Tiidu the Piper

Tiidu The Piper

Once upon a time there lived a poor man who had more children than

bread to feed them with. However, they were strong and willing, and

soon learned to make themselves of use to their father and mother, and

when they were old enough they went out to service, and everyone was

very glad to get them for servants, for they worked hard and were

always cheerful. Out of all the ten or eleven, there was only one who

gave his parents any trouble, and this was a big lazy boy whose name

was Tiidu. Neither scoldings nor beatings nor kind words had any effect

on him, and the older he grew the idler he got. He spent his winters

crouching close to a warm stove, and his summers asleep under a shady

tree; and if he was not doing either of these things he was playing

tunes on his flute.

One day he was sitting under a bush playing so sweetly that you might

easily have mistaken the notes for those of a bird, when an old man

passed by. “What trade do you wish to follow, my son?” he asked in a

friendly voice, stopping as he did so in front of the youth.

“If I were only a rich man, and had no need to work,” replied the boy,

“I should not follow any. I could not bear to be anybody’s servant, as

all my brothers and sisters are.”

The old man laughed as he heard this answer, and said: “But I do not

exactly see where your riches are to come from if you do not work for

them. Sleeping cats catch no mice. He who wishes to become rich must

use either his hands or his head, and be ready to toil night and day,

or else—”

But here the youth broke in rudely:

“Be silent, old man! I have been told all that a hundred times over;

and it runs off me like water off a duck’s back. No one will ever make

a worker out of me.”

“You have one gift,” replied the old man, taking no notice of this

speech, “and if you would only go about and play the pipes, you would

easily earn, not only your daily bread, but a little money into the

bargain. Listen to me; get yourself a set of pipes, and learn to play

on them as well as you do on your flute, and wherever there are men to

hear you, I promise you will never lack money.”

“But where am I to get the pipes from?” asked the youth.

“Blow on your flute for a few days,” replied the old man, “and you will

soon be able to buy your pipes. By-and-by I will come back again and

see if you have taken my advice, and whether you are likely to grow

rich.” And so saying he went his way.

Tiidu stayed where he was a little longer, thinking of all the old man

had told him, and the more he thought the surer he felt that the old

man was right. He determined to try whether his plan would really bring

luck; but as he did not like being laughed at he resolved not to tell

anyone a word about it. So next morning he left home—and never came

back! His parents did not take his loss much to heart, but were rather

glad that their useless son had for once shown a little spirit, and

they hoped that time and hardship might cure Tiidu of his idle folly.

For some weeks Tiidu wandered from one village to another, and proved

for himself the truth of the old man’s promise. The people he met were

all friendly and kind, and enjoyed his flute-playing, giving him his

food in return, and even a few pence. These pence the youth hoarded

carefully till he had collected enough to buy a beautiful pair of

pipes. Then he felt himself indeed on the high road to riches. Nowhere

could pipes be found as fine as his, or played in so masterly a manner.

Tiidu’s pipes set everybody’s legs dancing. Wherever there was a

marriage, a christening, or a feast of any kind, Tiidu must be there,

or the evening would be a failure. In a few years he had become so

noted a piper that people would travel far and wide to hear him.

One day he was invited to a christening where many rich men from the

neighbouring town were present, and all agreed that never in all their

lives had they heard such playing as his. They crowded round him, and

praised him, and pressed him to come to their homes, declaring that it

was a shame not to give their friends the chance of hearing such music.

Of course all this delighted Tiidu, who accepted gladly, and left their

houses laden with money and presents of every kind; one great lord

clothed him in a magnificent dress, a second hung a chain of pearls

round his neck, while a third handed him a set of new pipes encrusted

in silver. As for the ladies, the girls twisted silken scarves round

his plumed hat, and their mothers knitted him gloves of all colours, to

keep out the cold. Any other man in Tiidu’s place would have been

contented and happy in this life; but his craving for riches gave him

no rest, and only goaded him day by day to fresh exertions, so that

even his own mother would not have known him for the lazy boy who was

always lying asleep in one place or the other.

