Caballero's Fairy Tales Part I

8/18/2019 Caballero's Fairy Tales Part I

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Once upon a time there was a very poor fsherman, who lived in a little hut on

the banks o a river. This river, although deep, was very calm and clear, and,

gliding rom the sun and noise, would hide itsel among the trees, reeds, and

brambles, in order to listen to the birds who delighted it with their songs.

One day when the fsherman went out in his boat to cast his nets, he saw acasket o crystal slowly driting along with the stream. He rowed towards it,

but what was his horror at seeing two little babies, apparently twins, lying in

it upon a bundle o cotton! The poorfsherman pitied them, took them out,

and carried them home to his wie.

"hat have you got there " she eclaimed, as he presented them to her. "e

have eight children already, and as i that were not enough, you must bring

me some more!"

"ie," replied the poor fsherman, "what could # do # ound these dear little

creatures $oating on the river below, and they would have died o hunger, orhave been drowned, i # had not rescued them. Heaven, which has sent us

these two more children, will assist us to provide or them."

%nd so it proved& and the children, a boy and a girl, grew up healthy and

robust, together with the eight other children. They were both so good, so

docile, and so peaceable, that the fsherman and his wie loved them

eceedingly, and always held them up as eamples to the other children& but

they, envious and enraged, did them a thousand in'ustices and in'uries. To

escape rom these cruelties, the twins would take reuge together among the

thickets and bushes on the river(s banks& there they would divert themselves

with the birds, and carry crumbs o bread to them& and the birds, grateul tothem or their kindness, would $y to meet them, and teach them the bird)

language. The children learned to converse with the birds very *uickly, and

thus they could amuse themselves with their eathered riends, who also

taught them many other very good and useul things, one o them being how

to get up early in the morning, and another how to sing. One day when the

fsherman(s children were more annoying than they had ever been beore,

they said to the twins +

"e are the true)born children o -hristians, but you, with all your neatness

and superiority, are but castaways, without any other ather or mother than

the river, and belong to the toads and rogs!"

pon receiving this insult, the poor children were so flled with shame and

distress that they determined to go right away rom home, and travel in

search o their real parents. %t the early dawn net day they got up and went

orth without any one knowing it, and began their 'ourney, travelling they

knew not whither.


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Hal the day passed by, and they had not perceived as yet any abode, nor

seen a single living being. They were hungry, thirsty, and tired, when, on

turning round a hill)side, they discovered a little house& on reaching it, they

ound it was empty and its inhabitants absent

Thoroughly disheartened, they seated themselves on a bench in the doorwayto rest. %ter a little while they noticed a number o swallows collected

together under the eaves o the roo, and as they are such chatterboes, they

began to prattle with each other. Having learned the language o birds, the

children knew what the swallows said.

"Holloa! my lady riend," said one o the birds, who had a somewhat rustic air

about it, to another that was o a very elegant and distinguished mien, "my

eyes are glad to see you once more! # thought you had orgotten your country

riends. How do you live in the palace"

"# possess the nest o my ancestors," replied the other, "and as yet they have

not disinherited me, although, like yours, it is a century old. /ut tell me

beore all," continued she with admirable fnesse, "how you and all your

amily are"

"ell, thank Heaven! or although # have had my little /eatrice laid up with an

in$ammation o the eyes that was within an ace o leaving her blind, when #

obtained our old remedy, the pito)real, it cured her as i by magic."

"/ut what news have you to relate to me, riend /eatrice 0oes the

nightingale still sing well 0oes the lark soar as high as o yore 0oes the

linnet still prune itsel"

"1ister," responded the swallow, "# have nothing but downright scandals to

tell you o. Our $ock, which ormerly was so innocent and temperate, is

utterly lost, and has *uite taken to the manners o mankind. #t is

heartbreaking!"

"hat! 1imple customs and innocence not to be ound in the country, nor

among birds 2y dear riend, what do you tell me"

"The pure truth, and nothing more. 3ust fgure to yoursel, that on our arrival

here, whom should we meet but those chattering linnets& they went o4, when

the spring came with longer days and bright $owers, in search o cold andstorm! e tried to dissuade the cra5y creatures, but they answered us with

the utmost insolence."

"hat did they say"

"They said to us


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"( hither do we go

hence come you, reprobates,

ho travel so little

%nd talk so much(

This was their reply to us, and on hearing it we made them march to double

*uick time."

"hat do # hear!" eclaimed the interlocutor. "That any one has dared to

accuse us, the most honest and aithul o birds, o being reprobates"

"Then what will you think when # tell you," said the frst speaker, "that the

lark, who was so timid and ladylike, has become an insolent pilerer, and that

"The lady lark upon her $ight,

6ilers pulse and pilers mai5e,

/eore the very sower(s sight,

%nd at his anger pertly says,

(1ower, sower, more seed sow,

%s that sown can never grow("

"# am astounded!"

