Read Italian Folktales Online

Authors: Italo Calvino

Italian Folktales (24 page)

BOOK: Italian Folktales
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“Child, rekindle the flame:

I'll be back in a flash.”

 

She changed clothes, donned a red wig, and returned to the pear tree. She went on at such length that Petie Pete fell into the trap once more. This time there were no rest stops. She carried the bag straight home where her daughter was waiting on the doorstep for her.

“Shut him up in the chicken coop,” ordered the Witch, “and early tomorrow morning while I'm out, make him into hash with potatoes.”

The next morning Maggy Mag took a carving board and knife to the henhouse and opened a little hen door.

 

“Petie Pete, just for fun,

Please lay your head upon this board.”

 

He replied:

 

“First show me how!”

 

Maggy Mag laid her neck on the board, and Petie Pete picked up the carving knife and cut off her head, which he put on to fry in the frying pan.

Witch Bea-Witch came back and exclaimed:

 

“Marguerite, dear daughter,

What have you thrown in the fryer?”

 

“Me!” piped Petie Pete, sitting on the hood over the fireplace.

“How did you get way up there?” asked Witch Bea-Witch.

“I piled one pot on top of the other and came on up.”

So Witch Bea-Witch tried to make a ladder of pots to go after him, but when she got halfway to the top the pots came crashing down, and into the fire she fell and burned to ashes.

 

(
Friuli
)

 

38

Quack, Quack! Stick to My Back!

A king had a daughter as pretty as a picture whom all the princes and noblemen would have liked to marry, had it not been for the bargain she'd made with her father.

This king, mind you, had once given a big banquet, and while the guests all laughed and enjoyed themselves, his daughter remained serious and solemn-faced. “Why so glum?” asked her table companions. She answered them with total silence. They all tried to make her laugh, but failed.

“My daughter, are you angry?” asked her father.

“No, Father, I am not.”

“Then why don't you laugh?”

“I wouldn't laugh even if my life depended on it.”

Then the king had an idea. “Fine! Since you're so determined not to laugh, let's try something, rather let's make a bargain. Whoever would marry you must manage to make you laugh.”

“Very well,” said the princess. “But under this condition: whoever tries to make me laugh and fails will have his head cut off.”

Thus was it agreed. All the guests witnessed the pact, and the royal word once given had to be kept.

The news spread to the four corners of the world, and all the princes and noblemen began competing for the hand of the lovely princess. But every single one who tried lost his life. Early each morning the princess would go out on her balcony to wait for a suitor to come by. Time was passing, and the king was more and more afraid his daughter would end up an old maid.

Now word of all this also reached a certain country village. You know how people sit around at night talking about all sorts of things, and so they got on the subject of the princess's bargain with her father. A boy with scalp disease, the son of a poor cobbler, listened open-mouthed. At length, he said, “I shall go myself and try!”

“Don't be silly, my son,” answered his father.

“I'm serious, Father, I'm going. I shall set out tomorrow.”

“Those people are serious too, and they'll put you to death.”

“Father, I intend to become king!”

“Ha, ha, ha!” they all laughed. “A king with scalp disease!”

The next morning the father had forgotten all about it, when his son came in and announced, “Well, Father, I'm leaving. Here everybody looks down on me because of my scalp disease. Give me three loaves of bread, three gold florins, and a bottle of wine.”

“But just think what you're letting yourself in for.”

“I have,” and with that, he departed.

He walked and walked and met a poor woman trudging along with the aid of a stick. “Are you hungry, madam?” asked the boy with the scalp disease.

“I certainly am, son. Could you give me something to eat?”

He gave her one of his three loaves, which she ate. But since she was still hungry, he gave her the second loaf as well. Feeling truly sorry for her, he ended up giving her the third one too.

On and on he went, until he met another woman in tatters.

“Could you give me a little money, my lad, to buy myself some sort of dress?”

He gave her a florin. Then he got to thinking one florin was perhaps not enough, so he gave her another one. But he felt so sorry for her that he handed her the third one too.

On and on he went until he met another woman, who was old, wrinkled, and panting with thirst.

“Dear boy, give me something to quench my thirst and you'll save a soul from Purgatory.”

The boy with scalp disease handed her his bottle of wine. The old woman drank a little, and he kept on telling her to have more until she had drained the bottle dry. She looked up at last and was no longer an old woman, but a lovely blond maiden with a star in her hair.

“I know where you are going,” she said, “and I know how kind-hearted you are, because the three women you met were all none other than myself. I shall now come to your assistance. Take this fine goose and carry it with you everywhere you go. Whenever anyone touches it, it will cry, ‘Quack, quack!' and you must straightway say, ‘Stick to my back!'” At that, the beautiful maiden vanished.

The youth continued on his way with the goose. He came to an inn at night and, having no money, took a seat outside on a bench. The innkeeper emerged and was going to drive him away, when his two daughters appeared, saw the goose, and said to their father, “Please don't send this stranger away, Father. Invite him in and offer him bed and board.”

The innkeeper looked at the goose and, realizing what his daughters had in mind, said, “Very well, the young man will sleep in a nice room, and we'll put the goose in the barn.”

“No, you won't,” said the youth with scalp disease, “the goose goes where I go. It's too fine a goose to stay in a barn.”