Now Tiidu saw quite clearly that he could only hope to become rich by

means of his pipes, and set about thinking if there was nothing he

could do to make the money flow in faster. At length he remembered

having heard some stories of a kingdom in the Kungla country, where

musicians of all sorts were welcomed and highly paid; but where it was,

or how it was reached, he could not recollect, however hard he thought.

In despair, he wandered along the coast, hoping to see some ship or

sailing boat that would take him where he wished to go, and at length

he reached the town of Narva, where several merchantmen were lying at

anchor. To his great joy, he found that one of them was sailing for

Kungla in a few days, and he hastily went on board, and asked for the

captain. But the cost of the passage was more than the prudent Tiidu

cared to pay, and though he played his best on his pipes, the captain

refused to lower his price, and Tiidu was just thinking of returning on

shore when his usual luck flew to his aid. A young sailor, who had

heard him play, came secretly to him, and offered to hide him on board,

in the absence of the captain. So the next night, as soon as it was

dark, Tiidu stepped softly on deck, and was hidden by his friend down

in the hold in a corner between two casks. Unseen by the rest of the

crew the sailor managed to bring him food and drink, and when they were

well out of sight of land he proceeded to carry out a plan he had

invented to deliver Tiidu from his cramped quarters. At midnight, while

he was keeping watch and everyone else was sleeping, the man bade his

friend Tiidu follow him on deck, where he tied a rope round Tiidu’s

body, fastening the other end carefully to one of the ship’s ropes.

“Now,” he said, “I will throw you into the sea, and you must shout for

help; and when you see the sailors coming untie the rope from your

waist, and tell them that you have swum after the ship all the way from

shore.”

At first Tiidu did not much like this scheme, for the sea ran high, but

he was a good swimmer, and the sailor assured him that there was no

danger. As soon as he was in the water, his friend hastened to rouse

his mates, declaring that he was sure that there was a man in the sea,

following the ship. They all came on deck, and what was their surprise

when they recognised the person who had bargained about a passage the

previous day with the captain.

“Are you a ghost, or a dying man?” they asked him trembling, as they

stooped over the side of the ship.

“I shall soon indeed be a dead man if you do not help me,” answered

Tiidu, “for my strength is going fast.”

Then the captain seized a rope and flung it out to him, and Tiidu held

it between his teeth, while, unseen by the sailors; he loosed the one

tied round his waist.

“Where have you come from?” said the captain, when Tiidu was brought up

on board the ship.

“I have followed you from the harbour,” answered he, “and have been

often in sore dread lest my strength should fail me. I hoped that by

swimming after the ship I might at last reach Kungla, as I had no money

to pay my passage.” The captain’s heart melted at these words, and he

said kindly: “You may be thankful that you were not drowned. I will

land you at Kungla free of payment, as you are so anxious to get there.

So he gave him dry clothes to wear, and a berth to sleep in, and Tiidu

and his friend secretly made merry over their cunning trick.

For the rest of the voyage the ship’s crew treated Tiidu as something

higher than themselves, seeing that in all their lives they had never

met with any man that could swim for as many hours as he had done. This

pleased Tiidu very much, though he knew that he had really done nothing

to deserve it, and in return he delighted them by tunes on his pipes.

When, after some days, they cast anchor at Kungla, the story of his

wonderful swim brought him many friends, for everybody wished to hear

him tell the tale himself. This might have been all very well, had not

Tiidu lived in dread that some day he would be asked to give proof of

his marvellous swimming powers, and then everything would be found out.

Meanwhile he was dazzled with the splendour around him, and more than

ever he longed for part of the riches, about which the owners seemed to

care so little.

He wandered through the streets for many days, seeking some one who

wanted a servant; but though more than one person would have been glad

to engage him, they seemed to Tiidu not the sort of people to help him

to get rich quickly. At last, when he had almost made up his mind that

he must accept the next place offered him, he happened to knock at the

door of a rich merchant who was in need of a scullion, and gladly

agreed to do the cook’s bidding, and it was in this merchant’s house

that he first learned how great were the riches of the land of Kungla.