"That is only hal my story. hen we arrived here, and # wished to enter my

nest, # ound a shameless sparrow making himsel *uite at home in it. (This

nest is mine,( # said to him. (7ours( he answered rudely, and began to laugh.

(2ine and mine only.( (6roperty is robbery,( piped he *uite coolly. (1ir, are you

cra5y( # said to him. (2y ancestors built this nest, my parents educated me in

it, and in it # mean to bring up my children.( Then at seeing me ainting, all

my companions began to weep. /y the time # recovered my consciousness,

our husbands had put an end to the thieving rascal. /ut you, sister, never see

such scandals in the palace." "0on(t we! . . . %h, i you only knew!" "0o tell

us! do tell us!" eclaimed all( the swallows with one voice. hen silence had

been re)established, thanks to a loud and prolonged kus)s)s)sh, uttered by an


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elder, the court dame began her story in these terms.

"7ou must know that the king ell in love with the youngest daughter o a

tailor who lived near the palace, and married her& the girl deserved his love,

as she was as good as she was beautiul, and as modest as she was discreet.

#t so happened that the king had to go to the wars and leave his poor wie inthe saddest and most perpleed position. 8or his ministers and courtiers, who

were very indignant at having a tailor(s daughter or their *ueen, conspired to

ruin her. %nd they availed themselves o the frst opportunity. 0uring the

king(s absence beautiul twins, a boy and a girl, were born& but the wicked

conspirators sent to tell him that the *ueen had or children a cat and a

serpent.

"hen the king received this intelligence, he was very urious, and sent o4 a

royal mandate that the *ueen should be entombed alive, and the children

cast into the river. This was done& the beautiul *ueen was shut up in a stone

vault, and her little darling twins were placed in a crystal co4er, and let tothe mercy o the stream."

hen they heard the ate o the poor *ueen and her innocent babes, the

swallows, who are very kind and a4ectionate, began to lament most heartily,

whilst the twins looked at one another in ama5ement, suspecting it to be very

probable that they themselves were the castaway children.

The city swallow continued her narrative + "/ut now hear how 9od

rustrated the plots o these traitors. The *ueen was entombed& but her

attendant, who was very devoted to her, contrived to make a hole in the wall,

and supplied her with ood through it, as we do to our little ones through ournests, and thus the lady lives, although a lie o misery. Her children were

rescued by a good fsherman, who has brought them up, so a riend o mine,

2artin 8isher, who lives on the banks o the river, has inormed me."

The twins, who had heard the whole story, were delighted that they had

learned the language o birds& which, indeed, is a proo that we should never

neglect any opportunity o learning, or, when least we think it, what we have

learnt may prove o great utility to us.

"1o then," said the swallows 'oyully, "when these children are older, they will

be able to regain their place at their ather(s side, and liberate their mother."

"That is not so easy," said the narrator, because they will not be able to prove

their identity, nor prove their mother(s innocence, nor the malice o the

2inistry. There is only one method by which they would be able to undeceive

the king."

"%nd what is that hat is that " cried all the swallows together. "%nd how


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do you know it"

"# know it," responded the narrator, "because one day when # was passing by

the palace garden, # met and had a chat with a cuckoo, who, as you know, is

a con'uror, and can oretell what will happen. %s we were discoursing with

one another the a4airs o the palace, he said to me"

The children and the swallows were listening with redoubled attention, and

even the young swallows were thrusting their little bald heads so ar out o

their nests, that they were in great peril o alling& their parents did not notice

the danger, or they would have given the youngsters a good smack.

"( The only one who is able to persuade the king,( said the cuckoo to me, (is

the /ird o Truth, who speaks the language o men, although they or the

most part do not know truth, and do not wish to understand it.( (%nd this bird,

where is it( # asked the cuckoo. (This bird,( he answered, (is in the castle o

9o and :eturn ;ot& the castle is guarded by a erocious giant who only sleeps

one *uarter o an hour in the twenty)our hours. # when he wakes up any one

should be within reach o his tremendous arm, he sei5es and swallows him as

we should a mos*uito ("

"%nd where is this castle" in*uired the in*uisitive /eatrice.

"That is what # don(t know," responded her riend& "all that # know about it is,

that not ar rom it is a tower in which dwells a wicked witch, who knows the

way and will point it out to any one who will bring her rom the ountain that

$ows there, the ater o 2any -olours, which water she makes use o in her

enchantments. /ut # should also tell you that she would like to destroy the

/ird o Truth, though as no one is able to kill this bird, what she and her riend

the giant do is to keep it a prisoner guarded by the /irds o 8alsehood, who

will not let it speak a single word."

"Then will nobody be able to inorm the poor *ueen(s son where they have

hidden the /ird o Truth " in*uired the country swallows.

";obody," replied the city bird, "but a pious red owl, who lives as a hermit in

the desert, but who knows no more o the language o men than the one

word ( -ross,( which he learned when, at -alvary, he beheld the -rucifion o

the :edeemer, and which he has never ceased rom sorrowully repeating.

