VII. p. 249; Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 265 _et seq._; and notes to\nGrimm, Nos. 108 (\"Hans the Hedgehog\") and 144 (\"The Little Ass\").\n\n[7] Other Italian versions may be found in Pitre, No. 38; Gonz., No. 27;\n_Pent._ II. 2; Busk, pp. 46, 57, and 63; _Fiabe Mant._ Nos. 3 and 17;\n_Nov. tosc._ 4; and Schneller, No. 21. _Pent._ II. 5, contains many\npoints of resemblance, although it belongs to the class of \"Animal\nChildren.\"\n\nTwo very close non-Italian versions are Asbj., No. 84, \"The Green\nKnight\" [_Tales from the Fjeld_, p. 311, \"The Green Knight\"], and Hahn,\nNo. 7, \"The Golden Wand.\"\n\nAn important episode in the above stories is \"sick prince and secret\nremedy.\" This is found in stories belonging to other classes, as for\nexample in Schneller, 9, 10, 11; in 10 the princess is ill, in 11 there\nis simply the \"overheard council of witches;\" _Nov. fior._ pp. 599, 601\n(princess ill), and Comp., No. 8 (sick prince).\n\nThe above trait is found in the class of stories which may be named\n\"True and Untrue,\" and of which Grimm, No. 107, \"The Two Travellers,\" is\na good example. Italian versions may be found in Widter-Wolf, No. 1\n(_Jahrb._ VII. p. 3); Nerucci, No. 23; Ive, _Nozze Ive-Lorenzetto_, p.\n31, \"_La Curona del Gran Giegno_.\" Non-Italian versions will be found in\nKoehler's notes to Widter-Wolf, and Ive's notes to above cited story.\n\n[8] This class is named by Hahn from Genevieve de Brabant, whose legend\nmay be found in _Dict. des Legendes_, p. 396, and, with copious\nreferences, in D'Ancona's _Sacre Rappresentazioni_, III. p. 235.\n\n[9] The title of the original is \"_Li figghi di lu Cavuliciddaru_,\" \"The\nHerb-gatherer's Daughters.\"\n\n[10] Another Sicilian version is \"_Re Sonnu_,\" in Pitre, _Nuovo Saggio_,\nNo. 1. To the references in Pitre, No. 36, and Gonz., No. 5, may be\nadded: _Fiabe Mant._ No. 14, only as far as abstraction of children are\nconcerned and accusation of murder against the mother; No. 46, a poor\nversion, the beginning of which is lost; Comparetti, Nos. 6\n(Basilicata), and 30 (Pisa); No. 17 (Pisa) is a defective version, the\nsearch for the marvellous objects being omitted; another distorted\nversion from Monferrato is found in the same collection, No. 25. See\nalso Prato, _Quattro nov. pop. livornesi_, No. 2, and Finamore, No. 39.\nTwo of the traits of our story are found in many others; they are:\n\"Sympathetic objects,\" ring, etc., and \"Life-giving ointment or leaves.\"\nFor the former, see notes to next two stories, and in general, Brueyre,\np. 93; for the latter, see Gonz., No. 40; Comparetti, No. 32 (see Note\n12); Bernoni, _Punt._ III. p. 84. In these stories the life-restoring\nsubstance is an ointment; leaves possessing the same power are found in\nPitre, No. 11, _Pent._ I. 7, _La Posillecheata_, No. 1, and\nCoronedi-Berti, No. 14. See also Grimm, No. 16, \"The Three\nSnake-Leaves;\" _Basque Legends_, p. 117; Benfey, _Pant._ I. 454, Cox,\n_Aryan Myth._ I. 160; and _Germania_, XXI. p. 68. For non-Italian\nversions of the story in the text see Koehler's notes in _Melusine_, p.\n213, to a Breton version, and _Indian Fairy Tales_, pp. 242, 277.\n\nIn the above formula are embraced several somewhat different stories in\nwhich the persecution of innocent wife proceeds from various persons.\nFor instance, in the Italian legends Sta. Guglielma is persecuted by her\nbrother-in-law; Sta. Ulila by her father and mother-in-law; and Stella\nby her stepmother. See D'Ancona, _op. cit._, pp. 199, 235, 317. A\npopular version, somewhat distorted, of the second of the\nabove-mentioned legends may be found in Nerucci, No. 39; of the third in\nGonz., No. 24.\n\nMore commonly, however, the persecution is on the part of envious\nsisters or wicked stepmother. The important role played by the last in\ntales of the North of Europe has its counterpart in those of the South.\nThe following story from Siena (Pitre, _La Scatola di Cristallo_) will\nsufficiently illustrate this class.\n\n\nXXI. THE CRYSTAL CASKET.\n\nThere was once a widower who had a daughter. This daughter was between\nten and twelve years old. Her father sent her to school, and as she was\nall alone in the world commended her always to her teacher. Now, the\nteacher, seeing that the child had no mother, fell in love with the\nfather, and kept saying to the girl: \"Ask your father if he would like\nme for a wife.\" This she said to her every day, and at last the girl\nsaid: \"Papa, the school-mistress is always asking me if you will marry\nher.\" The father said: \"Eh! my daughter, if I take another wife, you\nwill have great troubles.\" But the girl persisted, and finally the\nfather was persuaded to go one evening to the school-mistress' house.\nWhen she saw him she was well pleased, and they settled the marriage in\na few days. Poor child! how bitterly she had to repent having found a\nstepmother so ungrateful and cruel to her! She sent her every day out on\na terrace to water a pot of basil, and it was so dangerous that if she\nfell she would go into a large river.\n\nOne day there came by a large eagle, and said to her: \"What are you\ndoing here?\" She was weeping because she saw how great the danger was of\nfalling into the stream. The eagle said to her: \"Get on my back, and I\nwill carry you away, and you will be happier than with your new mamma.\"\nAfter a long journey they reached a great plain, where they found a\nbeautiful palace all of crystal; the eagle knocked at the door and said:\n\"Open, my ladies, open! for I have brought you a pretty girl.\" When the\npeople in the palace opened the door, and saw that lovely girl, they\nwere amazed, and kissed and caressed her. Meanwhile the door was closed,\nand they remained peaceful and contented.\n\nLet us return to the eagle, who thought she was doing a spite to the\nstepmother. One day the eagle flew away to the terrace where the\nstepmother was watering the basil. \"Where is your daughter?\" asked the\neagle. \"Eh!\" she replied, \"perhaps she fell from this terrace and went\ninto the river; I have not heard from her in ten days.\" The eagle\nanswered: \"What a fool you are! I carried her away; seeing that you\ntreated her so harshly I carried her away to my fairies, and she is very\nwell.\" Then the eagle flew away.\n\nThe stepmother, filled with rage and jealousy, called a witch from the\ncity, and said to her: \"You see my daughter is alive, and is in the\nhouse of some fairies of an eagle which often comes upon my terrace; now\nyou must do me the favor to find some way to kill this stepdaughter of\nmine, for I am afraid that some day or other she will return, and my\nhusband, discovering this matter, will certainly kill me.\" The witch\nanswered: \"Oh, you need not be afraid of that: leave it to me.\"\n\nWhat did the witch do? She had made a little basketful of sweetmeats, in\nwhich she put a charm; then she wrote a letter, pretending that it was\nher father, who, having learned where she was, wished to make her this\npresent, and the letter pretended that her father was so glad to hear\nthat she was with the fairies.\n\nLet us leave the witch who is arranging all this deception, and return\nto Ermellina (for so the young girl was named). The fairies had said to\nher: \"See, Ermellina, we are going away, and shall be absent four days;\nnow in this time take good care not to open the door to any one, for\nsome treachery is being prepared for you by your stepmother.\" She\npromised to open the door to no one: \"Do not be anxious, I am well off,\nand my stepmother has nothing to do with me.\" But it was not so. The\nfairies went away, and the next day when Ermellina was alone, she heard\na knocking at the door, and said to herself: \"Knock away! I don't open\nto any one.\" But meanwhile the blows redoubled, and curiosity forced her\nto look out of the window. What did she see? She saw one of the servant\ngirls of her own home (for the witch had disguised herself as one of her\nfather's servants). \"O my dear Ermellina,\" she said, \"your father is\nshedding tears of sorrow for you, because he really believed you were\ndead, but the eagle which carried you off came and told him the good\nnews that you were here with the fairies. Meanwhile your father, not\nknowing what civility to show you, for he understands very well that you\nare in need of nothing, has thought to send you this little basket of\nsweetmeats.\" Ermellina had not yet opened the door; the servant begged\nher to come down and take the basket and the letter, but she said: \"No,\nI wish nothing!\" but finally, since women, and especially young girls,\nare fond of sweetmeats, she descended and opened the door. When the\nwitch had given her the basket, she said: \"Eat this,\" and broke off for\nher a piece of the sweetmeats which she had poisoned. When Ermellina\ntook the first mouthful the old woman disappeared. Ermellina had\nscarcely time to close the door, when she fell down on the stairs.\n\nWhen the fairies returned they knocked at the door, but no one opened it\nfor them; then they perceived that there had been some treachery, and\nbegan to weep. Then the chief of the fairies said: \"We must break open\nthe door,\" and so they did, and saw Ermellina dead on the stairs. Her\nother friends who loved her so dearly begged the chief of the fairies to\nbring her to life, but she would not, \"for,\" said she, \"she has\ndisobeyed me;\" but one and the other asked her until she consented; she\nopened Ermellina's mouth, took out a piece of the sweetmeat which she\nhad not yet swallowed, raised her up, and Ermellina came to life again.\n\nWe can imagine what a pleasure it was for her friends; but the chief of\nthe fairies reproved her for her disobedience, and she promised not to\ndo so again.\n\nOnce more the fairies were obliged to depart. Their chief said:\n\"Remember, Ermellina: the first time I cured you, but the second I will\nhave nothing to do with you.\" Ermellina said they need not worry, that\nshe would not open to any one. But it was not so; for the eagle,\nthinking to increase her stepmother's anger, told her again that\nErmellina was alive. The stepmother denied it all to the eagle, but she\nsummoned anew the witch, and told her that her stepdaughter was still\nalive, saying: \"Either you will really kill her, or I will be avenged on\nyou.\" The old woman, finding herself caught, told her to buy a very\nhandsome dress, one of the handsomest she could find, and transformed\nherself into a tailoress belonging to the family, took the dress,\ndeparted, went to poor Ermellina, knocked at the door and said: \"Open,\nopen, for I am your tailoress.\" Ermellina looked out of the window and\nsaw her tailoress; and was, in truth, a little confused (indeed, anyone\nwould have been so). The tailoress said, \"Come down, I must fit a dress\non you.\" She replied, \"No, no; for I have been deceived once.\" \"But I am\nnot the old woman,\" replied the tailoress, \"you know me, for I have\nalways made your dresses.\" Poor Ermellina was persuaded, and descended\nthe stairs; the tailoress took to flight while Ermellina was yet\nbuttoning up the dress, and disappeared. Ermellina closed the door, and\nwas mounting the stairs; but it was not permitted her to go up, for she\nfell down dead.\n\nLet us return to the fairies, who came home and knocked at the door; but\nwhat good did it do to knock! There was no longer any one there. They\nbegan to weep. The chief of the fairies said: \"I told you that she would\nbetray me again; but now I will have nothing more to do with her.\" So\nthey broke open the door, and saw the poor girl with that beautiful\ndress on; but she was dead. They all wept, because they really loved\nher. But there was nothing to do; the chief struck her enchanted wand,\nand commanded a beautiful rich casket all covered with diamonds and\nother precious stones to appear; then the others made a beautiful\ngarland of flowers and gold, put it on the young girl, and then laid her\nin the casket, which was so rich and beautiful that it was marvellous to\nbehold. Then the old fairy struck her wand as usual and commanded a\nhandsome horse, the like of which not even the king possessed. Then they\ntook the casket, put it on the horse's back, and led him into the public\nsquare of the city, and the chief of the fairies said: \"Go, and do not\nstop until you find some one who says to you: 'Stop, for pity's sake,\nfor I have lost my horse for you.'\"\n\nNow let us leave the afflicted fairies, and turn our attention to the\nhorse, which ran away at full speed. Who happened to pass at that\nmoment? The son of a king (the name of this king is not known); and saw\nthis horse with that wonder on its back. Then the king began to spur his\nhorse, and rode him so hard that he killed him, and had to leave him\ndead in the road; but the king kept running after the other horse. The\npoor king could endure it no longer; he saw himself lost, and exclaimed:\n\"Stop, for pity's sake, for I have lost my horse for you!\" Then the\nhorse stopped (for those were the words). When the king saw that\nbeautiful girl dead in the casket, he thought no more about his own\nhorse, but took the other to the city. The king's mother knew that her\nson had gone hunting; when she saw him returning with this loaded horse,\nshe did not know what to think. The son had no father, wherefore he was\nall powerful. He reached the palace, had the horse unloaded, and the\ncasket carried to his chamber; then he called his mother and said:\n\"Mother, I went hunting, but I have found a wife.\" \"But what is it? A\ndoll? A dead woman?\" \"Mother,\" replied her son, \"don't trouble yourself\nabout what it is, it is my wife.\" His mother began to laugh, and\nwithdrew to her own room (what could she do, poor mother?).\n\nNow this poor king no longer went hunting, took no diversion, did not\neven go to the table, but ate in his own room. By a fatality it happened\nthat war was declared against him, and he was obliged to depart. He\ncalled his mother, and said: \"Mother, I wish two careful chambermaids,\nwhose business it shall be to guard this casket; for if on my return I\nfind that anything has happened to my casket, I shall have the\nchambermaids killed.\" His mother, who loved him, said: \"Go, my son, fear\nnothing, for I myself will watch over your casket.\" He wept several days\nat being obliged to abandon this treasure of his, but there was no help\nfor it, he had to go.\n\nAfter his departure he did nothing but commend his wife (so he called\nher) to his mother in his letters. Let us return to the mother, who no\nlonger thought about the matter, not even to have the casket dusted; but\nall at once there came a letter which informed her that the king had\nbeen victorious, and should return to his palace in a few days. The\nmother called the chambermaids, and said to them: \"Girls, we are\nruined.\" They replied: \"Why, Highness?\" \"Because my son will be back in\na few days, and how have we taken care of the doll?\" They said: \"True,\ntrue; now let us go and wash the doll's face.\" They went to the king's\nroom and saw that the doll's face and hands were covered with dust and\nfly-specks, so they took a sponge and washed her face, but some drops of\nwater fell on her dress and spotted it. The poor chambermaids began to\nweep, and went to the queen for advice. The queen said: \"Do you know\nwhat to do! call a tailoress, and have a dress precisely like this\nbought, and take off this one before my son comes.\" They did so, and the\nchambermaids went to the room and began to unbutton the dress. The\nmoment that they took off the first sleeve, Ermellina opened her eyes.\nThe poor chambermaids sprang up in terror, but one of the most\ncourageous said: \"I am a woman, and so is this one; she will not eat\nme.\" To cut the matter short, she took off the dress, and when it was\nremoved Ermellina began to get out of the casket to walk about and see\nwhere she was. The chambermaids fell on their knees before her and\nbegged her to tell them who she was. She, poor girl, told them the whole\nstory. Then she said: \"I wish to know where I am?\" Then the chambermaids\ncalled the king's mother to explain it to her. The mother did not fail\nto tell her everything, and she, poor girl, did nothing but weep\npenitently, thinking of what the fairies had done for her.\n\nThe king was on the point of arriving, and his mother said to the doll:\n\"Come here; put on one of my best dresses.\" In short, she arrayed her\nlike a queen. Then came her son. They shut the doll up in a small room,\nso that she could not be seen. The king came with great joy, with\ntrumpets blowing, and banners flying for the victory. But he took no\ninterest in all this, and ran at once to his room to see the doll; the\nchambermaids fell on their knees before him saying that the doll smelled\nso badly that they could not stay in the palace, and were obliged to\nbury her. The king would not listen to this excuse, but at once called\ntwo of the palace servants to erect the gallows. His mother comforted\nhim in vain: \"My son, it was a dead woman.\" \"No, no, I will not listen\nto any reasons; dead or alive, you should have left it for me.\" Finally,\nwhen his mother saw that he was in earnest about the gallows, she rang a\nlittle bell, and there came forth no longer the doll, but a very\nbeautiful girl, whose like was never seen. The king was amazed, and\nsaid: \"What is this!\" Then his mother, the chambermaids, and Ermellina,\nwere obliged to tell him all that had happened. He said: \"Mother, since\nI adored her when dead, and called her my wife, now I mean her to be my\nwife in truth.\" \"Yes, my son,\" replied his mother, \"do so, for I am\nwilling.\" They arranged the wedding, and in a few days were man and\nwife.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSicilian versions of this story may be found in Pitre, Nos. 57, 58;\nGonz., Nos. 2-4. To the copious references in the notes to the stories\njust mentioned may be added: _Fiabe Mant._ No. 28; _Tuscan Fairy Tales_,\nNo. IX.; _Nov. fior._ pp. 232, 239; De Nino, XLI., XLIX., L.; _Nov.\ntosc._ 9. Other European versions are: Grimm, No. 53, \"Little\nSnow-White;\" Hahn, No. 103; _Lo Rondallayre_, No. 46: see also Koehler's\nnotes to Gonz., Nos. 2-4.\n\nThe last class of \"stepmother\" stories which we shall mention is Hahn's\nFormula 15, \"Phryxos and Helle,\" in which both brother and sister are\npersecuted by stepmother. A good example of this class is Pitre, No.\n283.\n\n\nXXII. THE STEPMOTHER.\n\nThere was once a husband and a wife who had two children, a son and a\ndaughter. The wife died, and the husband married a woman who had a\ndaughter blind of one eye. The husband was a farmer, and went to work in\na field. The stepmother hated her husband's children, and to get rid of\nthem she baked some bread, and sent it by them to her husband, but\ndirected them to the wrong field, so that they might get lost. When the\nchildren reached a mountain they began to call their father, but no one\nanswered. Now the girl was enchanted; and when they came to a spring and\nthe brother wanted to drink, she said to him: \"Do not drink of this\nfountain, or you will become an ass.\" Afterwards they found another\nspring, and the brother wanted to drink; but his sister said to him: \"Do\nnot drink of it, or you will become a calf.\" However, the boy would\ndrink, and became a calf with golden horns. They continued their\njourney, and came to the sea-shore, where there was a handsome villa\nbelonging to the prince. When the prince saw the young girl, and beheld\nhow beautiful she was, he married her, and afterwards asked her what\nthere was about the little calf, and she replied: \"I am fond of him\nbecause I have brought him up.\"\n\nLet us now return to her father, who, from the great grief he had on\naccount of his children's disappearance, had gone out to divert himself,\nand wandered away, gathering fennel. He arrived at last at the villa,\nwhere was his daughter who had married the king. His daughter looked out\nof the window and said to him: \"Come up, friend.\" His daughter had\nrecognized him, and asked: \"Friend, do you not know me?\" \"No, I do not\nrecognize you.\" Then she said: \"I am your daughter, whom you believed\nlost.\" She threw herself at his feet, and said: \"Pardon me, dear father;\nI came by chance to this villa, and the king's son was here and married\nme.\" The father was greatly consoled at finding his daughter so well\nmarried. \"Now, my father,\" said she, \"empty this sack of fennel, for I\nwill fill it with gold for you.\" And then she begged him to bring his\nwife, and the daughter blind of one eye. The father returned home with\nhis bag full of money, and his wife asked in terror: \"Who gave you this\nmoney?\" He answered: \"O wife! do you know that I have found my daughter,\nand she is the king's wife, and filled this bag with money?\" She,\ninstead of being happy, was angry at hearing that her stepdaughter was\nstill alive; however, she said to her husband: \"I will go and take my\ndaughter.\" So they went, the husband, the wife, and the blind daughter,\nand came to the husband's daughter, who received her stepmother very\nkindly. But the latter, seeing that the king was away, and that her\nstepdaughter was alone, seized her and threw her from a window into the\nsea; and what did she do then? She took her blind daughter and dressed\nher in the other's clothes, and said to her: \"When the king comes and\nfinds you here weeping, say to him: 'The little calf has blinded me with\nhis horn, and I have only one eye!'\" Then the stepmother returned to her\nown house. The king came and found her daughter in bed weeping, and said\nto her: \"Why are you weeping?\" \"The little calf struck me with his horn\nand put out one of my eyes.\" The king cried at once: \"Go call the\nbutcher to kill the calf?\" When the calf heard that he was to be killed,\nhe went out on the balcony and called to his sister in the sea:--\n\n    \"Oh! sister,\n    For me the water is heated,\n    And the knives are sharpened.\"\n\nThe sister replied from the sea:--\n\n    \"Oh! brother, I cannot help you,\n    I am in the dog-fish's mouth.\"\n\nWhen the king heard the calf utter these words, he looked out of the\nwindow, and when he saw his wife in the sea, he summoned two sailors,\nand had them take her out and bring her up and restore her. Then he took\nthe blind girl and killed her and cut her in pieces and salted her like\ntunny-fish, and sent her to her mother. When her husband found it out he\nleft her and went to live with his daughter.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt may not be amiss to mention here another class of stories which come\nunder the formula of \"Persecuted Maiden.\" The class resembles in some\nrespects the story of King Lear. The youngest daughter is persecuted by\nher father because he thinks she does not love him as much as her older\nsisters. A good example of this class is Pitre, No. 10, _L'Acqua e lu\nSali_.\n\n\nXXIII. WATER AND SALT.