Chapter II: One day the hare said suddenly, (5)

The woman was moved with pity, and let the children come into the castle. She made them go down into the cellar, and gave them good cakes to eat. Then, hearing the Giant’s step in the distance, she charged the lost children to hide themselves well behind a big cask, and went up-stairs as if nothing had happened.

The Giant of the Golden Beard had been on a long tramp and was dying of thirst. He went down into the cellar to refresh himself, in spite of his wife, who besought him to go to bed.

“I smell fresh meat here,” muttered the Giant as he came near the cask behind which the children were cowering.

As he was very thirsty, he took out the bung, lifted the cask as if it had been a straw and drank and drank through it. As he set the great wine cask down on the ground he hurt little Jeannois, who could not help uttering a cry.

“Ah! ah!” cried the Giant of the Golden Beard, “I was sure I smelt fresh meat! It is good! it is good! I shall take you up-stairs and kill you; I shall have an excellent breakfast to-morrow.”

He took the three unfortunate boys in one hand and brought them up into the kitchen.

But the wife who had heard what the Giant had just said, had hastened to hide his big knife, and her husband looked for it in vain: he could not succeed in finding it.

“Very well! very well! You will lose nothing by waiting! Wife, put these three children in my daughters’ room and give them a bed. I will kill them to-morrow. The flesh will be fresher.”

The woman obeyed tremblingly, and every one went to bed.

“We are in a very bad place,” thought Jeannot. And he got down from his bed to examine the Giant’s daughters, who were sleeping in the bed near by.

The moon had risen, and Jeannot perceived that the young girls wore a crown of gold on their heads, and that there were, as in their own case, three of them.

“Suppose the Giant should get up and come to wring our necks during the night,” thought Jeannot. “It is very possible, certainly. I am going to take off the three crowns and put them on my head and my brothers’. The Giant will perhaps be deceived.”

So he did what he had thought of, and went to bed again. He was just in time. The Giant of the Golden Beard had drunk too much wine, and found himself uncomfortable in his bed. To kill time, he determined to get up and go and kill the three little boys whom chance had sent to him.

He went to the bed where the latter were pretending to be asleep and took hold of Jean’s head.

“Idiot!” said he to himself, “I was about to kill my daughters. I have mistaken the bed.” And he went to the other bed and wrung the necks of his own children.

Then, satisfied with his work, he went to bed again.

Jean, Jeannot, and Jeannois dressed themselves hastily and escaped through the window.

Imagine the anger and dismay of the Giant, when on waking the next morning he saw what he had done during the night. He became more wicked than before, and went about through the country killing the travelers, murdering peasants, and setting at defiance the armies that the king sent against him.

As for Jean, Jeannot, and Jeannois, not knowing which way to go, they took at last a highway, which at the end of two days’ journey brought them to the capital of the kingdom. They asked to speak to the king and to tell him their adventures in the palace of the Giant of the Golden Beard. The king appointed them to be pages from that day forth.

I told you that the Giant, made furious by the death of his children, went about ravaging the kingdom. This went on for two or three years. Many knights had gone forth to fight against him, and not one of them had returned. The king also trembled in his palace, fearing that some day this terrible man would take a fancy to come and attack him in his city.

One day Jean, the oldest of the three pages, went to the king and asked the hand of his eldest daughter, with the title of knight. The king refused at first; then, on reflection, he said to the page,--

“I grant you what you desire, on condition that you show yourself worthy of it. You have not forgotten that famous Giant of the Golden Beard, who came near killing both yourself and your brothers. Very well; bring me his golden beard, and I swear to you that I will make you a knight and give you my daughter in marriage.”

Jean accepted these terms. The king wanted to give him arms like those of the knights, but he refused them. He took the road his brothers and he had taken before, and presented himself at the Giant’s castle. It was broad daylight, and the page sounded the horn.

“What do you want?” asked the Man with the Golden Beard.

“I want to fight with you to-morrow morning. I have beaten all the giants I have been able to encounter hitherto, and I want to beat you as I have done all the others.”

“You are very young, handsome page; but no matter. Come into my castle, and to-morrow we will fight.”

Jean did not wait to be persuaded, and entered the palace of the Giant of the Golden Beard, who gave him an invitation to dine with him. The page accepted, and while the Giant had his back turned, he poured out for him a liquor which possessed the quality of causing sleep for several days.

“Here is to your health!”

“Here is to your health!”

And the page and the Giant emptied their glasses with a single draught. At the same moment the latter fell under the table and began to snore so loud that the whole castle shook. Without losing time the young man took the scissors which he had brought, and cut off the Giant’s golden beard. Then he left the palace and set out for the capital, where he arrived two days after.

The king was very much astonished; he had promised his daughter to the page, and he bestowed her upon him, telling him he would dub him knight later on. A short while after that, Jeannot came also to find the king.