%nd thus he will not be able to understand the prince, even supposing the

impossible event should ever happen o the boy fnding him out. /ut, my dear

riends, # must say (9ood)bye,( or # have spent the whole aternoon in this

pleasant chat. The sun is seeking his nest in the depths o the sea, and # am

going to seek mine, where my little ones will be wondering what has

happened to me. 9ood)bye, riend /eatrice."


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1o saying, the swallow took to $ight, and the children in their 'oy, eeling

neither hunger nor atigue, got up and pursued their way in the same

direction that the bird had $own

%t the hour o evening service the children arrived at a city which they

imagined must be that in which the king, their ather, dwelt. They begged agood woman to give them shelter or the night, and this, seeing they were so

well)spoken and well)mannered, she kindly granted.

The ollowing morning had scarcely dawned when the girl arose and tidied

the house, and the boy drew the water and watered the garden, so that when

the good woman got up she ound all the house)work done. 1he was so

pleased with this that she proposed to the children that they should remain

and live with her. The boy said that his sister might, but that it was necessary

or him to arrange some business matters, or which he had come to the city.

1o he departed, and ollowed a chance road, praying to Heaven to guide his

steps and bring his enterprise to a successul ending.

8or three days he ollowed various byeways, but without seeing any vestige

o the tower& on the ourth, sad and weary, he seated himsel under the

shadow o a tree. %ter a short time he saw a little turtle)dove arrive and rest

among the branches o the tree& so he said to it, in its own language+

"


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carrying a candle that lit up her ace, which was so wrinkled and so rightul

that the poor boy recoiled in horror. =uite an army o beetles, li5ards,

salamanders, spiders, and other vermin surrounded the witch.

"How dare you disturb me, impudent beggar," she eclaimed, " by coming to

knock at my door hat do you want 1peak *uickly!"

"2adam," said the boy, "knowing that you alone know the way which leads to

the castle o 9o and :eturn ;ot, # come to ask you, i you please, to point it

out to me."

The old woman made a grimace, intended or a mocking smile, and

answered+

">ery well& but now it is too late. 7ou shall go to)morrow. -ome in, and you

shall sleep with these little insects."

"# am not able to stay," replied the boy& "it is necessary that # should go atonce, as # have to return by day)break to the place whence # came."

"2ay dogs worry you, and cats tear you, you stubborn boy," growled the old

witch angrily. "# # tell you the way," she added, "it will only be upon condition

that you bring me this 'ar ull o the ater o 2any -olours, which $ows rom

the ountain in the courtyard o the castle& and i you do not bring it to me, #

will change you into a li5ard or all eternity."

(+ %greed!" cried the boy in return.

Then the old woman called a poor dog, which looked very thin and wretched,and said to it+

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"p! conduct this good)or)nought to the castle o 9o and :eturn ;ot, and be

careul that you inorm my riend o his arrival."

The dog snarled, shook himsel savagely, and set orth. %t the end o about

two hours they arrived in ront o a very black, enormous, and gloomy castle,

whose portals stood wide open, but where neither light nor sound gave any

indication that it was inhabited& even the rays o the moon, as they were

re$ected upon the sombre and lieless mass, seemed to make it still more

horrible.

%s he went orward, the dog began to howl& but the boy, who knew not

whether this was the giant(s hour or sleep, stopped and rested himsel

timorously against the trunk o a withered and lea$ess wild olive, which was

the only tree to be ound in that parched and naked district.


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"Heaven help me!" eclaimed the boy.

"-ross! -ross!" responded a sad voice among the branches o the olive.

3oyully the boy recognised the hermit owl which the swallow had mentioned&

and said to it in the language o birds+

"6oor little owl, # beg you will help and guide me. # am come in search o the

/ird o Truth, and # have to carry the ater o 2any -olours to the witch o

the tower."

"0o not do that," responded the owl& "but when you have flled the 'ar with

the clear, pure water that $ows rom a spring at the oot o the ountain o

ater o 2any -olours, go in *uickly to the aviary, which you will fnd in ront

o the doorway& do not take any notice o the various coloured birds that will

come to meet you and deaen you by all shouting out together that they are

the /ird o Truth& then sei5e a little white bird which the others thrust on one

side and persecute ceaselessly, but they cannot kill, because it cannot die.

/ut go *uickly, or at this moment the giant is 'ust going to sleep, and his

sleep only lasts or a *uarter o an hour!"

The boy began to run& he entered into the courtyard, where he ound that the

ountain had many spouts whence poured waters o di4erent colours, but he

did not look at them& he flled his 'ar at the spring o pure, clear water which

$owed rom the spring at the oot o the ountain, and then made his way to

the aviary. 1carcely had he entered it, when he was surrounded by a troop o

birds, some plovers, some black ravens, and others gorgeous peacocks, and

each one declaring itsel to be the /ird o Truth. The boy did not linger with

them, but went right orward, and fnding the white bird he was in search ohuddled in the corner, he took it, placed it in his bosom, and went orth, not,

however, without distributing a ew good blows among the enemies o the

/ird o Truth.

