Chapter II: Part 2

Then he could not any longer contain himself, and started to run after the second hare, entangling his spurs in the under-growth and stumbling and falling at every step.

Like one who took no interest the hare went slowly to its lair, and after it our enraged Don Teobaldo, resolved to make a terrible hash of the jesting animal.

"This seems to be a thing of the devil," he said. "All the hares have agreed to make fun of me."

At length, after a good while, Don Teobaldo, with his tongue hanging out, arrived at a kind of cave, in the black depths of which he lost sight of the hare.

"Well, now, I have to find you even if you are the devil himself in person."

"Your servant," said a voice of rare quality; and a man with a strange face and eyes of fire presented himself before Don Teobaldo, saluting him with burlesque courtesy.

"Caramba!" exclaimed Don Teobaldo, without being frightened, because he was a very valorous man. "If I must tell the truth, I wished to know you personally."

"And do you not feel afraid?"

"Not at all. And since you are so familiar with me, I shall treat you in the same way. I want to make an arrangement with you."

"Speak."

"First answer me: are you the hare that I pursued?"

"The same. I knew that you were engaged in an affair and wished to speak to me, and brought you to my house so that we could talk comfortably."

And the devil started laughing, flames shooting out of his mouth. It was a sign that he was happy.

"Well, you shall see. You must know that to-morrow the tournament in which the hand of the king's daughter is to be disputed will take place. The victor will become hereditary prince, and I, frankly, wish to occupy the post. It is therefore necessary that you make me conquer in the fray."

"And what will you give me in exchange?"

"Whatever you ask me."

"That you make the princess forget her faith in God. I already have you, and I want the princess."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

And the devil and Don Teobaldo shook hands. The latter drew his back, saying:

"How you burn."

The devil said to him:

"To-morrow, at the hour of the fight, a squire in black armour will come and see you. I will give you a cuirass made in such a way that it cannot be pierced through; a shield which will dazzle and stupefy your adversaries if only looked at; a charmed sword, a touch with which will produce death; and a horse as black as ebony which has the advantage of requiring neither curb nor spurs: you will only wear them as ornaments.... In a word, the horse--will be me."

"Oh, thanks, but I am sorry to trouble you."

"Don't let us say a word about this affair. I have resolved to carry away the soul of this princess, who wearies me with her prayers and psalms, and I have not been able to make her sin, even in thought."

And the devil caught up Don Teobaldo with his cape and left him at the door of his house, after passing through the air at a prodigious speed. On disappearing, he said in his ear: "Good-bye till to-morrow."

On the following day the city was decorated with pennons and banners. The entire population flocked to the place where the hand of the beautiful princess, whose virtues everybody praised highly, was to be won in open contest.

Thirty knights took part in the struggle, and as they were the bravest in the kingdom the spectacle promised to be interesting, though barbarous; but such were the customs of those times.

The king and the court occupied the grand stand, the princess being in the front row. The public took the rest of the seats, and the heralds announced that the jousts were about to commence.

Don Teobaldo appeared in the foreground upon a beautiful black horse, large black plumes waved over the crest of his helmet, and the armour which he wore was also black.

On seeing his proud countenance one could not doubt his certainty of obtaining the victory.

The signal was given, and another valiant knight came into the arena and rushed upon horrible Don Teobaldo at his horse's full gallop.

When he was near, the devil's friend oscillated his shield, and his adversary, without being able to prevail, fell to the ground unconscious.

Another and another and another, and twenty more, went forth to fight and suffered the same fate. Whoever resisted the mysterious action of the shield, fell dead from a blow of the sword, even when only touched with the flat of it.

The people gave shouts of despair on account of the horror which that man inspired in them. The princess was on the point of losing consciousness from terror on seeing that terrible spouse who was offering her his disgrace.

"Heaven!" she exclaimed, "death before being the wife of that wicked man."

And now, the last champion having suffered the same defeat as the others, they were about to proclaim Don Teobaldo conqueror, and therefore the husband of the princess, when the trumpet sounded, announcing that a noble knight asked permission to take part in the struggle.

The king looked at his daughter and, on seeing her so sorrow-stricken, gave the desired permission, with the remote hope that the new-comer, whoever he might be, would vanquish the terrible champion.

They requested him to tell his name and surname, but the knight said:

"My name is Miguel; my surname I reserve until after the fight, if I emerge victorious, but rest assured that there is no one more noble on earth."

And he rode into the lists, arousing a murmur of admiration; his armour was all white as ermine, and the plumes of his helmet were also white.

White, of a dazzling white, was the beautiful horse he rode.

Don Teobaldo was greatly impressed by the sight, and more so the devil, who with a neigh said: "I am glad you have come to fight, Miguel; we have an old account to settle."

And turning his head to Don Teobaldo, he added:

"Pull out one of the hairs of my mane and keep it in your pocket, with this you will have as much power as I. Try to defend yourself to the last, for our adversary is terrible."