“My lord the king,” said he, “I love your daughter, Marie, and I think she loves me. Will you make me a knight and bestow her hand upon me?”

“But you have done nothing that I know of to merit such an honor.”

“I am ready to show myself worthy of it. Command, and I will obey you.”

The king reflected, and then said,--

“Well, you shall have what you ask me for, when you bring me the Giant’s broadsword, that you will remember.”

Jeannot agreed, and set out for the Giant’s castle, wearing neither arms nor shield.

He arrived there at the end of two days and sounded the horn.

“Ah! ah!” cried the Giant, “another one who wishes to rob me! Very well; I will see to it.”

“I do not come for that purpose; but I have been told that you could drink more wine than any one in the world, and I have come to compare myself with you.”

“Is that really true?”

“Perfectly true! But I verily believe that I can beat you. I can drink fifty casks of wine without being hurt by it.”

“We will see; we will see. Come into the castle. I am ready to have a match with you. But who will begin first?”

“You, if you please.”

“Agreed.”

Jeannot went down in the Giant’s cellar, and the latter wishing to drink as much as he possibly could, swallowed ever and ever so much wine, so that soon he staggered and fell down dead-drunk. Jeannot took his broadsword and carried it to the king, who was more astonished than when Jean returned with the golden beard.

Jeannot married the princess Marie, but the king did not make him knight at once.

There was only Jeannois left.

One day he came to the king, and said,--

“My lord the king, I love your youngest daughter; she loves me also, and I come to ask you for her hand, and the title of knight.”

“All that is very well. But you must deserve it.”

“Command, and I will do whatever you order me to do.”

The king thought awhile, and at last he said,--

“Your brothers have taken the Giant’s beard and his broadsword. Could you bring him to me in an iron cage?”

“I will try, my lord the king; farewell.”

Jeannois had a very large iron carriage made and went to the Giant’s castle. When he got there he sounded the horn.

“What do you want? worm of the earth! dust of nothingness!”

“Let me into your castle, and I will tell you.”

“Ah! you are one of those pages who stole my beard and my broadsword. I see what you want, and I am going to kill you.”

“One moment, if you please. Do not be in a hurry. I have just come to find you in order to restore what they stole from you. The two pages are alone in a distant castle, and I have brought my carriage so as to carry us there more quickly.”

The Giant allowed himself to be deceived again, and got into the iron carriage, where he found himself imprisoned. And Jeannois returned quickly to the court. The king was very glad, as he well might have been, at having got rid of the robber, who was burned on an immense pile built on the great square of the city. Jeannois married the princess whom he loved, and the king made the three brothers knights of his kingdom. During the feasts that were given, the mother of Jean, Jeannot, and Jeannois came to the city, still searching for her children. Imagine her happiness and that of her sons.

E. H. CARNOY, “Litterature Orale de la Picardie.”

THE FAIRY AND THE DAUGHTER OF THE EARTH

A STORY OF THE ISLE OF OUESSANT

Once upon a time,--a very long time ago,--perhaps the time when Saint Pol came to us from Hibernia in a stone trough,--there was a young girl sixteen or seventeen years old, with fair hair, blue eyes, and cheeks as red as two apples, and her name was Mona Kerbile. She was so beautiful that all who saw her stopped to admire her, and said to her mother, old Jeanne Kerbile, a poor woman like myself,--

“You have a very pretty daughter, Jeanne! She is as pretty as a fairy! Such a beautiful girl has never before been seen in the island, and there are even those who say that she must be the child of a fairy.”

“Do not believe those who say so,” replied the good woman, “for I truly am her mother, and Fanch Kerbile, my husband, is surely her father.”

Mona’s father was a fisherman, and spent almost all of his time on the water, and her mother tended a small spot of ground that she had, as all the island people did, or spun in her hut when the weather was too bad. Mona went, as all the young girls of her age did, to seek for limpets, mussels, periwinkles, and other shell-fish on the shore. It seems that the fairies, who were then very numerous in the island, had observed her, and had, themselves also, been struck with her beauty. One day when she was on the shore with her companions as usual, they were talking of their lovers. Each one boasted of the skill of her own in catching fish, and steering a boat, and in guiding it among the numerous dangers by which the island was surrounded.

“You, Mona,” said Mare’harit Ar Fur to her, “you are wrong to discourage Fanch Kerdudal as you do, for he is a young fellow of excellent character, clever, and no one comes back in the evening with more fish than he, nor guides his bark better among the difficult passes of the Vieille Jument or the point of Stiff.”

“I,” said Mona, scornfully,--for on account of hearing it said that she was beautiful, she had become vain and proud,--“I will never take a fisherman for my husband; I am too pretty for that. I am as beautiful as a fairy; they tell me so every day, and I shall marry no one but a prince, or at least the son of a great lord.”

