Chapter 8 of the Orange Fairy Book This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Jolie van Welchem. The Orange Fairy Book by Andrew Lange The Ugly Duckling It was summer in the land of Denmark and though for most of the year the country looks flat and ugly it was beautiful now. The weed was yellow, the oats were green, the hay was dry and delicious to roll in and from the old ruined house which nobody lived in down to the edge of the canal was a forest of great bird oaks so tall that a whole family of children might have dwelted them and never have been found out. It was under these bird oaks that a duck had built herself a warm nest and was not sitting all day on six pretty eggs. Five of them were white, but the sixth, which was larger than the others, was of an ugly grey colour. The duck was always puzzled about that egg and how it came to be so different from the rest. Other birds might have thought that when the duck went down in the morning and evening to the water to stretch her legs in a good swim, some lazy mother might have been on the watch and have popped a rag into the nest. But ducks are not clever at all and are not quick at counting so this duck did not worry herself about the matter but just to care that a big egg should be as warm as the rest. This was the first set of eggs that a duck had ever laid and to begin with she was very pleased and proud and laughed at the other mothers who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and evening that were necessary for health. But at length she grew tired of sitting there all day. Surely eggs take longer hatching than they did, she said to herself, and she pined for a little amusement also. Still she knew that if she left her eggs and the ducklings and them to die, none of her friends would ever speak to her again. So there she stayed, only getting off the egg several times a day to see if the shells were cracking, which may have been the very reason why they did not crack sooner. She had looked at the eggs at least a hundred and fifty times, when to her joy she saw a tiny crack on two of them, and scrambling back to the nest she drew the eggs closer the one to the other, and never moved for the whole of that day. Next morning she was rewarded by noticing cracks in the whole five eggs, and by midday two little yellow heads were poking out from the shells. This encouraged her so much that, after breaking the shells with her bills so that little creatures could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night upon the nest, and before the sun rose the five white eggs were empty, and ten pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world. Now the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt, and besides broken shells are not at all comfortable things to sit or walk upon, so she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt delighted to have some company to talk to, till the big egg hatched. But day after day went on, and the big egg showed no sign of cracking, and the duck grew more and more impatient, and began to wish to consult her husband, who never came. I can't think what is the matter with it, the duck rumbled to her neighbour, who had called him to pay her a visit. Why, I could have hatched two broods in the time that this one has taken. Let me look at it, said the old neighbour. Ah, I thought so. It is a turkey's egg.  I have no patience when I think of it. Well, I will give it another chance, sighed the duck, and if it does not come out of its shell in another twenty-four hours, I will just leave it alone, and teach the rest of them to swim properly, and to find their own food. I really can't be expected to do two things at once. And with a fluff of her feathers, she pushed the egg into the middle of the nest. All through the next day, she sat on, giving up even her morning bath, for fear that a blast of coal might strike the big egg. In the evening, when she ventured to peep, she thought she saw a tiny crack in the upper part of the shell. Filled with hope, she went back to her duties, though she could hardly sleep all night for excitement. When she woke with the first streaks of light, she felt something stirring under her. Yes, there it was at last, and as she moved, a big, awkward bird tumbled head foremost on the ground. And there was no denying, it was ugly. Even the mother was forced to admit that to herself, though she only said, it was large and strong. You won't need any teaching when you're once in the water, she told him, with a glance of surprise at the dull brown which covered his back, and at his long naked neck. And indeed, he did not, though he was not half so pretty to look at, as a little yellow boss that followed her. When they returned, they found the old neighbour on the back waiting for them to take them into the duckyard. No, it is not a young turkeys certainly, whispered she in confidence to the mother. For though it is lean and skinny, and has no colour to speak of, yet there is something rather distinguished about it, and it halts its head up well. It is very kind of you to say so, answered the mother, who by this time had some secret doubts of its loveliness. Of course, when you see it by itself, it is all right, though it is different somehow from the others, but one cannot expect all one's children to be beautiful. By this time they had reached the centre of the yard, where a very old duck was sitting, who was treated with great respect by all the fowls present.  No well-bred duckling turns in its toes. It is a xyle of common parents. The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with them, but the rest of the ducks looked on discontentedly and said to each other, Oh dear me, here are ever so many more. The yard is full already, and did you ever see anything quite as ugly as that great tall creature? He is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him out. So, saying, she put up her feathers, and running to the big duckling, bit its neck. The duckling gave a loud quack. It was the first time he had felt any pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly. Leave him alone, she said fiercely, or I will send for his father. He was not troubling you.  Though the duckling did not understand the meaning of the words, he felt it was being blamed, and became more uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck, who ruled the fowl-yard, struck in. It certainly is a great pity is so different from these beautiful darlings, if you could only be hatched over again. The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to look, but was comforted when his mother answered. He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better, and is very strong. I am sure he will make his way in the world as well as anybody. Well, you must feel quite at home here, said the old duck, waddling off, and so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at by everyone, and they thought his mother was not looking. Even the turkey-cock, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words, and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any difference unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as rude and unkind as a rest. At last he could bear it no longer, and one day, he fancied, he saw signs of his mother turning against him too. So that night, when the ducks and hens were still asleep, he stole away, through an open door, and under cover of the burdock leaves, scrambled on by the bank of the canal, till he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy places, where the reeds grew. Here he lay down, but he was too tired, and too frightened to fall asleep, and with the earliest peep of the sun, the reeds began to rustle, and he saw that he had blundered into a colony of wild ducks, but as he could not run away again, he stood up and bowed politely. You are ugly, said the wild ducks, and they had looked him well over. But, however, it is no business of ours, unless you wish to marry one of our daughters, and