The boy did not cease running until he reached the witch(s tower. hen he

arrived, the old wretch sei5ed the 'ar and $ung all the contents at him,

thinking that it was the water o many colours, and that he would be changed

by it into a parrot& but as it was pure and clear water, the boy only became

handsomer than he was beore.

%t the same time she had drenched all the insects, who were really peoplethat had arrived there with the same intention as the little prince, and who

were immediately changed back into their original orms,the beetles into

knights errant, the li5ards into princesses, grasshoppers into dancers, crickets

into musicians, $ies into 'ournalists, spiders into young ladies, curianas Ablack

$iesB into students, the weevils into boys, and so orth. hen the old witch

saw this, she sei5ed a broom and $ew away. Then the disenchanted people,

the ladies, gentlemen, girls, and boys thanked their liberator, and


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accompanied him on his way back to the city.

7ou may imagine how delighted his sister was when she saw the young prince

return with the /ird o Truth. /ut a very great diCculty still remained, and

that was, how the bird could be got into the presence o the king without the

knowledge o the courtiers, who were interested in preventing him romdiscovering the great crime which they had committed. %nd what was more,

the -ourt having learnt that the /ird o Truth had been ound, the news

inspired such dread that ew were able to sleep tran*uilly in their beds. %ll

kinds o weapons were prepared against it& some sharpened, others

envenomed& hawks were trained to pursue it& cages were prepared in which

to imprison it, i it were ound impossible to kill it& they slandered it, saying

that its whiteness was an artifcial paint, with which it coated its black

plumage& they satiri5ed and ridiculed it in every possible manner. %t last, so

much was said about the /ird o Truth, that it reached the king(s ears, who

wished to see it& and the more that the courtiers intrigued to prevent it, the

more he desired to view the bird. 8inally, his 2a'esty issued a proclamation,

that whoever had the /ird o Truth in his possession, was to present himsel

without delay to the king.

This was the very thing that the boy had wished or. 1o he hastened to the

palace, carrying the /ird o Truth in his bosom& but, as you can imagine, the

courtiers would not allow him to enter. Then the bird, taking $ight, entered

into the royal presence by a window, and presenting itsel beore the king,

said+

"


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pensioned o4, and created her a duchess, and distributed many other gits

and benefts.

% 9#:< HO %;TD0 TH:DD H1/%;01.

% -ertain man had a daughter who was not only very beautiul but also very

wilul and obstinate. Three suitors, all o whom were eligible, came to woo

her. Her ather said all three had his good wishes, but she must make her own

selection.

"# will accept the three," was her reply.

"/ut, daughter, that is not possible."

"# choose all three," persisted the girl.

"/e reasonable," insisted her ather, "and say which it shall be." /ut all to no

purpose, or he could not alter her determination. Then the poor atherbecame angry, and told the three aspirants that his daughter wished to wed

all three o them& but as that was not possible, he had determined, i they

would go orth into the world and seek or something uni*ue o its kind, she

should marry the one who obtained the best and rarest ob'ect.

Then all three departed on their separate ways. %nd ater a long time they

returned towards their appointed place o meeting in a distant land, but

without having obtained anything very beautiul and rare. They were in great

distress at this, but ceased not to in*uire or what they sought. The frst one

met a little old man who asked him i he would like to buy a little mirror.

";o," he answered& or he could not see the use o so small and ugly a glass.

Then the vendor inormed him that it had the great virtue o showing its

owner any one he wished to see, never mind how ar o4 the person might be.

Having ascertained that this was a act, the young man bought it.

%nd it also chanced to the second traveller, as he was passing through a

street, that he met the same little old man, who asked him i he would like to

buy a small phial o balsam.

"hat would be the good o it to me" he in*uired.

"This balsam has the wonderul power o restoring the dead to lie," said the

old man. %t this moment a uneral passed by, so he went up to the coCn and

put a drop o the balsam into the mouth o the dead man, who rose up well

and hearty, and, leaving the coCn, went home. hen the second aspirant

saw this, he bought the balsam rom the old man or what he asked.

2eanwhile the third traveller went to stroll by the sea shore, and he beheld a


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large boat crossing the waves. #t reached the land, and rom it disembarked a

large number o passengers. The last was a little old man, who approached

him, and asked him i he would like to buy the boat.

"hat use would it be to me," replied he, "ecept to make a bonfre o"

"1ir," responded the old man, "it possesses the great virtue o being able to

bear its owner, and any companions he takes with him, wheresoever he

wishes to go, in a very short time. 7ou can ask these passengers, who a little

while since were in 1pain." The traveller, ascertaining that this was so,

bought the boat o the owner or what he demanded.