It happened that an old fairy, hidden behind a rock or under a tuft of sea-wrack, heard her, and jealous at seeing that a daughter of the earth could rival the beauty of the children of the fairies, he conceived the design of carrying her off and taking her with him to his home under the water. He dared not try to do it that day, for Mona was in the midst of her companions. But the next day about sunset, while she was still catching shell-fish with two other of the village girls, and was somewhat apart from her friends, the old fairy suddenly sprang out from behind a rock where he was watching her, seized her and took her away down to the bottom of the water. She cried loudly, and called her friends to her assistance, but alas! they could not come to help her; they could only run to the house and tell her mother what they had seen. Old Jeanne was spinning on her doorsteps. She threw down her distaff and her spindle, and ran to the shore, and called her daughter loudly, and even went into the water as far as she could at the place where they told her that Mona had disappeared with the fairy. But it was all in vain, and no voice replied to her cries and her tears.

The report of the adventure spread quickly over the island, and every one was of the opinion that what had happened to the beautiful Mona was a punishment for her pride and her vanity; for however beautiful a young girl may be, she should neither be proud nor vain, for God gives beauty and ugliness, and riches and poverty also, as it pleases him.

The old fairy was the king of the fairies in those parts, and he took the young Ouessantine with him to the bottom of the sea, to a beautiful palace made of shells and coral.

The old fairy had a son, the handsomest fairy that ever was seen, and he fell in love with Mona and asked his father to let him marry her. But the old king answered that he would never consent to allow him to take for his wife a daughter of man who boasted of being as beautiful as the daughter of a fairy. There were plenty of the most beautiful fairies, who would be glad to have him for their husband, and he would not withhold his consent when he should have made his choice among them.

Our young fairy was then in despair. He told his father that he would never marry if he was not allowed to have for his wife the daughter of man whom he loved. His father seeing him dying of sadness and grief, compelled him to marry a young fairy, the daughter of an old lord among the fairies, and who was celebrated for her beauty. The wedding day was fixed, and a great many people were invited. The betrothed couple set out on their way to the church, followed by a rich and numerous train; for it appears that these people of the sea have their religion and their churches as we do, although they are not Christians; they even have bishops, we are told, and an old bishop of the sea was to perform the ceremony. Poor Mona received an order from the old fairy to stay at home and prepare the wedding feast. But they gave her nothing that was needed for all this, absolutely nothing but large pots and empty sauce-pans (which were large shells), but they told her that if everything was not ready, and if she did not serve them a good feast when they returned from church she should be put to death immediately. Imagine her grief and perplexity, poor girl! But the poor young bridegroom was not less troubled and disconsolate.

As the procession was on its way to the church, he suddenly cried out,--

“I have forgotten the wedding ring!”

“Tell me where it is, and I will send for it,” said his father to him.

“No; no; I will go myself, for no one but me could find it where I have put it. I will hasten there and will return in a moment.”

And he let go the bride’s arm and ran to the house. He found poor Mona in the kitchen, weeping and desolate.

“Do not weep,” said he to her; “your feast will be ready and cooked to perfection; so do not be troubled on that account.”

And going to the fireplace, he said,--

“Good fire in the fireplace!”

And the fire burned up in the fireplace. Then touching with his hand each of the pots and saucepans successively, he said,--

“Some beef in this saucepan, veal and mutton in that other one; here a mutton on the spit; cider and wine in these pots!” and so on.

And the saucepans and pots were filled at once, to the surprise and joy of Mona, who was no longer weeping.

Then he hastened to rejoin his bride and his party, and they went to the church, and the ceremony was performed by a bishop of the sea. After that they returned to the house.

When they arrived there, the old fairy hastened the first thing to the kitchen, and asked for Mona.

“Here we are; we have come back; is everything ready for the feast?”

“Yes; everything is ready,” answered Mona quietly.

And he uncovered all the saucepans, examined all the pots, and then said, with a displeased air,--

“You have been helped; but never mind; I have not finished with you yet.”

The wedding guests seated themselves at the table, and they eat and drank as much as they would; then they sang and danced till night.

After the evening’s entertainment, the two young married people retired to their chamber, and the old fairy told Mona to go with them, and remain there, holding in her hand a burning wax-taper to give them light. When the taper should be burnt down to her hand, she should be put to death.

Poor Mona was obliged to obey. The old fairy was in a room near by, and from time to time he asked,--

“Is the taper consumed?”

“Not yet,” answered Mona.

He asked this question several times. At last when the wax-taper was almost entirely consumed, the young husband said to the new wife,--

“It is your turn now to go and hold the wax-taper a while!”

As she did not know the intentions of her father-in-law, she got up and took the wax-taper from Mona’s hands.

The old fairy asked again,--

“Has the wax-taper burned down to your hand?”

“Tell him yes,” said the bridegroom.

“Yes,” answered the young fairy.

And immediately the old fairy came into the room, seized upon her who held in her hand the remnant of the wax-taper, and cut off her head. Then he went away.