After dinner the youth retired for the night and put his goose under the bed. As he slept he thought he heard something stirring, and all of a sudden the goose went “Quack, quack!”

“Stick to my back!” he shouted and got up to see what was going on.

The innkeeper's daughter had crawled into the room in her nightgown, grabbed hold of the goose to steal its feathers, and now she was stuck in that position.

“Help! Sister! Come get me loose!” she cried. In came the sister, also in her nightgown, grabbed her sister around the waist to pull her loose from the goose. But the goose cried “Quack, quack!” and the young man added “Stick to my back!” so sister stuck to sister.

The youth looked out the window and saw that it was almost day. He dressed and left the inn, followed by the goose and the two girls stuck to it. Along the way he met a priest who, noticing the innkeeper's daughters in their nightgowns, exclaimed, “Shame on you two! Is that any way to be going about at this hour of day? I'll show you a thing or two!” At that, he began spanking them.

“Quack, quack!” went the goose.

“Stick to my back!” said the youth, so the priest stuck too.

They moved on with three persons now sticking to the goose. Whom should they meet but a coppersmith loaded down with pots and pans. “Oh, my goodness, what's this I see? A priest in a position like that? Just let me at him!” At that, the coppersmith whacked him hard.

“Quack, quack!” went the goose.

“Stick to my back!” added the youth with scalp disease, and the coppersmith stuck too, pots and all.

That particular morning the king's daughter was on her balcony as usual when the strange group came into view: the boy with scalp disease, the goose, the innkeeper's first daughter stuck to the goose, the innkeeper's second daughter stuck to the first, the priest stuck to the second girl, the coppersmith with pots and pans stuck to the priest. At that sight, the princess went into peals of laughter. Then she called her father, who also burst out laughing. The whole court looked out the windows and laughed until their sides hurt.

Right in the middle of all the mirth, the goose and everyone stuck to it disappeared.

There remained only the young man with scalp disease. He went up the steps and introduced himself to the king. The king glanced at him, noticed his scalp disease and his coarse old clothes all patched up, and had no idea what to do. “My good lad,” he said to him, “I'll engage you as a servant. How's that?” But the boy with scalp disease refused the offer: he wanted to marry the princess.

To gain time, the king ordered him bathed from head to toe and clad in noble garb. When the youth reappeared, no one recognized him: he was so handsome now that the princess fell violently in love with him and had eyes for no one else.

Putting first things first, the young man insisted on fetching his father immediately. He pulled up in a carriage and found the poor cobbler on the doorstep grieving over the departure of his only son.

The youth took him back to the royal palace, introduced him to his father-in-law, the king, and his bride, the princess, and the marriage was celebrated at once.

 

(
Friuli
)

39

The Happy Man's Shirt

A king had an only son that he thought the world of. But this prince was always unhappy. He would spend days on end at his window staring into space.

“What on earth do you lack?” asked the king. “What's wrong with you?”

“I don't even know myself, Father.”

“Are you in love? If there's a particular girl you fancy, tell me, and I'll arrange for you to marry her, no matter whether she's the daughter of the most powerful king on earth or the poorest peasant girl alive!”

“No, Father, I'm not in love.”

The king tried in every way imaginable to cheer him up, but theaters, balls, concerts, and singing were all useless, and day by day the rosy hue drained from the prince's face.

The king issued a decree, and from every corner of the earth came the most learned philosophers, doctors, and professors. The king showed them the prince and asked for their advice. The wise men withdrew to think, then returned to the king. “Majesty, we have given the matter close thought and we have studied the stars. Here's what you must do. Look for a happy man, a man who's happy through and through, and exchange your son's shirt for his.”

That same day the king sent ambassadors to all parts of the world in search of the happy man.

A priest was taken to the king. “Are you happy?” asked the king.

“Yes, indeed, Majesty.”

“Fine. How would you like to be my bishop?”

“Oh, Majesty, if only it were so!”

“Away with you! Get out of my sight! I'm seeking a man who's happy just as he is, not one who's trying to better his lot.”

Thus the search resumed, and before long the king was told about a neighboring king, who everybody said was a truly happy man. He had a wife as good as she was beautiful and a whole slew of children. He had conquered all his enemies, and his country was at peace. Again hopeful, the king immediately sent ambassadors to him to ask for his shirt.

The neighboring king received the ambassadors and said, “Yes, indeed, I have everything anybody could possibly want. But at the same time I worry because I'll have to die one day and leave it all. I can't sleep at night for worrying about that!” The ambassadors thought it wiser to go home without this man's shirt.

At his wit's end, the king went hunting. He fired at a hare but only wounded it, and the hare scampered away on three legs. The king pursued it, leaving the hunting party far behind him. Out in the open field he heard a man singing a refrain. The king stopped in his tracks. “Whoever sings like that is bound to be happy!” The song led him into a vineyard, where he found a young man singing and pruning the vines.

“Good day, Majesty,” said the youth. “So early and already out in the country?”

“Bless you! Would you like me to take you to the capital? You will be my friend.”

“Much obliged, Majesty, but I wouldn't even consider it. I wouldn't even change places with the Pope.”

“Why not? Such a fine young man like you . . . ”

“No, no, I tell you. I'm content with just what I have and want nothing more.”

“A happy man at last!” thought the king. “Listen, young man. Do me a favor.”

“With all my heart, Majesty, if I can.”

BOOK: Italian Folktales
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