All the vessels which in other countries are made of iron, copper,

brass, or tin, in Kungla were made of silver, or even of gold. The food

was cooked in silver saucepans, the bread baked in a silver oven, while

the dishes and their covers were all of gold. Even the very pigs’

troughs were of silver too. But the sight of these things only made

Tiidu more covetous than before. “What is the use of all this wealth

that I have constantly before my eyes,” thought he, “if none of it is

mine? I shall never grow rich by what I earn as a scullion, even though

I am paid as much in a month as I should get elsewhere in a year.”

By this time he had been in his place for two years, and had put by

quite a large sum of money. His passion of saving had increased to such

a pitch that it was only by his master’s orders that he ever bought any

new clothes, “For,” said the merchant, “I will not have dirty people in

my house.” So with a heavy heart Tiidu spent some of his next month’s

wages on a cheap coat.

One day the merchant held a great feast in honour of the christening of

his youngest child, and he gave each of his servants a handsome garment

for the occasion. The following Sunday, Tiidu, who liked fine clothes

when he did not have to pay for them, put on his new coat, and went for

a walk to some beautiful pleasure gardens, which were always full of

people on a sunny day. He sat down under a shady tree, and watched the

passers-by, but after a little he began to feel rather lonely, for he

knew nobody and nobody knew him. Suddenly his eyes fell on the figure

of an old man, which seemed familiar to him, though he could not tell

when or where he had seen it. He watched the figure for some time, till

at length the old man left the crowded paths, and threw himself on the

soft grass under a lime tree, which stood at some distance from where

Tiidu was sitting. Then the young man walked slowly past, in order that

he might look at him more closely, and as he did so the old man smiled,

and held out his hand.

“What have you done with your pipes?” asked he; and then in a moment

Tiidu knew him. Taking his arm he drew him into a quiet place and told

him all that had happened since they had last met. The old man shook

his head as he listened, and when Tiidu had finished his tale, he said:

“A fool you are, and a fool you will always be! Was there ever such a

piece of folly as to exchange your pipes for a scullion’s ladle? You

could have made as much by the pipes in a day as your wages would have

come to in half a year. Go home and fetch your pipes, and play them

here, and you will soon see if I have spoken the truth.”

Tiidu did not like this advice—he was afraid that the people would

laugh at him; and, besides, it was long since he had touched his

pipes—but the old man persisted, and at last Tiidu did as he was told.

“Sit down on the bank by me,” said the old man, when he came back, “and

begin to play, and in a little while the people will flock round you.”

Tiidu obeyed, at first without much heart; but somehow the tone of the

pipes was sweeter than he had remembered, and as he played, the crowd

ceased to walk and chatter, and stood still and silent round him. When

he had played for some time he took off his hat and passed it round,

and dollars, and small silver coins, and even gold pieces, came

tumbling in. Tiidu played a couple more tunes by way of thanks, then

turned to go home, hearing on all sides murmurs of “What a wonderful

piper! Come back, we pray you, next Sunday to give us another treat.”

“What did I tell you?” said the old man, as they passed through the

garden gate. “Was it not pleasanter to play for a couple of hours on

the pipes than to be stirring sauces all day long? For the second time

I have shown you the path to follow; try to learn wisdom, and take the

bull by the horns, lest your luck should slip from you! I can be your

guide no longer, therefore listen to what I say, and obey me. Go every

Sunday afternoon to those gardens; and sit under the lime tree and play

to the people, and bring a felt hat with a deep crown, and lay it on

the ground at your feet, so that everyone can throw some money into it.

If you are invited to play at a feast, accept willingly, but beware of

asking a fixed price; say you will take whatever they may feel inclined

to give. You will get far more money in the end. Perhaps, some day, our

paths may cross, and then I shall see how far you have followed my

advice. Till then, farewell”; and the old man went his way.

As before, his words came true, though Tiidu could not at once do his

bidding, as he had first to fulfil his appointed time of service.