that we should not allow. And the duckling answered, that he had no idea of marrying anybody, and wanted nothing but to be left alone after his long journey. So, for two whole days, he lay quietly among the reeds, eating such food as he could find, and drinking the water of the moorland pool, till he felt himself quite strong again. He wished he might stay where he was for ever. He was so comfortable and happy, away from everyone with nobody to bite him, and tell him how ugly he was. He was thinking these thoughts, when two young gandas caught sight of him, as if they were having their evening splash among the reeds, looking for the supper. We are getting tired of this moor, they said, and tomorrow we think of trying another, where the legs are larger and the feeding better. Will you come with us? Is it nicer than this? asked the duckling doubtfully. The words were hardly out of his mouth when, piff-pah, and the two newcomers were stretched dead beside him. At the sound of the gun, the wild ducks and the rushes flew into the air, and for a few minutes the firing continued. Luckily for himself, the duckling could not fly, and he floundered along through the water, till he could hide himself amidst some tall ferns, which grew in a hollow.  The duckling grew called with terror, and tried to hide his head beneath his little wings, but the dog snuffed at him and passed on, and he was able to reach his place of shelter.  Well, that is a great mercy! and he curled himself up in the soft grass till the shots died away in the distance. When all had been quiet for a long time, and there were only stars to see him, he crapped out and looked about him. He would never go near a pool again, never thought he. And seeing that a moor stretched far away in the opposite direction from which he had come, he marched bravely on till he got to a small cottage, which he seemed too tumbled down for the stones to hold together many hours longer. Even the door only hung upon one hinge, and as the only night in the room sprang from a tiny fire, the duckling edged himself cautiously in, and lay down under a chair, close to the broken door, from which he could get out if necessary. But no one seemed to see him or smell him, so he spent the rest of the night in peace. Now in the cottage dwelt an old woman, a cat, and a hen, and it was really they, and not she who were masters of the house. The old woman, who passed all her days in spinning yarn, which she sawed at the nearest town, loved both the cat and the hen as her own children, and never contradicted them in any way. So it was of their grace, and not hers, that the duckling would have to gain. It was only next morning, when it grew light, that they noticed their visitor, who stood trembling before them, with his eyes on the door ready to escape at any moment. They did not, however, appear very fierce, and the duckling became less afraid, as if they approached him. Can you lay eggs? asked the hen, and the duckling answered meagly. No, I don't know how. Upon which the hen turned to back, and the cat came forward. Can you ruffle your fur when you are angry, or purr when you are pleased? said she, and again the duckling had to admit that he could do nothing but swim, which did not seem of much use to anybody. So the cat and the hen went straight off to the old woman, who was still in bed.  It calls itself a duckling, but it can neither lay eggs nor purr. What had we better do, was it? Keep it, to be sure, replied the old woman riskily. It is all nonsense about it not laying eggs. Anyway, we will let it stay here for a bit, and see what happens. So the duckling remained for three weeks, and shared the food of the cat and the hen, but nothing in the way of eggs happened at all. Then the sun came out, and the air grew soft, and the duckling grew tired of being in a hut, and wandered with all his might to have a swim. And one morning he got so restless that even his friends noticed it. What is the matter? asked the hen, and the duckling told her. I am so longing for the water again. You can't think how delicious it is to put your head under the water, and dive straight to the bottom. I don't think I should enjoy it, replied the hen doubtfully. And I don't think the cat would like it either. And the cat, when asked, agreed, there was nothing sure it hates so much. I can't stay here any longer. I must get to the water, repeated the duck. And the cat and the hen, who felt hurt and offended, answered shortly, very well then, go. The duckling would have liked to say goodbye, and thank them for their kindness, as it was polite by nature. But they had both turned their backs on him. So he went out of the rickety door, feeling rather sad. But in spite of himself, he could not help a thrill of joy when he was out in the air and water once more, and cared little for the rude glances of the creatures he met. For a while he was quite happy and content. But soon the winter came on, and snow began to fall, and everything to grow very wet and uncomfortable. And the duckling soon found that it is one thing to enjoy being in the water, and quite another to like being damp on land. The sun was setting one day, like a great scarlet globe, and the river, to the duckling's vast bewilderment, was getting hard and slippery. When he heard the sound of roaring wings, and high up in the air, a flock of swans were flying. They were as white as snow which had fallen during the night, and their long necks with yellow bills were stretched southwards, but they were going. They did not quite know whether, but to a land where the sun shone all day. Oh, if he only could have gone with them. That was not possible, of course, and besides, what sort of companion could an ugly thing like him be to those beautiful beings? So he walked sadly down to a sheltered pool, and dived at the very bottom, and tried to think it was the greatest happiness he could dream of. But all the same he knew it wasn't. And every morning it grew colder and colder, and the duckling had hard work to keep himself warm. Indeed, it would be truer to say that he never was warm at all. And at last, after one bitter night, his legs moved so slowly that the eyes crept closer and closer, and when the morning light broke, he was caught fast as in a trap, and soon his senses went from him. A few hours more, and the poor duckling's life had been ended. But by good fortune, a man was crossing the river on his way to his work, and saw in a moment what had happened.  Instead of going on his work, the man turned back and took the bird's children, who gave him a warm mess to eat, and put him in a box by the fire. And when they came back from school, he was much more comfortable than he had been since he had left the old woman's cottage. They were kind little children, and wanted to play with him. But alas! The poor fellow had never played in his life, and thought they wanted to tease him, and flew straight into the milk-pan, and then into the butter-dish, and from that into the meal-barrel, and at last terrified at the noise and confusion right out of the door, and hid himself in the snow amongst the bushes at the back of the house. He never could tell afterwards exactly how he had spent the rest of the winter. He only knew that he was very miserable, and that he never had enough to eat. But by and by things grew better. The earth became softer, the sun hotter, the birds sang, and the flowers once more appeared in the grass. When he stood up, he felt different somehow from what he had done before he fell asleep among the reeds, to which he had wandered after he had escaped from the peasant's hut. His body seemed larger, and his wings stronger. Something pink looked at him from the side of a hill. He thought he would fly towards it and see what it was. Oh, how glorious it felt to be rushing through the air, wheeling first one way, and then the other! He had never thought that flying could be like that. The duckling was almost sorry when he drew near the pink