No sooner said than done. Don Teobaldo pulled out one of the hairs of the devil's mane and kept it, and immediately felt strong and powerful. Blinded by all the pride of the Infernal One, he assailed the knight of the white armour, trying to fascinate him with his shield. Useless task!

The knight raised the visor of his helmet and showed the handsomest countenance that ever was seen. That lovely face sent out celestial rays.

"Ah, Luzbel!" cried he. "Do you rebel against me?"

And, throwing aside his spear, he drew his sword, whose brilliance eclipsed that of the sun itself, and threw himself upon Don Teobaldo. The black horse snorted, roared, bounded, evading the blows with superhuman skill. Don Teobaldo's sword fell upon Miguel's white shield two hundred times, but in vain, until dazed and vanquished horse and rider fell at the feet of the handsome knight.

"Get you hence!" he said in a voice of infinite pity. "Know that you are my slave until the completion of the centuries, and that you have no power against God our Lord."

"Princess," he added, "you are saved. Your prayer reached the Most High, and I, who am the Archangel Miguel, came to set you free from the snares of the demon. Continue virtuous and you will receive your reward."

And so saying he disappeared.

Meanwhile the devil wished to vanish, but Don Teobaldo remembered his deceit, and as he had power over the demon, thanks to the hair that he had pulled out, began to belabour him with spurs and sword, making him bounce as high as the highest houses. Don Teobaldo did not move from the saddle and finished by giving the devil such a superb thrashing as nearly finished him.

"Let me be, and I will not trouble you again," cried Luzbel.

"Will you ask for my soul?"

"Neither your soul nor your body, but let me alone now."

Then Don Teobaldo, whose heart had been touched by the glance of the angel and moved to repentance, dismounted from the horse and left it free to disappear.

And so ended those famous jousts, which were never eradicated from the memory of the public.

The princess, the following year, married a prince as virtuous as herself, and Don Teobaldo did penance and became a good Christian who had a just satisfaction in having administered a sound thrashing to the devil.

*THE TREASURE OF THE DRAGON*

An old sailor brought to my town the news of having seen, in a very distant island, a terrible dragon which guarded an immense treasure. Half of the body of this guardian was a fish, the other half a lion; it moreover had such powerful wings that it could rise to an extraordinary height. Air, water, or land were his elements, and when any ships came near to the coast they were soon attacked by that ever vigilant monster.

Many expeditions were made, but all succumbed to the talons of that invincible animal; moreover, the treasure was so splendid that it excited the envy of adventurers from all parts of the earth.

Among the innumerable precious stones which with thousands of gold bars formed those riches, there was a statue of natural size made out of a single diamond, and which was worth such a fabulous sum that all the treasures of the earth would not suffice to buy it.

The fear of the dragon did not lessen the enthusiasm of the lads of my town; on the contrary, it was a further stimulus to their bravery and daring, and so, in little less than a month, an expedition was formed of the bravest and most ambitious.

They set out on the 15th of September on a bark named the _Temeraire_--a handsome brigantine, the swiftest that ever glided over the waves. After fourteen days' sailing they found themselves at about a league from the island where the treasure and the dragon were. Behold what happened!

The members of the expedition met in council in order to take their measures, and agreed as follows: to launch some boats in order to land in three or four places at the same time; to carry a great quantity of ammunition so as to be able to fire upon the dragon; and, lastly, to divide the treasure in equal parts and to distribute it among the expeditionaries. There was only one vote against, that of a cabin boy, a youth of eighteen, who opposed the dividing of the party, believing it better to wait for the dragon on board the ship, and from there to fight it with cannons.

"If you are afraid, stay behind," they all said to him, and nobody paid any attention to the cabin boy's scheme.

As nobody trusted his companions, all embarked in the bunches, fearful of being cheated if they did not witness the division of the treasure, leaving on board only the cabin boy and the pilot, a very experienced old sailor who had not uttered any opinion at the meeting. The launches being full and the crews armed, they left the ship and rowed near to the coast.

Pascual, for so the cabin boy was named, prepared the bow-gun, loading it up to the mouth, and also seized a strong sharp spear. Then he sat down in the bows, and from there, with a telescope, watched the progress of his companions. The latter were about a hundred yards from the coast when a tremendous roar was heard; he saw the dragon fly up into the air and fall upon one of the launches. Several gunshots were heard, and soon the launch disappeared under the water. The bullets glanced off the skin of the terrible animal, which threw itself in turn upon the other launches and sank them.

Its work of extermination finished, the dragon returned to the island, shaking its wings, reddened by the blood of its victims.

The pilot, terrified, wished to go back to his country, but Pascual prevented it, and directed him to go at full sail towards the island.

The pilot gave way to the solicitations of the cabin boy, who now no longer thought of the treasure but of avenging the death of his companions.

They had arrived at some hundred fathoms from the coast when they saw the dragon, which was advancing towards them. Pascual rapidly aimed the small cannon, but the ball struck on some rocks, and the dragon, more irritated than ever, threw himself upon the brigantine. It described a couple of circles in the air like an eagle choosing its prey, and at length threw itself upon Pascual, who, mounted on a round house, valiantly waited for it.