Meanwhile he ordered some fine clothes, in which he played every Sunday

in the gardens, and when he counted his gains in the evening they were

always more than on the Sunday before. At length he was free to do as

he liked, and he had more invitations to play than he could manage to

accept, and at night, when the citizens used to go and drink in the

inn, the landlord always begged Tiidu to come and play to them. Thus he

grew so rich that very soon he had his silver pipes covered with gold,

so that they glistened in the light of the sun or the fire. In all

Kungla there was no prouder man than Tiidu.

In a few years he had saved such a large sum of money that he was

considered a rich man even in Kungla, where everybody was rich. And

then he had leisure to remember that he had once had a home, and a

family, and that he should like to see them both again, and show them

how well he could play. This time he would not need to hide in the

ship’s hold, but could hire the best cabin if he wished to, or even

have a vessel all to himself. So he packed all his treasures in large

chests, and sent them on board the first ship that was sailing to his

native land, and followed them with a light heart. The wind at starting

was fair, but it soon freshened, and in the night rose to a gale. For

two days they ran before it, and hoped that by keeping well out to sea

they might be able to weather the storm, when, suddenly, the ship

struck on a rock, and began to fill. Orders were given to lower the

boats, and Tiidu with three sailors got into one of them, but before

they could push away from the ship a huge wave overturned it, and all

four were flung into the water. Luckily for Tiidu an oar was floating

near him, and with its help he was able to keep on the surface of the

water; and when the sun rose, and the mist cleared away, he saw that he

was not far from shore. By hard swimming, for the sea still ran high,

he managed to reach it, and pulled himself out of the water, more dead

than alive. Then he flung himself down on the ground and fell fast

asleep.

When he awoke he got up to explore the island, and see if there were

any men upon it; but though he found streams and fruit trees in

abundance, there was no trace either of man or beast. Then, tired with

his wanderings he sat down and began to think.

For perhaps the first time in his life his thoughts did not instantly

turn to money. It was not on his lost treasures that his mind dwelt,

but on his conduct to his parents: his laziness and disobedience as a

boy; his forgetfulness of them as a man. “If wild animals were to come

and tear me to pieces,” he said to himself bitterly, “it would be only

what I deserve! My gains are all at the bottom of the sea—well! lightly

won, lightly lost—but it is odd that I feel I should not care for that

if only my pipes were left me.” Then he rose and walked a little

further, till he saw a tree with great red apples shining amidst the

leaves, and he pulled some down, and ate them greedily. After that he

stretched himself out on the soft moss and went to sleep.

In the morning he ran to the nearest stream to wash himself, but to his

horror, when he caught sight of his face, he saw his nose had grown the

colour of an apple, and reached nearly to his waist. He started back

thinking he was dreaming, and put up his hand; but, alas! the dreadful

thing was true. “Oh, why does not some wild beast devour me?” he cried

to himself; “never, never, can I go again amongst my fellow-men! If

only the sea had swallowed me up, how much happier it had been for me!”

And he hid his head in his hands and wept. His grief was so violent,

that it exhausted him, and growing hungry he looked about for something

to eat. Just above him was a bough of ripe, brown nuts, end he picked

them and ate a handful. To his surprise, as he was eating them, he felt

his nose grow shorter and shorter, and after a while he ventured to

feel it with his hand, and even to look in the stream again! Yes, there

was no mistake, it was as short as before, or perhaps a little shorter.

In his joy at this discovery Tiidu did a very bold thing. He took one

of the apples out of his pocket, and cautiously bit a piece out of it.

In an instant his nose was as long as his chin, and in a deadly fear

lest it should stretch further, he hastily swallowed a nut, and awaited

the result with terror. Supposing that the shrinking of his nose had

only been an accident before! Supposing that that nut and no other was

able to cause its shrinking! In that case he had, by his own folly, in

not letting well alone, ruined his life completely. But, no! he had

guessed rightly, for in no more time than his nose had taken to grow

long did it take to return to its proper size. “This may make my

fortune,” he said joyfully to himself; and he gathered some of the

apples, which he put into one pocket, and a good supply of nuts which

he put into the other. Next day he wove a basket out of some rushes, so

that if he ever left the island he might be able to carry his treasures

about.