\n\nA very fine story is related and told to your worships. Once upon a time\nthere was a king with three daughters. These three daughters being at\ntable one day, their father said: \"Come now, let us see which of you\nthree loves me.\" The oldest said: \"Papa, I love you as much as my eyes.\"\nThe second answered: \"I love you as much as my heart.\" The youngest\nsaid: \"I love you as much as water and salt.\" The king heard her with\namazement: \"Do you value me like water and salt? Quick! call the\nexecutioners, for I will have her killed immediately.\" The other sisters\nprivately gave the executioners a little dog, and told them to kill it\nand rend one of the youngest sister's garments, but to leave her in a\ncave. This they did, and brought back to the king the dog's tongue and\nthe rent garment: \"Royal Majesty, here is her tongue and garment.\" And\nhis Majesty gave them a reward. The unfortunate princess was found in\nthe forest by a magician, who took her to his house opposite the royal\npalace. Here the king's son saw her and fell desperately in love with\nher, and the match was soon agreed upon. Then the magician came and\nsaid: \"You must kill me the day before the wedding. You must invite\nthree kings, your father the first. You must order the servants to pass\nwater and salt to all the guests except your father.\" Now let us return\nto the father of this young girl, who the longer he lived the more his\nlove for her increased, and he was sick of grief. When he received the\ninvitation he said: \"And how can I go with this love for my daughter?\"\nAnd he would not go. Then he thought: \"But this king will be offended if\nI do not go, and will declare war against me some time.\" He accepted and\nwent. The day before the wedding they killed the magician and quartered\nhim, and put a quarter in each of four rooms, and sprinkled his blood in\nall the rooms and on the stairway, and the blood and flesh became gold\nand precious stones. When the three kings came and saw the golden\nstairs, they did not like to step on them. \"Never mind,\" said the\nprince, \"go up: this is nothing.\" That evening they were married: the\nnext day they had a banquet. The prince gave orders: \"No salt and water\nto that king.\" They sat down at table, and the young queen was near her\nfather, but he did not eat. His daughter said: \"Royal Majesty, why do\nyou not eat? Does not the food please you?\" \"What an idea! It is very\nfine.\" \"Why don't you eat then?\" \"I don't feel very well.\" The bride and\ngroom helped him to some bits of meat, but the king did not want it, and\nchewed his food over and over again like a goat (as if he could eat it\nwithout salt!). When they finished eating they began to tell stories,\nand the king told them all about his daughter. She asked him if he could\nstill recognize her, and stepping out of the room put on the same dress\nshe wore when he sent her away to be killed. \"You caused me to be killed\nbecause I told you I loved you as much as salt and water: now you have\nseen what it is to eat without salt and water.\" Her father could not say\na word, but embraced her and begged her pardon. They remained happy and\ncontented, and here we are with nothing.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA Venetian version (Bernoni, No. 14) is translated in the _Cornhill\nMagazine_, July, 1875, p. 80, a Bolognese version may be found in\nCoronedi-Berti, No. 5, and from the Abruzzi in Finamore, Nos. 18, 26.\nCompare also _Pomiglianesi_, p. 42. For transmutation of magician's body\nsee _Zool. Myth._ I. p. 123, Benfey, _Pant._ I. pp. 477, 478, Ralston,\n_R. F. T._ p. 223, and _Indian Fairy Tales_, p. 164.\n\nOther Sicilian versions are in Gonz., Nos. 48, 49. A Neapolitan is in\n_Pent._ V. 8; a Mantuan, in _Fiabe Mant._ No. 16; a Tuscan, in _Archivio\nper le Trad. pop._ I. p. 44, and one from the Abruzzi in _Archivio_,\nIII. 546. The same story is in Grimm, Nos. 11 and 141. \"The Little\nBrother and Sister\" and \"The Little Lamb and the Little Fish.\" See also\nHahn, No. 1. The latter part of the story is connected with \"False\nBride.\" See note 21 of this chapter.\n\n[11] Other Italian versions are: Pitre, No. 20; _Pent._ II. 1;\n_Pomiglianesi_, pp. 121, 130, 136, 188, 191; Busk, p. 3; _Nov. fior._ p.\n209; Gargiolli, No. 2; _Fiabe Mant._ No. 20; Bernoni, No. 12;\n_Archivio_, I. 525 (Tuscan), III. 368 (Abruzzi), and De Nino, XX. Some\npoints of resemblance are found also in _Pent._ V. 4; Coronedi-Berti,\nNo. 8; and Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 12.\n\nOther stories in which children are promised to ogre, demon, etc., are\nto be found in Pitre, No. 31, Widter-Wolf, No. XIII., and in the various\nversions of the story of \"Lionbruno.\" See Chap. II., note 13.\n\nFor other European versions of the story in the text, see Ralston's _R.\nF. T._ p. 141; Grimm, No. 12, \"Rapunzel,\" and _Basque Legends_, p. 59.\nFor child promised to demon, see _Romania_, No. 28, p. 531; Grimm, Nos.\n31 (\"The Girl Without Hands\") 55, (\"Rumpelstiltskin\") 92, (\"The King of\nthe Golden Mountain\"), and 181 (\"The Nix of the Mill-Pond\"). See also\nHahn, I. p. 47, No. 8.\n\nSome of the incidents of this story are found in those belonging to\nother classes. The girl's face changed to that of dog, etc., is in\nComparetti, No. 3 (furnished with a long beard), and Finamore, _Trad.\npop. abruzzesi_, No. 1, _Pent._ I. 8 (goat), Nerucci, Nos. 30 (sheep's\nneck), 37 (buffalo), and _Nov. pop. toscani_, in _Archivio per la Trad.\npop._ No. 1 (goat). For \"flight and obstacles,\" see _Nov. fior._ pp. 12,\n415, _Pent._ II. 1, and stories cited by Pitre in his notes to No. 13,\nalso note 25 to this chapter, _Basque Legends_, p. 120, _Orient und\nOccident_, II. p. 103, and Brueyre, p. 111. For \"ladder of hair,\" see\n_Pomiglianesi_, p. 126.\n\n[12] Other Italian versions are: _Pent._ I, 9; Gonz., Nos. 39, 40;\nComparetti, No. 46 (Basilicata); De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, Nos. 17, 18;\nFinamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 22; De Nino LXV.; _Nov. fior_, pp.\n375, 387 (Milan); Coronedi-Berti, No. 16; _Fiabe Mant._ No. 19; and\nSchneller, No. 28. This story, as far as the two brothers (not born\nmiraculously) and liberation of princess are concerned, is in _Pent._ I.\n7, and Widter-Wolf, No. 8.\n\nReferences to other European versions may be found in the _Romania_,\nNos. 19, pp. 336, 339; 28, p. 563; 32, p. 606: _Orient und Occident_,\nII. p. 115 (Koehler to Campbell, No. 4), and Blade, _Agenais_, No. 2 (p.\n148).\n\nAs regards the separate traits, as usual many of them are found in other\nclasses of stories: the cloud occurs in Comp., No. 40; children born\nfrom fish, De Gub., _Zool. Myth._ II. 29; for sympathetic objects and\nlife-giving ointment, see last two stories. For \"kindness to animals,\"\nand \"thankful beasts,\" see _Fiabe Mant._ Nos. 37, 26, Gonz., No. 6, and\nthe stories belonging to the class \"Giant with no heart in his body\"\nmentioned below. The gratitude and help of an animal form the subject of\nsome independent stories, _e. g._, Strap. III. 1; _Pent._ I. 3; and\nGonz., No. 6, above mentioned; and are also found in the formula \"Animal\nBrothers-in-law.\" See note 23. For European versions see _Orient und\nOccident_, II. p. 101; Brueyre, p. 98; Ralston, _R. F. T._ p. 98;\nBenfey, _Pant._ I. p. 193 _et seq._; _Basque Legends_, p. 81, and _Zool.\nMyth._ I. p. 197; II. 45. For transformation into statues, see stories\nmentioned in note 10, Bernoni, _Punt._ III. p. 89, _Nov. fior._ p. 112,\nand Ortoli, pp. 10, 34.\n\nThe most interesting episode, however, is that of \"Magician (or Giant)\nwith no heart in his body\" (see Chap. III., note 8), which is in the\nfollowing Italian tales: Pitre, No. 81, Busk, p. 158; _Nov. fior._ pp.\n7, 347; Gonz., Nos. 6, 16; _Fiabe Mant._ No. 37; and _Pomiglianesi_, No.\n2, p. 21 (v. p. 41). For other references, see _Basque Legends_, p. 83;\nBrueyre, pp. 81-83; Ralston, _R. F. T._, Am. ed., pp. 119-125; _Orient\nund Occident_, II. p. 101; Hahn, I. p. 56, No. 31; and _Romania_, No.\n22, p. 234. See also note 18 of this chapter.\n\nThe story in our text is not a good example of Hahn's Form. 13,\n\"Andromeda, or Princess freed from Dragon.\" Some of the other stories\ncited are much better, notably Widter-Wolf, No. 8, Gonz., Nos. 39, 40,\nand also Strap., X. 3, and Schneller, No. 39. Hahn's Danae Form. 12 is\nrepresented by _Nov. tosc._ No. 30. The allied myth of Medusa by _Nov.\ntosc._ No. 1, and _Archivio_, I. p. 57.\n\n[13] Versions of this wide-spread story are in Pitre, _Otto Fiabe_, No.\n1; Gonz., Nos. 58, 59, 61, 62, 63 (partly), and 64; Koehler, _Italien\nVolksm._ (Sora) No. 1, \"_Die drei Brueder und die drei befreiten\nKoenigstochter_\" (_Jahrb._ VIII. p. 241); Widter-Wolf, No. 4 (_Jahrb._\nVII. p. 20); Schneller, No. 39; _Nov. fior._ p. 70, and De Gub., _Zool.\nMyth._ II. 187 (Tuscan). Part of our story is also found in Schneller,\npp. 188-192, and Pitre, Nos. 83, 84 (var.). To these references, which\nare given by Pitre, may be added the following: Comparetti, Nos. 19\n(Monferrato) partly, 35 (Monferrato), and 40 (Pisa); De Gub., _Sto.\nStefano_, No. 19; _Fiabe Mant._ Nos. 18, 32 (the latter part), 49\n(partly); _Tuscan Fairy Tales_, No. 3; Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_,\nNo. 29; and _Nov. tosc._ No. 3.\n\nThe trait \"underground world\" is also found in Busk, p. 141. These\nstories illustrate sufficiently Hahn's Form. 40, \"Descent into the\nNether World.\"\n\n[14] To the stories in Note 13 containing \"liberation of hero by eagle\"\nmay be added Comparetti, No. 24 (Monferrato). See in general: De Gub.,\n_Zool. Myth._ II. 186; Benfey, _Pant._ I. pp. 216, 388; _Rivista\nOrientale_, I. p. 27; _Orient und Occident_, II. p. 299; and _Basque\nLegends_, p. 110.\n\n[15] Another version from Avellino is in the same collection, p. 201.\nOther Italian versions are: Pitre, No. 79; Gonz., No. 51; De Gub., _Sto.\nStefano_, No. 20; De Nino, No. 2; Comparetti, No. 28 (Monferrato); Ive,\n_Fiabe pop. rovignesi_, p. 20; No. 3, \"_El Pumo de uoro_;\" Schneller,\nNo. 51; and Corazzini, p. 455 (Benevento).\n\nIn general see Ive's and Koehler's notes to stories above cited, and\n_Romania_, No. 24, p. 565. The corresponding Grimm story is No. 28, \"The\nSinging Bone.\"\n\n[16] Other Italian versions are: Pitre, Nos. 41, 42; _Pent._ I. 6; Busk,\npp. 26, 31; Comp., No. 23 (Pisa); _Fiabe Mant._ No. 45; _Nov. fior._ p.\n162 (Milan); Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. II.; and _Archivio_,\nII. 185 (Sardinia).\n\nSchneller, No. 24, and Bernoni, No. 8, are connecting links between\n\"Cinderella\" and \"Allerleirauh.\" In the former, Cinderella's father asks\nhis three daughters what present he shall make them. Cinderella asks for\na sword, and shortly after leaves her home and obtains a situation in a\ncity as servant. In the palace opposite lives a young count, with whom\nCinderella falls in love. She obtains a situation in his house. Her\nsword, which is enchanted, gives her beautiful dresses, and she goes to\nthe balls as in the other versions. The third evening the count slips a\ncostly ring on her finger, which Cinderella uses to identify herself\nwith. Bernoni, No. 8, is substantially the same. After the death of\ntheir mother and father Cinderella's sisters treat her cruelly, and she\nobtains a place as servant in the king's palace, and is aided by the\nfairies, who take pity upon her. She is identified by means of a ring,\nand also by her diamond slipper, which she throws to the servants, who\nare following her to see where she lives.\n\nEuropean versions will be found in the notes to Grimm, No. 21\n(\"Cinderella\"), and W. R. S. Ralston's article, \"Cinderella,\" in the\n_Nineteenth Century_, November, 1879.\n\n[17] Other Italian versions are: Pitre, No. 43; Gonz., 38; _Pent._ II.\n6; Busk, pp. 66, 84, 90, 91; Comparetti, No. 57. (Montale); De Gub.,\n_Sto. Stefano_, No. 3 (see also _Rivista di Lett. Pop._ I. p. 86);\nGradi, _Saggio_, p. 141; _Fiabe Mant._ No. 38; _Nov. fior._ p. 158\n(Milan), Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 3; De Nino, No. 17, and\n_Archivio_, I. 190 (Tuscany), II. 26 (Sardinia). Straparola, I. 4,\ncontains the first part of our story, which is also partly found in\nCoronedi-Berti, No. 3, and Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 13.\n\nThe gifts, which in the story in the text are given the day of the\nwedding, in the other versions are bestowed before marriage by father,\nin order to overcome daughter's opposition. The recognition by means of\nring is found in the last two stories mentioned in Note 16, in _Fiabe\nMant._ No. 38, above cited, and _Nov. fior._ p. 158 (Milan). See also\nGrimm, Nos. 93 (\"The Raven\"), 101 (\"Bearskin\"); Hahn, No. 25; Asbj., No.\n71 (_Tales from the Field_, p. 130); and _Romania_, No. 23, p. 359.\n\nOther European versions of our story will be found mentioned in the\nnotes to Grimm, No. 65 (\"Allerleirauh\"), to Gonz., No. 38 (II. 229);\n_Orient und Occident_, II. 295; D'Ancona, _Sacre Rappresent._ III. 238;\n_Romania_, No. 24, 571; _Basque Legends_, p. 165, and Ralston's _R. F.\nT._ p. 159.\n\n[18] See Gonz., No. 26, and Widter-Wolf, No. 8 (_Jahrb._ VII. p. 128).\n\nFor story in general, see notes to stories just cited, and Cox, _Aryan\nMyth._ vol. I. p. 224; II. p. 261, \"The Myth of Nisos and Skylla;\" Hahn,\nI. p. 52; and De Gub., _Zool. Myth._ I. p. 211 _et seq._\n\n[19] Pitre, in his notes to No. 71, gives two variants of his story, and\nmentions a Piedmontese version yet unpublished. Comparetti, No. 54, an\nanalysis of which is given in the text, represents sufficiently Hahn's\nForm. No. 37, \"Strong Hans.\"\n\n[20] In the version in _Pent._ IV. 8, after the seven sons have\ndisappeared, their sister goes in search of them, finds them, and they\nall live happily together until by her fault they are changed into\ndoves, and she is obliged to go to the house of the Mother of Time and\nlearn from her the mode of disenchantment. In a story in Pitre, No. 73,\na husband threatens to kill his wife if she does not give birth to a\nmale child.\n\nFor other European versions of our story, see Grimm, No. 9, \"The Twelve\nBrothers;\" No. 25, \"The Seven Ravens;\" and No. 49, \"The Six Swans;\"\n_Melusine_, p 419, and _Basque Legends_, p. 186. Part of the story in\ntext belongs to the Genevieve formula, see notes 8, 10, of this chapter.\n\n[21] The first trait, \"Two Sisters,\" is also found as an independent\nstory, see Chap. II., p. 100, and note 2. \"Substitution of false bride\"\nis found without \"Two Sisters\" in Comp., Nos. 53 (Montale) and 68\n(Montale); _Fiabe Mant._ No. 16; and Gradi, _Saggio_, p. 141. See note\n10 of this chapter. The best example of \"substitution\" is, as we have\nsaid before, Grimm, No. 89, \"The Goose-Girl;\" see also _Romania_, No.\n24, p. 546. The same trait is found also in a very extensive and\ninteresting class of stories which may be termed, from the usual titles\nof the stories, \"The Three Citrons,\" some of the versions of which\nbelong to \"Forgotten Bride.\" We give here, however, a version belonging\nto the class above-mentioned, and which we have taken, on account of its\nrarity, from Ive, _Fiabe pop. rovignesi_, p. 3.\n\n\nXXIV. THE LOVE OF THE THREE ORANGES.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a king and queen who had a half-witted son.\nThe queen was deeply grieved at this, and she thought to go to the Lord\nand ask counsel of him what she was to do with this son. The Lord told\nher to try and do something to make him laugh. She replied: \"I have\nnothing but a jar of oil, unfortunately for me!\" The Lord said to her:\n\"Well, give this oil away in charity, for there will come many people;\nsome bent, some straight, some humpbacked, and it may happen that your\nson will laugh.\" So the queen proclaimed that she had a jar of oil, and\nthat all could come and take some. And everybody, indeed, hurried there\nand took the oil down to the last drop. Last of all came an old witch,\nwho begged the queen to give her a little, saying: \"Give me a little\noil, too!\" The queen replied: \"Ah, it is all gone, there is no more!\"\nThe queen was angry and full of spite because her son had not yet\nlaughed. The old witch said again to the queen: \"Let me look in the\njar!\" The queen opened the jar, and the old woman got inside of it and\nwas all covered with the dregs of the oil; and the queen's son laughed,\nand laughed, and laughed. The old woman came out, saw the prince\nlaughing, and said to him: \"May you never be happy until you go and find\nthe Love of the three Oranges.\" The son, all eager, said to his mother:\n\"Ah, mother, I shall have no more peace until I go and find the Love of\nthe three Oranges.\" She answered: \"My dear son, how will you go and find\nthe Love of the three Oranges?\" But he would go; so he mounted his horse\nand rode and rode and rode until he came to a large gate. He knocked,\nand some one within asked: \"Who is there?\" He replied: \"A soul created\nby God.\" The one within said: \"In all the years that I have been here no\none has ever knocked at this gate.\" The prince repeated: \"Open, for I am\na soul created by God!\" Then an old man came down and opened the gate.\nHe had eyelids that reached to his feet, and he said: \"My son, take down\nthose little forks, and lift up my eyelids.\" The prince did so, and the\nold man asked: \"Where are you going, my son, in this direction?\" \"I am\ngoing to find the Love of the three Oranges.\" The old man answered: \"So\nmany have gone there and never returned! Do you wish not to return, too?\nMy son, take these twigs: you will meet some witches who are sweeping\nout their oven with their hands; give them these twigs, and they will\nlet you pass.\" The prince very gratefully took the twigs, mounted his\nhorse and rode away. He journeyed a long time, and at last saw in the\ndistance the witches of immense size who were coming towards him. He\nthrew them the twigs, and they allowed him to pass.\n\nHe continued his journey, and arrived at a gate larger than the first.\nHere the same thing occurred as at the first one, and the old man said:\n\"Well! since you will go, too, take these ropes, on your way you will\nencounter some witches drawing water with their tresses; throw them\nthese ropes, and they will let you pass.\"\n\nEverything happened as the old man said; the prince passed the witches,\ncontinued his journey and came to a third gate larger than the second.\nHere an old man with eyelids longer than the other two gave him a bag of\nbread, and one of tallow, saying: \"Take this bag of bread; you will meet\nsome large dogs; throw them the bread and they will let you pass; then\nyou will come to a large gate with many rusty padlocks; then you will\nsee a tower, and in it the Love of the three Oranges. When you reach\nthat place, take this tallow and anoint well the rusty padlocks; and\nwhen you have ascended the tower, you will find the oranges hanging from\na nail. There you will also find an old woman who has a son who is an\nogre and has eaten all the Christians who have come there; you see, you\nmust be very careful!\"\n\nThe prince, well contented, took the bag of bread and the tallow and\nrode away. After a long journey, he saw at a distance, three great dogs\nwith their mouths wide open coming to eat him. He threw them the bread,\nand they let him pass.\n\nHe journeyed on until he came to another large gate with many rusty\npadlocks. He dismounted, tied his horse to the gate, and began to anoint\nthe locks with the tallow, until, after much creaking, they opened. The\nprince entered, saw the tower, went up and met an old woman who said to\nhim: \"Dear son, where are you going? What have you come here for? I have\na son who is an ogre, and will surely eat you up.\" While she was\nuttering these words, the son arrived. The old woman made the prince\nhide under the bed; but the ogre perceived that there was some one in\nthe house, and when he had entered, he began to cry:--\n\n    \"_Gein gein_, I smell a Christian,\n    _Gian gian_, I smell a Christian!\"\n\n\"Son,\" his mother said, \"there is no one here.\" But he repeated his cry.\nThen his mother, to quiet him, threw him a piece of meat, which he ate\nlike a madman; and while he was busy eating, she gave the three oranges\nto the prince, saying: \"Take them, my son, and escape at once, for he\nwill soon finish eating his meat, and then he will want to eat you,\ntoo.\" After she had given him the three oranges, she repented of it, and\nnot knowing what else to do, she cried out: \"Stairs, throw him down!\nlock, crush him!\" They answered: \"We will not, for he gave us tallow!\"\n\"Dogs, devour him!\" \"We will not, for he gave us bread!\" Then he mounted\nhis horse and rode away, and the old woman cried after him: \"Witch,\nstrangle him!\" \"I will not, for he gave me ropes!\" \"Witch, kill him!\" \"I\nwill not, for he gave me twigs!\" The prince continued his journey, and\non the way became very thirsty, and did not know what to do. Finally he\nthought of opening one of the oranges. He did so, and out came a\nbeautiful girl, who said to him:\n\n    \"Love, give me to drink!\"\n\nHe replied:\n\n    \"Love, I have none!\"\n\nAnd she said:\n\n    \"Love, I shall die!\"\n\nAnd she died at once. The prince threw away the orange, and continued\nhis journey, and soon became thirsty again. In despair he opened another\norange, and out sprang another girl more beautiful than the first. She,\ntoo, asked for water, and died when the prince told her he had none to\ngive her. Then he continued his way, saying: \"The next time I surely do\nnot want to lose her.\" When he became thirsty again, he waited until he\nreached a well; then he opened the last orange and there appeared a girl\nmore beautiful than the first two. When she asked for water, he gave her\nthe water of the well; then took her out of the orange, put her on\nhorseback with himself, and started for home. When he was nearly there,\nhe said to her: \"See, I will leave you here for a time under these two\ntrees;\" one had leaves of gold and silver fruit, and the other gold\nfruit and silver leaves. Then he made her a nice couch, and left her\nresting between the two trees. \"Now,\" said he, \"I must go to my mother\nto tell her that I have found you, then I will come for you and we shall\nbe married!\" Then he mounted his horse and rode away to his mother.\n\nNow while he was gone an old witch approached the girl and said: \"Ah,\ndear daughter, let me comb your hair.\" The young girl replied: \"No, the\nlike of me do not wish it.\" Again she said: \"Come, my dear daughter, let\nme comb you!\" Tired of being asked so often by the old woman, the girl\nat last allowed her to comb her hair, and what did that monster of an\nold witch take it into her head to do. She stuck a pin through the\ngirl's temples from side to side, and the girl at once was changed into\na dove. What did this wretch of an old woman then do? She got into the\ncouch in the place of the young girl, who flew away.