In the morning, as soon as he had risen, the young fairy went to his father, and spoke thus to him,--

“I have come to ask you to allow me to marry, my father.”

“To allow you to marry? Were you not married yesterday?”

“That is true; but my wife is dead, father.”

“Your wife is dead? How did it happen? Have you killed her, you miserable creature?”

“It is not I who have killed her, father, but you, yourself.”

“I?”

“Yes, father; did you not yesterday cut off the head of the woman who was holding the lighted wax-taper near my bed?”

“Yes; but it was the daughter of the earth.”

“No, my father, it was the young fairy whom I had just married; and if you do not believe me, you can easily be assured of it, for her body is still in my chamber.”

The old fairy hastened to his son’s chamber, and recognized his mistake. His anger was terrible, and a little more and he would have killed his son himself.

“Whom do you wish to take for a wife?” he asked his son the next day when he was a little pacified.

“The daughter of the earth, my father.”

The father found at last that it was useless to seek to cure his son of this love, and he concluded to allow him to marry the daughter of the earth.

The young fairy was very attentive to his wife. He fed her on delicate little fish, and made for her necklaces and bracelets of fine pearls, and gathered for her every day pretty shell-fish and the most beautiful and rarest sea-plants. In spite of all this, Mona was weary, and wanted to return to the earth to see once more her island, and her father and mother in their little hut by the seashore. The fairy would not let her go, for he feared she would never return. Then she became very sad, and did nothing but weep night and day. Seeing this, her husband said to her one day,--

“Smile on me a little, and I will take you back to your father’s house.”

Mona smiled, and the fairy, who was also a magician, then said,--

“Bridge, rise up!”

And immediately a beautiful bridge rose up, reaching from the bottom of the sea to the land. The old fairy, seeing this, and feeling sure that his son knew well as he did himself how to use magic, said,--

“I should like to go with you also.”

The three went together on the bridge, the old man behind, and the other two a few steps in advance of him. But as soon as the young fairy stepped ashore with his wife, he turned and said,--

“Bridge, return!”

And immediately the bridge went back again to the bottom of the sea, and with it the old fairy, who was still on it.

The fairy not being able to accompany his wife to her father’s house, let her go alone, giving her the following precautions before leaving her:--

“Come back at sunset, and you will find me here waiting for you; but do not let any man embrace you, or even take your hand, or you will make me very unhappy.”

Mona promised, and hastened to her father’s house, which was not far off on the shore. It was the dinner hour, and all the family were assembled.

“Good morning, father and mother; good morning, brothers and sisters,” said she as she entered the poor hut.

The good people opened their eyes wide, and looked at her, astonished, and none of them recognized her for their daughter or their sister. She was so beautiful, so grand, and so well dressed! This grieved her very much, and tears came into her eyes; then she began to go around the house, touching each object with her hands, and saying,--

“Here is the little stool on which I sat beside the fire; here is the bed where I slept; here is the pitcher with which I brought water from the spring; here is the broom with which I swept the house; here is the wooden porringer from which I ate my soup.”

At last her brother, hearing all this, recognized her, and threw himself on her neck to embrace her, and her father and mother and sisters did the same thing; but from that moment Mona lost entirely all recollection of her husband, the fairy, and his home under the sea. She remained with her parents, and soon plenty of lovers came to the house to sue for her hand; but she would not listen to any of them, and had no desire to marry.

This family, like the other inhabitants of the island, had a bit of ground where they planted potatoes and sowed barley, and this, together with the daily supply of fish and shell-fish which they caught out of the sea, was sufficient for them to live simply but contentedly.

There was a little space before the house containing a stack of barley straw. Often when she was lying in bed, and the winds howled, and the waves dashed and broke against the rocks on the shore, Mona thought she heard plaintive moanings near her door; but she believed it to be poor shipwrecked souls asking for the prayers of the careless living beings, and she recited a “De profundis;” then she pitied the poor sailors who were in the sea, and went to sleep again.

But one night she heard distinctly these words, uttered in a sad, heart-broken voice:--

“Oh, Mona! have you then forgotten your husband, the fairy who loves you so much, who saved you from death, and brought you back from the depths of the sea to see your father and mother, your brothers and sisters? You promised me so faithfully to come back again; I have been waiting for you so long and I am so unhappy without you!”

Then Mona recollected everything all at once. She rose up hastily, set out and found the fairy, who was lamenting thus near the stack of barley straw. She threw herself into his arms, and since then she has never been seen.

This story is taken from an article entitled “A Voyage to the Island of Ouessant,” published in the “Revue de France,” March and April, 1874.

F. M. LUZEL.

SISTER AND HALF-SISTER

A MULHOUSE STORY

Once there was a woman who had two daughters: one was her husband’s daughter by his first marriage, and the other was her own child. One day when the half-sister was spinning by the well, her spindle fell into the water and her mother beat her cruelly. She went back to the well and was trying to get her spindle out again, when her hard-hearted mother gave her such a push that the poor girl fell into the well.