That night he dreamed that his friend the old man appeared to him and

said: “Because you did not mourn for your lost treasure, but only for

your pipes, I will give you a new set to replace them.” And, behold! in

the morning when he got up a set of pipes was lying in the basket. With

what joy did he seize them and begin one of his favourite tunes; and as

he played hope sprang up in his heart, and he looked out to sea, to try

to detect the sign of a sail. Yes! there it was, making straight for

the island; and Tiidu, holding his pipes in his hand, dashed down to

the shore.

The sailors knew the island to be uninhabited, and were much surprised

to see a man standing on the beach, waving his arms in welcome to them.

A boat was put off, and two sailors rowed to the shore to discover how

he came there, and if he wished to be taken away. Tiidu told them the

story of his shipwreck, and the captain promised that he should come on

board, and sail with them back to Kungla; and thankful indeed was Tiidu

to accept the offer, and to show his gratitude by playing on his pipes

whenever he was asked to do so.

They had a quick voyage, and it was not long before Tiidu found himself

again in the streets of the capital of Kungla, playing as he went

along. The people had heard no music like his since he went away, and

they crowded round him, and in their joy gave him whatever money they

had in their pockets. His first care was to buy himself some new

clothes, which he sadly needed, taking care, however, that they should

be made after a foreign fashion. When they were ready, he set out one

day with a small basket of his famous apples, and went up to the

palace. He did not have to wait long before one of the royal servants

passed by and bought all the apples, begging as he did so that the

merchant should return and bring some more. This Tiidu promised, and

hastened away as if he had a mad bull behind him, so afraid was he that

the man should begin to eat an apple at once.

It is needless to say that for some days he took no more apples back to

the palace, but kept well away on the other side of the town, wearing

other clothes, and disguised by a long black beard, so that even his

own mother would not have known him.

The morning after his visit to the castle the whole city was in an

uproar about the dreadful misfortune that had happened to the Royal

Family, for not only the king but his wife and children, had eaten of

the stranger’s apples, and all, so said the rumour, were very ill. The

most famous doctors and the greatest magicians were hastily summoned to

the palace, but they shook their heads and came away again; never had

they met with such a disease in all the course of their experience.

By-and-bye a story went round the town, started no one knew how, that

the malady was in some way connected with the nose; and men rubbed

their own anxiously, to be sure that nothing catching was in the air.

Matters had been in this state for more than a week when it reached the

ears of the king that a man was living in an inn on the other side of

the town who declared himself able to cure all manner of diseases.

Instantly the royal carriage was commanded to drive with all speed and

bring back this magician, offering him riches untold if he could

restore their noses to their former length. Tiidu had expected this

summons, and had sat up all night changing his appearance, and so well

had he succeeded that not a trace remained either of the piper or of

the apple seller. He stepped into the carriage, and was driven post

haste to the king, who was feverishly counting every moment, for both

his nose and the queen’s were by this time more than a yard long, and

they did not know where they would stop.

Now Tiidu thought it would not look well to cure the royal family by

giving them the raw nuts; he felt that it might arouse suspicion. So he

had carefully pounded them into a powder, and divided the powder up

into small doses, which were to be put on the tongue and swallowed at

once. He gave one of these to the king and another to the queen, and

told them that before taking them they were to get into bed in a dark

room and not to move for some hours, after which they might be sure

that they would come out cured.

The king’s joy was so great at this news that he would gladly have

given Tiidu half of his kingdom; but the piper was no longer so greedy

of money as he once was, before he had been shipwrecked on the island.

If he could get enough to buy a small estate and live comfortably on it

for the rest of his life, that was all he now cared for. However, the

king ordered his treasure to pay him three times as much as he asked,

and with this Tiidu went down to the harbour and engaged a small ship

to carry him back to his native country. The wind was fair, and in ten

days the coast, which he had almost forgotten, stood clear before him.

In a few hours he was standing in his old home, where his father, three

sisters, and two brothers gave him a hearty welcome. His mother and his

other brothers had died some years before.