cloud, and found it was made up of apob blossoms growing beside a cottage, whose garden rend down to the banks of the canal. He fluttered slowly to the ground, and paused for a few minutes under a thicket of syringes, and while he was gazing about him, there walked slowly past, a flock of the same beautiful birds he had seen so many months ago. Fascinated, he watched them one by one step into the canal, and flowed quietly upon the waters, as if they were part of them. I will follow them, said the duckling to himself. Ugly though I am, I would rather be killed by them, than suffer all I have suffered from cold and hunger, and from the ducks and fowls who should have treated me kindly. And flying quickly down to the water, he swam after them as fast as he could. It did not take him long to reach of them, for they had stopped to rest in a green pool, shaded by a tree whose branches swept the water. And directly they saw him coming, some of the younger ones swam out to meet him with cries of welcome, which again the duckling hardly understood. He approached them glad, yet trembling, and turning to one of the older birds, who by this time had left the shade of the tree, he said, If I am to die, I would rather you should kill me. I don't know why I was ever hedged, for I am too ugly to live. And as he spoke, he bowed his head and looked down into the water. Reflected in the still pool, he saw many white shapes, with long necks and golden bills. And without thinking, he looked for the dull grey body and the awkward skinny neck. But no such a thing was there. Instead, he beheld beneath him a beautiful white swan. The new one is best of all, said the children, when they came down to feed the swans, with biscuit and cake before going to bed. His feathers are whiter, and his beak more golden than the rest. And when he heard that, the duckling thought that it was worth while having undergone all the persecution and loneliness that he had passed through. As otherwise, he would never have known what it was to be really happy, and of the ugly duckling. The Two Caskets by Hans Andersen from The Yellow Fairy Book This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Far, far away, in the midst of a pine forest, there lived a woman who had both a daughter and a stepdaughter. Ever since her own daughter was born, the mother had given her all that she cried for, so she grew up to be as cross and disagreeable as she was ugly. Her step-sister, on the other hand, had spent her childhood and working hard to keep house for her father, who died soon after a second marriage. And she was as much beloved by the neighbors for her goodness and industry as she was for her beauty. As the years went on, the difference between the two girls grew more marked, and the old woman treated her stepdaughter worse than ever, and was always on the watch for some pretext for beating her or depriving her of her food. Anything however foolish was good enough for this. And one day, when she could think of nothing better, she set both the girls to spin while sitting on the low wall of the well. And you had better mind what you do, said she, for the one whose thread breaks first shall be thrown to the bottom. But, of course, she took good care that her own daughter's flax was fine and strong, while the step-sister had only some coarse stuff, which no one could have thought of using. As might be expected, in a very little while, the poor girl's thread snapped, and the old woman, who had been watching from behind a door, seized her stepdaughter by her shoulders and threw her into the well. That is an end of you, she said, but she was wrong, for it was only the beginning. Down, down, down went the girl, seemed as if the well must reach the very middle of the earth. But at last her feet touched the ground, and she found herself in a field more beautiful than ever the summer pastures of her native mountains. Trees waved in the soft breeze, the flowers of the brightest colors danced in the grass. And though she was quite alone, the girl's heart danced, too, for she felt happier than she had since her father died. So she walked on through the meadow, until she came to an old tumbledown fence, so old that it was a wonder it managed to stand up at all, and it looked as if it depended for support on the old man's beard that climbed all over it. The girl paused for a moment as she came up and gazed about for a place where she might safely cross. But before she could move, a voice cried from the fence, Do not hurt me, little maiden, I am so old, so old, I have not much longer to live.  And then, seeing a spot where the climatist grew less thickly than in other places, she jumped lightly over. May I go well with thee, said the fence, as the girl walked on. She soon left the meadow and turned into a path which ran between two flowery hedges. Right in front of her stood an oven, and through its open door she could see a pile of white loaves. Eat as many loaves as you like, but do me no harm, little maiden, cried the oven. And the maiden told her to fear nothing, for she never heard anything, and was very grateful for the oven's kindness in giving her such a beautiful white loaf. When she had finished it, down to the last crumb, she shut the oven door and said, Good morning. May I go well with thee, said the oven, as the girl walked on. By and by she became very thirsty, and seeing a cow with a milk-pail hanging on her horn, turned towards her. Milk me and drink as much as you will, little maiden, cried the cow. But be sure you spill none on the ground, and do me no harm, for I have never harmed anyone. Nor I, answered the girl, fear nothing. So she sat down and milked until the pail was nearly full.  Now throw any that is left over my hooves, and hang the pail on my horns again, said the cow, and the girl did as she was bid, and kissed the cow on her forehead, and went her way. Many hours had now passed since the girl had fallen down the well, and the sun was setting. Where shall I spend the night, thought she? And suddenly she saw before her a gate, which she had not noticed before, and a very old woman leaning against it. Good evening, said the girl politely, and the old woman answered, Good evening, my child, with that everyone was as polite as you. Are you in search of anything? I am in search of a place, replied the girl, and the woman smiled and said, Then stop a little while and comb my hair, and you shall tell me all the things that you can do. Willingly, mother, answered the girl. And she began combing out the old woman's hair, which was long and white. Half an hour passed in this way, and then the old woman said, As you did not think yourself too good to comb me, I will show you where you may take service. Be prudent and patient, and all will go well. So the girl thanked her and set out for a farm at a little distance, where she was engaged to milk the cows and sift the corn. As soon as it was light next morning, the girl got up and went into the cowhouse. I'm sure you must be hungry, said she, patting each in turn. And then she fetched hay from the barn, and while they were eating it, she swept out the cowhouse, and strewed clean straw upon the floor. The cows were so pleased with the care she took of them, that they stood quite still while she milked them, and did not play any of the tricks on her, that they had played on other dairy-maids who were rough and rude. And when she had done, and was going to get up from her stool, she found sitting round her a whole circle of cats, black and white, tabby and tortoise shell, who all cried with one voice. We are very thirsty, please give us some milk.  And she went into the dairy, followed by the cats, and gave each one a little red saucerful. But before they drank, they all rubbed themselves against her knees, and purred by way of thanks. The next thing the girl had to do was to go to the storehouse, and to sift the corn through a sieve. When she was busy rubbing the corn, she heard a whir of wings, and a flock of sparrows flew in at the window. We are very hungry, give us some corn, give us some corn, cried they, and the girl answered.  