When she reached the bottom she found a large and magnificent garden. As she was walking along, in tears, the pear-tree said to her,--

“Young girl, why are you crying so?”

The young girl answered,--

“Have I not good reason to cry? My step-mother gave me such a push that I fell into the well.”

The pear-tree said,--

“Young girl, hold your apron; I will give you some pears.” And the young girl received from him the most delicious pears.

Afterwards she came to a plum-tree; the plum-tree said to her,--

“Young girl, why are you crying so?”

The young girl answered,--

“Have I not good reason to cry? My step-mother gave me such a push that I fell into the well.”

The plum-tree said to her,--

“Hold your apron; I will give you some plums”; and he shook into her lap the most beautiful plums. And the good little girl was treated in the same way by the other trees.

At last she came to a grand castle all of gold, and she was still shedding bitter tears. A fair lady was looking out at the window; she asked her,--

“Young girl, why are you crying?”

“Have I not good reason to cry? My step-mother gave me such a push that I fell into the well.”

“Come now,” said the lady, “you can spend the night with me; but first tell me, where do you prefer to eat--with the little dog and the little cat, or with the gentleman and lady?”

The young girl answered modestly,--

“With the little dog and the little cat. I should not like to be in any one’s way.”

And on this account they permitted her to eat with the lady and gentleman.

The lady said to her,--

“Where do you prefer to sleep--with the little dog and the little cat, or with the gentleman and lady?”

The young girl answered,--

“With the little dog and the little cat.”

And accordingly they permitted her to sleep with the gentleman and lady.

The next day the lady said to her,--

“How would you prefer to be driven back to your home?--in a carriage smeared with pitch and resin, or in one all of silver and gold?”

The young girl answered,--

“In one smeared with pitch and resin.”

But she was allowed to return in a carriage of silver and gold.

When she arrived at home, her half-sister, who was looking out of the window, began to clap her hands and cry out,--

“O! Bidi bidi boum!
My half-sister comes,
And heavily laden
With silver and gold.
I must go and help her unload.
O! Bidi bidi boum!”

When the wicked mother saw that the half-sister had become so distinguished, she said to her own child,--

“Come now, Annette! throw your spindle also into the well and jump in after it! Who knows? Perhaps the same thing will happen to you down there, and you will be able to come back in a golden carriage.”

But this one was a wicked and obstinate child. Her mother had scarcely finished speaking before the spindle was at the bottom of the well, and the little girl leaped after it and came into the large beautiful garden of which I have already spoken. The sun shone with a golden brightness, and the roses and lilies--oh! but it was perfectly splendid!

The little girl went to the pear-tree and said,--

“Come now, give me some pears also!”

But she waited a long time, and the pear-tree did not move.

She went a little farther and came to a plum-tree, and said to it,--

“Come, plum-tree, give me also some plums.”

But it gave her nothing, that is what the plum-tree did; what the other trees did, it is needless for me to tell you.

The fair lady was again looking out from her palace at the end of the garden, and said,--

“Young girl, where are you going? From whence do you come? What does your little heart long for?”

“I wish to come in, I wish to eat, I wish to sleep in a little garden bed, and I wish to go back again in a little golden carriage.”

The lady could scarcely help laughing, but she continued her questions:--

“With which do you prefer to eat--with dog and cat, or with lord and lady?”

“Why, with lord and lady, of course.”

And consequently she was obliged, as a punishment, to eat with the dog and cat.

A little while afterwards the lady asked her again,--

“With which would you like best to sleep--with the dog and cat, or with the lord and lady?”

“Why, with the lord and lady, of course.”

But who was obliged to sleep with the dog and cat? It was my wicked little girl.

The next morning when she got up, the lady said to her,--

“How would you prefer to go back to your home--in a carriage smeared with pitch and resin, or in a carriage of gold and silver?”

“In the gold carriage, certainly,” cried she.

But for punishment, she was obliged to go back again in the carriage smeared with resin.

What did her mother say when she saw her child return in the carriage smeared with pitch and resin, disgraced and scoffed at, and what did she look like then? Well, I should like to tell you about it; but my great-grandmother, who was so good as to tell me the story, was losing her memory, and could not remember any more.

AUGUSTE STOEBER, “Elsaessiches Volksbüchlein.”

THE FAIRIES’ SHIP

A SAILORS’ STORY

Once upon a time there was, at Saint-Cast, a young captain who had no ship to command. He made application after application. He went to see the ship-owners, and offered his services; but although he was known to be a good sailor, he had no command given him. One day when he had been again at Saint-Malo, without being more successful than at other times, he started out late, and on foot, to return to his village; and when night came on, he was not far from the wood which crossed the main road.

“Ah!” said he, “I should have done better to stay and sleep at Saint-Malo; for I shall have to go through the wood of Pontual; and they say that after nightfall one is apt to encounter strange things there.”