\n\nMeanwhile the prince reached his mother's house, and she said to him:\n\"Dear son, where have you been? how have you spent all this time?\" \"Ah,\nmy mother,\" said he \"what a lovely girl I have for my wife!\" \"Dear son,\nwhere have you left her?\" \"Dear mother, I have left her between two\ntrees, the leaves of one are of gold and the fruit is silver, the leaves\nof the other one are silver and the fruit gold.\"\n\nThen the queen gave a grand banquet, invited many guests, and made ready\nmany carriages to go and bring the young girl. They mounted their\nhorses, they entered their carriages, they set out, but when they\nreached the trees they saw the ugly old woman, all wrinkled, in the\ncouch between the trees, and the white dove on top of them.\n\nThe poor prince, you can imagine it! was grieved to the heart, and\nashamed at seeing the ugly old woman. His father and mother, to satisfy\nhim, took the old woman, put her in a carriage, and carried her to the\npalace, where the wedding-feast was prepared. The prince was\ndownhearted, but his mother said to him: \"Don't think about it, my son,\nfor she will become beautiful again.\" But her son could not think of\neating or of talking. The dinner was brought on and the guests placed\nthemselves at the round table. Meanwhile, the dove flew up on the\nkitchen balcony, and began to sing:\n\n    \"Let the cook fall asleep,\n    Let the roast be burned,\n    Let the old witch be unable to eat of it.\"\n\nThe guests waited for the cook to put the roast on the table. They\nwaited, and waited and waited, and at last they got up and went to the\nkitchen, and there they found the cook asleep. They called and called\nhim, and at last he awoke, but soon became drowsy again. He said he did\nnot know what was the matter with him, but he could not stand up. He put\nanother roast on the spit, however. Then the dove again flew on the\nbalcony and sang:\n\n    \"Let the cook fall asleep,\n    Let the roast be burned,\n    Let the old witch be unable to eat of it.\"\n\nAgain the guests waited until they grew weary, and then the groom went\nto see what was the matter. He found the cook asleep again, and said:\n\"Cook, good cook, what is the matter with you that you sleep?\" Then the\ncook told him that there was a dove that flew on the balcony and\nrepeated:--\n\n    \"Let the cook fall asleep,\n    Let the roast be burned,\n    Let the old witch be unable to eat of it.\"--\n\nand that he was immediately seized with drowsiness, and fell asleep at\nonce. The bridegroom went out on the balcony, saw the dove, and said to\nit: \"_Cuocula_, pretty _cuocula_, come here and let me see you!\" The\ndove came near him and he caught it, and while he was caressing it he\nsaw the pins planted in its head, one in its forehead, and one in each\nof its temples. What did he do? He pulled out the pin in the forehead!\nThen he caressed it again, and pulled out the pins from its temples.\nThen the dove became a beautiful girl, more beautiful than she was\nbefore, and the prince took her to his mother and said: \"Here, my\nmother, this is my bride!\" His mother was delighted to see the beautiful\ngirl, and the king, too, was well pleased. When the old witch saw the\ngirl, she cried: \"Take me away, take me away, I am afraid!\" Then the\nfair girl told the whole secret how it was. The guests who were present\nwished to give their opinions as to what should be done with the old\nwoman. One of the highest rank said: \"Let her be well greased, and\nburned!\" \"Bravo, bravo!\" exclaimed the others, \"burn her; she must be\nburned!\" So they seized the old woman, had wood brought, and burned her\nin the midst of the city. Then they returned home, and had a finer\nwedding than before.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe following are the Italian versions of the above: _Pent._ IV. 9;\nPitre, _Otto Fiabe_, II. \"_La Bella di li setti Citri_;\" Gonz., No. 13;\nBusk, p. 15; _Nov. fior._ pp. 305, 308 (Milan); Comparetti, No. 68 (also\nin Nerucci, p. 111); De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, Nos. 4, 5; Prato, _Quattro\nnov. pop. livornesi_, No. 1; _Archivio_, I. 525 (Tuscan); II. 204\n(Sardinian); Piedmontese in Mila y Fontanals _Observaciones sobre la\npoesia popular_, Barcelona, 1853, p. 179; Coronedi-Berti, No. 11;\nCorazzini (Benevento), p. 467; and Schneller, No. 19. Part of our story\nis the same as Pitre, No. 13, \"Snow-white-fire-red,\" given in full in\nour text. See also Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 15.\n\nCopious references to other European versions will be found in the notes\nof Ive, Koehler, etc., to the above versions; to these may be added, _Lo\nRondallayre_, Nos. 18, 37, Liebrecht to Simrock's _Deut. Maerchen_ in\n_Orient und Occident_, III. p. 378 (Kalliopi), No. 3, and _Indian Fairy\nTales_, pp. 253, 284.\n\n[22] See _Pent._ IV. 7; Gonz., Nos. 33, 34; Pitre, Nos. 59, 60 (61);\n_Archivio_, II. 36 (Sardinia); De Nino, No. 19; and Schneller, No. 22.\nThe corresponding Grimm story is No. 135, \"The White Bride and the Black\nOne.\" For other European references, see Koehler to Gonz., Nos. 33, 34\n(II. p. 225), and _Romania_, No. 24, pp. 546, 561. See also Chapter II.,\nnote 1.\n\n[23] The best version is in the _Pent._ IV. 3, where the three\ndaughters are married to a falcon, a stag, and a dolphin, who, as in\nour story, assist their brother-in-law, but are disenchanted without his\naid. Other Italian versions are: Pitre, No. 16, and _Nov. pop. sicil._,\nPalermo, 1873, No. 1; Gonz., No. 29; Knust (Leghorn), No. 2 (_Jahrb._\nVII. 384); Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 23; _Nov. fior._ p.\n266; Comparetti, Nos. 4, 58; _Archivio_, II, p. 42 (Tuscan); _Nov.\ntosc._ No. 11.\n\nFor other European versions see, besides references in notes to above\nstories, Hahn, No. 25; Grimm, vol. II. p. 510, to Musaeus' \"_Die drei\nSchwestern_,\" and No. 197, \"The Crystal Ball;\" Benfey, _Pant._ I. p.\n534; and Ralston, _R. F. T._ p. 96. See also note 12 of this chapter.\n\nAs usual, many of the incidents of our stories are found in those\nbelonging to other classes; among the most important are: Prince hidden\nin musical instrument, Pitre, No. 95; finding princess' place of\nconcealment, Pitre, Nos. 95, 96; Gonz., No. 68; and Grimm, No. 133; \"The\nShoes which were danced to Pieces;\" princess recognized among others\ndressed alike, or all veiled; _Nov. fior._ p. 411 (Milan); Grimm, No.\n62, \"The Queen Bee,\" Ralston, _R. F. T._ p. 141, note; _Basque Legends_,\np. 125; _Orient und Occident_, II. pp. 104, 107-114; tasks set hero to\nwin wife, Pitre, Nos. 21, 95, 96; Gonz., No. 68; De Gub., _Sto.\nStefano_, No. 8; _Basque Legends_, p. 120; _Orient und Occident_, II.\n103; and _Romania_, No. 28, p. 527. This last incident is found also in\n\"Forgotten Bride,\" see note 25 of this chapter.\n\n[24] For other European references to the first class, \"riddle solved by\nsuitor,\" see _Jahrb._ V. 13; Grimm, No. 114, \"The Cunning Little\nTailor,\" and Hahn, I. p. 54.\n\nOther Italian versions of the second class are: Comparetti, Nos. 26\n(Basilicata), 59 (Monferrato); Nerucci, p. 177 (partly); and\nWidter-Wolf, No. 15 (_Jahrb._ VII. 269). See also Koehler's notes to\nlast-mentioned story, and also to Campbell, No. 22, in _Orient und\nOccident_, II. 320; Grimm, No. 22, \"The Riddle;\" and Prof. F. J. Child,\n_English and Scottish Popular Ballads_, Part II. p. 414.\n\nFor other stories containing riddles belonging to other classes than the\nabove, see Bernoni, _Punt._ II. p. 54; Gradi, _Vigilia_, p. 8;\nCorazzini, p. 432; Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 7; and Koehler's\narticle, _Das Raethselmaerchen von dem ermordeten Geliebten_ in the\n_Rivista di Lett. pop._ I. p. 212. A peculiar version of the second\nclass may be found in Ortoli, p. 123, where a riddle very much like the\none in the text is proposed by suitor to princess' father.\n\n[25] Other Italian versions are: Gonz., Nos. 14, 54, 55; _Pent._ II. 7,\nIII. 9 (forgets bride on touching shore); _Pomiglianesi_, p. 136 (the\nfirst part belongs to the class of \"Fair Angiola;\") Busk, p. 3 (first\npart same as last story); De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 5 (see also\n_Rivista di Lett. pop._ I. p. 84); Coronedi-Berti, No. 13 (this is one\nof the few \"Three Citrons\" stories containing episode of bride forgotten\nat mother's kiss); Schneller, No. 27; Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_,\nNo. 4 (mother's kiss); Pitre, vol. IV. p. 285, gives an Albanian version\nof our story. The imprecation and mother's kiss are also found in\nanother of the \"Three Citrons\" stories, Gonz., No. 13. For obstacles to\nflight, see Note 11 of this chapter.\n\nFor other European versions see Koehler's notes to Gonz., No. 14; to\nCampbell, No. 2 (_Orient und Occident_, II. 103); to Kreutzwald-Loewe,\nNo. 14; Hahn, I. p. 55; _Romania_, Nos. 19, p. 354, 20, p. 527; Grimm,\nNos. 56, (\"Sweetheart Roland\"), 113 (\"The Two Kings' Children\"), 186\n(\"The True Bride\"), 193 (\"The Drummer;\") _Basque Legends_, p. 120;\nRalston, _R. F. T._ pp. 119, 131; Brueyre, p. 111; and B. Schmidt,\n_Griechische Maerchen, Sagen und Volkslieder_, Leipzig, 1877, cited by\nCosquin, _Romania_, No. 28, p. 543. See also in general, Cox, _Aryan\nMyth._ I. p. 158.\n\n[26] The same incident is found in Gonz., No. 6, and Pitre, No. 61. See\nKoehler's notes to Gonz., No. 6; Grimm, No. 193 (\"The Drummer\");\n_Romania_, No. 28, p. 527; and Hahn, No. 15.\n\n[27] Another Venetian version is in Bernoni, No. 3. See also _Nov.\nfior._ p. 290; Gradi, _Vigilia_, p. 53; _Fiabe Mant._ No. 39; and\nSchneller, No. 32.\n\nFor other European versions, see Grimm, No. 46 (\"Fitcher's Bird\"),\nKoehler's notes to Widter-Wolf, No. 11 (_Jahrb._ VII. 148); and Ralston,\n_R. F. T._ p. 97.\n\n[28] See Pitre, No. 19, _Nuovo Saggio_, No. 4; _Nov. fior._ pp. 7, 12;\nand Nerucci, No. 49. Compare also Gonz., Nos. 10 and 22 (already\nmentioned, \"The Robber who had a Witch's Head\"), and Comparetti, No. 18\n(Pisa).\n\nFor other references to this class, see Grimm, No. 40 (\"The\nRobber-Bridegroom\") and _Romania_, No. 22, p. 236.\n\n[29] See Chap. II., note 4. For other references to this class, see\nGrimm, No. 3 (\"Our Lady's Child\"), and _Romania_, No. 28, p. 568.\n\n[30] The seventh version is from Bologna and is entitled _La Fola del\nMuretein_ (\"The Story of the Little Moor\"), and was published by\nCoronedi-Berti in the _Rivista Europea_, Florence, 1873. It is briefly\nas follows: A queen has no children and visits a witch who gives her an\napple to eat, telling her that in due time she will bear a son. One of\nthe queen's maids eats the peel and both give birth to sons; the maid's\nbeing called the Little Moor from resembling the dark red color of the\napple peel. The two children grow up together, and when the prince goes\noff on his travels his friend the little Moor accompanies him. They\nspend the night in an enchanted castle and the friend hears a voice\nsaying that the prince will conquer in a tournament and marry the king's\ndaughter, but on their wedding night a dragon will devour the bride, and\nwhoever tells of it will become marble. The friend saves the princess'\nlife, but is thrown into prison, and when he exculpates himself becomes\nmarble. He can only be restored to life by being anointed with the\nblood of a cock belonging to a wild man (_om salvadgh_) living on a\ncertain mountain. The prince performs the difficult feat of stealing the\ncock and healing his friend.\n\nFor other European versions, see Grimm, No. 6 (\"Faithful John\"); Hahn,\nNo. 29; Wolf, _Proben Port. und Cat. Volksm._ p. 52; _Lo Rondallayre_,\nNo. 35 (\"_Lo bon criat_\"); _Old Deccan Days_, p. 98; and in general,\nBenfey, _Pant._ I. p. 417, and Koehler in _Weimarische Beitraege zur Lit.\nund Kunst_, Weimar, 1865, p. 192 _et seq._\n\n[31] See Pitre, vol. I. pp. xcix., ciii.; IV. pp. 382, 430, and\nComparetti, No. 44. A version from the Abruzzi may be found in Finamore,\nNo. 38. See also Grimm, No. 191 (\"The Robber and his Sons\"); _Basque\nLegends_, p. 4; _Dolopathos_ ed. Oesterley, pp. xxii., 65; and in\ngeneral, _Orient und Occident_, II. 120, and Benfey, _Pant._ I. 295.\n\n[32] Another Sicilian version is in Gonz., No. 83. Other versions are:\n_Pent._ III. 7; Nerucci, p. 341; De Nino, No. 30; _Fiabe Mant._ No. 4;\n_Nov. fior._ p. 340 (Milan); and Widter-Wolf, No. 9 (_Jahrb._ VII. p.\n134). There are other similar stories in which a person is forced by\nthose envious of him to undertake dangerous enterprises: see Pitre, Nos.\n34, 35; Comparetti, No. 16; _Tuscan Fairy Tales_, No. 8, De Nino, No.\n39, etc. Strap., I. 2, also offers many points of resemblance to our\nstory.\n\nFor other versions, see Grimm, No. 192 (\"The Master-Thief\"), and\nKoehler's notes to Widter-Wolf, No. 9.\n\n[33] The version in _Nov. fior._ p. 574, is from Florence, the others,\npp. 575 (the story in our text), 577, 578, 579, are from Milan, and\nclosely resemble each other.\n\n[34] Compare Pitre, No. 83, and De Nino, No. 43. Tyrolese versions are\nin Schneller, Nos. 53, 54. See also Widter-Wolf, No. 2 (_Jahrb._ VII.\n13), and _Jahrb._ VIII. p. 246, _Italien. Maerchen aus Sora_, No. 2. For\nadditional European versions, see _Jahrb. ut supra_, and V. 7;\n_Romania_, Nos. 19, p. 350; 24, p. 562; 28, p. 556; and Grimm, Nos. 20\n(\"The Valiant Little Taylor\"), and 183 (\"The Giant and the Tailor\") Some\nof the episodes mentioned in the text may be found in a Corsican story\nin Ortoli, p. 204, where, however, instead of a giant, a priest is\noutwitted by his servant.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nFAIRY TALES CONTINUED.\n\n[1] This story is found in the _Pent._ I. 10. In Schneller, No. 29, the\nking falls in love with a frog (from hearing its voice without seeing\nit) which is transformed by the fairies into a beautiful girl. The good\nwishes of the fairies are found in Pitre, Nos. 61, 94. See also _Pent._\nI. 3; III. 10, and Chap. I. of the present work, note 22. For gifts by\nthe fairies, see Pitre, vol. I. p. 334, and the following note.\n\n[2] This story is often found as an introduction to \"False Bride;\" see\nChap. I., note 21. Sicilian versions may be found in Pitre, Nos. 62, 63;\nNeapolitan, _Pent._ III. 10; from the Abruzzi in Finamore, No. 48; De\nNino, No. 18; Tuscan, Gradi, _Vigilia_, p. 20, De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_,\nNo. 1, _Zool. Myth._ II. p. 62, note, _Tuscan Fairy Tales_, pp. 9, 18,\nCorazzini, p. 409, _Nov. tosc._ No. 8, _La Tinchina dell' alto Mare_;\nVenetian, Bernoni, XIX.; and Tyrolese, Schneller, Nos. 7, 8.\n\nIn several of the Tuscan versions (Gradi, _Zool. Myth., Tuscan Fairy\nTales_, p. 9, and _Nov. fior._ p. 202, which is composed of \"Two\nSisters\" and \"True Bride\") instead of fairies the sisters find cats who\nbestow the varying gifts.\n\nOther European versions of this story will be found in Grimm, No. 24,\n\"Old Mother Holle;\" Norwegian in Asbj. & Moe, No. 15; [Dasent, _Pop.\nTales from the Norse_, p. 103, \"The Two Step-Sisters\"] French in Blade,\n_Contes agen._ p. 149, and Cosquin, _Contes pop. lorrains_, No. 48\n(_Romania_, No. 32, p. 564). The Oriental versions are mentioned by\nCosquin in his notes to the last named story; see also Benfey, _Pant._\nI. p. 219.\n\n[3] Other Tuscan versions are in Gradi, _Saggio di Letture varie_, p.\n125, and _Nov. tosc._ No. 22; Sicilian and Roman versions may be found\nin Pitre, No. 64, and Busk, p. 96.\n\nFrench versions will be found in _Melusine_, pp. 113 (_conte picard_)\nand 241 (_conte de l' Amienois_). A Japanese version is given in the\nsame periodical, p. 161. An Irish version is in Croker, _Fairy Legends_\netc. (translated in Brueyre, p. 206); and a Turkish version is given in\n_The Wonder World Stories_, New York, Putnam, 1877, p. 139. Other French\nand Oriental versions are noticed in _Melusine_, pp. 161, 241. A\nsomewhat similar German version is in Grimm, No. 182. \"The Presents of\nthe Little Folk.\"\n\n[4] This story somewhat resembles Gonz., No. 20, mentioned in Chap. I.,\nnote 29. Another Sicilian version is in Pitre, No. 86. I have been\nunable to find any other Italian parallels. Personification of one's\nFate maybe found in Gonz., Nos. 52, 55, Pitre, No. 12; and of Fortune in\nPitre, No. 29, and Comparetti, No. 50. See _Indian Fairy Tales_, p. 263.\n\n[5] Sicilian versions are in Pitre, No. 105, and Gonz., No. 18. In the\nlatter version the king drives his daughter from the palace and the\nrejected suitor disguises himself, follows her, and marries her. A\nNeapolitan version is in the _Pent._ IV. 10; Tuscan in Gradi, _Vigilia_,\np. 97; Nerucci, p. 211; and _Jahrb._ VII. p. 394 (Knust, No. 9).\n\nOther European versions are: Grimm No. 52, \"King Thrushbeard;\"\nNorwegian, Asbj. & Moe, No. 45, and Grundtwig, III. [1]; French,\n_Romania_, No. 32, p. 552 (_Contes pop. lorrains_, No. 45); and Greek,\nHahn, No. 113. See also _Tibetan Tales_, London, 1882, Ralston's notes,\np. lviii.\n\n[6] Other versions of this story are: Sicilian, Pitre, No. 67, and\nGonz., No. 28; Tuscan, _Archivio_, I. pp. 41, 65, _Nov. tosc._ No. 7,\nAbruzzi, De Nino, No. 1. For the first part of the story, see _Nov.\nfior._ pp. 332-333.\n\n[7] I have followed in this division Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, p. 89.\n\n[8] Another Sicilian version, which, however, does not contain the trait\n\"cure by laughing,\" is in Pitre, No. 28. Gonz., No. 30, may be mentioned\nhere, as it contains a part of our story. The magic gifts in it are a\ncarpet that transports the owner wherever he wishes to go, a purse\nalways full, and a horn that when one blows in the little end covers the\nsea with ships, when one blows in the big end, the ships disappear.\nNeapolitan versions are in Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, pp. 62, 83; Roman\nin Busk, pp. 129, 136, comp. p. 146; and Tuscan in Frizzi, _Novella\nmontanina_, Florence, A. Ciardelli e C. 1876, Nerucci, p. 471 _Archivio\nper le Trad. pop._ I. p. 57, and _Nov. tosc._ No. 16. De Gub., _Zool.\nMyth._ I. p. 288, n. 3, gives a version from the Marches, and there is a\nBolognese version in Coronedi-Berti, No. 9. Other versions may be found\nin Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 30, and Bolognini, p. 21. For\nother European versions, see _Gesta Rom._ ed. Oesterley, cap. cxx.;\nGrimm, No. 122; Campbell, No. 10, \"The Three Soldiers\" (see Koehler's\nnotes to this story in _Orient und Occident_, II. p. 124, and Brueyre,\np. 138); Cosquin, _Contes pop. lorrains_, Nos. 11 (_Rom._ No. 19, p.\n361) and 42 (_Rom._ No. 28, p. 581); and finally, Kreutzwald,\n_Ehstnische Maerchen_, No. 23. Comp. also De Gub., _Zool. Myth._ I. p.\n182, and Ralston's notes to Schiefner's _Tibetan Tales_, p. liv.\n\n[9] I have been unable to find any European parallels to this form of\nthe story.\n\n[10] Another version of this story is found in the same collection, p.\n359. Other Tuscan versions are found in De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 21,\nGradi, _Saggio di Letture varie_, p. 181, _Nov. tosc._ No. 29, and\nComparetti, No. 7 (Mugello). The other versions are as follows:\nSicilian, Pitre, No. 29 (comp. No. 30), Gonz., No. 52; Neapolitan,\n_Pent._ I. 1 (Comp. _Pomiglianesi_, p. 116); Abruzzi, Finamore, No. 37;\nDe Nino, No. 6; Ortoli, pp. 171, 178; Venetian, Bernoni, No. 9; the\nMarches, Comp., No. 12; and Tyrolese, Schneller, p. 28.\n\nFor the other European parallels, see Grimm, No. 36, \"The Table, the\nAss, and the Stick;\" _Melusine_ (_conte breton_), p. 130; Cosquin,\n_Contes pop. lorrains_, No. 14 (_Rom._ No. 19, p. 333); De Gub., _Zool.\nMyth._ II. p. 262 (Russian); Brueyre, p. 48 (B. Gould, Yorkshire,\nAppendix to Henderson's _Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties of\nEngland_); Asbj. & Moe, No. 7 [Dasent, _Pop. Tales from the Norse_, p.\n261, \"The Lad who went to the North Wind\"], and _Old Deccan Days_, No.\n12.\n\n[11] Another Sicilian version is in Gonz., No. 65, with same title and\ncontents. A Neapolitan version is in the _Pent._ II. 4, where the fox\nis replaced by a cat. This is also the case in the versions from the\nAbruzzi, Finamore, No. 46, De Nino, No. 53; in the Florentine versions\nin _Nov. fior._ p. 145, _Nov. tosc._ No. xii. var.; and in the Tyrolese\ngiven by Schneller, p. 122 (\"_Il Conte Martin dalla gatta_\"). In another\nstory in Schneller, p. 124 (\"_L'Anello_\"), a youth possesses a magic\nring and a dog and cat which recover the ring when stolen from its\nowner. Older and more interesting than the above versions is the one in\nStraparola, XI. 1. We give it here in full in order that our readers may\ncompare with it the version in our text and Perrault's \"Puss in Boots,\"\nwhich is the form in which the story has become popular all over Europe.\nThe following translation is from the edition of 1562 (Venice).\n\n\nXXXIV. PUSS IN BOOTS.\n\n     SORIANA DIES AND LEAVES THREE SONS: DUSOLINO, TESIFONE, AND\n     CONSTANTINE THE LUCKY, WHO, BY VIRTUE OF A CAT, ACQUIRES A\n     POWERFUL KINGDOM.\n\nThere was once in Bohemia a very poor lady named Soriana, who had three\nsons: one was called Dusolino, the other Tesifone, and the third\nConstantine the Lucky. She owned nothing valuable in the world but three\nthings: a kneading-trough, a rolling-board, and a cat. When Soriana,\nladen with years, came to die, she made her last testament, and left to\nDusolino, her eldest son, the kneading-trough, to Tesifone the\nrolling-board, and to Constantine the cat. When the mother was dead and\nburied, the neighbors, as they had need, borrowed now the\nkneading-trough, now the rolling-board; and because they knew that the\nowners were very poor, they made them a cake, which Dusolino and\nTesifone ate, giving none to Constantine, the youngest brother. And if\nConstantine asked them for anything, they told him to go to his cat,\nwhich would get it for him. Wherefore poor Constantine and his cat\nsuffered greatly. Now the cat, which was enchanted, moved to compassion\nfor Constantine, and angry at the two brothers who treated him so\ncruelly, said: \"Constantine, do not be downcast, for I will provide for\nyour support and my own.\" And leaving the house, the cat went out into\nthe fields, and, pretending to sleep, caught a hare that passed and\nkilled it. Thence, going to the royal palace and seeing some of the\ncourtiers, the cat said that she wished to speak with the king, who,\nwhen he heard that a cat wished to speak to him, had her shown into his\npresence, and asked her what she wished. The cat replied that her\nmaster, Constantine, had sent him a hare which he had caught. The king\naccepted the gift, and asked who this Constantine was. The cat replied\nthat he was a man who had no superior in goodness, beauty, and power.