The three suitors met, all ol them very contented with their purchases."

The ollowing day the three suitors met and, all o them very contented with

their purchases, recounted their adventures, and then thought o getting

home to 1pain as *uickly as possible. The frst, who had bought the mirror in

which the person one most wished to behold could be seen, showed his

purchase, and to prove its virtue looked into it to see the girl or whose hand

they all aspired. hat was his horror when he beheld her dead, and lying in

her coCn!

"# have some balsam," eclaimed he who had bought the little bottle, "which

would resuscitate her& but, alas! beore we can get home she will be buried,

and devoured by the worms."

"/ut," said the third, "# have bought a boat that will soon take us to 1pain."

Then they all three ran to the boat and got into it, and in a little while theyreached the land, and disembarked at the town where lived the ather o their

lady)love. They ound him in great grie or the death o his daughter, whose

body was shown to them. Then he who had the balsam put a ew drops on

the lips o the dead girl, who got up well and smiling rom her coCn, and

turning to her ather said,

"7ou see, ather, that # must marry all three o them!"

THD E;#9HT1 O8 THD 8#1H.

Once upon a time there was a poor cobbler, who, being unable to live by

mending shoes, determined to buy a net and turn fsherman. He went a)

fshing or several days, but could draw up nothing in his net but old boots

and shoes, though ew enough o them could he get hold o when he was a

cobbler. %t last he thought+

"This is the very last day # will go fshing. # # catch nothing # will go and hang

mysel."


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He cast his net, and this time he ound a fne fsh in it. hen he had taken the

fsh in his hand, it opened its mouth and said to him +

"Take me home to your house& cut me in si pieces and stew me with salt and

pepper, cinnamon and cloves, laurel leaves and mint.

9ive two o the pieces to your wie, two to your mare, and the other two to

the plant in your garden."

The cobbler did eactly what the fsh had told him to do, such was the aith

he had in its words. %nd he was duly rewarded, or several months ater this

his wie presented him with two fne boys, and his mare with two colts, whilst

the plant in his garden grew two lances which, instead o $owers, bore two

shields, on which were to be seen a silver fsh on an a5ure ground.

Dverything went on so prosperously that in course o time, one fne day,

might be seen two gallant youths issuing rom the cobbler(s house, mounted

upon two superb chargers, and bearing slender lances and brilliant shields.

These two brothers were so much alike that they were known as The 0ouble

Enight& and each o them wishing, as was 'ust, to preserve his own

individuality, they determined to separate and each seek his own ortune.

%ter embracing a4ectionately, the one took his way towards the est, and

the other towards the Dast.

%ter travelling or some days the frst arrived at 2adrid, and ound the royal

city pouring bitter tears into the pure, sweet waters o her cherished river,

the 2an5anares. Dverybody was weeping when our gallant youth arrived at

the 1panish capital& he in*uired the cause o this universal lamentation, and

was inormed that every year a fery dragon came and carried o4 a beautiul

maiden, and that this luckless year the lot had allen upon their princess, the

king(s good and peerless daughter.

The knight at once in*uired where the princess was to be ound, and was

inormed, at about a *uarter o a league distance, where she was epecting

the fery one to appear and carry her o4 to his den. Then the knight started

o4 at once to the place indicated, and ound the princess bathed in tears, and

trembling rom head to oot.

"8ly away!" cried the princess, when she saw the Enight o the 8ish approach&"$y away, rash one! the monster is coming here, and i he see you, Heaven

help you!"

"# shall not go away," responded the gallant youth, "because # have come to

save you."

"To save me! #s that possible"


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"# am going to see," responded the valiant champion. "%re there any 9erman

merchants in the city"

"7es," answered the princess in astonishment& "but why do you ask"

"7ou will see," said the knight, and galloped o8 to the city o mourning.

He speedily returned with an immense mirror which he had purchased rom a

9erman dealer. This he rested against the trunk o a tree, and covered it with

the princess(s veil, placing her in ront o it, and instructing her that when the

dragon was near to her she was to pull o4 the veil and slip behind the glass.

1o saying, the knight retired behind an ad'acent wall.

#n a little while the fery dragon appeared, and gradually drew near to the air

one, eyeing her with all the insolence and e4rontery possible. hen he was

*uite close, the princess, as she had been instructed by her champion,

withdrew the veil, and slipping behind the mirror, disappeared rom beore

the eyes o the fery dragon, which remained stupefed at fnding his amorous

glances directed at a dragon similar to himsel. He made a movement& his

resemblance did the same. His eyes sparkled red and brilliant as two rubies&

whilst those o his opponent gleamed like two carbuncles. This increased his

ury& he erected his scales as a porcupine would its *uills, and those o his

rival likewise stood up. He opened his tremendous mouth, which would have

been without parallel but or that o his opponent, who, ar rom being

intimidated, opened an identical one. The dragon dashed uriously against his

intrepid adversary, giving such an awul blow with his head against the mirror

that he was completely stunned& and as he had broken the glass, and in

every piece saw a piece o his own body, he ancied that with one blow hehad dashed his rival to atoms. to his sturdy charger, hanging dead and

bloodless behind. #t may, also, be readily guessed that ater such an

achievement they were unable to reward the gallant knight with anything but

the princess(s air hand& and that they had wedding estivities, and ban*uets,

and bull fghts, and tilting matches, and all sorts o good things.