Such was the violence of the attack that the dragon, on attempting to break the spear with which the heroic boy greeted it, sent it quite through one of its claws, and so great was the pain that it made a horrible outcry and rose up in the air full of terrible frenzy. The spear remained fixed in the claw, and to it hung Pascual, who, by his weight, increased the woes of the dragon. In vain the latter tried to get rid of that singular guest; all its efforts were useless, Pascual bestrode his spear like an enthusiastic gymnast. Then becoming furious, it threw itself into the sea in order to try to drown him. Pascual swam like a fish and dived like a seal; so his enemy was not able to liberate itself from him. Being now desperate, it went to the island, dragging the cabin boy with it; the latter had hardly touched terra firma when, using the spear as a lever, he gave it a turn with all his might, twisting the wounded claw in such a way that the pain deprived the monster of its strength and consciousness. Giving a cry it fell to the ground defenceless. Pascual then got out his jack-knife and looked with care for the joints between the formidable scales which served the dragon as armour. There he thrust it in many times, with the aid of a stone which he used in place of a hammer.

The dragon was now dead, and Pascual thought of his companions and went down to the shore to seek them. His search was useless, for he did not even find a trace of them. He looked towards the spot where he had left the brigantine, and that had also disappeared; doubtless the old pilot was afraid and had gone away with the ship.

Then our hero decided to seek the treasure, but in vain he went over the island in all directions: he found not the least sign of it. Then he returned to the spot where he had seen the dragon lying when they had approached the island, and he saw that there was an enormous stone which no doubt covered the entrance of the grotto where the treasure was to be found. He applied the spear to the joints and succeeded in moving it, and after some effort he brought into view a winding staircase, down which he hurriedly went. The first room to which the staircase gave access had its walls covered with rubies, the second with emeralds, and the third with pearls and diamonds. In the centre stood the magnificent statue made out of a single diamond, and which represented a very beautiful princess. Pascual was astounded at such extraordinary beauty, and burst into an exclamation of admiration.

Presently he noticed the pedestal of the statue, on which might be read:

"In a stone lies the disenchantment."

Then the cabin boy looked at all the projections of the room, and pressing one of them heard a creak, and instantaneously, as the scenes in a fairy comedy are changed, the grotto disappeared; each precious stone was changed into a human being, and the beautiful princess, again turned to flesh and blood, came slowly down from her pedestal, and, giving her hand to the valiant lad, offered to reward his bravery by giving him all the riches of her kingdom, and with them her heart. Among the disenchanted beings were all his companions of the expedition, who embraced Pascual, and, what was very strange, did not envy him, recognising that his triumph was deserved. All the destroyed boats appeared on the coast, and in them they embarked, each one going to his own country and the cabin boy to that of the princess.

Pascual is now no longer Pascual, but His Highness Prince Pascual I., a very good man, according to what his subjects say.

*THE MAN WITH THE TWO FACES*

Claudio was screaming madly when his grandmother said to him:

"If you cry any more you will see the man with two faces."

"Oh, I say, who is he?"

"Well, he is a very strange being, who laughs with one face and cries with the other. If a child looks at his smiling face he gives it a toy; if it looks at his sad face he bites it and tears off the tip of his ear."

"Well, then, I wish he would come, because I will be very good and he will give me a toy."

"It would be much better if he did not come, because you are very bad and you would get your ear bitten."

"But I want to see him," said the boy.

"Look for him if you like," said the grandmother, "but mind he does not hurt you."

Claudio, who was eight years old and very innocent, quite believed in the man with two faces, and resolved to look for him everywhere.

That afternoon he went to the outskirts of the town and asked some woodmen:

"Where is the man with two faces?"

And they said to him mockingly:

"Go to the mountain over there and you will come to him."

He followed their counsel and climbed up the mountain without finding anybody. That night he had to spend on the mountain, climbing up to the top of a tree because the howling of the wolves frightened him so much that he did not dare to go back to his home. In the morning, on getting down from the tree, a squirrel saluted him with great ceremony, and said "Good morning."

"Listen, squirrel," said Claudio, "do you know where the man with two faces is?"

"I do not know, but my friend the eagle knows many things. Come with me and we will ask him."

The boy and the squirrel went together and on the top-most part of the mountain came upon the eagle's nest. The eagle turned towards the squirrel and asked what he wanted. On being told of what Claudio wanted he said to him: "I have sometimes heard this man spoken of, but I have never seen him. I only know that he is very unhappy, because he can only look at himself in the glass with his sad face, and on seeing himself so afflicted the poor fellow bursts into tears."

"And where does he live?" said the boy.

"He lives so far away that you would never be able to reach the place, but if you like I will carry you there, through the air, in my claws, and we shall be there in a twinkling. I cannot do any more for you than carry you to the door of his house, and I cannot answer for what may happen to you."

"Never mind," said the boy; "take me, for I want to see him."