He quickened his pace and entered the wood; when he was in the middle of it, he heard a noise, and having stopped to listen, he heard a voice which cried, “Help! help! save me!”

“Ah!” thought he, “it is perhaps some one whom the robbers are trying to kill; but it shall never be said that I left any creature to die without trying to help him.”

He hastened to the spot from which the cries came, and saw a good woman who was defending herself as well as she could against five men, who were trying to kill her. He took her part, and between them they killed the robbers.

When they had gotten out of the wood, the old woman, who was a fairy, said to him,--

“Captain, you are brave, and you shall be rewarded for it. If I had wished I could easily have killed all five of the robbers, for I have power enough for that; but I wanted to see if you were courageous, and ready to help poor people.”

Then she disappeared; the captain continued his journey, and reached Saint-Cast without accident.

The next day a beautiful lady, whom he did not know, came to his house, and said to him,--

“I am the good woman to whose assistance you came yesterday in the wood of Pontual. I am a fairy, and I know that you were returning from Saint-Malo, where you had vainly applied for the command of a ship. It is needless for you to make any more applications. I will give you the command of a ship--a splendid one; the handsomest that ever was seen.”

The captain thanked the lady with all his heart; then he invited her to dine with him.

When the meal was ended, she said to him,--

“Now, you come with me; I am one of the fairies of the Cavern of Saint-Briac, and near my grotto you will see your ship.”

The captain followed the lady; and when they reached the seashore, she took him by the hand, and they walked together over the waves, as though they were on a high-road; the water did not even wet the soles of their shoes. They arrived at the cavern, and the fairy showed the captain the ship she had designed for him. The hull was all of gold, the masts, also, as well as the yards and the pulleys, and the cordage was of twisted threads of gold. It was not yet quite ready; and the goldsmiths of the cavern were busy finishing it.

It was so dazzling that the captain could scarcely look at it.

“When will it be finished, this beautiful ship?” he asked of the fairy who had brought him there.

“Why do you ask me that question?”

“So as to have time to get up a crew to man the ship when it is finished.”

“Do not be disturbed,” said the fairy; “your crew is ready, and I am going to show it to you.”

She rubbed some salve round his eyes; immediately he saw at least thirty little male fairies of tiny size, who were dressed like admirals; and she said to him, pointing to them with her finger,--

“Captain, these are the little men who will be your sailors. In three days the ship will be ready; you can set out, and they will help you to manage it, for they are good sailors. Meanwhile, come and dine with me and the other inhabitants of the cavern.”

The captain followed the fairy. She led him through a long suite of apartments bright as gold; and at last they came to a great hall, where a handsome table was set. Here the fairy women, with their husbands and sons, and the tiny male fairies, came to take their meals. The captain looked out of the window, and saw in a court-yard some of the male fairies, large and small, drilling with the sword and bayonet.

“Why,” asked he, “are they drilling in this way?”

“They are our soldiers,” answered the fairy, “and they are preparing to go to fight with the fairies of Chêlin, who have declared war against us.”

When the fairy men, large and small, had finished drilling, they made playful music with their swords; then every one went into the hall to dine. That day there was a great feast at the cavern; for the queen of the fairies had just given birth to a boy, and they celebrated his birth.

After the feast was over, the captain proposed to go; the fairy who had brought him, and who was named Gladieuse, conducted him as far as the door of the grotto, and before leaving him, she said to him,--

“Here are some boots which you must put on to cross the sea; as long as you have them on, you will be able to go over land or sea, wherever you wish. To-morrow you must return here to take command of your ship.”

The captain thanked the fairy; then having put on his boots, he walked over the waves of the sea as if on a highway, and arrived at Saint-Cast. But when he went into his house he found nothing there; his parents, who had seen him cross the sea, believed him to be drowned, and they had removed his furniture. He went to ask them for it, but they took him, at first, for a ghost. When he had convinced them that he was a man of flesh and bone, he told them that he had taken command of a ship. He made them a present of his furniture; then after having embraced his father and mother, he went away.

He proceeded to the point of the island, and having put on his boots, he crossed the sea without getting wet. His ship was close by the cavern, all rigged and ready to set sail. He stepped on board, and the fairy Gladieuse, who was on the deck, said to him,--

“This ship will sail under the water, as well as on it, in the air as well as in the water, just as you wish.”

Then she went back to the land, and the sailors of the cavern came on board; immediately the wind swelled out the sails, and the ship started off like lightning.

It sailed as fast as the wind, which blew always right aft; they never had to tack about, they never had head winds, and there was no need of holding the helm nor of hauling in the sails; a fairy man, who was unseen, directed everything as he wished. At the end of a fortnight he steered the ship into a port, and the anchor was immediately thrown out.

The port was in an island where fairy men and women lived, and they heartily welcomed the captain and his crew.