\nWherefore the king treated the cat very well, giving her to eat and\ndrink bountifully. When the cat had satisfied her hunger, she slyly\nfilled with her paw (unseen by any one) the bag that hung at her side,\nand taking leave of the king, carried it to Constantine. When the\nbrothers saw the food over which Constantine exulted, they asked him to\nshare it with them; but he refused, rendering them tit for tat. On which\naccount there arose between them great envy, that continually gnawed\ntheir hearts. Now Constantine, although handsome in his face,\nnevertheless, from the privation he had suffered, was covered with scabs\nand scurf, which caused him great annoyance. But going with his cat to\nthe river, she licked him carefully from head to foot, and combed his\nhair, and in a few days he was entirely cured.\n\nThe cat (as we said above) continued to carry gifts to the royal palace,\nand thus supported her master. But after a time she wearied of running\nup and down so much, and feared that she would annoy the king's\ncourtiers; so she said to her master: \"Sir, if you will do what I order,\nI will make you rich in a short time.\" \"How?\" said her master. The cat\nreplied: \"Come with me, and do not ask any more, for I am ready to\nenrich you.\" So they went together to the stream, which was near the\nroyal palace, and the cat stripped her master, and with his agreement\nthrew him into the river, and then began to cry out in a loud voice:\n\"Help! help! Messer Constantine is drowning.\" The king hearing this, and\nremembering that he had often received presents from him, sent his\npeople at once to aid him. When Messer Constantine was taken out of the\nwater and dressed in fine clothes, he was taken to the king, who\nreceived him cordially, and asked him why he had been thrown into the\nriver. Constantine could not answer for grief; but the cat, which was\nalways at his side, said: \"Know, O king, that some robbers learned from\nspies that my master was loaded with jewels, which he was coming to\npresent to you. They robbed him of all, and threw him into the river,\nthinking to kill him, but thanks to these gentlemen he has escaped from\ndeath.\" The king, hearing this, ordered that he should be well cared\nfor; and seeing that he was handsome, and knowing him to be wealthy, he\nconcluded to give him Elisetta, his daughter, for a wife, endowing her\nwith jewels and most beautiful garments. After the wedding festivities\nhad been ended, the king had ten mules loaded with money, and five with\ncostly apparel, and sent his daughter to her husband's home, accompanied\nby a great retinue. Constantine, seeing that he had become so wealthy\nand honored, did not know where to lead his wife, and took counsel with\nhis cat, which said: \"Do not fear, my master, for we shall provide for\neverything.\" So they all set out gayly on horseback, and the cat ran\nhastily before them; and having left the company some distance behind,\nmet some horsemen, to whom she said: \"What are you doing here, wretched\nmen? Depart quickly, for a large band of people are coming, and will\ntake you prisoners. They are near by: you can hear the noise of the\nneighing horses.\" The horsemen said in terror: \"What must we do, then?\"\nThe cat replied: \"Do this,--if you are asked whose horsemen you are,\nanswer boldly, Messer Constantine's, and you will not be molested.\" Then\nthe cat went on, and found a large flock of sheep, and did the same with\ntheir owners, and said the same thing to all those whom she found in the\nroad. The people who were escorting Elisetta asked the horsemen: \"Whose\nknights are you,\" and \"whose are so many fine flocks?\" and all with one\naccord replied: \"Messer Constantine's.\" Then those who accompanied the\nbride said: \"So then, Messer Constantine, we are beginning to enter your\nterritory.\" And he nodded his head, and replied in like manner to all\nthat he was asked. Wherefore the company judged him to be very wealthy.\nAt last the cat came to a very fine castle, and found there but few\nservants, to whom she said: \"What are you doing, good men; do you not\nperceive the destruction which is impending?\" \"What?\" asked the\nservants. \"Before an hour passes, a host of soldiers will come here and\ncut you to pieces. Do you not hear the horses neighing? Do you not see\nthe dust in the air? If you do not wish to perish, take my advice and\nyou will be saved. If any one asks you whose this castle is, say, Messer\nConstantine's.\" So they did; and when the noble company reached the\nhandsome castle they asked the keepers whose it was, and all answered\nboldly Messer Constantine the Lucky's. Then they entered, and were\nhonorably entertained. Now the castellan of that place was Signor\nValentino, a brave soldier, who, a short time before, had left the\ncastle to bring home the wife he had lately married; and to his\nmisfortune, before he reached the place where his wife was he was\novertaken on the way by a sudden and fatal accident, from which he\nstraightway died, and Constantine remained master of the castle. Before\nlong, Morando, King of Bohemia, died, and the people elected for their\nking Constantine the Lucky because he was the husband of Elisetta, the\ndead king's daughter, to whom the kingdom fell by right of succession.\nAnd so Constantine, from being poor and a beggar, remained Lord and\nKing, and lived a long time with his Elisetta, leaving children by her\nto succeed him in the kingdom.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFor copious references to other European versions, see Koehler's notes to\nGonz., No. 65 (II. p. 242), and Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 222.\n\n[12] The earliest Italian versions are in the _Cento nov. ant., Testo\nPapanti_ (_Romania_, No. 10, p. 191), and Straparola, XI. 2. Later\npopular versions, besides the Istrian one in the text, are: Nerucci, p.\n430, and Bernoni, III. p. 91, both of which are much distorted. Some of\nthe episodes are found in other stories, as, for instance, the division\nof the property, including the wife, which occurs in Gonz., No. 74. \"The\nThankful Dead\" is also the subject of an Italian novel, _Novella di\nMesser Danese e di Messer Gigliotto_, Pisa, 1868 (privately printed),\nand of a popular poem, _Istoria bellissima di Stellante Costantina_\ncomposta da Giovanni Orazio Brunetto.\n\nThe extensive literature of this interesting story can best be found in\nD'Ancona's notes to the version in the _Cento nov. ant._, cited above.\nTo these may be added: Ive's notes to the story in the text, Cosquin's\nnotes to No. 19 of the _Contes pop. lorrains_ (_Rom._ No. 24, p. 534),\nand Nisard, _Hist. des Livres pop._ II. p. 450. Basque and Spanish\nversions have been published recently, the former in Webster's _Basque\nLegends_, pp. 146, 151, and the latter in Caballero, _Cuentos,\noraciones_, etc., Leipzig, 1878, p. 23. A version from Mentone may be\nfound in the _Folk-Lore Record_, vol. III. p. 48, \"John of Calais.\"\n\n[13] In the original it is _la Voria_, which in Sicilian means \"breeze,\"\nbut I take it to be the same as _Boria_ in Italian (Lat. _Boreas -ae_),\nthe North Wind.\n\n[14] Other Italian versions are: _Nov. fior._ p. 440; _Archivio_, III.\n542 (Abruzzi); Pitre, No. 31; _Tuscan Fairy Tales_, No. 10, p. 102; De\nNino, No. 69; and Widter-Wolf, No. 10 (_Jahrbuch_, VII. 139). See also\nPrato, _Una nov. pop. monferrina_, Como, 1882; and Finamore, _Trad. pop.\nabruzzesi_, Nos. 17, 19.\n\nReferences to other European versions will be found in Koehler's notes to\nWidter-Wolf, No. 10. See also Grimm, No. 92; Ralston's _R. F. T._ p.\n132, and Chap. I., note 11, of the present work.\n\n[15] A work of this kind, similar in scope to Nisard's _Hist. des Livres\npopulaires_, is greatly to be desired, and ought to be undertaken before\nthe great changes in the social condition of Italy shall have rendered\nsuch a task difficult, if not impossible.\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nSTORIES OF ORIENTAL ORIGIN.\n\n[1] There are three Italian translations of the _Pantschatantra_, all of\nthe XVI. century. Two, _Discorsi degli Animali_, by Angelo Firenzuola,\n1548, and _La Filosofia Morale_, by Doni, 1552, represent the Hebrew\ntranslation by Rabbi Joel (1250), from which they are derived through\nthe _Directorium humanae vitae_ of Johannes de Capua (1263-78); the\nthird, _Del Governo de' Regni_, by G. Nuti, 1583, is from the Greek\nversion of Simeon Seth (1080). A full account of the various\ntranslations of the _Pantschatantra_ may be found in Max Mueller's\n_Chips_, Vol. IV. p. 165, \"The Migration of Fables.\" See also Benfey,\n_Pant._ I. pp. 1-19, _Buddhist Birth Stories_; or, _Jataka Tales_, By\nV. Fausboell and T. W. Rhys Davids, Boston, 1880, p. xciii., and Landau,\n_Die Quellen des Decamerone_, mentioned in the following note.\n\n_The Seven Wise Masters_ was also translated into Italian at an early\ndate. One version, _Il Libro dei Sette Savj di Roma_, Pisa, 1864, edited\nby Prof. A. D'Ancona, is a XIII. century translation from a French prose\nversion (Cod. 7974, _Bib. nat._); another, of the same date, _Storia d'\nuna crudele Matrigna_, Bologna, 1862, is from an uncertain source, from\nwhich is probably derived a third version, _Il Libro dei Sette Savi di\nRoma tratto da un codice del secolo XIV._ per cura di Antonio Cappelli,\nBologna, 1865. The MS. from which the version edited by Della Lucia in\n1832 (reprinted at Bologna, 1862) was taken has been recently discovered\nand printed in _Operette inedite o rare, Libreria Dante_, Florence,\n1883, No. 3. A fourth version of the end of the XIII. or the beginning\nof the XIV. century is still inedited, it is mentioned by D'Ancona in\nthe _Libro dei Sette Savj_, p. xxviii., and its contents given. The\nlatest and most curious version is _I Compassionevoli Avvenimenti di\nErasto_, a work of the XVI. century (first edition, Venice, 1542) which\ncontains four stories found in no other version of the Seven Wise\nMasters. The popularity of this version, the source of which is unknown,\nwas great. See D'Ancona, _op. cit._, pp. xxxi.-xxxiv.\n\nThe _Disciplina Clericalis_ was not known, apparently, in Italy as a\ncollection, but the separate stories were known as early as Boccaccio,\nwho borrowed the outlines of three of his stories from it (VII. 4; VIII.\n10: X. 8). Three of the stories of the _Disc. Cler._ are also found in\nthe Ital. trans. of Frate Jacopo da Cessole's book on Chess\n(_Volgarizzamento del libro de' Costumi e degli offizii de' nobili sopra\nil giuoco degli Scachi_, Milan, 1829) and reprinted in _Libro di Novelle\nAntiche_, Bologna, 1868, Novelle III., IV., and VI. This translation is\nof the XII. century. Other stories from the _Disc. Cler._ are found in\nthe _Cento nov. ant._, Gualt., LIII., XXXI., LXVI., Borg., LXXIV.\n(_Cent. nov._, Biagi, pp. 226, 51, 58); and in Cintio, _Gli Ecatommiti_,\nI, 3; VII. 6.\n\n[2] It has been generally supposed that the Oriental element was\nintroduced into European literature from Spain through the medium of the\nFrench. We shall see later that this was the case with the famous\ncollection of tales just mentioned, the _Disciplina Clericalis_.\nOriental elements are also found in the French _fabliaux_ which are\nsupposed to have furnished Boccaccio with the plots of a number of his\nnovels. See Landau, _Die Quellen des Decamerone_, 2d ed., Vienna, 1884,\np. 107. Professor Bartoli in his _I Precursori del Boccaccio e alcune\ndelle sue Fonti_, Florence, 1876, endeavors to show that Boccaccio may\nhave taken the above mentioned novels from sources common to them and\nthe French _fabliaux_. It is undeniable that there was in the Middle\nAges an immense mass of stories common to the whole western world, and\ndiffused by oral tradition as well as by literary means, and it is very\nunsafe to say that any one literary version is taken directly from\nanother. Sufficient attention has not been paid to the large Oriental\nelement in European entertaining literature prior to the Renaissance. In\nearly Italian literature besides Boccaccio, the _Cento novelle antiche_\nabound in Oriental elements. See D'Ancona, _Le Fonti del Novellino_, in\nthe _Romania_, vol. III. pp. 164-194, since republished in _Studj di\nCritica e Storia Letteraria_, Bologna, 1880, pp. 219-359.\n\n[3] See Introduction, Notes 3, 7.\n\n[4] In the _Pantschatantra_ (Benfey's trans, vol. II. p. 120) this story\nis as follows: A merchant confides to a neighbor some iron scales or\nbalances for safe-keeping. When he wishes them back he is told that the\nmice have eaten them up. The merchant is silent, and some time after\nasks his neighbor to lend him his son to aid him in bathing. After the\nbath the merchant shuts the boy up in a cave, and when the father asks\nwhere he is, is told that a falcon has carried him off. The neighbor\nexclaimed: \"Thou liar, how can a falcon carry away a boy?\" The merchant\nresponded: \"Thou veracious man! If a falcon cannot carry away a boy,\nneither can mice eat iron scales. Therefore give me back my scales if\nyou desire your son.\" See also Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 283. La Fontaine\nhas used the same story for his fable of _Le Depositaire infidele_\n(livre IX. 1): see also references in _Fables inedites_, vol. II. p.\n193.\n\n[5] The fables in Pitre of non-Oriental origin may be mentioned here;\nthey are: No. 271, \"_Brancaliuni_,\" found also in Straparola, X. 2; No.\n272, \"The Two Mice,\" compare Aesop, ed. Furia, 198, and Schneller, No.\n59; No. 274, \"Wind, Water, and Honor,\" found in Straparola, XI. 2; No.\n275, \"Godfather Wolf and Godmother Fox\"; No. 276, \"The Lion, the Wolf,\nand the Fox,\" Aesop, ed. Furia, 233; No. 277, \"The Fox,\" see _Roman du\nRenart_, Paris, 1828, I. p. 129, and _Nov. tosc._ No. 69; No. 278,\n\"L'Acidduzzu (Pretty Little Bird),\" compare Asbj. & Moe, No. 42,\nBernoni, _Punt._ III. p. 69, \"_El Galo_,\" Nerucci, _Cincelle da\nBambini_, p. 38; No. 279, \"The Wolf and the Finch,\" Gonz., No. 66, _Nov.\ntosc._ No. 52 (add to Koehler's references: Asbj. & M., Nos. 42, 102,\n[Dasent, _Tales from the Fjeld_, p. 35, \"The Greedy Cat,\"] and Bernoni,\n_Punt._ III. p. 69); and finally No. 280, \"The Cricket and the Ants,\"\nsee Aesop, ed. Furia, 121, La Fontaine, _La Cigale et la Fourmi_, livre\nI. 1: see copious references in Robert, _Fables inedites_, I. p. 2. For\nBernoni, III. p. 69, \"_El Galo_,\" and Pitre, No. 279, see Chap. V. pp.\n270, 272.\n\nThere are two fables in Coronedi-Berti's collection: No. 20: \"_La Fola\ndel Corov_,\" and No. 21, \"_La Fola dla Voulp_.\" The first is the\nwell-known fable of the crow in the peacock's feathers; for copious\nreferences see Robert, _Fables inedites_, I. p. 247, to La Fontaine's\n_Le Geai pare des plumes du Paon_, livre IV, fab. IX., and Oesterley to\nKirchhof's _Wendunmuth_, 7, 52. In the second fable the fox leaves her\nlittle ones at home, bidding them admit no one without a counter-sign.\nThe wolf learns it from the simple little foxes themselves, gains\nadmission, and eats two of them up. The mother takes her revenge in\nalmost the same way as does the fox in Pitre's fable, No. 277.\n\n[6] This fable is also found in Pitre, No. 273, \"The Man, the Wolf, and\nthe Fox,\" and in Gonz., No. 69, \"Lion, Horse, and Fox:\" see Benfey,\n_Pant._ I. 113, and Koehler's references to Gonz., No. 69.\n\nThere is also a version of this fable in Morosi, p. 75, which is as\nfollows:--\n\n\nXLIX. THE MAN, THE SERPENT, AND THE FOX.\n\nThere was once a huntsman, who, in passing a quarry, found a serpent\nunder a large stone. The serpent asked the hunter to liberate him, but\nthe latter said: \"I will not free you, for you will eat me.\" The serpent\nreplied: \"Liberate me, for I will not eat you.\" When the hunter had set\nthe serpent at liberty, the latter wanted to devour him, but the hunter\nsaid: \"What are you doing? Did you not promise me that you would not eat\nme?\" The serpent replied that hunger did not observe promises. The\nhunter then said: \"If you have no right to eat me, will you do it?\"\n\"No,\" answered the serpent. \"Let us go, then,\" said the hunter, \"and ask\nthree times.\" They went into the woods and found a greyhound, and asked\nhim, and he replied: \"I had a master, and I went hunting and caught\nhares, and when I carried them home my master had nothing too good to\ngive me to eat; now, when I cannot overtake even a tortoise, because I\nam old, my master wishes to kill me; for this reason I condemn you to be\neaten by the serpent; for he who does good finds evil.\" \"Do you hear? We\nhave one judge,\" said the serpent. They continued their journey, and\nfound a horse, and asked him, and he too replied that the serpent was\nright to eat the man, \"for,\" he said, \"I had a master, who fed me when I\ncould travel; now that I can do so no longer, he would like to hang me.\"\nThe serpent said: \"Behold, two judges!\" They went on, and found a fox.\nThe huntsman said: \"Fox, you must aid me. Listen: I was passing a\nquarry, and found this serpent dying under a large stone, and he asked\naid from me, and I released him, and now he wants to eat me.\" The fox\nanswered: \"I will be the judge. Let us return to the quarry, to see how\nthe serpent was.\" They went there, and put the stone on the serpent, and\nthe fox asked: \"Is that the way you were?\" \"Yes,\" answered the serpent.\n\"Very well, then, stay so always!\" said the fox.\n\n[7] The individual stories of the _Thousand and One Nights_ were known\nin Europe long before the collection, which was not translated into\nFrench until 1704-1717. This is shown by the fact that some of the XIII.\ncentury _fabliaux_ embody stories of the _Thousand and One Nights_. See\nNote 10. An interesting article by Mr. H. C. Coote on \"Folk-Lore, the\nsource of some of M. Galland's Tales,\" will be found in the _Folk-Lore\nRecord_, vol. III. pp. 178-191.\n\n[8] The Sicilian versions are in Pitre, No. 81. The version from\nPalermo, of which Pitre gives only a _resume_, is printed entire in F.\nSabatini, _La Lanterna, Nov. pop. sicil._ Imola, 1878. The Roman\nversion, \"How Cajusse was married,\" is in Busk, p. 158; and the Mantuan\nin Visentini, No. 35. Tuscan versions may be found in the _Rivista di\nLett. pop._ p. 267; De Nino, No. 5; and a version from Bergamo in the\nsame periodical, p. 288. For the episode of the \"Magician with no heart\nin his body,\" see Chap. I. note 12.\n\n[9] See Pitre, No. 36, and Gonz., No. 5, with Koehler's copious\nreferences. As this story is found in Chap. I. p. 17, it is only\nmentioned here for the sake of completeness.\n\nThere is another complete version of \"The Forty Thieves\" in Nerucci, No.\n54, _Cicerchia, o i ventidua Ladri_. The thieves are twenty-two, and\n_cicerchia_ is the magic word that opens and shuts the robbers' cave. A\nversion in Ortoli, p. 137, has seven thieves.\n\n[10] Pitre, No. 164, \"The Three Hunchbacks;\" Straparola, V. 3. It is\nalso found in the _fabliau_, _Les Trois Bossus_, Barbazan-Meon, III.\n245; for copious references see Von der Hagen, _Gesammtabenteuer_, III.\np. xxxv. _et seq._ Pitre, No. 165, \"_Fra Ghiniparu_,\" is a variation of\nthe above theme, and finds its counterpart in the _fabliau_ of _Le\nSacristain de Cluni_: see _Gesammtabenteuer_, _ut sup._ Other versions\nare in Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, No. 9, and _Nov. tosc._ No. 58.\n\n[11] The story is, properly speaking, in the introduction to the\n_Thousand and One Nights_: see Lane, _The Thousand and One Nights_,\nLondon, 1865, I. 10. See Straparola, XII. 3, and _Schmipf und Ernst_ von\nJohannes Pauli, herausgegeben von Hermann Oesterley (_Bibliothek des\nlitt. Vereins_, LXXXV.), Stuttgart, 1866, No. 134, \"_Ein boesz weib\ntugenhaft zemachen_.\"\n\n[12] For the first story, see _Thousand and One Nights_ (ed. Breslau),\nIX. 129; _Pent._ V. 7; Gonz., No. 45; Hahn, No. 47; and Grimm, No. 129.\nFor the second, see _Thousand and One Nights_ (ed. Breslau), II. 196;\ned. Lane, III. 41.\n\n[13] See Lane, I. 140, and, for the transformations, p. 156. This story\nis also in Straparola, VIII. 5. It is well known in the North of Europe\nfrom the Grimm tale (No. 68), \"The Thief and his Master,\" To the\nreferences in Grimm, II. p. 431, may be added: _Revue Celtique_, I. 132,\nII.; Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 410; Brueyre, 253; Ralston, _R. F. T._ 229;\nAsbj. & M., No. 57 [Dasent, _Pop. Tales_, No. XXXIX.] (comp. Nos. 9, 46\n[Dasent, _Pop. Tales_, Nos. XXIII., IX.]); Hahn, No. 68; Bernhauer,\n_Vierzig Viziere_, p. 195; _Orient und Occident_, II. 313; III. 374;\nGrundtvig, I. 248; Juelg, _Kalmuekische Maerchen, Einleitung_, p. 1; and F.\nJ. Child, _English and Scottish Popular Ballads_, Part II. p. 399, \"The\nTwa Magicians.\"\n\n[14] The principal sources of information in regard to the _Disciplina\nClericalis_ and its author are the two editions of Paris and Berlin:\n_Disciplina Clericalis_: auctore Petro Alphonsi, Ex-Judaeo Hispano,\nParisiis, MDCCCXXIV. 2 vols. (Societe des Bibliophiles francais); Petri\nAlfonsi Disciplina Clericalis, zum ersten Mal herausgegeben mit\nEinleitung und Anmerkungen von Fr. Wilh. Val. Schmidt, Berlin, 1827. The\nfirst edition was edited by J. Labouderie, Vicar-general of Avignon, and\nas only two hundred and fifty copies were printed, it is now very\nscarce. Schmidt even had not seen it: and when he published his own\nedition, three years later, thought it the first. The Paris edition\ncontains the best text, and has besides two Old-French translations, one\nin prose, the other in verse. The Berlin edition is, however, more\nvaluable on account of the notes.\n\n[15] This is the story shortly after mentioned, Pitre, No. 138, \"The\nTreasure.\" The date of the _Cento nov. ant._ cannot be accurately fixed;\nthe compilation was probably made at the end of the XIII. cent.,\nalthough individual stories may be of an earlier date.\n\n[16] See _Disciplina Cler._ ed. Schmidt, pp. 63 and 142. For copious\nreferences see Oesterley's _Gesta Rom._ cap. 106.\n\n[17] There are several literary Italian versions of this story: one in\nCasalicchio, VI., I., VI.; and in Cintio, _Ecatommiti_, I. 3. There is\nanother popular version in Imbriani's _Nov. fior._ p. 616, \"The Three\nFriends.\"\n\n[18] See _Disc. Cler._ ed. Schmidt, pp. 50 and 128. The version in the\n_Cento nov. ant._ ed. Gualt, No. 31, is as follows: Messer Azzolino had\na story-teller, whom he made tell stories during the long winter nights.\nIt happened one night that the story-teller had a great mind to sleep,\nand Azzolino asked him to tell stories. The story-teller began to relate\na story about a peasant who had a hundred bezants. He went to market to\nbuy sheep, and had two for a bezant. Returning home with his sheep, a\nriver that he had crossed was greatly swollen by a heavy rain that had\nfallen. Standing on the bank he saw a poor fisherman with an exceedingly\nsmall boat, so small that it would only hold the peasant and one sheep\nat a time. Then the peasant began to cross with one sheep, and began to\nrow: the river was wide. He rows and crosses. And the story-teller\nceased relating. Azzolino said: \"Go on.\" And the story-teller answered:\n\"Let the sheep cross, and then I will tell the story.