When the meeting was over, he began to make inquiries about a small

estate that was for sale near the town, and after he had bought it the

next thing was to find a wife to share it with him. This did not take

long either; and people who were at the wedding feast declared that the

best part of the whole day was the hour when Tiidu played to them on

the pipes before they bade each other farewell and returned to their

homes.

[From Esthnische Mährchen.]

Paperarelloo

Once upon a time there lived a king and a queen who had one son. The

king loved the boy very much, but the queen, who was a wicked woman,

hated the sight of him; and this was the more unlucky for, when he was

twelve years old, his father died, and he was left alone in the world.

Now the queen was very angry because the people, who knew how bad she

was, seated her son on the throne instead of herself, and she never

rested till she had formed a plan to get him out of the way.

Fortunately, however, the young king was wise and prudent, and knew her

too well to trust her.

One day, when his mourning was over, he gave orders that everything

should be made ready for a grand hunt. The queen pretended to be

greatly delighted that he was going to amuse himself once more, and

declared that she would accompany him. “No, mother, I cannot let you

come,” he answered; “the ground is rough, and you are not strong.” But

he might as well have spoken to the winds: when the horn was sounded at

daybreak the queen was there with the rest.

All that day they rode, for game was plentiful, but towards evening the

mother and son found themselves alone in a part of the country that was

strange to them. They wandered on for some time, without knowing where

they were going, till they met with a man whom they begged to give them

shelter. “Come with me,” said the man gladly, for he was an ogre, and

fed on human flesh; and the king and his mother went with him, and he

led them to his house. When they got there they found to what a

dreadful place they had come, and, falling on their knees, they offered

him great sums of money, if he would only spare their lives. The ogre’s

heart was moved at the sight of the queen’s beauty, and he promised

that he would do her no harm; but he stabbed the boy at once, and

binding his body on a horse, turned him loose in the forest.

The ogre had happened to choose a horse which he had bought only the

day before, and he did not know it was a magician, or he would not have

been so foolish as to fix upon it on this occasion. The horse no sooner

had been driven off with the prince’s body on its back than it galloped

straight to the home of the fairies, and knocked at the door with its

hoof. The fairies heard the knock, but were afraid to open till they

had peeped from an upper window to see that it was no giant or ogre who

could do them harm. “Oh, look, sister!” cried the first to reach the

window, “it is a horse that has knocked, and on its back there is bound

a dead boy, the most beautiful boy in all the world!” Then the fairies

ran to open the door, and let in the horse and unbound the ropes which

fastened the young king on its back. And they gathered round to admire

his beauty, and whispered one to the other: “We will make him alive

again, and will keep him for our brother.” And so they did, and for

many years they all lived together as brothers and sisters.

By-and-by the boy grew into a man, as boys will, and then the oldest of

the fairies said to her sisters: “Now I will marry him, and he shall be

really your brother.” So the young king married the fairy, and they

lived happily together in the castle; but though he loved his wife he

still longed to see the world.

At length this longing grew so strong on him that he could bear it no

more; and, calling the fairies together, he said to them: “Dear wife

and sisters, I must leave you for a time, and go out and see the world.

But I shall think of you often, and one day I shall come back to you.”

The fairies wept and begged him to stay, but he would not listen, and

at last the eldest, who was his wife, said to him: “If you really will

abandon us, take this lock of my hair with you; you will find it useful

in time of need.” So she cut off a long curl, and handed it to him.

The prince mounted his horse, and rode on all day without stopping

once. Towards evening he found himself in a desert, and, look where he

would, there was no such thing as a house or a man to be seen. “What am

I to do now?” he thought. “If I go to sleep here wild beasts will come

and eat me! Yet both I and my horse are worn out, and can go no

further.” Then suddenly he remembered the fairy’s gift, and taking out

the curl he said to it: “I want a castle here, and servants, and

dinner, and everything to make me comfortable tonight; and besides

that, I must have a stable and fodder for my horse.” And in a moment

the castle was before him just as he had wished.