And scattered a fine handful over the floor. When they had finished, they flew on her shoulders, and flapped their wings by way of thanks. Time went by, and no cows in the whole countryside were so fat and well-tended as hers, and no dairy had so much milk to show. The farmer's wife was so well satisfied that she gave her higher wages, and treated her like her own daughter. At length one day the girl was bitten by her mistress to come into the kitchen, and when there the old woman said to her, I know you can tend cows and keep a dairy. Now let me see what you can do besides. Take this sieve to the well, and fill it with water, and bring it home to me without spilling one drop by the way. The girl's heart sank at this order, for how was it possible for her to do her mistress's bidding? However she was silent, and taking the sieve went down to the well with it. Stooping over the side, she filled it to the brim, but as soon as she lifted it all the water ran out of the holes. Again and again she tried, but not a drop would remain in the sieve, and she was just running away in despair when a flock of sparrows flew down from the sky. Ashes, ashes, they twittered, and the girl looked at them and said, Well I can't be in a worse plight than I am already, so I will take your advice. And she ran back to the kitchen and filled her sieve with ashes. Then once more she dipped the sieve into the well, and behold, this time not a drop of water disappeared. Here is the sieve mistress, cried the girl, going to the room where the old woman was sitting. You were cleverer than I expected, answered she, or else someone helped you who was skilled in magic. But the girl kept silence, and the old woman asked her no more questions. Many days passed, during which the girl went about her work as usual. But at length one day the old woman called her and said, I have something more for you to do. There are here two yarns, the one white and the other black.  And the girl took them to the river and washed hard for several hours, but wash as she would they never changed one whit. This is worse than the sieve, thought she, and was about to give up in despair when there came a rush of wings through the air, and on every twig of the birch trees which grew by the bank was perched a sparrow. The black to the east, the white to the west they sang all at once, and the girl dried her tears and felt brave again. Picking up the black yarn, she stood facing the east and dipped it in the river, and in an instant it grew wide as snow. Then, turning to the west, she held the white yarn in the water, and it became as black as a crow's wing. She looked back at the sparrows and smiled and nodded to them, and flapping their wings in reply, they flew swiftly away. At the side of the yarn the old woman was struck dumb, but when at length she found her voice, she asked the girl what magician had helped her to do what no one else had done before. But she got no answer, for the maiden was afraid of bringing trouble on her little friends. For many weeks the mistress shut herself up in her room, and the girl went about her work as usual. She hoped that there was an end to the difficult tasks which had been set to her. But in this she was mistaken. For one day the old woman appeared suddenly in the kitchen and said to her, There is one more trial to which I must put you, and if you do not fail in that, you will be left in peace forever more. Here are the yarns which you washed. Take them and weave them into a web that is as smooth as a king's robe, and see that it is spun by the time the sun sets. This is the easiest thing I have been set to do, thought the girl, who was a good spinner. But when she began, she found that this game tangled and broke every moment. Oh, I can never do it, she cried at last, and leaned her head against the loom and wept. But at that instant the door opened, and there entered, one behind another, a procession of cats. What is the matter, fair maiden, asked they, and the girl answered, My mistress has given me this yarn to weave into a piece of cloth, which must be finished by sunset, and have not even begun yet, for the yarn breaks whenever I touch it. If that is all dry your eyes, so the cats, we will manage it for you. And they jumped on the loom and wove so fast and so skillfully, that in a very short time the cloth was ready and was as fine as any king ever wore. The girl was so delighted at the sight of it, that she gave each cat a kiss on his forehead, as they left the room behind one, the other, as they had come. Who has taught you this wisdom? asked the old woman, after she had passed her hands twice or thrice over the cloth, and could find no breathness anywhere. But the girl only smiled and did not answer. She had learned early the value of silence. After a few weeks the old woman sent for her maid, and told her that as her year of service was now up, she was free to return home. But that for her part the girl had served her so well, that she hoped she might stay with her. But at these words the maid shook her head, and answered gently, I have been happy here, madame, and a thank you for your goodness to me. But I have left behind me a step-sister, and a step-mother, and I am feigned to be with them once more. The old woman looked at her for a moment, and then she said, well that must be as you like, but as you have worked faithfully for me, I will give you a reward. Go now into the loft above the storehouse, and there you will find many caskets. Choose the one which pleases you best, but be careful not to open it until you have set it in the place where you wish to remain. The girl left the room to go to the loft, and as soon as she got outside she found all the cats waiting for her. Walking in procession, as was their custom, they followed her into the loft, which was filled with caskets big and little, plain and slanted. She lifted one and looked at it, and then put it down to examine another, yet more beautiful. Which should she choose? The yellow or the blue? The green or the red? The gold or the silver? She hesitated long, and went first to one, then to another. When she heard the cat's voices calling, take the black, take the black. The words made her look round. She had seen no black casket, but as the cats continued their cry, she peered into several corners that had remained unnoticed, and at length discovered a little black box, so small and so black that it might easily have been passed over. This is the casket that pleases me best, mistress, said the girl carrying it into the house, and the old woman smiled and nodded and bade her go her way. So the girl set forth, after bidding farewell to the cows, and the cats, and the sparrows, who all wept as they said goodbye. She walked on, and on, and on, until she reached the flowery meadow, and there suddenly something happened. She never knew what, but she was sitting on the wall of the well in her stepmother's yard, and she got up and entered the house. The woman and her daughter stared as if they had been turned into stone, but at length the stepmother gasped out. So you are alive after all? Well luck was ever against me, and where have you been this year past? Then the girl told how she had taken service in the underworld, and besides her wages had brought home with her a little casket, which she would like to set up in her room.  