\" For the sheep\nwould not be over in a year, so that meanwhile he could sleep at his\nleisure.\n\nThe story passed from the _Disc. Cler._ into the Spanish collection _El\nLibro de los Enxemplos_, No. 85. A similar story is also found in Grimm,\nNo. 86, \"The Fox and the Geese.\"\n\n[19] The word translated bank (_bancu_) is here used to indicate a\nburied treasure. The most famous of these concealed treasures was that\nof Ddisisa, a hill containing caves, and whose summit is crowned by the\nruins of an Arab castle. This treasure is mentioned also in Pitre, No.\n230, \"The Treasure of Ddisisa,\" where elaborate directions are given for\nfinding it.\n\n[20] See Pitre, vol. IV. p. 401, and _Nov. fior._ p. 572.\n\n[21] See _Disc. Cler._ ed. Schmidt, pp. 64 and 147, where the story is\nas follows: A certain tailor to the king had, among others, an\napprentice named Nedui. On one occasion the king's officers brought warm\nbread and honey, which the tailor and his apprentices ate without\nwaiting for Nedui, who happened to be absent. When one of the officers\nasked why they did not wait for Nedui, the tailor answered that he did\nnot like honey. When Nedui returned, and learned what had taken place,\nhe determined to be revenged; and when he had a chance he told the\nofficer who superintended the work done for the king that the tailor\noften went into a frenzy and beat or killed the bystanders. The officer\nsaid that if they could tell when the attack was coming on, they would\nbind him, so that he could not injure any one. Nedui said it was easy to\ntell; the first symptoms were the tailor's looking here and there,\nbeating the ground with his hands, and getting up and seizing his seat.\nThe next day Nedui securely hid his master's shears, and when the latter\nbegan to look for them, and feel about on the floor, and lift up his\nseat, the officer called in the guard and had the tailor bound, and, for\nfear he should beat any one, soundly thrashed. At last the poor tailor\nsucceeded in obtaining an explanation; and when he asked Nedui: \"When\ndid you know me to be insane?\" the latter responded: \"When did you know\nme not to eat honey?\" See also references in Kirchhof's _Wendunmuth_, I.\n243.\n\n[22] In the original the admonitions are in the form of a verse, as\nfollows:--\n\n    \"_Primu:_ Cu' cancia la via vecchia pi la nova,\n              Le guai ch' 'un circannu dda li trova.\n     _Secunnu:_ Vidi assai e parra pocu.\n     _Terzu:_ Pensa la cosa avanti chi la fai,\n              Ca la cosa pinsata e bedda assai.\"\n\n\n\n[23] See _Disc. Cler._ ed. Schmidt, pp. 61 and 141. This story is also\nfound in the _Gesta Romanorum_, cap. 103; Gonz., No. 81, where copious\nreferences by Oesterley and Koehler may be found; in Nerucci, No. 53; and\nin a distorted version in Ortoli, p. 118: see also _Giornale Napoletano\ndella Domenica_, August 20, 1882; Pitre, \"_I Tre Pareri_,\" and _Notes\nand Queries_, London, February 7, March 14, 1885.\n\n[24] See Note 1 of this chapter.\n\n[25] In the original, what the husband, wife, and king, say, is in\nverse, as follows:--\n\n    \"Vigna era e Vigna son,\n      Amata era e piu non son;\n    E non so per qual cagion,\n      Che la Vigna a perso la so stagion.\"\n\n    \"Vigna eri e Vigna sei,\n      Amata eri e piu non sei:\n    Per la branca del leon\n      La Vigna a perso la so stagion.\"\n\n    \"Ne la Vigna io son intrato,\n      Di quei pampani n' o tocato;\n    Ma lo guiro per la corona che porto in capo,\n      Che de quel fruto no ghe n' o gustato.\"\n\nThis story is also found in Pitre, No. 76, \"_Lu Bracceri di manu manca_\"\n(\"The Usher on the Left Hand,\" _i. e._, of the king, who also had one on\nhis right hand); _Pomiglianesi_, No. 6, \"_Villa_;\" and, in the shape of\na poetical dialogue, in Vigo, _Raccolta amplissima di Canti popolari\nsiciliani_. Secunda ediz. Catania, 1870-1874, No. 5145.\n\nThe story is told of Pier delle Vigne by Jacopo d'Aqui (XIII. cent.) in\nhis _Chronicon imaginis mundi_, and of the Marchese di Pescara by\nBrantome, _Vie des Dames galantes_. These versions will be found with\ncopious references in Pitre and Imbriani as cited above: see also,\n_Cantilene e Ballate, Strambotti e Madrigali nei Secoli XIII. e XIV._, A\ncura di Giosue Carducci, Pisa, 1871, p. 26. The story is discussed in an\nexhaustive manner by S. Prato in the _Romania_, vol. XII. p. 535; XIV.\np. 132, \"_L' Orma del Leone_.\"\n\n[26] For the Oriental versions see _Essai sur les Fables indiennes_,\n_par_ A. Loiseleur Deslongchamps, Paris, 1838, p. 96; _Das Buch von den\nsieben weisen Meistern_, aus dem Hebraeischen und Griechischen zum ersten\nMale uebersetzt von H. Sengelmann, Halle, 1842, p. 40 (_Mischle\nSandabar_), p. 87 (_Syntipas_), _Tausend und Eine Nacht_, Deutsch von\nMax Habicht, Von der Hagen und Schall, Breslau, 1836, vol. XV. p. 112\n(Arabic); _Li Romans des Sept Sages_, nach der Pariser Handschrift\nherausgegeben von H. A. Keller, Tuebingen, 1836, p. cxxxviii.;\n_Dyocletianus Leben_, von Hans von Buehel, herausgegeben von A. Keller,\nQuedlinburg und Leipzig, 1841, p. 45. All students of this subject are\nacquainted with Domenico Comparetti's masterly essay _Ricerche intorno\nal Libro di Sindibad_, Milan, 1869, which has recently been made\naccessible to English readers in a version published by the English\nFolk-Lore Society in 1882. The Persian and Arabic texts may be consulted\nin an English translation, reprinted with valuable introduction and\nnotes in the following work: _The Book of Sindibad; or, The Story of\nthe King, his Son, the Damsel, and the Seven Vazirs_, From the Persian\nand Arabic, with Introduction, Notes, and an Appendix, by W. A.\nClouston. Privately printed, 1884 [Glasgow], pp. xvii.-lvi.\n\n[27] For the original version in the various forms of the Western _Seven\nWise Masters_, see Loiseleur-Deslongchamps, p. 162; Keller, _Romans_, p.\nccxxix., and _Dyocletianus_, p. 63; and D'Ancona, _Il Libro dei Sette\nSavi di Roma_, p. 121. To the references in D'Ancona may be added: _Deux\nRedactions du Roman des Sept Sages_, G. Paris, Paris, 1876, pp. 47, 162;\nBenfey, in _Orient und Occident_, III. 420; _Romania_, VI. p. 182;\n_Melusine_, p. 384; and _Basque Legends_, collected by Rev. W. Webster,\nLondon, 1879, pp. 136, 137.\n\n[28] See Grimm, No. 33, \"The Three Languages;\" Hahn, No. 33; _Basque\nLegends_, p. 137; and _Melusine_, p. 300. There is a verbose version in\nthe _Fiabe Mantovane_, No. 23, \"_Bobo_.\"\n\n[29] See Herodotus, with a commentary by J. W. Blakesley, London, 1854,\nI. p. 254, n. 343. For the literature of this story, and for various\nother Italian versions, see _La Leggenda del Tesoro di Rampsinite_,\nStanislao Prato, Como, 1882; and Ralston's notes to Schiefner's _Tibetan\nTales_, p. xlvii.\n\n[30] For the story in the _Seven Wise Masters_, see D'Ancona, _op. cit._\np. 108; Loiseleur-Deslongchamps, p. 146; Keller, _Romans_, p. cxciii.,\nand _Dyoclet_. p. 55.\n\nBesides the popular versions in Italian, the story is also found in\nBandello, I., XXV., who follows Herodotus closely.\n\n[31] For the story in the _Seven Wise Masters_ see D'Ancona, _op. cit._\np. 120; Loiseleur-Deslongchamps, p. 158; Keller, _Romans_, p. ccxxxvii.,\nand _Dyoclet._ p. 61. Literary versions of this story are in Straparola,\nII. 11; _Pecorone_, II. 2; Malespini, 53; Bandello, I. 3; and Sercambi,\nXIII. See Pitre, IV. pp. 407, 442.\n\n[32] The literature of this famous collection of tales will best be\nfound in an article by Wilhelm Pertsch, \"_Ueber Nachschabi's\nPapagaienbuch_\" in the _Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenlaendischen\nGesellschaft_, Bd. XXI. pp. 505-551. Prof. H. Brockhaus discovered that\nthe eighth night of Nachschabi's version was nothing but a version of\nthe _Seven Wise Masters_ containing seven stories. Nachschabi, in\npreparing his work, used probably the oldest version of the _Seven Wise\nMasters_ of which we have any knowledge. Professor Brockhaus made this\ndiscovery known in a brief pamphlet entitled: _Die Sieben Weisen Meister\nvon Nachschabi_, Leipzig, 1843, of which only twelve copies were\nprinted. The above, except the Persian text, was reprinted in the\n_Blaett. fuer lit. Unterhaltung_, 1843, Nos. 242, 243 (pp. 969 _et seq._);\nand, in an Italian translation, in D'Ancona's _Il Libro dei Sette Savi\ndi Roma_.\n\nThe Persian version of Qadiri (a compend of Nachschabi's) is the one\nmost frequently translated. The German translation: _Toutinameh_. Eine\nSammlung pers. Maerchen, von C. J. L. Iken, mit einem Anhange von J. G.\nL. Kosegarten, Stuttgart, 1822, is easily found. The Turkish version is\nelegantly translated by G. Rosen: _Tuti-nameh, das Papagaienbuch_, eine\nSammlung orientalischer Erzaehlungen nach der tuerkischen Bearbeitung zum\nersten Male uebersetzt von G. Rosen, Leipzig, 1858, 2 vols.\n\n[33] The preservation of the frame of the _Cukasaptati_ in Italian\npopular tales is only paralleled, to our knowledge, by the preservation\nof the _Seven Wise Masters_ in a Magyar popular tale. See _La Tradizione\ndei Sette Savi nelle Novelline magiare_. Lettera al Prof. A. D'Ancona di\nE. Teza, Bologna, 1864.\n\nIt is possible that the Italian stories containing the frame of the\n_Cukasaptati_ may have been developed from the story in the _Seven Wise\nMasters_ which is found in both the Oriental and Occidental versions.\nThe spirit of Folk-tales seems to us averse to expansion, and that\ncondensation is the rule. We think it more likely that it was by way of\noral tradition, or from some now lost collection of Oriental tales once\nknown in Italy.\n\n[34] It is in the work by Teza mentioned in the last note, p. 52.\n\n[35] See Pitre, vol. I. p. 23. The three stories in one are called\n_Donna Viulanti_ (Palermo) and _Lu Frati e lu Soru_ (Salaparuta).\n\n[36] See Chapter I. note 7.\n\n[37] The Italian versions are: Pitre, No. 78, \"_Lu Zu Viritati_\" (\"Uncle\nTruth\"); Gonz., No. 8, \"_Bauer Wahrhaft_\" (\"Farmer Truth\"); _XII. Conti\nPomiglianesi_, p. 1, \"_Giuseppe 'A Vereta_\" (\"Truthful Joseph,\" the\nversion translated by us); p. 6, another version from same place and\nwith same name; and in Straparola, III. 5. References to Oriental\nsources maybe found in Koehler's notes to Gonz., No. 8, and Oesterley's\nnotes to _Gesta Rom._ cap. 111.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn addition to the Oriental elements mentioned in the third chapter,\nStanislao Prato has discovered the story of Nala in a popular tale from\nPitigliano (Tuscany), see S. Prato, _La Leggenda indiana di Nala in una\nnovella popolare pitiglianese_, Como, 1881. (Extracted from _I Nuovi\nGoliardi_.)\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nLEGENDS AND GHOST STORIES.\n\n[1] It is the LXXV. novel of the _Testo_ Gualteruzzi (Biagi, p. 108):\n_Qui conta come Domeneddio s' accompagno con un giullare_. The Lord once\nwent in company with a jester. One day the former went to a funeral, and\nthe latter to a marriage. The Lord called the dead to life again, and\nwas richly rewarded. He gave the jester some of the money with which he\nbought a kid, roasted it and ate the kidneys himself. His companion\nasked where they were, and the jester answered that in that country the\nkids had none. The next time the Lord went to a wedding and the jester\nto a funeral, but he could not revive the dead, and was considered a\ndeceiver, and condemned to the gallows. The Lord wished to know who ate\nthe kidneys, but the other persisted in his former answer; but in spite\nof this the Lord raises the dead, and the jester is set at liberty. Then\nthe Lord said he wished to dissolve their partnership, and made three\npiles of money, one for himself, another for the jester, and the third\nfor the one who ate the kidneys. Then the jester said: \"By my faith, now\nthat you speak thus, I will tell you that I ate them; I am so old that\nI ought not to tell lies now.\" So some things are proved by money, which\na man would not tell to escape from death. For the sources and\nimitations of this story see D'Ancona, _Le Fonti del Novellino_, in the\n_Romania_, No. 10, p. 180, (_Studj_, p. 333). To D'Ancona's references\nmay be added the following: Grimm, 147, \"The Old Man made young again\";\nAsbjornsen and Moe, No. 21 [Dasent, _Pop. Tales_, No. XIV.], _Ny Samm._\nNo. 101 [Dasent, _Tales from the Fjeld_, p. 94, \"Peik\"]; Ralston, _R. F.\nT._ p. 350; Simrock's _Deutsche Maerchen_, Nos. 31^b (p. 148), 32;\n_Romania_, No. 24, p. 578, \"_Le Foie de Mouton_\" (E. Cosquin, _Contes\npop. lorrains_, No. 30); Brueyre, p. 330; and an Italian version, which\nis simply an amplification of the one in the _Cento nov. ant._, in the\nrecently published _Sessanta Nov. pop. montalesi_, Nerucci, No. 31.\n\n[2] See _Jahrbuch_, VII. pp. 28, 396. The professional pride of the\nsmith finds a parallel in an Irish story in Kennedy, \"How St. Eloi was\npunished for the sin of Pride.\" Before the saint became religious he was\na goldsmith, but sometimes amused himself by shoeing horses, and boasted\nthat he had never found his master in anything. One day a stranger\nstopped at his forge and asked permission to shoe his horse. Eloi\nconsented, and was very much surprised to see the stranger break off the\nhorse's leg at the shoulder, carry it into the smithy and shoe it. Then\nthe stranger put on again the horse's leg, and asked Eloi if he knew any\none who could do such a good piece of work. Eloi tries himself, and\nfails miserably. The stranger, who is Eloi's guardian angel, cures the\nhorse, reproves the smith for his pride, and disappears. See Brueyre, p.\n329, and Blade, _Agenais_, p. 61, and Koehler's notes, p. 157.\n\n[3] Bernoni, _Punt._ I. p. 1, \"_I cinque brazzi de Tela_.\" See Benfey,\n_Pant._ I. p. 497, where the same story (without the coarseness of the\nItalian version) is related of Buddha, who tells the hospitable woman\nthat \"what she begins shall not end until sunset.\" She begins to measure\nlinen and it lengthens in her hands so that she continues to measure it\nall day. The envious neighbor receives the same gift, but before she\nbegins to measure the linen, she thinks she will water the swine; the\nbucket does not become empty until evening, and the whole neighborhood\nis inundated. See Benfey's parallels, _ut. sup._ pp. 497-98, and Grimm,\nNo. 87, notes.\n\n[4] These four legends are in Pitre, _Cinque Novelline popolari\nsiciliane_, Palermo, 1878. In the third story, \"_San Pietru e so\ncumpari_,\" St. Peter gets something to eat from a stingy man by a play\non the word _mussu_, \"snout,\" and _cu lu mussu_, \"to be angry.\" For a\nsimilar story see Pitre, III. 312. A parallel to the first of the above\nlegends may be found in Finamore, No. 34, IV., where are also some other\nlegends of St. Peter.\n\nSince the above note was written, some similar legends have been\npublished by Salomone Marino in the _Archivio per lo Studio delle\nTradizioni popolari_, vol. II. p. 553. One \"The Just suffers for the\nSinner\" (\"_Chianci lu giustu pri lu piccaturi_\") relates how St. Peter\ncomplained to our Lord that the innocent were punished with the guilty.\nOur Lord made no answer, but shortly after commanded St. Peter to pick\nup a piece of honey-comb filled with bees, and put it in the bosom of\nhis dress. One of the bees stung him, and St. Peter in his anger killed\nthem all, and when the Lord rebuked him, excused himself by saying: \"How\ncould I tell among so many bees which one stung me?\" The Lord answered:\n\"Am I wrong then, when I punish men likewise? _Chianci lu giustu pri lu\npiccaturi._\"\n\nAnother legend relates the eagerness of St. Peter's sister to marry.\nThrice she sent her brother to our Lord to ask his consent, and thrice\nthe Lord, with characteristic patience, answered: \"Tell her to do what\nshe wishes.\"\n\nA third legend explains why some are rich and some are poor in this\nworld. Adam and Eve had twenty-four children, and one day the Lord\npassed by the house, and the parents concealed twelve of their children\nunder a tub. The Lord, at the parents' request, blessed the twelve with\nriches and happiness. After he had departed, the parents realized what\nthey had done, and called the Master back. When he heard that they had\ntold him a falsehood about the number of their children, he replied that\nthe blessing was bestowed and there was no help for it. \"Oh!\" said Adam\nin anguish, \"what will become of them?\" The Lord replied: \"Let those who\nare not blessed serve the others, and let those who are blessed support\nthem.\" \"And this is why in the world half are rich and half are poor,\nand the latter serve the former, and the former support the latter.\"\n\nThe last of these legends which I shall mention is entitled: \"All things\nare done for money.\" (\"_Tutti cosi su' fatti pri dinari._\") There once\ndied a poor beggar who had led a pious life, and was destined for\nparadise. When his soul arrived at the gate and knocked, St. Peter asked\nwho he was and told him to wait. The poor soul waited two months behind\nthe gate, but St. Peter did not open it for him. Meanwhile, a wealthy\nbaron died and went, exceptionally, to paradise. His soul did not need\neven to knock, for the gate was thrown open, and St. Peter exclaimed:\n\"Throw open the gate, let the baron pass! Come in Sir Baron, your\nservant, what an honor!\" The soul of the beggar squeezed in, and said to\nhimself: \"The world is not the only one who worships money; in heaven\nitself there is this law, that all things are done for money.\"\n\n[5] Pitre, No. 126, where other Sicilian versions are mentioned. A\nversion from Siena is in T. Gradi, _Proverbi e Modi di dire_, p. 23,\nrepeated in the same author's _Saggio di Letture varie_, p. 52, and\nfollowed by an article by Tommaseo, originally printed in the\n_Institutore_ of Turin, in which Servian and Greek parallels are given.\nBesides the Venetian variant mentioned in the text, there are versions\nfrom Umbria and Piedmont cited by Pitre, a Tuscan one in _Nov. tosc._\nNo. 26, and one from the Tyrol in Schneller, No. 4. Pitre, in his notes\nto _Nov. tosc._ No. 26, mentions several other versions from Piedmont,\nFriuli, and Benevento. An exact version is also found in Corsica: see\nOrtoli, p. 235.\n\n[6] This reminds one of the \"Sabbath of the Damned:\" see Douhet,\n_Dictionnaire des Legendes_, Paris, 1855, p. 1040.\n\n[7] Pitre, in a note to this story, mentions several proverbial sayings\nin which Pilate's name occurs: \"To wash one's hands of the matter like\nPilate,\" and \"To come into a thing like Pilate in the Creed,\" to express\nengaging in a matter unwillingly, or to indicate something that is _mal\na propos_.\n\n[8] Pitre, I. p. cxxxvii., and Pitre, _Appunti di Botanica popolare\nsiciliana_, in the _Rivista Europea_, May, 1875, p. 441.\n\n[9] Pitre, I. p. cxxxviii.\n\n[10] This legend is mentioned in a popular Sicilian legend in verse, see\nPitre, _Canti pop. sic._ II. p. 368, and is the subject of a chap-book,\nthe title of which is given by Pitre, _Fiabe_, vol. IV. p. 397.\n\n[11] _Preghiere pop. veneziane_ raccolte da Dom. Giuseppe Bernoni, p.\n18.\n\n[12] Pitre, I. p. cxxxiii. For earlier appearances of the Wandering Jew\nin Italian literature, see A. D'Ancona, _La Leggenda dell' Ebreo\nerrante, Nuova Antologia_, serie II. vol. XXIII. 1880, p. 425;\n_Romania_, vol. X. p. 212, _Le Juif errant en Italia au XIII^e siecle_,\nG. Paris and A. D'Ancona; vol. XII. p. 112, _Encore le Juif errant en\nItalie_, A. D'Ancona, and _Giornale Storico_, vol. III. p. 231, R.\nRenier, where an Italian text of the XVIII. cent. is printed for the\nfirst time. The myth of the Wandering Jew can best be studied in the\nfollowing recent works: G. Paris, _Le Juif Errant, Extrait de\nl'Encyclopedie des Sciences Religieuses_, Paris, 1880; Dr. L. Neubaur,\n_Die Sage vom ewigen Juden_, Leipzig, 1884; P. Cassel, _Ahasverus, die\nSage vom ewigen Juden_, Berlin, 1885. The name Buttadeu (Buttadaeus in\nthe Latin texts of the XVII. cent.) has been explained in various ways.\nIt is probably from the Ital. verb _buttare_, to thrust away, and _dio_,\nGod.\n\n[13] Crivoliu is a corruption of Gregoriu, Gregory, and the legend is,\nas Koehler says, a peculiar transformation of the well-known legend of\n\"Gregory on the Stone.\" For the legend in general, see A. D'Ancona's\nIntroduction to the _Leggenda di Vergogna e la Leggenda di Giuda_,\nBologna, 1869, and F. Lippold, _Ueber die Quelle des Gregorius\nHartmann's von Aue_, Leipzig, 1869, p. 50 _et seq._ See also Pitre's\nnotes to No. 117. An example of this class of stories from Cyprus may be\nfound in the _Jahrb._ XI. p. 357.\n\n[14] See Koehler's notes to Gonz., No. 90, and _Sacre Rappresentazioni\ndei Secoli XIV.-XVI._ raccolte e illustrate di A. D'Ancona, Florence,\n1872, III. p. 435. There is another legend of St. James of Galicia in\nBusk, p. 208, entitled \"The Pilgrims.\" A husband and wife make the usual\nvow to St. James that if he will give them children they will make the\npilgrimage to Santiago. When the children are fifteen and sixteen the\nparents start on the pilgrimage, taking with them the son, and leaving\nthe daughter in charge of a priest, who wrote slanderous letters about\nher, whereupon the son returned suddenly, slew his sister, and threw her\nbody in a ditch. A king's son happened to pass by, found the body, and\ndiscovered that it still contained life. He had her cured, and married\nher, and they afterwards became king and queen. While the king was once\nat war, the viceroy tempted the queen, and when she would not listen to\nhim, killed her two children and slandered her to the king. The queen\ntook the bodies of the children and wandered about until she met the\nMadonna, who took the children, and the queen went to Galicia. The king\nand viceroy also made a pilgrimage to the same place where the queen's\nparents had dwelt since the supposed death of their daughter. All met at\nthe saint's shrine and forgave each other, and the Madonna restored the\nchildren alive and well.\n\nThere are two or three other stories in Pitre and Gonz. in which saints\nappear in the _role_ of good fairies, aiding the hero when in trouble.\nOne of these stories, \"The Thankful Dead\" (Gonz., No. 74), has already\nbeen mentioned in Chapter II. p. 131; two others may be briefly\nmentioned here. The first is Gonz., No. 74, \"Of one who by the help of\nSt. Joseph won the king's daughter.\" A king proclaims that he will give\nhis daughter to any one who builds a ship that will go by land and\nwater. The youngest of three brothers constructs such a vessel by the\nhelp of St. Joseph, after his two brothers have failed. The saint, who\nis not known to the youth, accompanies him on the voyage on the\ncondition that he shall receive the half of everything that the youth\nreceives. During the voyage they take on board a man who can fill a sack\nwith mist, one who can tear up half a forest and carry the trees on his\nback, a man who can drink up half a river, one who can always hit what\nhe shoots at, and one who walks with such long steps that when one foot\nis in Catania the other is in Messina. The king refuses to give his\ndaughter to the youth in spite of the ship that goes by land and water.