The knight availed himsel o this moment o conusion and stupeaction, and

dashing orth impetuously rom his retreat, with his good lance deprived the

dragon o its lie, and would have been ready to deprive it o a hundred lives

had it possessed so many.

The delight and 'ubilation o the 2adrid people may be imagined when they

beheld the Enight o the 8ish bearing on his saddle the beautitul princess,

*uite unin'ured and as lively as a cricket, and the dragon, astened by its

neck

1ome days ater the marriage the Enight o the 8ish said to his wie that he

would like to see over the palace, which was so etensive that it covered a


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league o ground. They inspected the place together, and it occupied them

our days in seeing over it. On the ourth day they ascended the roo, and the

knight was struck with ama5ement at the prospect. ;ever had he seen

anything like it, nor ever could he have seen its e*ual, even i he had visited

all 1pain and the Dmpire o 2orocco as well.

"hat castle is that" in*uired the Enight o the 8ish, "which # see standing in

the distance, so solitary and sombre."

"That," responded the princess, "is the castle o %lbastretch& it is enchanted,

and no one is able to undo the enchantment& and no one o all those who

have gone to it has ever been known to return."

The knight listened intently to this, and as he was valiant and adventurous,

on the ollowing morning, without letting any one know his intention, he

mounted his horse, sei5ed his lance, and set out or the castle.

The castle was enough to set one(s hair on end with right to look at it+ it was

darker than a thunder)cloud, and as silent as death. /ut the Enight o the 8ish

knew nothing o ear save by hearsay, and never turned his back on oe until

he had con*uered& so he took his cornet and blew it lustily. The sound startled

all the slumbering echoes o the castle, so that they repeated it by heart, now

nearer, and now arther, sometimes soter and then louder& but no one stirred

in the castle.

"%h, what a castle!" shouted the knight. "#s there no one to see to a knight

who craves shelter #s there no governor, nor s*uire, nor even a groom to

take my horse away"

"%way! away! away!" clamoured the echoes.

"hy should # go away" said the Enight o the 8ish. "# shall not go back or all

you may say!"

"%y! ay! ay!" A"%las! alas! alas!"B groaned the echoes.

The knight grasped his spear and struck a loud blow on the door.

Then the portcullis was raised, and in the opening appeared the tip o an

enormous nose, located between the sunken eyes and allen)in mouth o an

old woman uglier than sin.

"hat do you want, impudent disturber" she in*uired with a cracked voice.

"To enter," replied the knight. "%re you not able to a4ord me the en'oyment o

some rest at this hour o the night 7es, or no"

";o! no! no!" said the echoes.


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Here the knight lited his vi5ier, because he was warm& and the old woman,

seeing how handsome he was, said to him +

"-ome in, handsome youth& you shall be cared or and well looked ater."

"%ter! ater!" warned the echoes& but the knight was earless and entered,

the old woman promising that he should are well.

"8arewell& arewell!" sighed the echoes.

"9o on, old lady," said the knight.

(F # am called


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enchanted castle o %lbastretch.

"#t is necessary that # should pass or my brother," thought the knight, "to

whom, it would appear, some good ortune has occurred. # must be *uiet, and

we shall see what will come to pass."

They carried him almost in triumph to the palace, where he ound it easy to

accept all the caresses and congratulations bestowed upon him by the king

and the princess. They were eager to learn about his adventures, and what

he had seen at the castle& but to the princess(s in*uiries he answered +

"# am not permitted to say a word about that until ater # have been there

once more."

"%re you thinking o revisiting that accursed castle 7ou are the only one who

has yet returned rom it."

"#t is unavoidable& # am obliged to go there."

hen they retired to rest, the knight placed his sword in the bed.

"hy do you do that" in*uired the princess.

"/ecause # have sworn not to sleep in a bed until ater # have revisited

%lbastretch."

%nd on the ollowing day he mounted his steed and took his way to the

enchanted castle, much earing that some misortune had happened to his

brother there. He arrived at the castle, and *uickly saw the old woman(s fery

nose appear at the portcullis.

;o sooner did she see the knight than she became livid with right, or she

thought he was the dead knight come to lie again. 1he began to invoke the

ob'ect o her devotions, /eel5ebub, most devoutly, and promised him all

kinds o gits i he would take rom her view that vision o $esh and blood,

drawn up rom the abode o the dead.

"%ncient lady!" cried the recent arrival, "# have come to ask where a knight is

who has been here"

"Here! here! here!" responded the echoes.