The eagle caught up the boy by his belt and the squirrel got into one of Claudio's pockets. The eagle began its flight and the three found themselves in the air. When Claudio saw that he was so high up he shut his eyes, full of terror.

When the squirrel appeared from the boy's pocket the trees looked like the size of pins, and he went quickly back again for fear of being seasick. After several hours' flying, the eagle descended on a little mountain and there left Claudio, startled at his own temerity.

"When you wish to come back--if they let you--blow on the whistle which I am carrying round my neck. Keep it, for I have very sharp ears and can hear the sound of it for five hundred leagues. As soon as I hear it I will come, and pop! I will take you by the belt to my nest."

When the eagle had gone the squirrel came out of Claudio's pocket and said to him:

"Have we arrived already, my little friend?"

"Have you come too?" exclaimed Claudio joyfully.

"Yes, but incognito. I liked the look of you and wish to help you with my advice: you know that squirrels, modesty apart, are very sharp."

"All right, what am I going to do now?"

"Do you not want to see this man? Then let us go on, because I also would like to know him."

"And if he wants to hurt us?"

"Then we will defend ourselves. I will go first and explore the surroundings, and will come back at once."

And saying this, the squirrel started to run with the quickness usual to his race, returning after a little while very much frightened.

"Do you know," he said, "that the man with the two faces is at the present moment giving a terrible hiding to some boys that he has shut up in a cage?"

"They must be naughty boys, but I am good, and he will give me toys."

"I don't know about that, because the only thing I have seen him give is knocks; and do you know what he was saying?

"'This one I like, that one, no;
But I shall kill them all, O!'"

"Was he saying that?"

"Just what I am telling you. I have only seen his gay face which is in the back of his head, and on seeing him I closed my eyes and came away quickly, for if he sees me he will tear me to bits."

"What are we going to do?" said Claudio, startled.

"Climb up this pine tree with me and from there we will watch."

They climbed up a tree and from it saw a house, or rather a great cage, formed of big iron bars with an iron roof. In the centre was seated the man with the two faces with a whip in his hand, punishing a number of boys of all ages who filled the cage.

The temptation seized Claudio to blow the whistle and make the eagle come back to fetch him away, but his curiosity overcame his fear, and he said to himself:

"After all, I can go away whenever I like."

A little later they saw the man with two faces come out of the cage and walk in the direction of the place where Claudio was. On his approach they saw such a woebegone countenance that Claudio was filled with fear. As the squirrel saw him shudder, he said to him in a very low voice:

"Close your eyes or we are lost."

The boy obeyed and the man with two faces passed close to them without noticing their presence. When he felt him pass, Claudio half opened his eyes and saw his gay face. Again he had to close them, for he could hardly stop laughing, so strange was the face.

On his disappearing in the distance, both the friends descended from the tree and went up to the cage. On seeing them the boy prisoners began to shout, full of joy:

"Have you come to set us free?"

"Yes," said Claudio, "but I don't know how to, because you are locked up. Well, failing the key, let us look for other means."

And, examining the doors, he came upon one without a lock. He opened it and went into the cage, but he had no sooner entered than the door closed of its own accord, leaving him a prisoner.

"Poor little boy!" shouted the others, "you are quite lost, for this is a kind of mouse-trap where you can enter but can't get out."

At this moment, the man with two faces arrived; he opened the door and, facing Claudio, looked at him with the serious face which made the boy shut his eyes to keep from crying.

"What! Have I got one pupil more?" he exclaimed. "Good, now it is your turn to laugh, as it is the first day."

And seizing his head with both hands he turned it round so that the gay face came in front of the boy. The latter looked a moment, and again shut his eyes to keep from laughing aloud.

"I see that you are strong, but to-morrow we shall see," said the monster, and he locked Claudio up with the other little ones.

Now it was night; all were sleeping, including the horrible gaoler.

Claudio was half asleep when he heard himself called softly. It was his friend the squirrel, who had got in through the iron bars and said to him:

"Be sure that to-morrow I will save you."

And without anything more he turned and went out by the way he had entered.

The following day, at the usual time, the monster showed his sad face. The prisoners began to cry. Claudio shut his eyes, and the monster gave one of his ears a bite and showed him his teeth.

"That's for to-day; to-morrow there will be more," he said.

And after throwing a few pieces of bread to the boys he went away.

No sooner had he gone than millions of squirrels gathered round, and with the quickness of lightning made an enormous gap. Through this the boys escaped, and the squirrels entered in their place. The boys hid themselves in a distant grotto, and there waited to see what would happen.

The man with the two faces arrived at the cage and, on seeing the squirrels there, became extremely angry, and seized a whip with which to give them the daily beating, when all those little animals came out through the iron bars.

The monster, putting on some very high stilts, started to run in search of the boys, blowing a whistle. They, terror-stricken, were hiding in the grotto without daring to breathe for fear of being discovered. After eight or ten hours of giddy running, the man with the two faces fell down exhausted and went to sleep on the ground near the grotto. Then the squirrel asked Claudio for the whistle that the eagle had given him, and without making any noise hung it round the monster's neck.