In this way he travelled through many countries, till at last he came

to a land that was ruled over by a great king. Leaving his horse

outside the walls, he clad himself in the dress of a poor man, and went

up to the palace. The queen, who was looking out of the window, saw him

approaching, and filled with pity sent a servant to ask who he was and

what he wanted. “I am a stranger here,” answered the young king, “and

very poor. I have come to beg for some work.” “We have everybody we

want,” said the queen, when the servant told her the young man’s reply.

“We have a gate-keeper, and a hall porter, and servants of all sorts in

the palace; the only person we have not got is a goose-boy. Tell him

that he can be our goose-boy if he likes.” The youth answered that he

was quite content to be goose-boy; and that was how he got his nickname

of Paperarello. And in order that no one should guess that he was any

better than a goose-boy should be, he rubbed his face and his rags over

with mud, and made himself altogether such a disgusting object that

every one crossed over to the other side of the road when he was seen

coming.

“Do go and wash yourself, Paperarello!” said the queen sometimes, for

he did his work so well that she took an interest in him. “Oh, I should

not feel comfortable if I was clean, your Majesty,” answered he, and

went whistling after his geese.

It happened one day that, owing to some accident to the great flour

mills which supplied the city, there was no bread to be had, and the

king’s army had to do without. When the king heard of it, he sent for

the cook, and told him that by the next morning he must have all the

bread that the oven, heated seven times over, could bake. “But, your

Majesty, it is not possible,” cried the poor man in despair. “The mills

have only just begun working, and the flour will not be ground till

evening, and how can I heat the oven seven times in one night?” “That

is your affair,” answered the King, who, when he took anything into his

head, would listen to nothing. “If you succeed in baking the bread you

shall have my daughter to wife, but if you fail your head will pay for

it.”

Now Paperarello, who was passing through the hall where the king was

giving his orders, heard these words, and said: “Your Majesty, have no

fears; I will bake your bread.” “Very well,” answered the king; “but if

you fail, you will pay for it with your head!” and signed that both

should leave his presence.

The cook was still trembling with the thought of what he had escaped,

but to his surprise Paperarello did not seem disturbed at all, and when

night came he went to sleep as usual. “Paperarello,” cried the other

servants, when they saw him quietly taking off his clothes, “you cannot

go to bed; you will need every moment of the night for your work.

Remember, the king is not to be played with!”

“I really must have some sleep first,” replied Paperarello, stretching

himself and yawning; and he flung himself on his bed, and was fast

asleep in a moment. In an hour’s time, the servants came and shook him

by the shoulder. “Paperarello, are you mad?” said they. “Get up, or you

will lose your head.” “Oh, do let me sleep a little more, answered he.

And this was all he would say, though the servants returned to wake him

many times in the night.

At last the dawn broke, and the servants rushed to his room, crying:

“Paperarello! Paperarello! get up, the king is coming. You have baked

no bread, and of a surety he will have your head.”

“Oh, don’t scream so,” replied Paperarello, jumping out of bed as he

spoke; and taking the lock of hair in his hand, he went into the

kitchen. And, behold! there stood the bread piled high—four, five, six

ovens full, and the seventh still waiting to be taken out of the oven.

The servants stood and stared in surprise, and the king said: “Well

done, Paperarello, you have won my daughter.” And he thought to

himself: “This fellow must really be a magician.”

But when the princess heard what was in store for her she wept

bitterly, and declared that never, never would she marry that dirty

Paperarello! However, the king paid no heed to her tears and prayers,

and before many days were over the wedding was celebrated with great

splendour, though the bridegroom had not taken the trouble to wash

himself, and was as dirty as before.

When night came he went as usual to sleep among his geese, and the

princess went to the king and said: “Father, I entreat you to have that

horrible Paperarello put to death.” “No, no!” replied her father, “he

is a great magician, and before I put him to death, I must first find

out the secret of his power, and then—we shall see.”

