Folk-lore and Legends: Russian and Polish 17
The lad spoke some words and the doors opened of themselves. The
six-cornered hat came and placed itself on his head, the girdle came and
wound itself around his waist, the cloth hid itself in one of his
pockets, and the avenging cudgel placed itself in his hands.
When this had taken place the king came running in. How astonished was
he to see the fool alive, and there! The lad did not await for the king
to give vent to his rage, but said—
“Wonderful girdle, for my safety, and not for my pleasure, let me find
myself on the water.”
There was a murmuring in the air. A wonderful change took place. A
large, wide, and deep lake appeared in the middle of the palace grounds.
In the crystal waters played fish with golden scales and eyes of pearl.
Afar off on the water were the fool and the princess. The king came to
the side of the lake and beckoned the lad to him. He came, and with the
princess knelt at the king’s feet, and told him how they two were in
love with one another. The king gave them his blessing. The lake
disappeared, and the three returned to the palace, when the king,
calling his counsellors, told them all that had occurred. Then he named
the fool as his successor on the throne, gave him his daughter, and
threw his officer into prison.
In return, the lad gave the king the cloth, the stick, the girdle, and
the hat, telling him how to use them, and teaching him the magic words.
The next day the marriage took place, and, with his daughter, the king
gave the lad half of his dominions, and in the evening there was a royal
feast, so grand that the like was never before seen or heard of.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE EVIL EYE.
I.
THERE was once upon a time a rich gentleman who lived in a fine house on
the banks of the Vistula. All the windows in the house looked towards
the river, none looked towards the wide sweep of country around. The
path under the poplars which led up to the house was overgrown with
grass and weeds, and showed plainly enough that none of the neighbours
visited there, and that very little of the old hospitality was to be
experienced there.
The gentleman who owned the house had lived there for seven years, and
had come from some far-off place. The peasants knew little about him,
and they avoided him with fear and trembling, for there were terrible
tales about him.
The gentleman was born on the banks of the river Sau, and his parents
had been rich. Misfortune, however, had pursued him from the cradle
upwards. He had an evil eye, which scattered disease and death wherever
its glances fell. If he by ill chance glanced over his herd, the cattle
on which his eye fell died. Whatever he loved would surely die. His own
parents, to complete the son’s sorrow, perished, and the man with the
evil eye, as he came to be called in his birthplace, where the evil eye
had caused so much mischief, sold everything he had, and set off to the
banks of the Vistula, where he bought the fine house. He kept no folk
about him save one old manservant, who had nursed him in his arms when
he was a boy, and on whom the evil eye of his master had no effect.
The unlucky man seldom went out of his house, for he knew that his
glance brought misfortune, disease, and death on what it lighted on.
When he did go out in his carriage his old servant sat beside him, and
told him when they were coming to a man, a village, or a town. Then the
miserable man would either cover his eyes with his hands, or cast down
his glances on the floor of his carriage, where he always had a bundle
of pea-stalks at his feet.[1]
-----
Footnote 1:
When the evil eye is directed to a bundle of pea-stalks it does no
damage, but merely dries up the stalks.
-----
So it was that he had all the windows of his fine house made to look
over the Vistula. Twice had he by ill chance looked upon his
farm-buildings, and they had been set on fire by his glance.
In spite of all his care the sailors cursed him, and pointed with fear
to the wide windows of his beautiful house, out of which he scattered
destruction amongst them, the stream rushing on fast in the channel, and
bringing many a ship to ground opposite the White House, as the place
was called.
One boatman determined to see the man. He jumped into his boat and set
off to the house. When he arrived there he asked to see the master. The
old servant, fearful of the consequences, led him into the room. His
master was dining, and being put out that he should be interrupted at
his meal, he frowned upon the stranger. Immediately a fever took the
sailor, and he sank down on the floor at the door.
The old servant, at the command of his master, took the man to his boat,
gave him some money, and rowed him back to the other side of the river.
The poor sailor was ill for a long time, and when he regained his
strength he gave such a terrible account of the White House, and of its
master, as greatly increased the fear of his comrades. From that time,
when they went down the river in their boats and came opposite to the
White House, they would turn their eyes away, and pray heartily that
they might be protected from the evil glance of the terrible man who
lived there.
II.
Three years had passed, and the White House was still the dread of the
neighbours and the terror of the sailors. No one came to see the
much-feared man, and he lived solitary and miserable.
The next winter was very severe. The wolves, coming together, howled
with hunger around the house, and the master sat by the hearth, on which
burned a large fire, and sorrowfully turned over the leaves of a large
book. The old servant had secured all the doors, and sat at the other
side of the room warming himself, and busied in mending a fishing-net.
“Stanislas,” said his master, “have you caught any fish?”
“Not many, master, but as many as we two shall want.”
“That is true,” said his master. “Although so many years have passed, we
are but two. O unlucky hour in which I was born! Here am I alone, and
all men fly from me as if I were a monster,” and the tears fell in a
torrent from his unfortunate eyes.
All of a sudden they heard a voice crying for help. The master started.
It was a long time since he had heard a strange voice. The old servant
rushed out, and his master followed him with the light in his hand.
Before the door stood a covered sledge, and by it was an old man who
called for help.
As soon as the stranger saw the two men coming to him, he lifted his
wife, who had fainted, out of the sledge, and the old servant helped the
terrified daughter, a beautiful girl, to alight.
They put on more wood, and brought the fainted lady round, and the
master of the house, pleased to be able to show hospitality, went and
fetched some old wine in order to drink the strangers’ healths. The old
servant laughed to himself as he marked his master’s joyful face. The
strange guest, cheered by the wine, told how they had lost their way,
how they had fallen in with a pack of hungry wolves, and how their fleet
horse had carried them to the White House.
Towards night the luggage was taken out of the sledge, and the wearied
travellers retired to rest in warm, comfortable chambers. All was still
in the White House, save that the fire now and then sent forth a
glimmering flame.
III.
It was within an hour of midnight, and the old servant was asleep by the
fireside, when the door of his master’s bedchamber opened and the
unhappy man trod lightly into the hall. The old servant, wondering
whether he was dreaming, rubbed his eyes, and said—
“What, cannot my master sleep?”
“Be quiet, old friend!” said his master in a joyful voice. “I cannot
sleep, and do not wish to sleep when I am so happy as I now am.”
And he sat down in a big arm-chair by the fireside, smiled, and
commenced to weep.
“Weep, poor master, weep,” said Stanislas to himself. “Maybe you may
weep your evil eyes away.”
“Would that God would give me what I now wish,” said his master, “and I
would ask for nothing more in the world. Here have I lived thirty years
like a hermit or a criminal, and yet I have never willingly hurt any
one, and my soul is free from sin, but my eyes, my eyes!”
His countenance, which was so happy till now, became gloomy as usual;
but soon a smile appeared on his face, as hope once more chased away
sorrow.
“Dear friend!” said he, and Stanislas looked at him, “maybe I shall
marry.”
“Heaven help us!” cried the old servant. “But where then is your future
bride?”
The master rose from his chair, walked on tiptoe to the side-door, which
led to the chambers where slept the travellers, and, pointing to the
door, said—“There.”
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기