Then the latter, awakened by the cold of the night, again caught hold of the whistle and started to blow it madly. The eagle hastened to the sound of his whistle, and thinking that it was Claudio, seized the man with the two faces in his claws and rose up to a great height.

The eagle soon noticed that his voice was unknown, and without more ado let go of his load and the monster was dashed to pieces on the rocks below.

He flew again towards the place where he had left Claudio.

"Don't be afraid," said the eagle, "because of the two faces neither remains. They have just been smashed up against the stones, and he will never torment anybody any more."

The children returned to their homes, where their coming was celebrated with great feasts, and Claudio's grandmother, when she heard what had happened, after welcoming him on his return, only said to him:

"Do you want to see the man with two faces again?"

*THE TREACHERY OF MICIFUF*

Rather more than a fortnight ago an importunate guest disturbed my quiet and would not leave me in peace during those tranquil hours of the night which I am accustomed to spend in work.

You will say that I ought to have got rid of him. Nothing more simple, apparently, than to seize the disturbing guest and to put him on his feet in the street, saying to him: "Good friend, do me the favour not to come back to this house while I live in it and while you behave so badly."

But with my guest there is no reasoning at all. I begged him, with the most delicate phrases from the book of courtesy, to go away, or not to make a noise. On seeing his insistence, I reached, by degrees, from the simple threat of dismissal to the terrible one (it frightens me to remember!) of dealing him a vile and treacherous death. To such a point does hastiness on occasions blind us! Even to crime!

And to any one in the same circumstances I suspect the same thing would occur.

Because what he does is so irritating. At the moment when I compose myself for writing, at that very moment he makes an unbearable noise that gets on my nerves and prevents me from writing calmly a single line, and from even putting together my ideas. When, tired of the torture, I throw down my pen and go to bed, the mocking noise at once ceases as if by magic, and the silence of the dead, or of those who work, reigns again in my room.

But there is still more! As I leave them scattered on the table, my poor papers appear the following morning as if they were the remains of a kite, crumpled and even torn, turning my writing to strange hieroglyphics, incapable of being read, and my books, my poor books, which are so dear to me, they are cut as if with a saw, covers and all!

Such an enemy well deserved the tremendous punishment which my legitimate indignation prepared for him. I maintain him, but he, however, illtreats me! Have you ever seen such black ingratitude?

So I spoke to several friends of mine not long ago, and finding my pacific and easy-going nature so changed to such a decided and determined attitude, and to such a fixed project of sanguinary vengeance, they said to me, quite surprised and bewildered:

"We did not believe you capable of such thoughts! To assassinate! to avenge! When, even in extreme cases, it might be legitimate and honourable it leaves a stain in the mouth and in the mind of him who thinks it. We do not understand you now, my friend; with such principles one goes to prison or to the scaffold with surprising ease. If it is an ingrate who is to be dealt with, turn him ignominiously out of your house and leave him alone."

And I noticed in my audience a movement of repulsion that made me feel uneasy.

"But now it occurs to me that I have spoken," I added, "without telling who is the person concerned. It is a mouse which, hidden behind my bookcase, makes an infernal noise about twelve o'clock at night, the hour at which I dedicate myself to my work. It is he who destroys everything within the reach of his nails or teeth, who must have in his body more letters than a printing press and more paper than a paper-mill."

Either it was an old and seasoned mouse, experienced in malicious tricks, or what he has gnawed has taught him to be on his guard against everything. Be that as it may, it is certain that there is no instrument, mouse-trap, or poison which could put the wretch to death and ensure my tranquillity.

You ought to have seen me some nights handling an old cavalry sabre, pursuing the little mouse, which finished by hiding itself between the bookcase and the wall, laughing at my cutting and thrusting.

Convinced that there was nothing to be done against such an agile enemy, I called to my aid a cat who was well known for his courage and hatred of the mouse tribe, big Micifuf, who, although old and retired from active life, had no objection to placing himself at my disposal, only on certain fixed conditions.

"If you want me to help you," he said to me, "you must entertain me like a prince; must buy me a fine gilt collar; and when I have killed the mouse who troubles you, must make me a good present for my family."

I agreed to all this, provided I was freed of the diabolical creature and in the belief that that same night it would fall into the power of my ally.

After a little time I noticed that the noise disappeared, which was something of a consolation, and I observed that the good Micifuf was lying near the bookcase. He looked at me and smiled as if to say, "There, you see! as soon as they smell me about all is over."

I do not Know whether it was instinct or suspicion: it is certain and true that I thought a certain understanding existed between the mouse and Micifuf, and decided to spy upon them to convince myself of this treachery.

"The mouse does not come out," I said to myself, "and if he does not come out from behind the bookcase for these three or four days and has not eaten anything all this time, the unhappy creature must be on the point of dying of hunger, if it is not already dead. Well, then, if it is alive there is doubtless some trickery here!"

