The Violet Fairy Book (17 page)

The story of the dog and his treasure soon became known, and a
neighbour whose garden was next the old people's grew so envious
of their good luck that he could neither eat nor sleep. As the
dog had discovered a treasure once, this foolish man thought he
must be able to discover one always, and begged the old couple to
lend him their pet for a little while, so that he might be made
rich also.

'How can you ask such a thing?' answered the old man indignantly.

'You know how much we love him, and that he is never out of our
sight for five minutes.'

But the envious neighbour would not heed his words, and came
daily with the same request, till at last the old people, who
could not bear to say no to anyone, promised to lend the dog,
just for a night or two. No sooner did the man get hold of the
dog than he turned him into the garden, but the dog did nothing
but race about, and the man was forced to wait with what patience
he could.

The next morning the man opened the house door, and the dog
bounded joyfully into the garden, and, running up to the foot of
a tree, began to scratch wildly. The man called loudly to his
wife to bring a spade, and followed the dog, as he longed to
catch the first glimpse of the expected treasure. But when he
had dug up the ground, what did he find? Why, nothing but a
parcel of old bones, which smelt so badly that he could not stay
there a moment longer. And his heart was filled with rage
against the dog who had played him this trick, and he seized a
pickaxe and killed it on the spot, before he knew what he was
doing. When he remembered that he would have to go with his
story to the old man and his wife he was rather frightened, but
there was nothing to be gained by putting it off, so he pulled a
very long face and went to his neighbour's garden.

'Your dog,' said he, pretending to weep, 'has suddenly fallen
down dead, though I took every care of him, and gave him
everything he could wish for. And I thought I had better come
straight and tell you.'

Weeping bitterly, the old man went to fetch the body of his
favourite, and brought it home and buried it under the fig-tree
where he had found the treasure. From morning till night he and
his wife mourned over their loss, and nothing could comfort them.

At length, one night when he was asleep, he dreamt that the dog
appeared to him and told him to cut down the fig-tree over his
grave, and out of its wood to make a mortar. But when the old
man woke and thought of his dream he did not feel at all inclined
to cut down the tree, which bore well every year, and consulted
his wife about it. The woman did not hesitate a moment, and said
that after what had happened before, the dog's advice must
certainly be obeyed, so the tree was felled, and a beautiful
mortar made from it. And when the season came for the rice crop
to be gathered the mortar was taken down from its shelf, and the
grains placed in it for pounding, when, lo and behold! in a
twinkling of an eye, they all turned into gold pieces. At the
sight of all this gold the hearts of the old people were glad,
and once more they blessed their faithful dog.

But it was not long before this story also came to the ears of
their envious neighbour, and he lost no time in going to the old
people and asking if they happened to have a mortar which they
could lend him. The old man did not at all like parting with his
precious treasure, but he never could say no, so the neighbour
went off with the mortar under his arm.

The moment he got into his own house he took a great handful of
rice, and began to shell off the husks, with the help of his
wife. But, instead of the gold pieces for which they looked, the
rice turned into berries with such a horrible smell that they
were obliged to run away, after smashing the mortar in a rage and
setting fire to the bits.

The old people next door were naturally very much put out when
they learned the fate of their mortar, and were not at all
comforted by the explanations and excuses made by their
neighbour. But that night the dog again appeared in a dream to
his master, and told him that he must go and collect the ashes of
the burnt mortar and bring them home. Then, when he heard that
the Daimio, or great lord to whom this part of the country
belonged, was expected at the capital, he was to carry the ashes
to the high road, through which the procession would have to
pass. And as soon as it was in sight he was to climb up all the
cherry-trees and sprinkle the ashes on them, and they would soon
blossom as they had never blossomed before.

This time the old man did not wait to consult his wife as to
whether he was to do what his dog had told him, but directly he
got up he went to his neighbour's house and collected the ashes
of the burnt mortar. He put them carefully in a china vase, and
carried it to the high road, Sitting down on a seat till the
Daimio should pass. The cherry-trees were bare, for it was the
season when small pots of them were sold to rich people, who kept
them in hot places, so that they might blossom early and decorate
their rooms. As to the trees in the open air, no one would ever
think of looking for the tiniest bud for more than a month yet.
The old man had not been waiting very long before he saw a cloud
of dust in the far distance, and knew that it must be the
procession of the Daimio. On they came, every man dressed in his
finest clothes, and the crowd that was lining the road bowed
their faces to the ground as they went by. Only the old man did
not bow himself, and the great lord saw this, and bade one of his
courtiers, in anger, go and inquire why he had disobeyed the
ancient customs. But before the messenger could reach him the
old man had climbed the nearest tree and scattered his ashes far
and wide, and in an instant the white flowers had flashed into
life, and the heart of the Daimio rejoiced, and he gave rich
presents to the old man, whom he sent for to his castle.

We may be sure that in a very little while the envious neighbour
had heard this also, and his bosom was filled with hate. He
hastened to the place where he had burned the mortar, collected a
few of the ashes which the old man had left behind, and took them
to the road, hoping that his luck might be as good as the old
man's, or perhaps even better. His heart beat with pleasure when
he caught the first glimpses of the Daimio's train, and he held
himself ready for the right moment. As the Daimio drew near he
flung a great handful of ashes over the trees, but no buds or
flowers followed the action: instead, the ashes were all blown
back into the eyes of the Daimio and his warriors, till they
cried out from pain. Then the prince ordered the evil-doer to be
seized and bound and thrown into prison, where he was kept for
many months. By the time he was set free everybody in his native
village had found out his wickedness, and they would not let him
live there any longer; and as he would not leave off his evil
ways he soon went from bad to worse, and came to a miserable end.