The outhouse was in a very dirty state, as no one had been near it since the girl had fallen down the well, but she scrubbed and swept until everything was clean again, and then she placed the little casket on a small shelf in the corner. Now I may open it, she said to herself, and unlocking it with the key which hung to its handle, she raised the lid, but started back as she did so, almost blinded by the light that burst upon her. No one would ever have guessed that that little black box could have held such a quantity of beautiful things, rings, crowns, girdles, necklaces, all made of wonderful stones, and they shone with such brilliance that not only the stepmother and her daughter, but all the people round came running to see if the house was on fire. Of course the woman felt quite ill with greed and envy, and she would have certainly taken all the jewels for herself, had she not feared the wrath of the neighbors, who loved her stepdaughter as much as they hated her. But if she could not steal the casket and its contents for herself, at least she could get another like it, and perhaps the still richer one. So she bathed her own daughter, sit on the edge of the well, and threw her into the water, exactly as she had done to the other girl, and, exactly as before, the flowery meadow lay at the bottom. Every inch of the way she trod the path which her stepsister had trodden, and saw the things which she had seen, but there the like descended. When the fence prayed her to do it no harm, she laughed rudely, and tore up some of the stakes so that she might get over it more easily. When the oven offered her bread, she scattered the loaves onto the ground and stamped on them. And after she had milked the cow and drunk as much as she wanted, she threw the rest in the grass and kicked the pale to bits, and never heard them say as they looked after her, you shall not have done this to me for nothing. Towards evening she reached the spot where the old woman was leaning against the gatepost, but she passed by her without a word. Have you no manners in your country? asked the crone. I can't stop and talk, I am in a hurry, answered the girl. It is getting late, and I have to find a place. Stop and comb my hair for a little, said the old woman, and I will help you to get a place. Comb your hair, indeed, I have something better to do than that. In slamming the gate in the crone's face, she went her way, and she never heard the words that followed her. You shall not have done this to me for nothing. By and by the girl arrived at the farm, and she was engaged to look after the cows and sift the corn as her stepsister had been. But it was only when someone was watching her that she did her work.  And everyone said they had never seen such thin cows or such poor milk. As for the cats, she chased them away and ill-treated them, so they had not even the spirit to chase the rats and mice, which nowadays ran about everywhere. And when the sparrows came to beg for some corn, they fared no better than the cows and the cats. For the girl threw her shoes at them, till they flew in a fright to the woods, and took shelter amongst the trees. Months passed in this manner, when one day the mistress called the girl to her. All that I have given you to do, you have done ill, said she, yet will I give you another chance. For though you cannot tend cows or divide the grain from the chaff, there may be other things that you can do better. Therefore take the sieve to the well and fill it with water, and see that you bring it back without spilling a drop. The girl took the sieve to the well as her sister had done, but no little birds came to help her. And after dipping it in the well two or three times, she brought it back empty. I thought as much, said the old woman angrily. She that is useless in one thing is useless in another. Perhaps the mistress may have thought that the girl had learned a lesson, but if she did, she was quite mistaken, as the work was no better done than before. By and by she sent for her again, and gave her maid the black and white yarn to wash in the river. But there is no one to tell her the secret, by which the black a turn white and the white black. So she brought them back as they were. This time the old woman only looked at her grimly, but the girl was too well pleased with herself to care what anyone thought about her. After some weeks her third trial came, and the yarn was given her to spin, as it had been given to her stepsister before her. But no procession of cats entered the room to weave a web of fine cloth. And at sunset she only brought back to her mistress an armful of dirty, tangled wool. There seems to be nothing in the world you can do, said the old woman, and left her to herself. Soon after this the year was up, and the girl went to her mistress to tell her that she wished to go home. Little desire have I to keep you, answered the old woman. For no one thing have you done as you ought. Still, I will give you some payment. Therefore go up into the loft, and choose for yourself one of the caskets that lies there. But see that you do not open it until you place it where you wish it to stay. This was what the girl had been hoping for, and so rejoiced with she that without even stopping to thank the old woman, she ran as fast as she could to the loft. There were the caskets blue and red, green and yellow, silver and gold, and there in the corner stood a little black casket, just like the one her stepsister had brought home. If there are so many jewels in that little black thing, this big one will hold twice the number, she said to herself. In snatching it up, she set off on her road home without even going to bid farewell to her mistress. See, mother, see what I have brought, cried she, as she entered the cottage holding the casket in both hands. Ah, you have got something very different from that little black box, answered the old woman with the light. But the girl was so busy finding a place for it to stand, that she took little notice of her mother. It will look best here, no here, she said, setting it first on one piece of furniture, and then on another. No, after all, it is too fine to live in a kitchen. Let us place it in the guest chamber. So mother and daughter carried it proudly upstairs, and put it on a shelf over the fireplace. Then, untying the key from the handle, they opened the box. As before, a bright light leapt out directly the lid was raised, but it did not spring from the luster of jewels. But, from hot flames, which darted along the walls, and burnt up the cottage, and all that was in it, and the mother and daughter as well. As they had done when the stepdaughter came home, the neighbors all hurried to see what was the matter, but they were too late. Only the henhouse was left standing, and in spite of her riches, there the stepdaughter lived happily to the end of her days. End of THE TWO CASKETS Chapter 10 of the Orange Fair This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jennifer Puno The Orange Fairy Book by Andrew Lang The Goldsmith's Fortune Once upon a time, there is a Goldsmith who lived in a certain village where the people were as bad, and greedy, and covetous as they could possibly be. However, in spite of his surroundings, he was fat and prosperous. He had only one friend whom he liked, and that was the cowherd, who looked after cattle for one of the farmers in the village. Every evening, the Goldsmith would walk across to the cowherd's house and say, GOM, let's go out for a walk. Now, the cowherd didn't like walking in the evening, because he said he'd been out grazing the cattle all day, and was glad to sit down when night came. But the Goldsmith always worried him so that the poor man had to go against his will. This at last so annoyed him that he tried to think how he could pick a quarrel with the Goldsmith so that he should not beg him to walk with him anymore. He asked another cowherd for advice, and he said the best thing he could do was to go across and kill the Goldsmith's wife. For them, the Goldsmith would be sure to regard him as an enemy. So, being a foolish person, and there being no laws in that country by which a man would be certainly punished for such a crime, the cowherd one evening took a big stick and went across to the Goldsmith's house when only Mrs. Goldsmith was at home, and banged her on the head so hard that she died then and there. When the Goldsmith came back and found his wife dead, he said nothing, but just took her outside into the dark lane and propped her up against the wall at his house, and then went into the courtyard and waited. Presently, a rich stranger came along the lane, and seeing someone there, as he supposed, he said, Good evening, friend. Fine night tonight. But the Goldsmith's wife said nothing. The man then repeated his words louder, but still there was no reply. A third time, he shouted, Good evening, friend. Are you deaf? But the figure never replied.  