A few days afterwards I overheard a long conversation between Micifuf and the mouse.

Said the former to the latter: "Now you see I don't interfere with you at all. On the contrary, I myself supply you with food, giving it to you on the sly as we agreed. But if you make a noise I shall be obliged to lay hands on you, in which case, frankly, neither you nor I would derive any benefit--you, because you run the risk of my devouring you at a mouthful; and I because, once you are dead, the master would send me away, and I shall not be able to find another fool like this, who keeps me and treats me famously without my doing any work whatever."

"For my part," said the mouse, "I don't think I shall break the compact. I don't move, even to sneeze; so that you ought to be very pleased. By the way, you might be good enough to increase my rations of cheese, for you know I like it immensely, and above all Gruyere."

At this moment I could not restrain my indignation, and calling Micifuf I said to him:

"You are a cat without honour; what you have done is a really dirty trick of the worst kind. I should never have brought you here for that purpose, for I could have made an arrangement with the mouse myself. I prefer to keep him rather than to feed you both."

"Come, come!" exclaimed Micifuf with the utmost coolness. "I see you have not understood my plan. Listen! By acting so with the mouse, which is an unhappy creature in the fullest sense of the word, I shall succeed in getting him out of his haunts, and he will yield himself trustingly to my claws and teeth."

So that very night he approached the bookcase and said:

"Little mouse, my friend! Come out, for now nobody is about and we can chat at our ease."

The mouse showed its little snout from behind the bookcase and came out, little by little, with justifiable fear.

"Come now, draw near, and don't make me raise my voice, I don't know whether they can hear us. Listen to what I have to tell you. You must know, my good friend, that I have always felt a great affection for your race, by reason of a tradition which has been preserved in my family for many years. According to this, one of our ancestors, a beautiful Angora cat--I don't know exactly whether it was my great-grandfather or my great-great-grandfather--was once very ill and without resources, lying on the miserable straw of a garret, when a compassionate mouse brought him some cheese-rinds and, I suppose, some other eatables right up to his own bed. He was going to take them when another mouse, of disagreeable appearance, with some red marks on its back, drew near and took away the food, taking advantage of the fact that my great-grandfather had rheumatism and could not move.

"Since then we have decided to kill all the descendants of that wicked fellow who made our relative die of hunger, and also to reward the one who was so good to him in time of trouble."

"That appears quite right to me," said the mouse.

"Listen, by the by: do you know it seems to me that you have some red spots on your back?"

The mouse was startled and said that his good friend the cat must have cobwebs in his eyes.

"Really, I am very shortsighted, and it would not be at all extraordinary if I were mistaken. I will come near in order to recognise you better."

He had no sooner approached than, seizing him with his claws, he began to shout:

"Master! Master! Here is the mouse!"

I hastened at the call, and, if the truth must be told, far from being pleased, the deed troubled me in the highest degree.

The little mouse lay dead in Micifuf's claws, and the cat was showing himself off, proud of his achievement.

"I hope," said he, "that you will give me the reward agreed on."

Then I could no longer restrain my indignation, and, seizing a stick, I began to whack the traitor, saying to him:

"Wretch! At first you would have deceived me, and now, by practising the wiles of traitors, you have murdered him to whom you offered protection. Take the reward which all traitors receive."

At each blow with the stick Micifuf snorted, leaping high into the air, until at length he dashed through a pane of the window and threw himself out into the street. I did not wish to know whether he was killed or not. He well deserved to be killed.

And since then, everybody who has recourse to deceit seems hateful to me, even though they deceive for the purpose of killing the most troublesome of little mice.

*TROMPETILLA AND TROMPETIN*

"What are you doing here, boy?" asked a venerable friar of Rupert, who was sitting near his accordion in the neighbourhood of a wood as if he were preparing himself to give a solemn performance to the oaks.

"I was resting after a long walk," answered the boy, "and as they say that sleep is food, I wished to forget in slumber that not a mouthful has passed my lips for many hours."

"Poor little boy," exclaimed the father; "if you want a sumptuous meal go near the third cork-tree on the right-hand side; go round the tree three times, playing the accordion, and a door will open. Pass through it and you shall eat splendidly."

Rupert went to the spot indicated and, playing a "Habanera" dance, made the three turns prescribed; a piece of bark came away and disclosed a little iron door, artistically ornamented. He pushed it gently; it opened noiselessly, and there was Rupert inside a beautiful palace, whose magnificent rooms were illuminated with hidden fires, which, while giving light, sent out sweet fragrance. "These smells are not bad," said Rupert, "but I would rather they came from a nicely cooked chop."

At that moment a hundred succulent chops which were saying "Eat me!" began to balance themselves in space. Being neither stupid nor lazy, Rupert tried to get hold of the nearest, but they all began a frantic career round the room. In the centre of the latter appeared a table covered with appetising eatables, but as soon as Rupert went near they once more took to flight as if on invisible wings. A magnificent stuffed turkey hit him on the nose; the breast of a chicken nearly knocked him over; all this while the boy was running, like a mad thing, after those exquisite dainties, hungrier than a bear after a fortnight's fast.