\nThe youth, however, by the help of his wonderful servants and St.\nJoseph, fulfils all the king's requirements, and carries away the\nprincess. When the youth returned home with his bride and treasures, St.\nJoseph called on him to fulfil his promise to him. The youth gives him\nhalf of his treasures, and even half of the crown he had won. The saint\nreminds him that the best of his possessions yet remains undivided,--his\nbride. The youth determines to keep his promise, draws his sword, and is\nabout to cut his bride in two, when St. Joseph reveals himself, blesses\nthe pair, and disappears.\n\nThis story is sometimes found as a version of the \"Thankful Dead,\" see\nChapter II. note 12. The second story is Pitre, No. 116, \"St. Michael\nthe Archangel and one of his devotees,\" of which there is a version in\nGonz., No. 76, called, \"The Story of Giuseppino.\" In the first version a\nchild, Pippino, is sold by his parents to the king in order to obtain\nthe means to duly celebrate the feast of St. Michael, to whom they were\ndevoted. The child is brought up in the palace as the princess's\nplaymate; but when he grows up the king is anxious to get rid of him,\nand so sends him on a voyage in an unseaworthy vessel. St. Michael\nappears to the lad, and tells him to load the ship with salt. They set\nsail, and the rotten ship is about to go to pieces, when the saint\nappears and changes the ship into a vessel all of gold. They sell the\ncargo to a king who has never tasted salt before, and return to their\nown country wealthy. The next voyage Pippino, by the saint's advice,\ntakes a cargo of cats, which they sell to the king of a country overrun\nby mice. Pippino returns and marries the king's daughter. In the version\nin Gonz., Giuseppino is a king's son, who leaves his home to see the\nworld, and becomes the stable-boy of the king whose daughter he marries.\nThe three cargoes are: salt, cats, and uniforms. On the last voyage,\nGiuseppino captures a hostile fleet, and makes his prisoners put on the\nuniforms he has in his ship. With this army he returns, and compels the\nking to give him his daughter. St. Joseph acts the same part in this\nversion as St. Michael in Pitre's.\n\nThe story of \"Whittington and his Cat\" will at once occur to the reader.\nSee Pitre's notes to No. 116, and vol. IV. p. 395, and Koehler to Gonz.,\nNo. 76.\n\n[15] Koehler has no note on this legend, and I have been unable to find\nin the list of saints any name of which Oniria or Neria may be a\ncorruption.\n\n[16] The references to this story will best be found in Pauli's _Schimpf\nund Ernst_, ed. Oesterley, No. 682, and in the same editor's notes to\nthe _Gesta Romanorum_, cap. 80. To these may be added a story by De\nTrueba in his _Narraciones populares_, p. 65, entitled, \"_Las Dudas de\nSan Pedro_;\" Luzel, _Legendes Chretiennes_, I. 282, II. 4; _Fiore di\nVirtu_, Naples, 1870, p. 68; Etienne de Bourbon, No. 396 (_Anecdotes\nhistoriques, legendes et apologues tires du Receuil inedit d'Etienne de\nBourbon_), pub. pour la Societe de l'Hist. de France par A. Lecoy de la\nMarche, Paris, 1877.\n\nSince the above was written, several important contributions to the\nliterature of this story have been made. The first in point of time and\nimportance is a paper by Gaston Paris in the _Comptes Rendus_ of the\nAcademie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres, vol. VIII. pp. 427-449\n(reprinted in _La Poesie du Moyen Age_, Lecons et Lectures par Gaston\nParis, Paris, 1885). Next may be mentioned \"_The Literary History of\nParnell's Hermit_,\" by W. E. A. Axon, London, 1881 (reprinted from the\nSeventh Volume of the Third Series of _Memoirs of the Manchester\nLiterary and Philosophical Society, Session 1879-80_). An Icelandic\nversion is in _Islendzk Aeventyri, Islaendische Legenden, Novellen und\nMaerchen_, herausgegeben von Hugo Gering, Halle, 1884, vol. II. p. 247.\nThe legend is clearly shown by Gaston Paris to be of Jewish origin.\n\n[17] There is another version of this story in Gonz., No. 86, \"_Von dem\nfrommen Kinde_\" (\"The Pious Child\"), Koehler in his notes cites Grimm's\n_Children's Legends_, No. 9, and Schneller, No. 1. In this last story a\npious child is cruelly treated by his step-mother, and leaves his home\nto live in a convent. One day he notices in a corner a neglected\ncrucifix covered with dust and cobwebs. He sees how thin the figure is,\nand at meal-time brings his food where the crucifix is and begins to\nfeed the image, which opens its mouth and eats with appetite. As the\nimage grows stouter the pious child grows thinner. The Superior learns\none day the fact, and tells the child to ask the Lord to invite him and\nthe Superior to his table. The next day both die suddenly after mass.\n\nIn a story in Gonz., No. 47, \"Of the pious youth who went to Rome,\" the\nyouth talks to the image on the crucifix in a familiar way, and receives\ninformation about questions put to him by various persons. The youth\nalso dies suddenly at the end of the story.\n\n[18] Pitre, No. 111. Another Sicilian version is in Gonz., No. 88, \"The\nStory of Spadonia.\" Spadonia is the son of a king, who every day has\nbread baked and sent to the souls in purgatory by means of an ass sent\nfor that purpose by the Lord. Spadonia becomes king, and sends one of\nhis servants, Peppe, to see where the ass goes. Peppe crosses a river of\nclear water, one of milk, and one of blood. Then he sees the thin oxen\nin a rich pasture, and the reverse; in addition he beholds a forest with\nsmall and large trees together, and a handsome youth cutting down now a\nlarge tree, now a small one, with a single stroke of a bright axe. Then\nhe passed through a door with the ass, and sees St. Joseph, and St.\nPeter, and all the saints, and among them God the Father. Farther on\nPeppe sees many saints, and among them the parents of Spadonia. Finally\nPeppe comes where the Saviour and his Mother are on a throne. The Lord\nsays to him that Spadonia must marry a maiden named Secula, and open an\ninn, in which any one may eat and lodge without cost. The Lord then\nexplains what Peppe has seen. The river of water is the good deeds of\nmen which aid and refresh the poor souls in purgatory; the river of milk\nis that with which Christ was nourished; and the river of blood that\nshed for sinners. The thin cattle are the usurers, the fat, the poor who\ntrust in God, the youth felling the trees is Death.\n\nPeppe returns and tells his master all he had seen, and Spadonia wanders\nforth in search of a maiden called Secula. He finds at last a poor girl\nso called, and marries her, and opens an inn as he had been directed.\nAfter a time the Lord and his Apostles visit the inn, and the king and\nhis wife wait on them, and treat them with the utmost consideration. The\nnext day after they had departed Spadonia and his wife find out who\ntheir guests were, and hasten after them in spite of a heavy storm. When\nthey overtake the Lord they ask pardon for their sins, and eternal\nhappiness for all belonging to them. The Lord grants their request, and\ntells them to be prepared at Christmas, when he will come for them. They\nreturn home, give all their property to the poor, and at Christmas they\nconfess, take communion, and die peacefully near each other, together\nwith Secula's old parents.\n\nThis curious legend has no parallels in Italy out of Sicily. It is,\nhowever, found in the rest of Europe, the best parallel being _L'Homme\naux dents rouges_, in Blade, _Agenais_, p. 52. Koehler cites Blade,\n_Contes et proverbes pop. rec. en Armagnac_, p. 59, and Asbjornsen, No.\n62 [Dasent, _Tales from the Fjeld_, p. 160, \"Friends in Life and\nDeath\"]. To these may be added the story in Schneller, p. 215, and the\nreferences given by Koehler in his notes to Gonz., No. 88.\n\n[19] See Champfleury, _De la litterature populaire en France. Recherches\nsur les origines et les variations de la legende du bonhomme Misere_,\nParis, 1861. It contains a reprint of the oldest yet known edition of\nthe chap-book, that of 1719. The most valuable references to the legend\nin general will be found (besides the above work, and Grimm's notes to\nNos. 81, 82) in the _Jahrb._ V. pp. 4, 23; VII. 128, 268; and in Pitre's\nnotes, vol. III. p. 63, and IV. pp. 398, 439. All the Italian versions\nare mentioned in the text or following notes. To the stories from the\nvarious parts of Europe mentioned in the articles above cited, may be\nadded Webster, _Basque Legends_, pp. 195, 199. Since this note was\nwritten another Tuscan version has been published by Pitre in his _Nov.\ntosc._ No. 28, who cites in his notes: Ortoli, p. 1, Sec. 1, No. XXII.\n(Corsica); and two literary versions in Cintio de' Fabritii, Venice,\n1726, _Origine de' volgari proverbi_, and Domenico Batacchi in his\n_Novelle galanti: La Vita e la Morte di Prete Ulivo_.\n\n[20] See Pitre, No. 125.\n\n[21] See Busk, p. 178.\n\n[22] See Busk, p. 183.\n\n[23] _Novelline di Sto. Stefano_, No. XXXII. A version from Monferrato\nis found in Comparetti, No. 34, entitled, \"_La Morte Burlata_\" (\"Death\nMocked\"), in which a schoolmaster, who is a magician, tells one of his\nscholars that he will grant him every day any favor he may ask. The\nfirst day the scholar asks that any one who climbs his pear-tree must\nremain there; the second day he asks that whoever approaches his\nfireplace to warm himself must stay there; and finally he asks to win\nalways with a pack of cards that he has. When the possessor of these\nfavors has lived a hundred years Death comes for him, but is made to\nclimb the tree, and is forced to grant the owner another hundred years\nof life. The fireplace procures another respite, and then the man dies\nand goes to paradise; but the Lord will not admit him, for he had not\nasked for mercy. Hell will not receive him, for he had been a good man;\nso he goes to the gate of purgatory and begins playing cards, with souls\nfor stakes, and wins enough to form a regiment. Then he goes to\nparadise, and the Lord tells him he can enter alone. But he persists in\ngoing in with all those who are attached to him; so all the souls enter\ntoo.\n\n[24] _Novelline di Sto. Stefano_, No. 33. A similar story, told in\ngreater detail, is in Schneller, No. 17, \"_Der Stoepselwirth_\" (\"The\nTapster\"). A generous host ruins himself by his hospitality, and borrows\nmoney of the Devil for seven years; if he cannot repay it his soul is to\nbelong to the lender. The host continues his liberality, and at the end\nof seven years is poorer than before. The Lord, St. Peter, and St. John\ncome to the tavern and tell the landlord to ask three favors. He asks\nthat whoever climbs his fig-tree may remain there; whoever sits on his\nsofa must stay there; and finally, whoever puts his hands in a certain\nchest must keep them there. The Devil first sends his eldest son after\nthe money. The host sends him up the fig-tree, and then gives him a\nsound beating. Then the Devil sends his second son, whom the landlord\ninvites to sit on his sofa, and gives him a sound thrashing too. Finally\nthe Devil himself comes, and the host tells him to get his money himself\nout of the chest. The Devil sticks fast, and is set free only on\ncondition of renouncing all claims to the landlord's soul.\n\nThe conclusion of the story is like that of \"Beppo Pipetta.\"\n\nThere is another story about a bargain with the Devil in the _Novelline\ndi Sto. Stefano_, No. 35, \"_Le Donne ne sanno un punto piu del diavolo_\"\n(\"Women know a point more than the Devil\"). A fowler sells his soul to\nthe Devil for twelve years of life and plenty of birds. When the time is\nnearly up the fowler's wife persuades him to alter his bargain with the\nDevil a little. The latter is to give up his claim if the former can\nfind a bird unknown to the Devil. The Devil consents, and comes the last\nday and recognizes easily every bird, until finally the fowler's wife,\ndisguised with tar and feathers, comes out of a case and frightens the\nfowler and the Devil so that he runs away.\n\nThe mysterious bird recalls the one in Grimm, No. 46, \"Fitcher's Bird.\"\n\n[25] _Jahrbuch_, VII. 121. The wonderful sack occurs in another Venetian\nstory, Widter-Wolf, No. 14, \"_Der Hoellenpfoertner_\" (\"The Porter of\nHell\"). The gifts are: a gun that never misses, a violin that makes\nevery one dance, and a sack into which every one must spring when\ncommanded by the owner. See Koehler's notes to this story, _Jahrb_. VII.\n268. A Corsican version is in Ortoli, p. 155. The episode of the Devil\nbeaten in the sack is also found in Comparetti, No. 49, \"_Il Ramaio_.\" A\nwandering smith gives alms to St. Peter and the Lord, and receives in\nreturn a pouch like the above. When the Devil comes to fetch him he\nwishes him in his sack, and gives him a good pounding. When the smith\ndies he gets into paradise by throwing his bag inside and wishing\nhimself in it.\n\nThere are two other stories in which the Devil gets worsted: they are\nGianandrea, No. VI, \"_Quattordici_\" (\"Fourteen\"), and _Fiabe Mantovane_,\nNo. II, \"_Pacchione_\" In these stories a cunning person is sent to the\nDevil to bring back a load of gold. The cunning person takes a long pair\nof tongs, catches the Devil by the nose, loads his horse, and returns in\nsafety.\n\nThe first part of the story of \"_Quattordici_\" is found in the Basque\nLegend of \"Fourteen:\" see Webster, p. 195.\n\n[26] Another Venetian version is in Widter-Wolf, No. 3, \"_Der Gevatter\nTod_\" (\"Godfather Death\"). There are also two Sicilian versions: Pitre,\nNo. 109, \"_La Morti e so figghiozzu_\" (\"Death and her Godson\"); and\nGonz., No. 19, \"_Gevatter Tod_,\" which do not differ materially from the\nversion given in our text. References to European parallels may be found\nin Koehler's notes to Widter-Wolf, No. 3, _Jahrb._ VII. p. 19; to Gonz.,\nNo. 19, and in Grimm's notes to No. 44.\n\n[27] Widter-Wolf, No. 16, \"_Der standhafter Buesser_\" (\"The Constant\nPenitent\"), _Jahrb._ VII. p. 273. For parallels, see Koehler's article,\n_Die Legende von dem Ritter in der Capelle_, _Jahrb._ VI. p. 326.\n\n[28] Bernoni, _Legg. fant._ p. 3. The translation in text, as well as\nthat of the two following stories, I have taken from _The Cornhill\nMagazine_, July, 1875, \"Venetian Popular Legends,\" p. 86.\n\nAnother story illustrating the same point is found in Pitre, No. 110,\n_Li Cumpari di S. Giuvanni_, which is translated as follows by Ralston\nin _Fraser's Magazine_, April, 1876, \"Sicilian Fairy Tales,\" p. 424.\n\n\nLXXII. THE GOSSIPS OF ST. JOHN.\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a husband and wife, and they were both\nbound in gossipry with a certain man. The husband got arrested, and was\ntaken away to prison. Now the gossip was very fond of his cummer, and\nused often to go and visit her. One day she said to him: \"Gossip, shall\nwe go and see my husband?\" \"_Gnursi, cummari_\" (\"Certainly, cummer\"),\nsaid her gossip; so off they went. On the way they bought a large\nmelon--for it was the melon season--to take to the poor prisoner. We are\nbut flesh and blood! The gossip and his cummer sinned against St. John.\nIn short, they brought things to a pretty pass. St. John wasn't going to\nlet that pass unpunished. When they had come to the prison and had\nvisited the prisoner, before going away they wanted to make a present to\nthe jailer; so they gave him the melon. He cut it open before their\neyes. Horror of horrors! When the melon was cut open, there was found in\nthe middle of it a head! Now this was the head of St. John, which had\nslipped itself in there for the purpose of bringing home their sin to\nthe minds of the gossips. The matter immediately came to the ears of\njustice, and they were arrested. They confessed the wrong they had done.\nThe husband was set at liberty, and the gossip and his cummer were sent\nto the gallows.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn regard to Saint John and the relationship of godfather, see Pitre's\nnote in vol. I. p. 73.\n\n[29] Bernoni, p. 7; _Cornhill Magazine_, p. 88.\n\n[30] Bernoni, p. 17; _Cornhill Magazine_, p. 89.\n\n[31] Bernoni, p. 19. There are prose versions of the closely related\nstory of Don Juan in Busk, p. 202, \"_Don Giovanni_,\" and in _Nov. tosc._\nNo. 21, \"_Don Giovanni_.\" There are poetical versions of this legend in\nG. Ferraro, _Canti popolari raccolti a Pontelagoscuro_, No. 19; \"_La\nTesta di Morto_,\" in _Rivista di Filologia Romanza_, vol. II. p. 204;\nIve, _Canti pop. istriani_, Turin, 1877, cap. xxv. No. 6, \"_Lionzo_;\"\nSalomone-Marino, _Leggende pop. sicil._ XXVII. \"_Lionziu_.\"\n\n[32] Pitre, No. 128. The version in the text is Ralston's condensation,\ntaken from _Fraser's Magazine_, p. 433. As Pitre notes, there is some\nslight resemblance between this story and that of \"_Cattarinetta_\" in\nSchneller, No. 5, which has a close parallel in Bernoni, _Trad. pop.\nvenez. Punt._ III. p. 76, \"_Nono Cocon_\" and one not so close in\nPapanti, _Nov. pop. livor_, No. 1, \"_La Mencherina_,\" p. 7. There is a\nclose parallel to the Sicilian story in a Tuscan tale, \"_La Gamba_\"\n(\"The Leg\"), in _Novelline pop. toscane_, pubb. da G. Pitre, p. 12. In a\nnote Pitre mentions a variant from Pratovecchio in which the leg is of\ngold. He also gives copious references to versions from all parts of\nEurope. The English reader will recall at once Halliwell's story of\n\"Teeny-Tiny\" (_Nursery Tales_, p. 25). To the above references may be\nadded: \"_Le Pendu_\" in Cosquin, _Contes pop. lorrains_, No. 41, in\n_Romania_, No. 28, p. 580. Since the above note was written, another\nTuscan version has been published by Pitre, _Nov. tosc._ No. 19.\n\n[33] Pitre, No. 203. The parallels to this story may best be found in J.\nGrimm's _Kleinere Schriften_, III. p. 414, _Der Traum von dem Schatz auf\nder Bruecke_. To Grimm's references may be added: Graesse, _Sagenschatz\nSachsen's_, No. 587; Wolf, _Hesseche Sagen_, No. 47; Kuhn, _Westfalische\nSagen_, No. 169; and _Vierzig Veziere_, p. 270.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nNURSERY TALES.\n\n[1] The verse in this story is given somewhat differently by Bolza,\n_Canzoni pop. Comasche_, Vienna, 1866, Note 9:--\n\n    \"La storia de Sior Intento,\n    Che dura molto tempo,\n    Che mai no se destriga;\n    Vole che ve la diga?\"\n\nThe story of Mr. Attentive, which lasts a long time, which is never\nexplained, do you wish me to tell it?\n\nThere are in Bernoni, _Punt._ II. pp. 53, 54, two or three other rhymes\nof this class that may be given here.\n\n\nONCE UPON A TIME.\n\nOnce upon a time--that I remember--into a blind-man's eye--a fly\nwent--and I thought--that it was a quail--wretched blind-man--go away\nfrom here!\n\n\nONE AND ANOTHER.\n\nFiaba, aba--Questa xe una--Muro e malta--Questa xe un' altra, Story,\nory--This is one--Wall and mud--This is another.\n\n    \"A long one and a short one,\n    Do you wish me to tell you a long one?\n    This is the finger and this is the nail.\n    Do you wish me to tell you a short one?\n    This is the finger and this the end of it.\"\n\n[2] Pitre, No. 141. In the notes to this story are given some more of\nthis class.\n\n\"Once upon a time there was a page who drew three carts: one of wine,\none of bread, and one of relishes.... And once upon a time there was a\npage.\"\n\nSome poetical versions are given in the same place from various parts of\nItaly.\n\n    \"Once upon a time,\n    An old man and an old woman\n    Were on top of a mountain...\n    Be quiet, for I am going to tell you it.\"\n\n    --Naples.\n\n\n    \"Once upon a time there was a man\n    Behind the church\n    With a basket on his back...\n    But be still if I am to tell you it!\"\n\n    --Milan, _Nov. fior._ p. 570.\n\nSome more rhymes of this class may be found in Papanti, _Nov. pop.\nlivor_, p. 17: \"Once upon a time there was a man, whose name was\nBoccabella, who skinned his wife to make a skirt; and skinned his\nchildren to make some towels.\"\n\n    \"Once upon a time there was a man,\n    A woman, and a little bottle...\n    Listen to this!\"\n\n    \"Once upon a time there was a king\n    Who ate more than you;\n    He ate bread and cheese,\n    Pull, pull this nose.\"\n\nHere the speaker pulls the child's nose.\n\n    \"Once upon a time there was a rich poor man\n    Who had seven daughters to marry:\n    On one hand there came a felon,\n    And on the other seven blisters.\"\n\n[3] _Rivista di Letteratura popolare_, vol. I. p. 161 (1878). \"_Una\nVariante toscana della Novella del Petit Poucet_.\" Versions from the\nMarches, the Abruzzi, and Tuscany may now be found in _Giornale di\nFilologia romanza_, II. p. 23; Finamore, _Tradizioni popolari\nabruzzesi_, 1882, No. 47, p. 233; and _Nov. tosc._ No. 42.\n\n[4] The myth of \"Tom Thumb\" has been thoroughly examined in an admirable\nmonograph: _Le Petit Poucet et la Grande Ourse_ par Gaston Paris, Paris,\n1875. The author says in conclusion (p. 52): \"Si nous cherchons enfin\nquels sont les peuples qui nous offrent soit ce conte, soit cette\ndenomination, nous voyons qu'ils comprennent essentiellement les peuples\nslaves (lithuanien, esclavon) et germaniques (allemand, danois, suedois,\nanglais). Les contes des Albanais, des Roumains et des Grecs modernes\nsont sans doute empruntes aux Slaves, comme une tres-grande partie de la\nmythologie populaire de ces nations. Le nom wallon et le conte forezien\nnous montrent en France (ainsi que le _titre_ du conte de Perrault) la\nlegende de Poucet: mais elle a pu fort bien, comme tant d'autres recits\nsemblables, y etre apportee par les Germains. Ni en Italie, ni en\nEspagne, ni dans les pays celtiques je n'ai trouve trace du conte ou du\nnom.\" This latter statement must now, of course, be modified. To the\nreferences in Paris' book may be added: _Romania_, No. 32, p. 59\n(Cosquin, No. 53), and Koehler in _Zeit. f. rom. Phil._ III. p. 617.\n\nThe transformation of the chick-peas into children has a parallel in the\nGreek story of \"Pepper-Corn\" shortly to be mentioned.\n\n[5] The discussion of this point may best be found in the following\nworks: Halliwell's _Nursery Rhymes of England_ (_Percy Soc._ IV.),\nLondon, 1842, pp. 2, 159; _Romania_, I. p. 218; and _Un Canto popolare\npiemontese e un Canto religioso popolare israelitico_. Note e confronti\ndi Cesare Foa, Padova, 1879. The references to the other European\nversions of this story may be found in _Romania_, No. 28, p. 546\n(Cosquin, No. 34), and Koehler in _Zeit. f. rom. Phil._ III. 156.\n\n[6] Halliwell's _Nursery Rhymes_, p. 160.\n\n[7] There is a poetical version of this story in Vigo, _Raccolta\namplissima di Canti pop. sicil._ 2^{da} ediz. Catania, 1870-1874, No.\n4251, beginning:--\n\n    \"Susi, Bittudda\n    Va scupa la casa.\n    --Signura, non pozzu\n    Mi doli lu cozzu,\" etc.\n\nThe ending, however, is incomplete.