I'll let that teach you manners.  With many protestations and reproaches, they wrangled together, the stranger entreating the Goldsmiths to say nothing, and he would pay him handsomely to atone for the sad accident. At last, the Goldsmith quieted down and agreed to accept one thousand gold pieces from the stranger, who immediately helped him to bury his poor wife, and then rushed off to the guest house, packed up his things and was off by daylight, lest the Goldsmith should repent and accuse him as the murderer of his wife. Now, it very soon appeared that the Goldsmith had a lot of extra money, so that people began to ask questions, and finally demanded of him the reason for his sudden wealth. Oh, said he. My wife died and I sold her.  Yes, said the Goldsmith, for how much? A thousand gold pieces, replied the Goldsmith. Instantly, the villagers went away, and each caught ahold of his own wife and throttled her, and the next day they all went off to sell their dead wives. Many a weary mile did they tramp, but got nothing but hard words or laughter or directions to the nearest cemetery, from people to whom they offered dead wives for sale. At last they perceived that they had been cheated somehow by that Goldsmith, so off they rushed home, seized the unhappy man, and without listening to his cries and entreaties, hurried him down to the riverbank and flung him plop into the deepest, weadiest, and nastiest place they could find. That will teach him to play tricks on us, said they. For as he can't swim, he'll drown, and we shan't have any more trouble with him. Now, the Goldsmith really could not swim. And as soon as he was thrown into the deep water, he sank below the surface, so his enemies went away believing that they had seen the last of him. But, in reality, he was carried down, half-drowned, below the next bend in the river, where he fortunately came across a snag floating in the river. A snag is, you know, a part of a tree or bush which floats very nearly under the surface of the water. And he yelled on to this snag, and by great good luck eventually came ashore some two or three miles down the river.  When the village people saw him, they ran out in surprise and said, where on earth did you come from, and where did you get that buffalo?  Why, down in that place in the river where you threw me in, I found meadows and trees, and fine pastures, and buffaloes, and all kinds of cattle. In fact, I could hardly tear myself away, but I thought that I must really let you all know about it. Oh, oh, thought the greedy village people. If there are buffaloes to be had for the taking, we'll go after some too. Encouraged by the Goldsmith, they nearly all ran off the very next morning to the river, and in order that they might get down quickly to the beautiful place the Goldsmith told them of, they tied great stones onto their feet and their necks, and one after another they jumped into the water as fast as they could, and were drowned. And whenever any one of them waved his hands about and struggled, the Goldsmith would cry out, Look! He's beckoning the rest of you to come. He's got a fine buffalo. And others who were doubtful would jump in until not one was left. Then the cunning Goldsmith went back and took all the village for himself, and became very rich indeed. But do you think he was happy? Not a bit. Lies never made a man happy yet. Truly, he got the better of a set of wicked and greedy people, but only by being wicked and greedy himself. And as it turned out, when he got so rich, he got very fat, and at last was so fat that he couldn't move, and one day he got the apoplexy and died, and no one in the world cared the least bit. End of The Goldsmith's Fortune Recording by Jennifer Puno The Enchanted Wreath of the Orange Fairy Book This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Chris Caron The Enchanted Wreath Told by a Path into Major Campbell Once upon a time there lived a near forest, a man and his wife, and two girls. One girl was the daughter of a man, and the other was the daughter of his wife, and the man's daughter was good and beautiful, but the woman's daughter was cross and ugly. However, her mother did not know that, but thought her the most bewitching maiden that ever was seen. One day the man called to his daughter, and baited her to come with him into the forest to cut wood. They worked hard all day, but in spite of the chopping, they were very cold, for it rained heavily, and when they returned home, they were wet through. Then to his vexation, the man found that he had left his axe behind him, and he knew that if it lay all night in the mud, it would become rusty and useless. So he said to his wife, I dropped my axe in the forest, bid your daughter go and fetch it, for mine has worked hard all day, and is both wet and wary. But the wife answered, if your daughter is wet already, it is all the more reason that she should go and get the axe. Besides, she is a great strong girl, and a little rain will not hurt her. While my daughter would be sure to catch a bad cold, by long experience the man knew there was no good saying anymore, and with a sigh he told the poor girl he must return to the forest for the axe. The walk took some time, for it was very dark, and her shoes often stuck in the mud, but she was brave as well as beautiful, and never thought of turning back merely because the path was both difficult and unpleasant. At last, with her dress torn by brambles that she could not see, and her fact scratched by the twigs on the trees, she reached a spot where she and her father had been cutting in the morning, and found the axe in the place he had left it. To her surprise, three little doves were sitting on the handle, all of them looking very sad.   Go and fly home to your nest. It will be much warmer than this, but first eat this bread, which I have saved from my dinner, and perhaps you will feel happier. It is my father's axe you are sitting on, and I must take it back as fast as I can. Or shall I get a terrible scolding from my stepmother? She then crumbled the bread on the ground, and was pleased to see the doves flutter quite cheerfully towards it. Goodbye, she said, picking up the axe, and went her way homewards. By the time they had finished all the crumbs, the doves must felt better, and were able to fly back to their nest, in top of the tree. That is a good girl, said one. I really was too weak to stretch out a wing before she came. I should like to do something to show how grateful I am. Well, let us give her a wreath of flowers, and we'll never fade as long as she wears it, cried another. And let the tiniest singing birds in the world sit amongst the flowers, rejoined the third. Yes, that will do beautifully, said the first. And when the girl stepped into her cottage, a wreath of rose buds was on her head, and a crowd of little birds were singing unseen. The father, who was sitting by the fire, thought that, in spite of her muddy clothes, he had never seen his daughter looking so lovely, but the stepmother and the other girl grew wild with envy. How absurd to walk about on such a pouring night, dressed up like that, she remarked crossly, and roughly pulled off the wreath as she spoke, to place it on her own daughter. As she did, so the roses became withered and brown, and the birds flew out of the window. See what a trumpy thing it is, cried the stepmother, and now take your supper and go to bed, for it is near upon midnight. But though she pretended to despise the wreath, she longed nonetheless for her daughter to have one like it. Now it happened that the next evening the father, who had seen alone in the forest, came back a second time without his axe. The stepmother's heart was glad when she saw this, and she said quite mildly, Why, you have forgotten your axe again, you careless man, but now your daughter shall stay at home, and mine shall go and bring it back. And throwing a cloak over the girl's shoulders, she bade her hasten to the forest. With a very ill grace the damsel set forth, grumbling to herself as she went, for though she wished for the wreath, she did not at all want the trouble of getting it. By the time she reached a spot where her stepfather had been cutting, the wood the girl was in a very bad temper indeed, and when she caught sight of the axe, there were the three little doves, with drooping heads and soiled bedraggled feathers, sitting on the handle.  