(Japanische Marchen.)

Once upon a time what should happen DID happen; and if it had not
happened this tale would never have been told.

There was once an emperor, very great and mighty, and he ruled
over an empire so large that no one knew where it began and where
it ended. But if nobody could tell the exact extent of his
sovereignty everybody was aware that the emperor's right eye
laughed, while his left eye wept. One or two men of valour had
the courage to go and ask him the reason of this strange fact,
but he only laughed and said nothing; and the reason of the
deadly enmity between his two eyes was a secret only known to the
monarch himself.

And all the while the emperor's sons were growing up. And such
sons! All three like the morning stars in the sky!

Florea, the eldest, was so tall and broad-shouldered that no man
in the kingdom could approach him.

Costan, the second, was quite different. Small of stature, and
slightly built, he had a strong arm and stronger wrist.

Petru, the third and youngest, was tall and thin, more like a
girl than a boy. He spoke very little, but laughed and sang,
sang and laughed, from morning till night. He was very seldom
serious, but then he had a way when he was thinking of stroking
his hair over his forehead, which made him look old enough to sit
in his father's council!

'You are grown up, Florea,' said Petru one day to his eldest
brother; 'do go and ask father why one eye laughs and the other
weeps.'

But Florea would not go. He had learnt by experience that this
question always put the emperor in a rage.

Petru next went to Costan, but did not succeed any better with
him.

'Well, well, as everyone else is afraid, I suppose I must do it
myself,' observed Petru at length. No sooner said than done; the
boy went straight to his father and put his question.

'May you go blind!' exclaimed the emperor in wrath; 'what
business is it of yours?' and boxed Petru's ears soundly.

Petru returned to his brothers, and told them what had befallen
him; but not long after it struck him that his father's left eye
seemed to weep less, and the right to laugh more.

'I wonder if it has anything to do with my question,' thought he.

'I'll try again! After all, what do two boxes on the ear
matter?'

So he put his question for the second time, and had the same
answer; but the left eye only wept now and then, while the right
eye looked ten years younger.

'It really MUST be true,' thought Petru. 'Now I know what I have
to do. I shall have to go on putting that question, and getting
boxes on the ear, till both eyes laugh together.'

No sooner said than done. Petru never, never forswore himself.

'Petru, my dear boy,' cried the emperor, both his eyes laughing
together, 'I see you have got this on the brain. Well, I will
let you into the secret. My right eye laughs when I look at my
three sons, and see how strong and handsome you all are, and the
other eye weeps because I fear that after I die you will not be
able to keep the empire together, and to protect it from its
enemies. But if you can bring me water from the spring of the
Fairy of the Dawn, to bathe my eyes, then they will laugh for
evermore; for I shall know that my sons are brave enough to
overcome any foe.'

Thus spoke the emperor, and Petru picked up his hat and went to
find his brothers.

The three young men took counsel together, and talked the subject
well over, as brothers should do. And the end of it was that
Florea, as the eldest, went to the stables, chose the best and
handsomest horse they contained, saddled him, and took leave of
the court.

'I am starting at once,' said he to his brothers, 'and if after a
year, a month, a week, and a day I have not returned with the
water from the spring of the Fairy of the Dawn, you, Costan, had
better come after me.' So saying he disappeared round a corner
of the palace.

For three days and three nights he never drew rein. Like a
spirit the horse flew over mountains and valleys till he came to
the borders of the empire. Here was a deep, deep trench that
girdled it the whole way round, and there was only a single
bridge by which the trench could be crossed. Florea made
instantly for the bridge, and there pulled up to look around him
once more, to take leave of his native land Then he turned, but
before him was standing a dragon—oh! SUCH a dragon!—a dragon
with three heads and three horrible faces, all with their mouths
wide open, one jaw reaching to heaven and the other to earth.

At this awful sight Florea did not wait to give battle. He put
spurs to his horse and dashed off, WHERE he neither knew nor
cared.

The dragon heaved a sigh and vanished without leaving a trace
behind him.

A week went by. Florea did not return home. Two passed; and
nothing was heard of him. After a month Costan began to haunt
the stables and to look out a horse for himself. And the moment
the year, the month, the week, and the day were over Costan
mounted his horse and took leave of his youngest brother.

'If I fail, then you come,' said he, and followed the path that
Florea had taken.

The dragon on the bridge was more fearful and his three heads
more terrible than before, and the young hero rode away still
faster than his brother had done.

Nothing more was heard either of him or Florea; and Petru
remained alone.

'I must go after my brothers,' said Petru one day to his father.

'Go, then,' said his father, 'and may you have better luck than
they'; and he bade farewell to Petru, who rode straight to the
borders of the kingdom.

The dragon on the bridge was yet more dreadful than the one
Florea and Costan had seen, for this one had seven heads instead
of only three.

Petru stopped for a moment when he caught sight of this terrible
creature. Then he found his voice.

'Get out of the way!' cried he. 'Get out of the way!' he
repeated again, as the dragon did not move. 'Get out of the
way!' and with this last summons he drew his sword and rushed
upon him. In an instant the heavens seemed to darken round him
and he was surrounded by fire—fire to right of him, fire to left
of him, fire to front of him, fire to rear of him; nothing but
fire whichever way he looked, for the dragon's seven heads were
vomiting flame.

The horse neighed and reared at the horrible sight, and Petru
could not use the sword he had in readiness.

'Be quiet! this won't do!' he said, dismounting hastily, but
holding the bridle firmly in his left hand and grasping his sword
in his right.

But even so he got on no better, for he could see nothing but
fire and smoke.

'There is no help for it; I must go back and get a better horse,'
said he, and mounted again and rode homewards.