\n\n[8] Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, p. 232, \"_Micco_.\"\n\n[9] The version from Siena is in _Saggio di Letture varie per i Giovani_\ndi T. Gradi, Torino, 1865, p. 175, \"_La Novella di Petuzzo_;\" the Tuscan\n(Florence) version is in Imbriani, _Nov. fior._ p. 548, \"_Petruzzo_.\"\nAnother Tuscan version may be found in Nerucci, _Cincelle da Bambini_,\nNo. 7; and one from Apulia in _Archivio_, III. p. 69.\n\n[10] Bernoni, _Punt._ III. p. 72, \"_Petin-Petele_.\"\n\n[11] The first part of this story is found also in a Tuscan version\ngiven by Corazzini in his _Componimenti minori_, p. 412, \"_Il Cecio_\"\n(\"The Chick-pea\"). The chick-pea is swallowed by a cock, that is eaten\nby a pig, that is killed by a calf, that is killed and cooked by an\ninnkeeper's wife for her sick daughter, who recovers, and is given in\nmarriage to the owner of the chick-pea.\n\nThe sexton's doubt as to how he shall invest the money he has found is a\nfrequent trait in Italian stories, and is found in several mentioned in\nthis chapter. See notes in Papanti, _Nov. pop. livor._ p. 29. Copious\nreferences to this class of stories may be found in the _Romania_, Nos.\n24, p. 576, and 28, p. 548; Koehler in _Zeitschrift fuer rom. Phil._ II.\n351; Grimm, No. 80; _Orient und Occident_, II. 123; Blade, _Agenais_,\nNo. 5; _Melusine_, 148, 218, 426; and Brueyre, p. 376. See also\nHalliwell, p. 33, \"The Cat and the Mouse.\"\n\n[12] This version is a variant of a story in the same collection, p.\n236, which cannot well be translated, as it is mostly in rhyme. There is\nanother version from Montella in the _Principato Ulteriore_, p. 241,\n\"_Lo Haddro e lo Sorece_\" (\"The Cock and the Mouse\"), which has a\nsatirical ending. The beginning is like that of the other versions: the\ncock and the mouse go to gather pears; one falls and wounds the mouse's\nhead. The mouse goes to the physician, who demands rags, the ragman asks\nfor the tail of the dog. The dog demands bread, the baker wood, the\nmountain an axe; the iron-monger says: \"Go to the _galantuomo_\n(gentleman, wealthy person), get some money, and I will give you the\naxe.\" The mouse goes to the _galantuomo_, who says: \"Sit down and write,\nand then I will give you the money.\" So the mouse begins to write for\nthe _galantuomo_, but his head swells and he dies. A similar story is\nfound in Corsica, see Ortoli, p. 237.\n\n[13] It remains to mention two poetical versions: one in Corazzini, from\nVerona, _op. cit._ p. 139, which begins:--\n\n    \"Cos' e questo?\n    La camera del Vesco.\n    Cos' e dentro?\n    Pan e vin,\" etc.\n\n\"What is this? The bishop's chamber. What is in it? Bread and wine.\nWhere is my share? The cat has eaten it. Where is the cat? The stick has\nbeaten him. Where is the stick? The fire has burned it. Where is the\nfire? The water has quenched it. Where is the water? The ox has drunk\nit. Where is the ox? Out in the fields. Who is behind there? My friend\nMatthew. What has he in his hand? A piece of bread. What has he on his\nfeet? A pair of torn shoes. What has he on his back? A whale. What has\nhe in his belly? A balance. What has he on his head? A cap upside down.\"\n\nThe choice of objects is determined by the rhyme, _e. g._:--\n\n    \"Cosa g'alo in schena?\n    Na balena.\n    Cosa g'alo in panza?\n    Una balanza.\"\n\nThe second poetical version is from Turin, and is given by Foa, _op.\ncit._ p. 5. It begins:--\n\n    1. \"A j'era' na crava\n        C' a pasturava,\n        A m' a rout 'l bout\n        Oh 'l bon vin c'a j'era' nt 'l me bout\n        L' e la crava c' a' m l' a rout!\n\n    2. \"A j'e riva-ie l' luv\n        L' a mangia la crava\n        C' a pasturava\n        C' a m' ha rout 'l bout,\" etc. (_ut supra._)\n\nThe following is a literal prose translation of this curious version.\n\n\"There was a goat that was feeding, it has broken my bottle. Oh, the\ngood wine that was in my bottle, it is the goat that has broken it! Then\ncame the wolf that ate the goat that was feeding, that broke my bottle,\netc. Then came the dog, that barked at the wolf, that ate the goat, etc.\nThen came the stick that beat the dog, that barked at the wolf, etc.\nThen came the fire that burned the stick, that beat the dog, etc. Then\ncame the water that quenched the fire, that burned the stick, etc. Then\ncame the ox, that drank the water, that quenched the fire, etc. Then\ncame the butcher that killed the ox, that drank the water, etc. Then\ncame the hangman that hung the butcher, that killed the ox, etc. Then\ncame death, and carried away the hangman, that hung the butcher, etc.\nThen came the wind, that carried away death, that carried away the\nhangman,\" etc.\n\nA variant of this song reminds one more closely of the prose versions.\n\n\"Then came the hangman that hung the butcher, etc. Then came the rat\nthat gnawed the cord, that hung the butcher, etc. Then came the cat that\nate the rat, that gnawed the cord, etc. Then came the dog that caught\nthe cat, that ate the rat, that gnawed the cord,\" etc.\n\nThe above Italian version, it will be clearly seen, is only a popular\nrendition of the Jewish hymn in the _Sepher Haggadah_. Foa, in the work\nabove cited, gives another version from Orio Canarese, and also a number\nof Italian versions of the \"Song of the Kid.\" His conclusion is the same\nas that of Gaston Paris in the _Romania_, I. p. 224, that the \"Song of\nthe Kid\" is not of Jewish origin, but was introduced into the _Haggadah_\nfrom the popular song or story.\n\n[14] A version of this story is found in Morosi's _Studi sui Dialetti\ngreci_, Lecce, 1870.\n\n\nLXXXIX. THE GOAT AND THE FOX.\n\nOnce upon a time a goat entered the den of the fox while the latter was\nabsent. At night the fox returned home, and finding the goat fled\nbecause frightened by the horns. A wolf passed by, and was also\nterrified. Then came a hedgehog and entered the den, and pricked the\ngoat with its quills. The goat came out, and the wolf killed it, and the\nfox ate it.\n\n[15] Grimm, No. 30. Another version from the North of Europe is in\nAsbjornsen, No. 103 [Dasent, _Tales from the Fjeld_, p. 30, \"The Death\nof Chanticleer\"]. Several French versions may be found in the _Romania_,\nNo. 22, p. 244, and _Melusine_, p. 424. There is a Spanish version in\nCaballero's _Cuentos_, etc., Leipzig, 1878, p. 3, \"_La Hormiguita_\"\n(\"The Little Ant\"). There is a curious version in Hahn's _Griechische\nund Albanesische Maerchen_, Leipzig, 1864, No. 56, \"Pepper-Corn.\" The\nstory is from Smyrna, and is as follows:--\n\n\nPEPPER-CORN.\n\nOnce upon a time there was an old man and an old woman who had no\nchildren; and one day the old woman went into the fields and picked a\nbasket of beans. When she had finished, she looked into the basket and\nsaid: \"I wish all the beans were little children.\" Scarcely had she\nuttered these words when a whole crowd of little children sprang out of\nthe basket and danced about her. Such a family seemed too large for the\nold woman, so she said: \"I wish you would all become beans again.\"\nImmediately the children climbed back into the basket and became beans\nagain, all except one little boy, whom the old woman took home with her.\n\nHe was so small that everybody called him little Pepper-Corn, and so\ngood and charming that everybody loved him.\n\nOne day the old woman was cooking her soup and little Pepper-Corn\nclimbed up on the kettle and looked in to see what was cooking, but he\nslipped and fell into the boiling broth and was scalded to death. The\nold woman did not notice until meal-time that he was missing, and looked\nin vain for him everywhere to call him to dinner.\n\nAt last they sat down to the table without little Pepper-Corn, and when\nthey poured the soup out of the kettle into the dish the body of little\nPepper-Corn floated on top.\n\nThen the old man and the old woman began to mourn and cry: \"Dear\nPepper-Corn is dead, dear Pepper-Corn is dead.\"\n\nWhen the dove heard it she tore out her feathers, and cried: \"Dear\nPepper-Corn is dead. The old man and the old woman are mourning.\"\n\nWhen the apple-tree saw that the dove tore out her feathers it asked her\nwhy she did so, and when it learned the reason it shook off all its\napples.\n\nIn like manner, the well near by poured out all its water, the queen's\nmaid broke her pitcher, the queen broke her arm, and the king threw his\ncrown on the ground so that it broke into a thousand pieces; and when\nhis people asked him what the matter was, he answered: \"Dear Pepper-Corn\nis dead, the old man and the old woman mourn, the dove has torn out her\nfeathers, the apple-tree has shaken off all its apples, the well has\npoured out all its water, the maid has broken her pitcher, the queen has\nbroken her arm, and I, the king, have lost my crown; dear Pepper-Corn is\ndead.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSee also Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 191. There is also a version in Morosi,\n_op. cit._, given by Imbriani in _Pomiglianesi_, p. 268; and mention is\nmade of one from the Abruzzi in Finamore, _Trad. pop. abruzzesi_, p.\n244.\n\n[16] In addition to the versions mentioned in the text, Imbriani\n(_Pomiglianesi_, pp. 250, 252) gives two versions from Lecco.\n\nThe following version is found in Morosi, p. 73.\n\n\nXC. THE ANT AND THE MOUSE.\n\nThere was once an ant who, while sweeping her house one day, found three\n_quattrini_, and began to say: \"What shall I buy? What shall I buy?\nShall I buy meat? No, because meat has bones, and I should choke. Shall\nI buy fish? No, for fish has bones, and I should be scratched.\" After\nshe had mentioned many other things, she concluded to buy a red ribbon.\nShe put it on, and sat in the window. An ox passed by and said: \"How\npretty you are! do you want me for your husband?\" She said: \"Sing, so\nthat I may hear your voice.\" The ox with great pride raised his voice.\nAfter the ant had heard it, she said: \"No, no, you frighten me.\"\n\nA dog passed by, and the same happened to him as to the ox. After many\nanimals had passed, a little mouse went by and said: \"How pretty you\nare! do you want me for your husband?\" She said: \"Let me hear you sing.\"\nThe mouse sang, and went, _pi, pi, pi!_ His voice pleased the ant, and\nshe took him for her husband.\n\nSunday came, and while the ant was with her friends, the mouse said: \"My\ndear little ant, I am going to see whether the meat that you have put on\nthe fire is done.\" He went, and when he smelled the odor of the meat, he\nwanted to take a little; he put in one paw and burned it; he put in the\nother, and burned that too; he stuck in his nose, and the smoke drew him\ninto the pot, and the poor little mouse was all burned. The ant waited\nfor him to eat. She waited two, she waited three hours, the mouse did\nnot come. When she could wait no longer, she put the dinner on the\ntable. But when she took out the meat, out came the mouse dead. When she\nsaw him the ant began to weep, and all her friends; and the ant remained\na widow, because he who is a mouse must be a glutton. If you don't\nbelieve it, go to her house and you will see her.\n\n[17] Other Italian versions are: Pitre, No. 136, \"_Li Vecchi_\" (\"The Old\nFolks\"); and _Nov. fior._ p. 567, \"The Story of Signor Donato.\"\n\n[18] There are two versions of this story in Pitre, No. 139, and notes.\nThey differ but little from the one we have translated. An Istrian\nversion is in Ive, _Fiabe pop. rovignesi_, 1878, No. 4, \"_I tri fardai_\"\nand a Corsican one in Ortoli, p. 278.\n\n[19] Other Italian versions are: Coronedi-Berti, p. 49, \"_La Fola d'\nZanninein_;\" and Bernoni, _Trad. pop._ p. 79, \"_Rosseto_.\"\n\n[20] There is another Italian version in _Fiabe Mantovane_, No. 31, \"The\nWolf.\" The only parallel I can find to this story out of Italy is a\nnegro story in _Lippincott's Magazine_, December, 1877, \"Folk-Lore of\nthe Southern Negroes,\" p. 753, \"Tiny Pig.\" Allusion is made to the\nAnglo-Saxon story of the \"Three Blue Pigs,\" but I have been unable to\nfind it.\n\n[21] A Sicilian version is in Pitre, No. 278, \"_L'Acidduzzu_\" (\"Little\nBird\"), and one from Tuscany in Nerucci, _Cincelle da Bambini_, No. 12.\n\n[22] Koehler, in his notes to this story, gives parallels from various\nparts of Europe. To these may be added Asbjornsen and Moe, Nos. 42, 102\n[Dasent, _Tales from the Fjeld_, p. 35, \"The Greedy Cat\"]. Comp.\nHalliwell, p. 29, \"The story of Chicken-licken.\" A French version is in\nthe _Romania_, No. 32, p. 554 (Cosquin, No. 45), where copious\nreferences to this class of stories may be found. Add to these those by\nKoehler in _Zeitschrift fuer rom. Phil._ III. p. 617.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nSTORIES AND JESTS.\n\n[1] A well-known literary version of this story is Sachetti, Nov. IV.\nCopious references to this popular story will be found in Oesterley's\nnotes to Pauli's _Schimpf und Ernst_, No. 55; see also Pitre, IV. pp.\n392, 437. The entire literature of the subject is summed up in a\nmasterly manner by Professor F. J. Child in _English and Scottish\nPopular Ballads_, Part II. p. 403.\n\n[2] There is a version from Siena in Gradi, _Saggio di Letture varie_,\np. 179, \"_Tea, Tecla e Teopista_;\" and from Rome in Busk, pp. 357, 367.\nReferences to other European versions of this story may be found in\nGrimm, Nos. 34, 104; Schneller, No. 56, \"_Die naerrischen Weiber_;\"\nZingerle, _Maerchen_, I. No. 14; Dasent's _Tales from the Norse_, p. 191,\n\"Not a Pin to choose between Them\" (Asbj. & M., No. 10); Ralston, _R. F.\nT._ pp. 52-54; _Jahrbuch_, V. 3, Koehler to Cenac Moncaut's _Contes pop.\nde la Gascogne_, p. 32, \"_Maitre Jean l'habile Homme_;\" _Orient und\nOccident_, II. p. 319; Koehler to Campbell, No. 20, \"The Three Wise Men,\"\np. 686, to No. 48, \"Sgire Mo Chealag.\"\n\n[3] This story is sometimes found as one of the episodes of the last\ntale, as for example in Schneller, No. 56. Imbriani, _Pomiglianesi_, p.\n227, cites as parallels: Coronedi-Berti, XII. \"_La fola dla Patalocca_;\"\nBeroaldo di Verville, _Le Moyen de Parvenir_, LXXVIII.; and a story in\n_La Civilta italiana_, 1865, No. 13. See also _Romania_, VI. p. 551 (E.\nCosquin, _Contes pop. lorrains_, No. 22), and _Jahrb._ VIII. 267, Koehler\nto the above cited story in the _Civilta ital._ from Calabria. It is\nalso the story of \"The Miser and his Wife\" in Halliwell, p. 31.\n\n[4] There is a literary version in Straparola, VIII. 1. Other literary\nversions are cited in Pitre, IV. p. 443.\n\n[5] Pitre, No. 257, where references to other Italian versions may be\nfound. See also Pitre, IV. pp. 412 and 447; and Koehler's notes to Blade,\n_Contes pop. recueillis en Agenais_, p. 155, for other European\nversions. Additional references may be found in Oesterley's notes to\nPauli's _Schimpf und Ernst_, No. 595. A similar story is in Pitre's\n_Nov. tosc._ No. 67.\n\n[6] Pitre, No. 180. A literary version is in Straparola, VIII. 6. For\nother references see Schmidt, Straparola, p. 329; and Oesterley's notes\nto Pauli's _Schimpf und Ernst_, No. 357.\n\n[7] This story is found in Gonz., No. 75, \"_Von Firrazzanu_,\" and is\n(with the queen's attempt to punish him for it) the only joke in that\ncollection relating to Firrazzanu. A literary version is in Bandello,\n_Novelle_, IV. 27.\n\n[8] See Pitre, No. 156, var. 5 (III. p. 181).\n\n[9] Imbriani in his notes to Pitre (IV. p. 417) gives a French version\nof this joke entitled: _Un Neveu pratique_.\n\n[10] The name Giufa is retained in many localities with slight phonetic\nchanges. Thus it is Giuca in Trapani; Giucha in the Albanian colonies in\nSicily; in Acri, Giuvali; and in Tuscany, Rome, and the Marches, Giucca.\nPitre, III. p. 371, adds that the name Giufa is the same as that of an\nArab tribe. The best known continental counterparts of Giufa are\nBertoldino and Cacasenno (see Olindo Guerrini, _La Vita e le Opere di\nGiulio Cesare Croce_, Bologna, 1879, pp. 257-279). Tuscan versions of\nthe stories of Giufa given in the text may be found in _Nov. tosc._ pp.\n179-193.\n\n[11] The same story is told by Miss Busk, \"The Booby,\" p. 371, and is in\nthe _Pent._ I. 4. It is probably founded on the well-known fable of\nAesop, \"_Homo fractor simulacri_\" (ed. Furia, No. 21), which seems very\nwidely spread. A Russian version, from Afanasieff, is in De Gub., _Zool.\nMyth._ I. p. 176. See also Benfey, _Pant._ I. p. 478; and Koehler to\nGonz., No. 37.\n\n[12] In Gonz., No. 37, Giufa takes the cloth, and on his way to the\ndyer's sits down to rest on a heap of stones in a field. A lizard creeps\nout from the stones, and Giufa, taking it for the dyer, leaves the cloth\non the stones and returns home. His mother, of course, sends him\nimmediately back for the cloth, but it has disappeared, as well as the\nlizard. Giufa cries: \"Dyer, if you don't give me back my cloth I will\ntear down your house.\" Then he begins to pull down the heap of stones,\nand finds a pot of money which had been hidden there. He takes it home\nto his mother, who gives him his supper and sends him to bed, and then\nburies the money under the stairs. Then she fills her apron with figs\nand raisins, climbs upon the roof, and throws figs and raisins down the\nchimney into Giufa's mouth as he lies in his bed. Giufa is well pleased\nwith this, and eats his fill. The next morning he tells his mother that\nthe Christ child has thrown him figs and raisins from heaven the night\nbefore. Giufa cannot keep the pot of money a secret, but tells every one\nabout it, and finally is accused before the judge. The officers of\njustice go to Giufa's mother and say: \"Your son has everywhere told that\nyou have kept a pot of money which he found. Do you not know that money\nthat is found must be delivered up to the court?\" The mother protests\nthat she knows nothing about the money, and that Giufa is always telling\nstupid stories. \"But mother,\" said Giufa, \"don't you remember when I\nbrought you home the pot, and in the night the Christ child rained figs\nand raisins from heaven into my mouth?\" \"There, you see how stupid he\nis,\" says the mother, \"and that he does not know what he says.\" The\nofficers of justice go away thinking, \"Giufa is too stupid!\"\n\nKoehler, in his Notes to Gonz., No. 37, cites as parallels to the above,\n_Pent._ I. 4, and _Thousand and One Nights_, Breslau trans. XI.\n\n144. For the rain of figs and raisins he refers to _Jahrb._ VIII. 266\nand 268; and to Campbell, II. 385, for a shower of milk porridge. See\nNote 16 of this chapter, and _Indian Fairy Tales_, p. 257.\n\n[13] See Max Mueller's _Chips_, II. p. 229, and Benfey, _Pant._ I. p.\n293.\n\n[14] See Imbriani, _Nov. fior._ p. 545; Papanti, _Nov. pop. livor._ No.\n3; and Bernoni, _Punt._ III. p. 83.\n\n[15] See Robert, _Fables inedites_, II. p. 136. The Italian literary\nversions are: Morlini, XXI., Straparola, XIII. 4; and two stories\nmentioned by Imbriani in his _Nov. fior._ pp. 545, 546.\n\n[16] This episode is in Strap. XIII. 4; Pitre, IV. p. 291, gives a\nversion from the Albanian colony of Piana de' Greci, sixteen miles from\nPalermo. In the same vol., p. 444, he gives a variant from Erice in\nwhich, after Giufa has killed the \"_canta-la-notti_,\" his mother climbs\na fig-tree and rains down figs into the mouth of Giufa, who is standing\nunder. In this way she saves herself from the accusation of having\nthrown a murdered man into the well. See Note 12. For another Sicilian\nversion of this episode see Gonz., No. 37 (I. p. 252).\n\n[17] Papanti, p. 65. Copious references will be found in Papanti, pp.\n72-81; Oesterley to Pauli, _Schimpf und Ernst_, No. 416; and Kirchof,\n_Wendunmuth_, I. 122; and Koehler's notes to Sercambi's Novels in\n_Jahrb._ XII. p. 351.\n\n[18] Koehler, in his notes to Gonz., No. 37 (II. p. 228), cites for this\nstory: _Thousand and One Days_, V. 119; _Pent._ I. 4; Grimm, II. 382;\nMorlini, No. 49; Zingerle, I. 255; Bebelius, _Facetiae_, I. 21; Blade,\n_Contes et Proverbes_, Paris, 1867, p. 21; and Bertoldino (Florence,\nSalani), p. 31, \"_Bertoldino entra nella cesta dell' oca a covare in\ncambio di lei_.\" In the story in the _Fiabe Mant._ No. 44, \"_Il Pazzo_\"\n(\"The Fool\"), the booby kills his own mother by feeding her too much\nmacaroni when she is ill.\n\n[19] See Pitre, No. 190, var. 9; _Jahrb._ V. 18; Simrock, _Deutsche\nMaerchen_, No. 18 (_Orient und Occident_, III. p. 373); Hahn, No. 34;\n_Jahrb._ VIII. 267; _Melusine_, p. 89; _Nov. fior._ p. 601; _Romania_,\nVI. p. 551; Busk, pp. 369, 374; and _Fiabe Mant._ No. 44.\n\nIn the Sicilian stories Giufa simply takes the door off its hinges and\ncarries it to his mother, who is in church. In the other Italian\nversions the booby takes the door with him, and at night carries it up\ninto a tree. Robbers come and make a division of their booty under the\ntree, and the booby lets the door fall, frightens them away, and takes\ntheir money himself.\n\n[20] See Koehler's notes to Gonz., II. p. 228. To these may be added, for\nthe story of Giufa planting the ears and tails of the swine in the\nmarsh: Ortoli, p. 208; _Melusine_, p. 474; and _Romania_, VII. p. 556,\nwhere copious references to parallels from all of Europe may be found.\nIn the story in Ortoli, cited above, the priest's mother is killed, as\nin text.\n\n[21] For the literal throwing of eyes, see: _Jahrb._ V. p. 19; Grimm,\nNo. 32 (I. p. 382); _Nov. fior._ p. 595; Webster, _Basque Legends_, p.\n69; _Orient und Occident_, II. 684 (Koehler to Campbell, No. 45).\n\n[22] See Gonz., Nos. 70, 71, and Koehler's notes, II. p. 247. Other\nItalian versions are: De Gub., _Sto. Stefano_, No. 30; Widter-Wolf, No.\n18, and Koehler's notes (_Jahrb._ VII. 282); Strap., I. 3: _Nov. fior._\np. 604; _Fiabe Mant._ No. 13. To these may be added: _Romania_, V. p.\n357; VI. p. 539; and VIII. p. 570.\n\n[23] See Pitre's notes, IV. pp. 124, 412; and F. Liebrecht in the\n_Academy_, vol. IV. p. 421.\n\n[24] See Pitre's notes, IV. pp. 140, 448; Wright's _Latin Stories_, pp.\n49, 226.\n\n[25] Pitre, No. 290. See Papanti, _op. cit._ p. 197, where other\nversions are cited. To these may be added the story in Marcolf, see\nGuerrini, _Vita di G. C. Croce_, p. 215; and _Marcolphus, Hoc est\nDisputationis_, etc., in _Epistolae obscuror, virorum_, Frankf. a. M.,\n1643, p. 593.\n\nThere is another story in Pitre (No. 200) which is also attributed to\nDante. It is called:--\n\n\nCVI. PETER FULLONE AND THE EGG.\n\nOnce upon a time Peter Fullone, the stone-cutter, was working at the\ncemetery, near the church of Santo Spirito; a man passed by and said:\n\"Peter, what is the best mouthful?\" Fullone answered: \"An egg;\" and\nstopped.\n\nA year later Fullone was working in the same place, sitting on the\nground and breaking stones. The man who had questioned him the year\nbefore passed by again and said: \"Peter, with what?\" meaning: what is\ngood to eat with an egg. \"With salt,\" answered Peter Fullone. He had\nsuch a wise head that after a year he remembered a thing that a\npasser-by had said.