"%nd what have you done with this knight, so accomplished in all things, and

so skilled"

"Eilled ! killed!" groaned the echoes.

On hearing this, and seeing the old hag running o4, the Enight o the 8ish,

beside himsel with rage, ran ater her, and pierced her through with his


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sword, which remained ast in her body, so that she 'umped about at the

point o it like a parched pea in a rying pan.

"here is my brother, ugly old traitress" demanded the knight.

"# can tell you," responded the witch, "but as # am at death(s door, # will not

let you know until you have resuscitated me."

"/ut how can # do this, perfdious witch"

"9o to the garden," responded the old woman, "cut some evergreens,

everlastings, and dragon(s blood & with these plants make a decoction in a

caldron, and then sprinkle some o it over me."

%ter saying this, the old woman died, without uttering a prayer. The knight

did all the witch had instructed him to do, and e4ectually resuscitated her,

but uglier than ever, or her nose remained deadly white, and looked like an

elephant(s tusk. Then she had to tell the knight where his brother was& anddown in the abyss he not only ound him, but many other victims o the

wicked /erberisca. %nd he sprinkled them all with the decoction in the

caldron, and they were all brought to lie again, and to each person came an

echo which had been his voice& and the frst words they all uttered were +

"%ccursed witch! merciless /erberisca!" Then all those gallant knights, and

many beautiul ladies whom the fery old dragon, who was the witch(s son,

had carried there, gave thanks to the Enight o the 8ish& and one o the

most beautiul o the ladies gave him her hand, on seeing which, the wicked

/erberisca died again with envy and spite.

8%#:)8


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He lited it up and carried it to his inn, where he borrowed a hatchet, and

began to hack it to pieces. 1uddenly, a paper ell out o a secret place. He

snatched it up and ound that it was the acknowledgment o a very large

amount due to his ather. He recovered this money and became very rich.

One day 3oseph met a woman in the street weeping bitterly. He asked herwhat was the matter with her, and she replied that her husband was very ill,

and that she had nothing to give him, and that a creditor wanted to put him

in prison, because he could not pay what he owed him.

"0o not worry yoursel," said the good 3oseph, "they shall not put your

husband in prison, nor sell your goods, let it cost me what it may." Then he

paid their debts, and provided or the illness and uneral o her husband,or

he died. /ut it came to pass that, when he had done all this, 3oseph had not a

penny let, having epended the whole o his inheritance in this good work.

"%nd now, what is to be done" he asked himsel& "now that # have nothing

let even or ood! # will go to the palace and ask or some employment." Hedid so, and became a servitor in the king(s palace. %nd he behaved himsel so

well that the king took a ancy to him, and promoted him re*uently, until at

last he made him his chie servitor. 2eanwhile the unnatural brother had be

come poor, whereupon he wrote to 3oseph, begging to be taken under his

protection& and 3oseph was so good)hearted that he aided him, and asked the

king to give his brother employment in the palace& and the king consented.

He was employed, but instead o .eeling gratitude towards his good brother,

he envied him his power with the king, and conspired to ruin him. To e4ect

this bad purpose he set to work to discover some 1tate secret, and learnt that

the king was enamoured o 6rincess 8air)8lower& but as he was old and ugly

she did not like him, and had hidden hersel away, no one knew where. Then

the alse brother went to the king and told him that 3oseph knew where 8air)

8lower was, and corresponded with her. The king was very angry, and had

3oseph brought beore him, and then commanded him to go instantly and fnd

the 6rincess 8air)8lower, saying that i he returned without her he should be

hanged.

The poor ellow, *uite disconsolate, went to seek or a horse or his 'ourney,

but did not know what direction to go in search o 8air8lower. He saw a great

white horse, very old and lanky, which said to him +

"Take me with you, and have no heed o aught."

3oseph was astounded at hearing a horse speak, but mounted upon it and

began his 'ourney, taking with him three rolls o bread which the horse told

him to take.

%ter they had 'ourneyed a long while they met an ant, and the horse said to

him +


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"Throw those three rolls, or the little ants to eat."

"/ut," said 3oseph, "what shall we do, i we want bread"

"Throw them," replied the horse, "and never weary o doing good."

They proceeded on their 'ourney, and encountered an eagle entangled in thenets o a hunter.

"Halt," said the horse to him& "get down and cut the threads o the net, and

ree the poor creature."

"/ut we shall lose time in doing that," responded 3oseph.

(" 0o what # tell you, and never weary o doing good."

hen they had 'ourneyed or some time longer they arrived at the banks o a

river, and saw a little fsh that had been let high and dry on the bank, and,

notwithstanding all its e4orts and struggles, was unable to regain the stream.

"9et down," said the white horse to 3oseph, "catch that poor little fsh and put

it back into the water."

"/ut we have no time or these delays," contested 3oseph.

"There is always time or a good action," responded the horse& "never weary

o doing good."