And the doves spread their wings in a fright, and flew up to the very top of a tree, their bodies shaking with anger. What shall we do to revenge ourselves on her, asked the smallest of the doves. We were never treated like that before. Never, said the biggest dove, we must find some way of paying her back in her own coin.  Oh how clever of you, that will do beautifully, exclaimed the other two, and they flapped their wings and clucked so loud with delight, and made such a noise that they woke up all the birds in the trees close by. What in the world is the matter, asked the birds sleepily. That is our secret, said the doves. Meanwhile the girl had reached a home closer than ever, but as soon as her mother heard her lift the latch of the door, she ran out to hear her adventures. Well, did you get the wreath, cried she. Dirty creatures, answered her daughter. Don't speak to me like that. What do you mean, asked the mother again. Dirty creatures, repeated the daughter. And nothing else could she say. Then the woman saw that something evil had befallen her, and turned in her rage to her step-daughter. You are at the bottom of this, I know, she cried. And as the father was out of the way, she took a stick and beat the girl till she screamed with pain and went to bed sobbing. If the poor girl's life had been miserable before, it was ten times worse now, for the moment her father's back was turned the others teased and tormented her from morning till night. And their fury was increased by the sight of the her wreath, which the doves had placed again on her head. Things went on like this for some weeks. When one day, as the king's son was riding through the forest, he heard some strange birds singing more sweetly than the birds have ever sung before. He tied his horse to a tree and followed where the sound led him. And to his surprise, he saw before him a beautiful girl chopping wood, with a wreath of pink rose buds, out of which the singing came, standing in the shelter of a tree. He watched her a long while, and then hat in hand, he went up and spoke to her. Fair maiden, who are you? And who gave you that wreath of singing roses, asked he? For the birds were so tiny that, till you look closely, you never saw them. I live in a hut on the edge of the forest, she answered, blushing for she had never spoken to a prince before. As to the wreath, I know not how it came there, unless it may be the gift of some doves, whom I fed when they were starving. The prince was delighted with this answer, which showed the goodness of the girl's heart, and besides he had fallen in love with her beauty, Ed would not be content till she promised to return with him to the palace, and become his bride. The old king was naturally disappointed at his son's choice of a wife, as he wished him to marry a neighboring princess. But as from his birth, the prince had always done exactly as he liked. Nothing was said, and a splendid wedding feast was got ready. The day after her marriage, the bride sent a messenger, bearing handsome presence to her father, and telling him of the good fortune which he had befallen her. As may be imagined, the stepmother and her daughter were so filled with envy that they grew quite ill, and had to take their beds, and nobody would have been sorry if they had never got up again. But that did not happen. At length, however, they began to feel better for the mother, invented a plan by which she could be revenged on the girl who had never done her any harm. Her plan was this. In the town where she had lived before, she was married. There was an old witch who had more skill and magic than at any other witch she knew. To this witch, she would go and beg her to make her a mask, with the face of her stepdaughter, and when she had the mask, the rest would be easy. She told her daughter that she meant to do, and although the daughter could only say dirty creatures, in answer, she nodded and smiled and looked well pleased. Everything fell out exactly as the woman had hoped. By the aid of her magic mirror, the witch beheld the new princess walking in her gardens in a dress of green silk, and in a few minutes had produced a mask so like her that very few people could have told the difference. However, she counseled the woman that when her daughter first wore it, for that, of course, was that she intended her to do.  The woman thanked her and paid her well, and returned to her hut, carrying the mask under her cloak. In a few days she heard that a great hunt was planned, and the prince would leave the palace very early in the morning so that his wife would be alone all day. This was a chance not to be missed, and taking her daughter with her, she went up to the palace where she had never been before. The princess was too happy in her new home to remember all that she had suffered in the old one, and she welcomed them both gladly, and gave them quantities of beautiful things to take back with them. At last she took them down to the shore to see a pleasure boat which her husband had made it for her. And here the woman seizing her opportunity, still softly behind the girl and pushed her off the rock on which she was standing, into the deep water, where she instantly sank to the bottom.  Rest your cheek on your hand as if you were in pain, when the prince returns, said the mother, and be careful not to speak. Whatever you do I will go back to the witch and see if she cannot take off the spell laid on you by those horrible birds. Ah, why did I not think of it before? No sooner had the prince entered the palace, then he hastened to the princess's apartments, where he found her lying on the sofa, apparently in great pain. My dearest wife, what is the matter with you? he cried, kneeling down beside her, and trying to take her hand, but she snatched it away, and pointing to her cheek, murmured something he could not catch. What is it? Tell me. Is the pain bad? When did it begin? Shall I send for your ladies to bath the place? asked the prince, pouring out these had a dozen other questions, to which the girl only shook her head. But I can't leave you like this, he continued, starting up I must summon all the court physicians to apply soothing bosoms to the sore place. And as he spoke, he sprang to his feet to go in search of them. In search of them once came near her the trick would at once be discovered, that she forgot her mother's counsel not to speak, and forgot even the spell that had been laid upon her, and catching hold of the princess tunic. She cried in tones of intrigue, dirty creatures. The young man stopped, not able to believe his ears, but suppose that pain had made the princess cross as it sometimes does. However, he guessed somehow that he wished to be left alone, so he only said, well, I dare say a little sleep will do you good, if you can manage to get it, and that you will wake up better tomorrow. Now that night happened to be very hot and airless, and the prince, after vainly trying to rest, at length got up and went to the window. Suddenly he beheld in the moonlight, a form with a wreath of roses on her head rives out of the sea below him, and step on to the sands, holding out