The next day after their arrival in the island, while all the sailors were on shore, and the captain was alone on board, the fairy man appeared and said to him,--

“It is I, who by my will, have brought your ship into this port; it is I who guided it here, and you had no trouble in steering it, because the wind was always right aft. Now you are to take on board some fairy men to help us fight the fairies of Chêlin.”

“Very well, Mr. Fairy; I shall go ashore at once and take the passengers aboard according to your orders.”

“As soon as they are on board,” said the fairy man, “you must set sail for Saint-Briac; but I shall leave the ship, which, hereafter, will sail only under your own command. Here is a little whistle which I give you; as soon as you reach the shore, you have only to whistle, and immediately your sailors and the fairy men who are to take part in the war will come on board.”

The captain went ashore on the island, and as soon as he had blown his whistle, five hundred fairy men, and the thirty tiny fairies that he had brought with him, jumped aboard. In less than ten minutes the ship spread her sails and went out of the port. During the whole voyage he had a wind right aft, and in less than three weeks from the time he set sail he arrived at Saint-Briac.

The five-hundred fairy men disembarked, and went into the cavern, where they were well received. Three days after they went to war against the fairies of Chêlin; but they were not the stronger, and they asked for peace.

The war was ended, and there were great rejoicings at the cavern and at Saint-Briac; the captain carried the fairy men back to their island, then he went to Antwerp to take a load of sea-coal for the fairies. They were very much pleased with him, and when he returned, they paid him a hundred thousand francs for his voyage.

Two days after, the ship stood out to sea; for three whole years it sailed over the seas without touching at any land, and sometimes they were left without provisions; but then the captain made use of the ring that the fairy Gladieuse had given him, and he obtained as much of everything as he needed.

At the end of the third year they came in sight of a little island, and the captain and the tiny fairy sailors went ashore. Among the trees there were fruits of every kind; the brooks were of wine, cider, and all sorts of good things to drink, and the ground was covered with precious stones of gold and with diamonds. The tiny fairies tasted everything; then they loaded the ship with diamonds and precious stones of gold. Just as they were ready to leave they saw an old fellow coming, so old that he looked as if his years numbered a thousand. He was the only inhabitant of the island, and he begged them to take him on board so that he could go to Saint-Briac.

He was so very, very ugly that the captain himself was afraid of him; and he was right, for it was a demon. As soon as the old fellow came on board he tried to take command of the ship; but the captain resisted him and forced him to obey.

They set sail again, and when they were on the broad sea they were attacked by pirates, who for a long time had been chasing the golden ship. At least two hundred of them leaped aboard, and the old demon took their side; but the tiny fairies killed them all, and also killed the devil. They threw the dead bodies into the sea; but the pirates who were left on their ship ordered the powder to be set on fire so as to blow themselves up with the golden ship. Then the captain said,--

“By the power of my ring, let my ship sail under the water as it does on top of it.”

Immediately the ship plunged under the sea, and the pirates could not do it any harm.

Since that time the demon, to whom all the race of fairies was subject, and who was coming to Saint-Briac to punish them, having been cut to pieces by the tiny fairies, dare not command them any longer; and since then neither fairy men nor women belong to him any more.

The golden ship continued its voyage and returned to the Cavern of Saint-Briac. The fairy men and women were so pleased with the load that the captain brought them, that they married him to the fairy Gladieuse, and he lived happily with her in the grotto.

I picked up this story at the little port of Saint-Cast (Côtes-du-Nord).

PAUL SEBILLOT.

THE SHEPHERD WHO WON THE KING’S DAUGHTER BY A SINGLE WORD

A TALE OF LOWER BRITANNY

Once upon a time there was a king who never told a single lie in his life. As he heard the people about his court constantly saying to each other, “That is not true! You are a liar,” he was very much displeased; so much so that he said one day,--

“I am astonished at you; a stranger who should hear you speak in this way would not fail to say that I am the king of liars. I do not wish to hear any more such language in my palace. He who hears me say to any one, no matter who he may be, ‘You are a liar!’--well, I will give him the hand of my daughter.”

A young shepherd, who was present at the time, having heard these words of the king, said to himself, “Good! we will see about this.”

The old king loved to hear the old Giverziou and the new Soniou sung, and marvelous tales told. Often after supper he came into the kitchen, and took pleasure in listening to the songs and stories of his footmen. Each one sang or related something in turn.

“And you, young shepherd, do you know nothing?” said the king one evening.

“Oh, yes! my king,” answered the shepherd.

“Let us see what you know, then.”

And the shepherd told what follows:--

“One day, as I was going through a wood, I saw an enormous hare coming. I had in my hand a ball of wax; I threw it at the hare, and struck it just in the middle of the forehead, where it stuck. Then the hare ran faster than ever with the ball of wax on its forehead. He met another hare which was coming from an opposite direction; they struck against each other’s foreheads and stuck together so that they could not get apart, and thus I caught them very easily. How do you like that, sire?”