Soon after this a war broke out, and everybody about the palace was

very busy polishing up armour and sharpening swords, for the king and

his sons were to ride at the head of the army. Then Paperarello left

his geese, and came and told the king that he wished to go to fight

also. The king gave him leave, and told him that he might go to the

stable and take any horse he liked from the stables. So Paperarello

examined the horses carefully, but instead of picking out one of the

splendid well-groomed creatures, whose skin shone like satin, he chose

a poor lame thing, put a saddle on it, and rode after the other

men-at-arms who were attending the king. In a short time he stopped,

and said to them: “My horse can go no further; you must go on to the

war without me, and I will stay here, and make some little clay

soldiers, and will play at a battle.” The men laughed at him for being

so childish, and rode on after their master.

Scarcely were they out of sight than Paperarello took out his curl, and

wished himself the best armour, the sharpest sword, and the swiftest

horse in the world, and the next minute was riding as fast as he could

to the field of battle. The fight had already begun, and the enemy was

getting the best of it, when Paperarello rode up, and in a moment the

fortunes of the day had changed. Right and left this strange knight

laid about him, and his sword pierced the stoutest breast-plate, and

the strongest shield. He was indeed “a host in himself,” and his foes

fled before him thinking he was only the first of a troop of such

warriors, whom no one could withstand. When the battle was over, the

king sent for him to thank him for his timely help, and to ask what

reward he should give him. “Nothing but your little finger, your

Majesty,” was his answer; and the king cut off his little finger and

gave it to Paperarello, who bowed and hid it in his surcoat. Then he

left the field, and when the soldiers rode back they found him still

sitting in the road making whole rows of little clay dolls.

The next day the king went out to fight another battle, and again

Paperarello appeared, mounted on his lame horse. As on the day before,

he halted on the road, and sat down to make his clay soldiers; then a

second time he wished himself armour, sword, and a horse, all sharper

and better than those he had previously had, and galloped after the

rest. He was only just in time: the enemy had almost beaten the king’s

army back, and men whispered to each other that if the strange knight

did not soon come to their aid, they would be all dead men. Suddenly

someone cried: “Hold on a little longer, I see him in the distance; and

his armour shines brighter, and his horse runs swifter, than

yesterday.” Then they took fresh heart and fought desperately on till

the knight came up, and threw himself into the thick of the battle. As

before, the enemy gave way before him, and in a few minutes the victory

remained with the king.

The first thing that the victor did was to send for the knight to thank

him for his timely help, and to ask what gift he could bestow on him in

token of gratitude. “Your Majesty’s ear,” answered the knight; and as

the king could not go back from his word, he cut it off and gave it to

him. Paperarello bowed, fastened the ear inside his surcoat and rode

away. In the evening, when they all returned from the battle, there he

was, sitting in the road, making clay dolls.

On the third day the same thing happened, and this time he asked for

the king’s nose as the reward of his aid. Now, to lose one’s nose, is

worse even than losing one’s ear or one’s finger, and the king

hesitated as to whether he should comply. However, he had always prided

himself on being an honourable man, so he cut off his nose, and handed

it to Paperarello. Paperarello bowed, put the nose in his surcoat, and

rode away. In the evening, when the king returned from the battle, he

found Paperarello sitting in the road making clay dolls. And

Paperarello got up and said to him: “Do you know who I am? I am your

dirty goose-boy, yet you have given me your finger, and your ear, and

your nose.”

That night, when the king sat at dinner, Paperarello came in, and

laying down the ear, and the nose, and the finger on the table, turned

and said to the nobles and courtiers who were waiting on the king: “I

am the invincible knight, who rode three times to your help, and I also

am a king’s son, and no goose-boy as you all think.” And he went away

and washed himself, and dressed himself in fine clothes and entered the

hall again, looking so handsome that the proud princess fell in love

with him on the spot. But Paperarello took no notice of her, and said

to the king: “It was kind of you to offer me your daughter in marriage,

and for that I thank you; but I have a wife at home whom I love better,

and it is to her that I am going. But as a token of farewell, I wish

that your ear, and nose, and finger may be restored to their proper

places.” So saying, he bade them all goodbye, and went back to his home

and his fairy bride, with whom he lived happily till the end of his

life.

[From Sicilianisohen Mährchen.]