#n a little while they arrived at a castle situated in the midst o a dense orest,

and beheld the 6rincess 8air)8lower, eeding her chickens.

";ow attend to me," said the white steed to 3oseph. "# shall amble and

pirouette in order to amuse 8air)8lower. 7ou ask her i she would like to mount

a little while, and permit her to do so& then) # will 'ump and neigh, and that

will righten her. Then you must tell her that that is because # am not

accustomed to be ridden by emales, but that you will mount and tame me&

then you will mount and gallop o4 until you arrive at the king(s palace."

%nd everything happened 'ust as the horse had oreseen& and only when they

were galloping away.did 8air)8lower divine the scheme which the horse had

concocted o running away with her. Then she let the bran she was carryingall to the ground& and as it was scattered about, she told her companion that

her bran was spilt, and that she wished to gather it up.

"here we are going," responded 3oseph, "there is plenty o bran."

%ter that, as they were passing under a tree, the princess cast her

handkerchie up as ar as she could, where it was let, hanging upon one o

the highest branches. 1he asked 3oseph to stop and climb the tree or it& but


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he replied, "here we are going there are plenty o handkerchies."

They had to pass by a river, and the princess contrived to drop a ring into it,

and then begged 3oseph to get down and get it or her& but he only answered,

"here we are going there are plenty o rings."

8inally, they arrived at the king(s palace, where the king was highly delighted

at seeing his beloved 8air)8lower once more& but the princess went to a room,

and locked hersel in, and would not open the door to anybody. The king

begged her to open the door& but she replied that she would never open it

until they ound or her the three things she had lost on the way to the

palace.

"There is no help or it, 3oseph," said the king, "but that you, who know the

way, should go and fnd these things& and i you do not bring them back with

you, # will have you hanged."

6oor 3oseph was sorely troubled by this, and went to tell the great white horse

o his new misortune. The horse, however, said to him +

"0o not aGict yoursel& mount upon me, and we will go and seek the lost

articles."

Then they started o4 and 'ourneyed until they met the ant.

"0o you want to have the bran" said the horse.

"ould # not like to have it!" eclaimed 3oseph.

"Then call the little ants, and tell them to bring you as much as has been

spilt, and they will bring you what they have etracted rom the three rolls,

which will be as much as you need."

%nd so it came to pass. Out o gratitude the little ants worked with a good

will, and soon put beore 3oseph a pile o bran.

"7ou will see," said the horse, "whether, early or late, a good deed does not

bring its reward."

They now speedily arrived at the tree into which 8air)8lower had $ung her

handkerchie, which was streaming like a pennon rom one o the highestbranches.

"How am # to get that handkerchie down"

eclaimed 3oseph. " should want 3acob(s ladder to reach it!"

"0on(t perple yoursel about that," responded the horse& "call the eagle

which you reed rom the hunter(s net, and it will get it or you."


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%nd thus it happened. The eagle came, sei5ed the handkerchie in its beak,

and brought it to 3oseph.

They net arrived at the river, which was very turbid.

"How ever am # to get the ring rom the bottom o that deep river," said

3oseph, "where # can neither see it nor know in what spot 8air)8lower dropped

it"

"0on(t worry yoursel on that score," said the white horse, "but call the little

fsh which you saved, and it will bring it to you."

%nd so it happened, and the little fsh dived down and came up again, waving

its tail with pleasure, and bringing the ring in its mouth.

Then 3oseph returned, very well satisfed with his success, to the palace& but

when they carried the things to 8air)8lower, she said she would not open the

door nor come out o the room, unless they ried in oil the robber who hadcarried her o4 rom her palace.

The king was so cruel that he promised to have this done, and told 3oseph

that there was no help or it, but that he must be ried in oil.

8ull o dismay, 3oseph went to tell the white horse what had taken place.

"0o not be rightened," said the horse to him& "mount upon me, # will gallop

about and perspire& anoint your body with my sweat, and rest contented that

no harm will happen to you in the caldron."

%nd it came to pass as the horse said& and when 3oseph emerged rom the

caldron, he had become such a handsome and gallant youth, that everybody

admired him& no one more than 8air)8lower, however, who ell in love with

him instantly.

Then the king, who was old and ugly, on seeing what had happened to

3oseph, thought that a similar thing would happen to himsel& and being so

deeply in love with 8air)8lower, he 'umped into the caldron, and was turned

into a bladder o lard.

Then by universal acclamation 3oseph was proclaimed king, and married 8air)

8lower.

hen our hero went to give thanks to the great white horse or all the good

services it had rendered to him, the horse said +

"# am the spirit o that unortunate man whose debts, illness, and interment

cost you so much& and who, beholding you poor and in danger, prayed to 9od

to be allowed power to help you and repay your benefts. This was permitted,


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and # have again to say to you, ;ever weary o doing good."

Documents

Caballero's Fairy Tales Part I