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe cemetery alluded to, Pitre says, is beyond the gate of St. Agatha,\nnear the ancient church of Sto. Spirito, where the Sicilian Vespers\nbegan. An interesting article on Peter Fullone may be found in Pitre,\n_Studi di Poesia popolare_, p. 109, \"_Pietro Fullone e le Sfide popolari\nsiciliane_.\"\n\nThe sight-seer in Florence has noticed, on the east side of the square\nin which the cathedral stands, a block of stone built into the wall of a\nhouse, and bearing the inscription, \"_Sasso di Dante_.\" The guide-books\ninform the traveller that this is the stone on which the great poet was\nwont to sit on summer evenings. Tradition says that an unknown person\nonce accosted Dante seated in his favorite place, and asked: \"What is\nthe best mouthful?\" Dante answered: \"An egg.\" A year after, the same\nman, whom Dante had not seen meanwhile, approached and asked: \"With\nwhat?\" Dante immediately replied: \"With salt.\"\n\nA poet, Carlo Gabrielli, put this incident into rhyme, and drew from it\nthe following moral (_senso_):--\n\n    \"L'acuto ingegno grande apporta gloria;\n    Maggior, se v'e congiunta alta memoria.\"\n\nSee Papanti, _op. cit._ pp. 183, 205.\n\n[26] This story is told in almost the same words in Pitre, No. 297, \"The\nPeasant and the King.\" There are several Italian literary versions, the\nbest known being in the _Cento nov. ant._ ed. Borghini, Nov. VI.: see\nD'Ancona's notes to this novel in the _Romania_, III. p. 185, \"_Le Fonti\ndel Novellino_.\" It is also found in the _Gesta Romanorum_, cap. 57, see\nnotes in Oesterley's edition; and in Simrock's _Deutsche Maerchen_, No.\n8, see Liebrecht's notes in _Orient und Occident_, III. p. 372. To the\nabove may, finally, be added Koehler's notes to Gonz., No. 50 (II. p.\n234).\n\n[27] Comparetti, No. 43, \"_La Ragazza astuta_\" (Barga). The first part\nof the story, dividing the fowl, and sending the presents, which are\npartly eaten on the way, is found in Gonz., No. 1, \"_Die Kluge\nBauerntochter_\" (\"The Peasant's Clever Daughter\"). See Koehler's notes to\nGonz., No. 1 (II. 205); and to Nasr-eddin's _Schwaenke_ in _Orient und\nOccident_, I. p. 444. Grimm, No. 94, \"The Peasant's Wise Daughter,\"\ncontains all the episodes of the Italian story except the division of\nthe fowl. An Italian version in the _Fiabe Mant._ No. 36, \"_La giovane\naccorta_,\" contains the episode of the mortar. The king sends word to\nthe clever daughter that she must procure for him some _ahime_ (sneeze)\nsalad. She sent him some ordinary salad with some garlic sprinkled over\nit, and when he touched it he sneezed (and formed the sound represented\nby the word _ahime_). The rest of the story contains the episode lacking\nin the other popular Italian versions, but found in Grimm, and\ntechnically known as \"_halb geritten_.\" For this episode see _Gesta\nRomanorum_, ed. Oesterley, cap. 124, and Pauli, 423.\n\nAnother Italian version from Bergamo may be found in Corazzini, p. 482,\n\"_La Storia del Pestu d' or_\" (\"The Story of the Gold Pestle\"), which is\nlike the version in the text from the episode of the mortar on. In the\nstory from Bergamo it is a gold pestle, and not a mortar, that is found,\nand the story of \"_halb geritten_\" is retained. The episode of the foal\nis changed into a sharp answer made (at the queen's suggestion) by the\nking's herdsman to his master, who had failed to pay him for his\nservices. A version from Montale, Nerucci, p. 18, \"_Il Mortajo d'oro_\"\n(\"The Golden Mortar\"), contains all the episodes of the story in the\ntext (including \"_halb geritten_\") except the division of the fowl. The\nfirst part of the story is found in a tale from Cyprus, in the _Jahrb._\nXI. p. 360.\n\nA parallel to the story in our text may also be found in Ralston's _R.\nF. T._ p. 30. The literature of the story of \"The Clever Girl\" may be\nfound in Child's _English and Scottish Popular Ballads_, Part I. p. 6,\n\"The Elfin Knight.\"\n\n[28] _Fiabe Mantovane_, No. 41, \"_Gambara_.\" The Italian for crab is\n_gambero_. There is a Tuscan story (_Nov. pop. tosc._ p. 8), \"_Il Medico\ngrillo_\" (\"Doctor Cricket\"), with reference perhaps to the other meaning\nof _grillo_, whim, fancy, which reminds one of the story in the text.\nThe pretended doctor cures a king's daughter by making her laugh so hard\nthat she dislodges a fish-bone that had stuck in her throat. Doctor\nCricket becomes so popular that the other doctors starve, and finally\nask the king to kill him. The king refuses, but sets him a difficult\ntask to do, namely, to cure all the patients in the hospital; failing to\naccomplish this, he is to be killed or dismissed. Doctor Cricket has a\nhuge cauldron of water heated, and then goes into the wards and tells\nthe patients that when the water is hot they are all to be put into it,\nbut if any one wishes to depart he can go away then. Of course they all\nrun away in haste, and when the king comes the hospital is empty. The\ndoctor is then richly rewarded, and returns to his home.\n\nFor parallels to our story see Pitre's notes, vol. IV. p. 442, and to\nthe Tuscan story above-mentioned.\n\nAnother Tuscan version has recently been published in _Nov. tosc._ No.\n60. See also Grimm, No. 98; Asbjornsen, _Ny Sam._ No. 82 [Dasent, _Tales\nfrom the Fjeld_, p. 139, \"The Charcoal Burner\"]; Caballero, _Cuentos_,\np. 68; _Orient und Occident_, I. 374; and Benfey, _Pant._ I. 374. There\nis a story in Straparola (XIII. 6) that recalls the story in our text. A\nmother sends her stupid son to find \"good day\" (_il buon di_). The youth\nstretched himself in the road near the city gate where he could observe\nall those who entered or left the town. Now it happened that three\ncitizens had gone out into the fields to take possession of a treasure\nthat they had discovered. On their return they greeted the youth in the\nroad with \"good day.\" The youth said, when the first one saluted him: \"I\nhave one of them,\" meaning one of the good days, and so on with the\nother two. The citizens who had found the treasure, believing that they\nwere discovered, and that the youth would inform the magistrates of the\nfind, shared the treasure with him.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF WORKS MOST FREQUENTLY REFERRED TO IN THE NOTES.\n\n(_For works relating directly to Italian Popular Tales, see\nBibliography._)\n\n\nAsbjornsen: Norske Folke-Eventyr fortalte af P. Chr. Asbjornsen. Ny\nSamling. Christiania, 1871. 8^o. [English version in Tales from the\nFjeld. A second series of Popular Tales from the Norse of P. Chr.\nAsbjornsen. By G. W. Dasent, London, 1874.]\n\nAsbjornsen and Moe: Norse Folke-Eventyr fortalte af P. Chr. Asbjornsen\nog Jorgen Moe. 5^{te} Udgave. Christiania, 1874. 8^o. [Partly translated\nby G. W. Dasent in Popular Tales from the Norse. 2d ed. Edinburgh, 1859.\nNew York, 1859.]\n\nBasque Legends: collected, chiefly in the Labourd, by the Rev. Wentworth\nWebster. London, 2d ed. 1879. 8^o.\n\nBenfey, Pantschatantra: Fuenf Buecher indischer Fabeln, Maerchen und\nErzaehlungen. Aus dem Sanskrit uebersetzt mit Einleitung und Anmerkungen\nvon Theodor Benfey. Erster Theil, Einleitung. Leipzig, 1859. 8^o.\n\nBlade: Contes populaires recueillis en Agenais par M. Jean-Francois\nBlade suivis de notes comparatives par M. Reinhold Koehler. Paris, 1874.\n8^o.\n\nBrueyre: Contes populaires de la Grande-Bretagne par Loys Brueyre.\nParis, 1875. 8^o.\n\nCosquin, Emmanuel: Contes populaires lorrains recueillis dans un village\ndu Barrois, a Montiers-sur-Baulx (Meuse), _Romania_, V. 83, 133; VI.\n212, 529; VII. 527; VIII. 545; IX. 377; X. 117, 543.\n\nCox: The Mythology of the Aryan Nations. By G. W. Cox. 2 vols. London,\n1870. 8^o.\n\nDunlop-Liebrecht: Geschichte der Prosadichtung. Aus dem englischen von\nF. Liebrecht. Berlin, 1851. 8^o.\n\nFolk-Lore Record, London, 1879-1882. 5 vols. 8^o.\n\nGesammtabenteuer. Von F. H. von der Hagen. 3 vols. Stuttgart und\nTuebingen, 1850. 8^o.\n\nGesta Romanorum von Herm. Oesterley. Berlin, 1872. 8^o.\n\nGraesse, J. G. T.: Die grossen Sagenkreise des Mittelalters. Dresden und\nLeipzig, 1842. 8^o.\n\nGrimm, The Brothers: Grimm's Household Tales. With the Author's Notes\ntranslated from the German and edited by M. Hunt. With an Introduction\nby A. Lang, M. A. In two volumes. London: G. Bell & Sons. 1884. (Bohn's\nStandard Library.) [This excellent version contains all the stories and\nnotes of the third edition of the original text, Goettingen, 1856, the\nthird volume of which, containing the notes, is rather scarce. The\nnumbers of the stories correspond in the German and English editions,\nand the latter will be cited for the convenience of the reader.]\n\nGrundtwig: Danske Folkeminder, Viser, Sagn og Eventyr. Udgivne af Svend\nGrundtwig. Kjobenhavn, 1861. 1^{ste}-3^{die} Samling. 8^o.\n\nHahn: Griechische und Albanesische Maerchen. Gesammelt, uebersetzt und\nerlaeutert von J. G. von Hahn. Leipzig, 1864. 2 vols. 8^o.\n\nHalliwell, J. O.: Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales. London, 1849. 12^o.\n\nKreutzwald: Ehstnische Maerchen. Aufgezeichnet von Friedrich Kreutzwald.\nHalle, 1869. 8^o.\n\nLuzel: Contes bretons recueillis et traduits par F. M. Luzel. Quimperle,\n1870. 8^o.\n\nMelusine: Revue de Mythologie, Litt. pop., Traditions et usages, dirigee\npar MM. H. Gaidoz et E. Rolland. Paris, 1877, 1884. 4^o.\n\nNisard, Ch.: Histoire des Livres populaires. Paris, 1854. 2 vols. 8^o.\n\nNovelle Ant. Biagi: Le Novelle Antiche dei codici\nPanciatichiano-Palatino 138 e Laurenziano-Gaddiano 193, con una\nintroduzione etc per Guido Biagi. Florence, 1880. 8^o.\n\nNovelle Ant. Borg: Le Cento Novelle Antiche secondo l'edizione del\nMDXXV. corrette ed illustrate con note. Milano, 1825. 8^o.\n\nNovelle Ant. Gualt.: Cento Novelle Antiche. Libro di Novelle e di Bel\nparlar gentile (Gualteruzzi da Fano). Florence (Naples), 1727. 8^o.\n\nNovelle Ant. Papanti. _Romania_, vol. III. p. 189.\n\nOld Deccan Days, or Hindoo Fairy Legends. Collected by M. Frere.\nPhiladelphia: Lippincott & Co. 1868.\n\nOrient und Occident insbes. in ihren gegenwaertigen Beziehungen.\nForschungen und Mittheilungen. Eine Vierteljahrschrift herausgegeben von\nTheodor Benfey. Vols I.-III. Goettingen, 1860-1864. 8^o.\n\nRalston: Russian Folk-Tales. By W. R. S. Ralston. London, 1873. 8^o.\n[There is an American reprint, without date.]\n\nRobert: Fables inedites des XII^e, XIII^e, XIV^e Siecles et Fables de La\nFontaine. Par A. C. M. Robert. 2 vols. Paris, 1825. 8^o.\n\nRomania: Recueil Trimestriel consacre a l'etude des langues et des\nlitteratures romanes. Publie par P. Meyer et G. Paris. Paris, 1872,\nstill in course of publication.\n\nRondallayre, lo: Quentos populars catalans coleccionats per F. Maspons y\nLabros. Barcelona, 1871. 18^o.\n\nSchiefner, F. Anton von: Tibetan Tales, done into English from the\nGerman, with an Introduction by W. R. S. Ralston, M. A. London, 1882\n(Truebner's Oriental Series).\n\nStokes, Maive: Indian Fairy Tales. With notes by Mary Stokes, and an\nIntroduction by W. R. S. Ralston, M. A. London, 1880.\n\nSacre Rappresentazioni dei Secoli XIV., XV., XVI. Raccolte e illustrate\nper cura di Alessandro D'Ancona. Florence, 1872. 3 vols. 16^o.\n\nSchimpf und Ernst: J. Pauli. Herausgegeben von Herm. Oesterley.\nBibliothek des Litt. Vereins in Stuttgart. Bd. LXXXV. Stuttgart, 1866.\n8^o.\n\nTausend und Eine Nacht. Arabische Erzaehlungen. Deutsch von M. Habicht,\nvon der Hagen und C. Schall. Breslau, 1836. 15 vols. 8^o.\n\nWendunmuth: Hans Wilhelm Kirchhof, Wendunmuth. Herausgegeben von Herm.\nOesterley. Bibliothek des Litt. Vereins in Stuttgart. Bd. XCV.-XCIX. 5\nvols. 8^o. Tuebingen, 1869.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\nAdmonitions, the Three, story of, 157.\n\nAndromeda, or Princess freed from Dragon, 335.\n\nAngiola, the Fair, story of, 26.\n\nAnimal brothers-in-law, 60;\n  animal children, 324;\n  animals, dispute of, settled by hero, 31.\n\nAnt and the Mouse, story of the, 376.\n\nApple, unequally divided, indicates true friend, 204\n\nAss, story of the, 190.\n\nAss that lays Money, story of the, 123.\n\n\nBaker's Apprentice, story of the, 212.\n\nBarber, story of the, 241.\n\nBasile, Giambattista, xi.\n\nBastianelo, story of, 279.\n\nBeauty and the Beast, 7.\n\nBeppo Pipetta, story of, 222.\n\nBierde, story of, 68.\n\nBird, magic, bestowing gifts, 43;\n  bird, transformation into, 2, 13.\n\nBlood of children restores uncle to life, 87.\n\nBluebeard, 77.\n\nBone of hero as musical instrument discovering murderers, 41;\n  human bone to be eaten, 81.\n\nBonhomme Misere, 215, 222, 367.\n\nBoots, magic, faster than wind, 143.\n\nBottles, seven, filled with tears, 322.\n\nBride, the Forgotten, 58, 71.\n\nBride, the True, 57, 71, 102.\n\nBrother Giovannone, story of, 217.\n\nBrothers, three, born from mother eating magic fish, 30.\n\nBuchettino, story of, 265.\n\nBucket, story of the, 100.\n\nBuddha, parable of, 294.\n\nButtadeu, story of, 197.\n\n\nCapon divided in peculiar manner, 311.\n\nCat and the Mouse, story of the, 257.\n\nCatherine and her Fate, story of, 105.\n\nCento Novelle Antiche, 154, 188.\n\nChess, winning at, disposes of princess's hand, 123.\n\nChick-Pea, Little, story of, 242.\n\nChildren born from chick-peas, 243;\n  from fish, 30, 335;\n  apple-peel, 344;\n  Children promised to witches, 25;\n  to Devil, 136.\n\nChristmas, story of, 283.\n\nCinderella, story of, 42.\n\nCistern, story of the, 36.\n\nClever Girl, story of the, 311.\n\nClever Peasant, story of the, 309.\n\nCloak that renders invisible, 123, 1.\n\nCloud, story of the, 30.\n\nCobbler, the, story of, 94.\n\nCock, story of the, 270.\n\nCock and the Mouse, story of the, 252.\n\nCock that wished to become Pope, story of the, 272.\n\nConstantine's leprosy healed by St. Silvester, 202.\n\nCook, story of the, 275.\n\nCrab, story of, 314.\n\nCrivoliu, story of, 198.\n\nCross protects child against Devil, 137.\n\nCrumb in the Beard, story of the, 110.\n\nCrystal Casket, story of the, 326.\n\nCukasaptati, Oriental collection of tales, 167, 359.\n\nCupid and Psyche, 1, 77.\n\nCure by laughing, 119, 347.\n\nCurse of the Seven Children, story of the, 54.\n\nCymbal, prince concealed in, 64.\n\n\nDanae, 336.\n\nDante, 309, 381.\n\nDaughters, two, good and bad, 100.\n\nDer Kaiser und der Abt, Buerger's poem of, 275.\n\nDevil, how the, married Three Sisters, story of, 78.\n\nDisciplina Clericalis of Petrus Alphonsi, 154, 157, 352, 355.\n\nDoctor's Apprentice, story of the, 287.\n\nDog's face, by witch's imprecation, 29;\n  dogs substituted for queen's children, 19.\n\nDoll which moves, sees, and dresses itself, 114;\n  king's son in love with, 117, 180.\n\nDon Firiulieddu, story of, 241.\n\nDon Joseph Pear, story of, 127.\n\nDon Juan, 235.\n\nDon Quixote, 155.\n\nDoves recall forgotten bride, 75;\n  indicate future Pope, 200.\n\n\nEagle carries hero up from cave, 40.\n\nEat, My Clothes! story of, 296.\n\nEgg which kills fairy, 32.\n\nEyes, diseased, cured by feather of griffin, 40.\n\n\nFables of Oriental origin, 150, 353.\n\nFabliaux, French, 149, 352.\n\nFair Brow, story of, 131.\n\nFairies' gifts, 19, 99, 100, 102.\n\nFate personified, 105.\n\nFeast Day, a, story of, 261.\n\nFigs producing horns, 121.\n\nFiorita, the Fair, story of, 61.\n\nFirrazzanu, stories of, 289, 290;\n  Firrazzanu's Wife and the Queen, 288.\n\nFlesh of hero given to eagle, 40.\n\nFlight of lovers and pursuit by witch, 28, 74, 335.\n\nFool, story of the, 302.\n\nForbidden chamber, 77, 79.\n\nFountain of wine and oil, 72.\n\nFox as Puss in Boots, 127.\n\n\nGentleman who kicked a Skull, story of the, 236.\n\nGesta Romanorum, 183.\n\nGiant with no heart in his body, 32, 335, 355;\n  giant outwitted by men, 89, 94, 95.\n\nGiufa's Exploits, story of, 297.\n\nGiufa and the Judge, story of, 293.\n\nGiufa and the Plaster Statue, story of, 291.\n\nGoat and the Fox, story of the, 375.\n\nGoat, the Iron, 256.\n\nGodfather and Godmother of St. John who made love, story of, 228.\n\nGodfather Misery, story of, 221.\n\nGodmother Fox, 254.\n\nGold, magician's body turned to, 333.\n\nGossips of St. John, story of the, 369.\n\nGregory on the Stone, 198, 363.\n\nGriffin, story of the, 40.\n\nGrimm's Tales cited in text:\n  Allerleirauh, 42;\n  Brother Lustig, 215;\n  Clever Alice, 279;\n  Clever People, 279;\n  Doctor Knowall, 314;\n  Faithful John, 85;\n  Feather Bird [Fitcher's Bird], 77;\n  Golden Goose, 261;\n  Goose-Girl, 57;\n  Handless Maiden, 25;\n  King Thrushbeard, 109;\n  Little Mouse, Little Bird, and the Sausage, 260;\n  Master Thief, 215;\n  Robber Bridegroom, 77;\n  Spider and the Flea, 256;\n  White and the Black Bride, 58;\n  Wood-cutter's Child [Our Lady's Child], 77.\n\nGroomsman, story of the, 231.\n\n\nHair, tresses used as ladder, 3, 27, 72, 83, 335.\n\nHands, clasped, prevent child's birth, 6.\n\nHeart of saint eaten by maiden produces child, 208.\n\nHermit as adviser, 7, 14, 20.\n\nHorn that blows out soldiers, 123.\n\nHouse that Jack built, 247.\n\nHumpbacks, the Two, story of, 103.\n\nHump removed by fairies, 103;\n  added to humpback, 104.\n\n\nIn this World one weeps and another laughs, story of, 190.\n\nIngrates, story of the, 150.\n\n\nJoseph and his Brethren, 211.\n\nJourney of our Saviour on Earth, 189.\n\nJudas, story of, 195.\n\nJust Man, story of the, 226.\n\n\nKing Bean, story of, 12.\n\nKing, Crystal, story of the, 6.\n\nKing John and the Abbot of Canterbury, Percy's poem of, 275.\n\nKing Lear, 333.\n\nKing of Love, story of the, 1.\n\nKing who wanted a Beautiful Wife, story of the, 97.\n\nKiss of mother makes hero forget bride, 71, 74, 343.\n\n\nLa Fontaine, fables of, cited, 149, 294.\n\nLanguage of Animals, story of the, 161.\n\nLeprosy healed by human blood, 207.\n\nLife-giving ointment or leaves, 326.\n\nLionbruno, story of, 136.\n\nLong May, 284.\n\nLord, St. Peter, and the Apostles, story of the, 186.\n\nLord, St. Peter, and the Blacksmith, story of the, 188.\n\nLord's Will, 192.\n\nLove of the Three Oranges, story of the, 338.\n\n\nMalchus at the Column, story of, 197.\n\nMalchus, Desperate, story of, 196.\n\nMan, the Serpent, and the Fox, story of the, 354.\n\nMaria Wood, Fair, story of, 48.\n\nMason and his Son, story of the, 163.\n\nMassariol, domestic spirit of the Venetians, 237.\n\nMedusa, 336.\n\nMelusina, 1.\n\nMother-in-law ill-treats son's wife, 56;\n  killed by boiling oil, 57.\n\nMr. Attentive, story of, 240.\n\n\nNala, story of, in an Italian popular tale, 360\n\nNero, 308.\n\n\nOccasion, story of, 215.\n\nOld Deccan Days, stories from, cited, 85.\n\nOmelet, Little, story of the, 294.\n\nOraggio and Bianchinetta, story of, 58.\n\nOriental elements in Italian popular tales, 149, 352.\n\nOrlanda, the Fairy, story of, 114.\n\n\nPandora's box, 5.\n\nPantschatantra, Italian versions of, 351.\n\nParish Priest of San Marcuola, story of, 234.\n\nParnell's Hermit, 210, 365.\n\nParrot, story of the, first version, 168;\n  second version, 169;\n  third version, 173.\n\nPeasant and the Master, story of the, 150.\n\nPenance, Knight's, 227.\n\nPentamerone, xi.\n\nPepper-Corn, story of, 375.\n\nPerrault, Charles, xii.\n\nPersecution of innocent wife, 326.\n\nPeter Fullone and the Egg, story of, 381.\n\nPhysician, wife disguised as, 15;\n  princess disguised as, 170.\n\nPier delle Vigne, 159.\n\nPig, little, that would not go over the stile, 247.\n\nPilate, story of, 194.\n\nPitidda, story of, 248.\n\nPolyphemus, myth of, 89.\n\nPot that cooks without any fire, 305.\n\nProverbial sayings, 308, 309.\n\nPurse always full of money, 19, 120, 143.\n\nPuss in Boots, story of, 348.\n\n\nRabbit that carries things, 304.\n\nRain of figs and raisins, 380.\n\nRampsinitus, treasure house of, 163.\n\nRiddle, bride won by solving, 66;\n  proposed by suitor, 68;\n  in general, 343.\n\nRing, as means of recognition, 51;\n  turns red and stops steamer at owner's forgetfulness, 114;\n  ring which causes sneezing, 119.\n\nRose discovers concealed princess, 65.\n\nRuby, magic, does all that owner asks, 138.\n\n\nSaddaedda, story of, 238.\n\nSt. James of Galicia, story of, 202.\n\nSt. Oniria or Neria, 208.\n\nSt. Peter and the Robbers, 185.\n\nSt. Peter's Mamma, 192.\n\nSt. Peter and his Sisters, story of, 193.\n\nSanctuary, privilege of, 38.\n\nSarnelli, Pompeo, Bishop of Bisceglie, xii.\n\nScissors they were, story of, 285.\n\nSepher Haggadah, Jewish hymn in, 375.\n\nSeven Wise Masters, the, 159, 160, 161, 167, 168;\n  Italian versions of, 351;\n  in general, 358;\n  Magyar version, 359.\n\nSexton's Nose, story of the, 250.\n\nShepherd, story of the, 156.\n\nShepherd who made the King's Daughter laugh, story of the, 119.\n\nShoes, iron, worn out in search of husband, 7, 322;\n  in search of wife, 142.\n\nSick prince and secret remedy, 325.\n\nSilence of princess disenchants brothers, 55.\n\nSir Fiorante, Magician, story of, 322.\n\nSisters' envy, 7, 17.\n\nSisters, Two, 58, 338.\n\nSkein of silk outweighs king's treasures, 108.\n\nSleep, magic, 82.\n\nSlipper, lost by Cinderella, 46.\n\nSnake, youngest daughter marries, 322.\n\nSnow-White-Fire-Red, story of, 72.\n\nStar on daughter's brow, 18, 101.\n\nStatue, in love with, story of, 85.\n\nStatue, transformation into, 22, 34, 86.\n\nStepmother, story of the, 331.\n\nStepmother persecutes daughter-in-law, 326, 331.\n\nStick, magic, beats thief, 125.\n\nStraparola, Giovan Francesco, x.\n\nSultan's daughter, 132.\n\nSwan-maidens, 76.\n\nSympathetic objects: ring, 11, 19;\n  fish-bone, 30;\n  in general, 326.\n\n\nTablecloth, magic, producing food, 120, 125.\n\nTasks, 5, 7, 30;\n  set suitor by father-in law, 65.\n\nThankful Dead, episode of, 131, 350, 364.\n\nThirteenth, story of, 90.\n\nThoughtless Abbot, story of the, 276.\n\nThousand and One Nights, stories from in Italian popular tales, 151;\n  Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp, 152;\n  Forty Thieves, 152;\n  Third Calendar, 153;\n  Two Envious Sisters, 153;\n  The Hunchback, 153;\n  The Ass, the Ox, and the Peasant, 153;\n  Prince Ahmed and the Fairy Peribanu, 153;\n  Sindbad's Fourth Voyage, 153;\n  The Second Royal Mendicant, 153.\n\nThree Brothers, story of the, 263.\n\nThree Goslings, story of the, 267.\n\nTobit, 211.\n\nTokens, magic: apple, pomegranate, crown, 36.\n\nTom Thumb, 242, 372.\n\nTorches, nuptial, 6.\n\nTransformation of hero into bird, 2, 13;\n  eagle, 32;\n  ant, 32;\n  lion, 33.\n  See _Statue_.\n\nTreasure, story of the, 156.\n\nTreasure stories, 238.\n\nTrue and Untrue, 325.\n\nTruthful Joseph, story of, 184.\n\nTurk, in Sicilian tales, 1, 2, 178.\n\nTurkish corsairs, 132.\n\nTuti-Nameh, 167, 359.\n\n\nUncle Capriano, story of, 303.\n\n\nVineyard I was and Vineyard I am, story of, 159.\n\n\nWager, story of the, 284.\n\nWandering Jew, 197, 363.\n\nWater and Salt, story of, 332.\n\nWater, Dancing, the Singing Apple, and the Speaking Bird, story of the, 17.\n\nWater of life, 53.\n\nWhistle that brings dead to life, 306;\n  whistle which makes people dance, 120.\n\nWhittington and his Cat, 365.\n\nWitches' council under tree, 14;\n  imprecation, 338.\n\nWooden dress, disguise of heroine, 48.\n\n\nZelinda and the Monster, story of, 7.","title":"Italian Popular Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":163225}