"This is only an invitation to see!" exclaimed the lad. "It is enough to make one's teeth grow longer!"

He had hardly uttered these words than his teeth began to grow in such a disordered fashion, and so quickly, that the shortest was not less than three yards long. The viands were caught on them as if on lances, a further difficulty for Rupert, who could not succeed in seizing the coveted prey which was fixed on his own teeth.

On this a monkey appeared, and climbing on to the boy's teeth, began very impudently to eat those exquisite viands, making signs of satisfaction which threw Rupert into a rage.

"You great thief!" he cried. "What do you mean by laughing at me?"

And catching up his accordion he threw it at the animal with such accuracy that, hitting him on the head, it knocked him senseless. A great noise was heard, the monkey disappeared, Rupert's teeth grew shorter, and while the accordion played, of its own accord, the celebrated air "No me matas," a woman appeared in the middle of the room who, for size, looked like a whale, and who would have been beautiful if she had not had a turned-up nose and fixed eyes, one weeping oil and the other vinegar, and who would certainly have had a fine head of hair if she had not been bald, and a fine set of teeth if a single tooth had remained in her head.

"Who are you?" asked Rupert, a trifle startled.

"I am the witch Trompetilla, the daughter of the celebrated Trompeton and grand-daughter of Trompetazo, and am looking for my son Trompetin everywhere, without being able to find him."

"Why do you speak to me about Trompetilla and Trompetin when I never played a trumpet in my life?"

"Ah, unhappy me!" sobbed the witch. "In vain I have offered a pennyworth of toasted chick peas and a measure of tiger nuts to the mortal who discovers the whereabouts of my son. I have wept so much oil and vinegar that I have spoilt all the furniture in my house."

"What a fine salad you could make if you bought some lettuces!"

"You will get a salad made of blows if you don't help me to look for my Trompetin, and if we find him I will invite you to supper, and moreover will give you a penny so that you need never do any more work in your life."

Roused by such a magnificent promise, Rupert offered to look for Trompetin, even if he were under a cruet.

"What is he like?" he asked.

"The size of a pea, a head like that of a pin, and legs like needles."

"Well, then, he must be sticking in a pin cushion or in a needle-case."

"A needle-case would not hold him, for he has a beard two yards long."

"It must trail on the ground!" said Rupert, full of astonishment.

"Well, now," said the witch, "while I go and mend some clothes, begin to look for my pet."

This said, she disappeared.

The boy was confused by so many comings and goings, appearances and disappearances; but as hunger afflicted him, he proposed to find Trompetin, and taking a turn round the room, began to shout:

"Trompetin, where are you?"

"Here!" groaned a tiny voice.

"Where? I can't see you."

"In this crack," replied the voice.

Rupert searched, and at last found the witch's son in a crack between two bricks. The enormous beard was a hair two yards long, which grew out of his nose.

Rupert took him up carefully, and placing him on his hand, asked him:

"Are you Trompetin, the son of Trompetilla?"

"The same."

"Why have you been lost so long?"

"Because my mother is deaf and cannot see well, so that, although I shouted a lot, she did not hear me."

"Well, now, tell me who the monkey is that climbed up on to my teeth?"

"It is a wizard, nastier than medicine, who is angry with us because his grandfather died from a trumpet-blast that my great-great-grandfather sounded in his ear. It was he who made your teeth grow, and didn't allow you to eat. Knock on this wall and he will reappear, then pull out my hair and thrash him with it."

"A fine thrashing to be given with a hair!"

"Try, and you will see!"

Rupert struck the wall, and at once the monkey appeared, sparks flying from his eyes. He was about to throw himself on Rupert, but the boy pulled out Trompetin's hair, which turned itself into a fine cudgel, with which he dealt the monkey a vigorous hiding. The animal leapt high into the air several times, but that was useless, as the stick lengthened as if it were elastic and reached him wherever he was. When the monkey could resist no longer, he took human shape, and going on his knees begged Rupert not to grind his ribs, and in return he offered to give him as much wealth as he might desire.

"Call Trompetilla," exclaimed the lad, "and let us have a talk."

The witch appeared, this time crying with joy at seeing her son, and after kissing him, stuck him in her dress so that he should not be lost again. The wizard gave Rupert a lot of money and the witch gave him a splendid supper of stew and hemp-seed.

When supper was over they affectionately took leave of one another, and the wizard took Rupert out into the fresh air, carrying him carefully to the same spot in which he was when he met the priest. There he left the boy sleeping soundly, dreaming of a sweet awakening--the dream of the person who sees his future assured by reason of not having done anything wrong.

*THE QUACK DOCTOR*

I do not know whether it was true or not, but as it was told to me so I tell it to you.

There used to pass through the goodly streets, whether of Constantinople or Babylon I am not sure which--however, it makes no difference to my story--a quack doctor who, while beating a drum and clashing a pair of cymbals, announced his medicines and practised his cures.