“Very much,” answered the king; “but go on.”

“Before coming to your court as a shepherd, sire, I was a miller’s boy in my father’s mill, and I went every day with an ass to carry the flour to the customers. One day I had such a load on my ass that, upon my word, his spine broke!”

“Poor beast!” said the king.

“Then I went to a hedge nearby, and with my knife I cut a hazel-stick, which I stuffed into the body of my ass to take the place of its spine. Then the animal got up and carried its load gently along to its destination as if no harm had happened to it. What do you say to that, sire?”

“That is very good; and what next?”

“The next morning I was very much astonished (for it was then the month of December) to see that branches, leaves, and even hazel-nuts had grown upon the hazel-stick; and when I took my ass out of the stable, the branches continued to grow up so very, very high that they reached up to the sky.”

“That is first-rate!” said the king; “but what happened after that?”

“Seeing that, I began to climb from branch to branch on the hazel-tree, so high and so safely that at last I reached the moon.”

“That is first-rate, first-rate! but go on.”

“There I saw some old women who were winnowing oats from the chaff and straw, and I stopped to look at them. But I soon got tired of looking at these old women, and wanted to descend to the earth again. But my ass had gone away, and I could no longer find the hazel-tree by which I had climbed up. What was to be done? Then I went to work to tie the oat straw together, head to head, so as to make a cord by which I could go down.”

“This is certainly first-rate!” said the king; “and what next?”

“Unfortunately my cord was not long enough; it was too short by thirty or forty feet, so that I fell on a rock head-foremost, and so heavily that my head sank down into the rock as far as my shoulders.”

“That is first-rate, first-rate; and what next?”

“I struggled so vigorously and successfully that my body became detached from my head, which latter remained buried in the rock. I ran at once to the mill to find an iron crow-bar, with which to pry my head out of the rock.”

“Better and better!” said the king; “but what next?”

“When I returned, there was an enormous wolf that also wished to pull my head out of the rock, in order to eat it! I gave him a blow on the back with my crow-bar, but such a very, very heavy one, that a letter flew out of him!”

“Oh! a better one than that could not be told!” cried the king; “but what was written on that letter?”

“On that letter, my king, with all due respect to you, was written that your father had formerly been mill boy at my grandfather’s mill.”

“It’s a lie, you young rascal!” cried the king, immediately rising up, furious.

“Holloa, sire; I have won!” said the shepherd quietly.

“How is that? What have you won?”

“Did not you say, my king, that you would willingly give the hand of the princess, your daughter, to the first one who would make you say, ‘That is a lie,’ or ‘You are a liar’?”

“It is true,” replied the king, growing calmer; “I did say so. A king should always keep his word; therefore your betrothal to my only daughter shall be celebrated to-morrow, and the wedding in a week!”

And thus it was that the shepherd won the king’s daughter by a single word.

F. M. LUZEL, “Archives des Missions Scientifiques.”

THE ENCHANTED RING

A CORSICAN STORY

Before the invasion of the Saracens there were six brothers and their sister who were very, very poor; their parents were sick and not able to work. One day when they had been hunting for chestnuts in the neighboring wood and had scarcely been able to find any, the smallest said to his brothers,--

“I want to go out into the world to see if I can make a fortune. At the end of the week I will come back to tell you what has happened to me.”

And the little brother went away. He traveled for several days, and at last he saw a small house in the midst of a forest.

“At last,” said he to himself, “I shall be able to rest myself a few moments and eat a piece of bread.”

Tap! tap!

“Who is there?”

“It is I.”

Seeing it was a man, the mistress of the house, who was a fairy, dropped her ring as if by mistake.

The little brother saw it and put it on his finger, saying,--

“Ah! what a beautiful ring!”

But immediately his body was covered with hairs, two horns grew out from him, his ears became long, and his two hands were changed into the feet of a goat.

In fact, he was altogether changed into a goat.

“Baa! baa! baa!” said the little brother; but nothing could bring him back to his original shape.

The fairy tied him, put him down in the cellar; and gave him some very fresh grass.

Seeing that their brother did not come back, the other five wished to go and look for him.

They started out one after the other; but when they reached the fairy’s house, they each put on the ring that she threw to them, and all shared their youngest brother’s fate.

The sister wanted to go too.

She was beautiful and well formed, with blue eyes and black hair; her name was Milia.

As she was going along, the little sister came upon a large bird caught in a bush; it could not get out in spite of all its efforts.

The young girl took her knife, cut off the briers and set free the bird, which flew away, saying,--

“Thanks, thanks, Milia; thanks, thanks, Milia.”

The latter continued her journey; as night came on, she sat down under a tree to eat a piece of bread.

As she was making her frugal meal, she saw a poor old woman coming, who could scarcely drag herself along.

Milia ran to meet her, saying to her,--

“My good mother, lean on me; come rest yourself a moment and have part of the small quantity of bread that I have left.”