You must place the action of this story in a place where there are no medical men, for if there were, certainly they would put the quack in prison where he would not see daylight for a long time. And the fact is that, with all his quackery, the man had acquired great fame in the difficult art to which he devoted himself. His adaptability was extraordinary. It was just the same to him to extract a big man's tooth as to pull out a knife and cut off anybody's leg without stopping for a moment.

For shamelessness this man could not be beaten. It is related that in the times when our quack wandered through the streets and towns, the emperor's son fell ill of a great and persistent melancholy. The youth was sad and weak, and even when he felt no pain his depression was alarming. The court doctors, who were important people, held a consultation, and, as always happens in these cases, each one put forward a different opinion from that of his companions.

"It appears to me," said one, putting on his spectacles, "saving the estimable opinion of my fellow-professors, that his highness the hereditary prince is suffering from his liver. Broth of green beans would be a good thing."

"Gently, wise companion," exclaimed another. "I maintain that his highness suffers from his spleen; and as what is good for the liver is bad for the other organ, I do not believe that green beans would be any good; roasted chick peas are wanted."

"Well, gentlemen, may I be hanged if the prince's illness is not in his feet. Ask him if he has chilblains, and, in that case, we all know what to do: wool, plenty of wool, and watercress, plenty of watercress."

The discussion took a threatening turn; each doctor, in support of what he affirmed, cited three or four authorities and even brought books to prove and demonstrate it. The dispute waxed so hot that it ended by the doctors throwing the books at each other's heads. A book broke the spectacles of one of the doctors, and a little more would have knocked out one of his eyes; another fell like a mace on the bald head of the oldest and crashed into his brain, his skull not being of the hardest.

At this moment the emperor entered the room where the three Hippocrates were killing each other, and when informed of the cause of the dispute became cold all over.

"It is a bad sign when you do not agree. My son is in danger of dying."

And the poor father went away, saddened and disheartened, to his apartments.

History says that not a bit of the doctors remained. On seeing the emperor so grief-stricken there was no lack of courtiers who had the courage to speak to him of the advisibility of calling in the quack.

"Impossible," said the monarch. "If those three shining lights of medicine could not save him, how can I possibly expect that the quack can cure him?"

However, the courtiers were so persistent that the emperor consented to call in the quack, but on one condition: before taking up the cure of the prince, he must heal five sick people who had been given up by the doctors.

They looked for the five invalids and had them brought into the palace. The quack, obeying the emperor's orders, arrived shortly after. The latter said to him:

"Do you dare to undertake the prince's cure?"

"Yes, sire."

"Well, in order to convince me of what you know, you will heal five men who are seriously ill and whom I will show you. If you do not cure them I will have your head cut off, but if you make them well I will thenceforward put his highness' health in your charge."

"Can you not make it four instead of five, sire?"

"No, five; and if not, you know what to expect."

"Well, then, I will cure them. Where are they? I must speak to them alone."

With the emperor's permission he went to the room where the hopeless cases were. Even the most healthy of them had only two or three days to live.

On seeing them our quack almost fell in a faint.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I am going to cure you in the only possible way. The great magician Faramalla has taught me a wonderful system of curing. There is no invalid who cannot be healed by it. Hear it:

"It is necessary for me to kill one of you and burn his heart. Its ashes serve to make such a pomade that on applying it to any diseased part it heals as if by magic, without any need of medicine. You," he added, facing one of the hopeless ones, "are very ill, what does it matter to you if you die now or within two days? I shall kill you and burn your heart to cinders in order to cure the rest."

"I say, good friend," cried the threatened man, "do you say I am very ill? Why, there is nothing the matter with me. My family persists in saying that I am consumptive, but, thank God, I am as sound as a bell."

"All right, all right," said the quack, "it makes very little difference to me; but you leave on this condition, that you tell the emperor that you are cured."

The consumptive, hardly noticing the half-opened door, dashed madly homewards.

"How are you?" the emperor asked him.

"I am sound and well," exclaimed the consumptive, without ceasing to run.

"This is marvellous," thought the emperor.

"He is a very learned man," said the courtiers.

The other invalids did the same as the first. Provided that they were not killed at once, they swore by all they held sacred that they had never felt stronger and better in their lives. And they darted out of the palace like arrows from a bow, leaving the emperor and the doctors amazed.

The monarch then thought of trusting him with the cure of his son, when a loud burst of laughter interrupted the grave and ceremonious etiquette of the court. Who was the daring man who thus failed in due respect?

The emperor in person, full of ire, went out into the ante-room and there met the disturber. It was the imperial prince himself, who was rolling on a sofa unable to restrain his outbursts of laughter. The emperor was delighted to see the sadness, which had so alarmed him, dissipated so unexpectedly. To what was this extraordinary event due?

The prince told him. "On seeing those unhappy invalids run out so quickly, I asked the quack the cause of their flight, and the latter told me with a wealth of detail."

It had amused him so much that the black melancholy which was undermining his existence was dissipated.