her arms as she did towards the palace. That made him as strangely like my wife, thought ye. I must see her closer, and he hastened down to the water, but when he got there, the princess, for she indeed it was, had disappeared completely, and he began to wonder if his eyes had deceived him. The next morning he went to the false bride's room, but her ladies told him he would neither speak nor get up, though she ate everything they said before her. The prince was sorely perplexed, as to what could be the matter with her, for naturally he could not guess that she was expecting her mother to return every moment, and to remove the spell the doves had laid upon her, and meanwhile was afraid to speak, lest she should betray herself. At length he made up for his mind to summon all the court physicians. He did not tell her what he was going to do, lest it should make her worse, but he went himself and begged the four learned leeches attached to the king's person to follow him to the princess's apartments. Unfortunately as they entered, the princess was so enraged at the sight of them that she forgot all about the doves, and shrieked out dirty creatures, dirty creatures, which so offended the physicians that they left the room at once, and nothing that the prince could say would prevail on them to remain. He then tried to persuade his wife to send them a message that she was a sorry for her rudeness, but not a word would she say. Late that evening, when he had performed all the tiresome duties, which fall to the lute of every prince, the young man was leaning out of his window, refreshing himself with the cool breezes that blew off the sea. His thoughts went back to the scene of the morning, and he wondered if after all he had not made a great mistake in marrying a lowborn wife, however beautiful she might be. How could he have imagined that the quiet, gentle girl who had been so charming a companion to him during the first days of their marriage could have become in a day the rude, sulky woman who could not control her temper even to benefit herself? One thing was clear, if she did not change her conduct very shortly, he would have to send her away from the court. He was thinking these thoughts. When his eyes fell on the sea beneath him, and there as before was the figure that so closely resembled his wife, standing with her feet in the water, holding out her arms to him, wait for me, wait for me, wait for me, he cried, not even knowing he was speaking. But when he reached the shore there was nothing to be seen, but the shadows cast by the moonlight. A state ceremonial in a city some distance off caused the Prince to ride away at daybreak, and he left without seeing his wife again. Perhaps she may have come to her senses by tomorrow, said he to himself, and anyhow, if I am going to send her back to her father, it might be better if we did not meet in the meantime. Then he put the matter from his mind, and kept his thoughts on the duty that lay before him. It was nearly midnight before he returned to the palace, but instead of entering, he went down to the shore, and hid behind a rock. He had scarcely done so when the girl came out of the sea, and stretched out her arms towards his window. In an instant the Prince had seized her hand, and though she made a frightened struggle to reach the water, for she in her turn had a spell laid upon her, he held her fast. You are my own wife, and I shall never let you go, he said. But the words were hardly out of his mouth when he found that it were a hair that he was holding by the paw. Then the hair changed into a fish, and the fish into a bird, and the bird into a slimy, wiggling snake. This time the Prince's hand nearly opened of itself, but with a strong effort he kept his fingers shut, and drawing a sword cut off his head. When the spell was broken, and the girl stood before him, as he had seen her first, the wreath upon her head, and the bird singing for joy. The very next morning the stepmother arrived at the palace with an ointment that the old witch had given her to place upon her daughter's tongue, which would break the dove's spell. If the rightful bride had really been drowned in the sea, if not then it would be useless, and mother assured her that she had seen her stepdaughter sink, and that there was no fear that she would ever come up again. But to make all quite safe, the old woman might be what's a girl, and so she did. After that the wicked stepmother traveled all through the night to get to the palace as soon as possible, and made her way straight into her daughter's room. I have got it, I have got it, she cried triumphantly, and laid the ointment on her daughter's tongue. Now what do you say? She asked proudly.  At this moment the prince entered with his real wife. You both deserve death, he said, and if it were left to me you should have it, but the princess had begged me to spare your lives.  Then the ship was made ready, and the wicked woman and her daughter were placed in it, and it sailed away, and no more was heard of them. But the prince and his wife lived together long and happily, and ruled their people well. Chapter 12 The Foolish Weaver Adapted from Thorpe's yuletide stories Once a weaver, who was in want of work, took service with a certain farmer as a shepherd. The farmer, knowing that the man was very slow-witted, gave him most careful instructions as to everything that he was to do. Finally he said, if a wolf or any wild animal attempts to hurt the flock you should pick up a big stone like this—suting the action to the word—and throw a few such at him, and he will be afraid and go away. The weaver said that he understood and started with the flocks to the hillsides where they grazed all day. By chance in the afternoon a leopard appeared and the weaver instantly ran home as fast as he could to get the stones which the farmer had shown him to throw at the creature. When he came back all the flock were scattered or killed, and when the farmer heard the tale he beat him soundly. Were there no stones on the hillside that you should run back to get them, you senseless one, he cried? You are not fit to herd sheep.  Perhaps you will be able to drive flies off her face, if you can't drive beasts away from sheep. So the next day the weaver was left at home to take care of the farmer's old sick mother. Now as she lay outside on a bed it turned out that the flies became very troublesome, and the weaver looked round for something to drive them away with. And as he had been told to pick up the nearest stone to drive the beasts away from the flock, he thought he would this time show how cleverly he could obey orders. Accordingly he seized the nearest stone, which was a big heavy one, and dashed it at the flies. But unhappily he slew the poor old woman also, and then, being afraid of the wrath of the farmer, he fled, and was not seen again in that neighbourhood. All that day and all the next night he walked, and at length he came to a village where a great many weavers lived together. You are welcome, said they, eat and sleep, for to-morrow six of us start in search of fresh wool to weave, and we pray you to give us your company. Willingly, answered the weaver. So the next morning the seven weavers set out to go to the village where they could buy what they wanted. On the way they had to cross a ravine which lately had been full of water, but now was quite dry. The weavers, however, were accustomed to swim over this ravine. Therefore, regardless of the fact that this time it was dry, they stripped, and, tying their clothes on their heads, they proceeded to swim across the dry sand and rocks that formed the bed of the ravine. Thus they got to the other side without further damage than bruised knees and elbows, and as soon as they were over one of them began to count the party to make sure that all were safe there. He counted all except himself, and then cried out that somebody was missing. This set each of them counting, but each made the same mistake of counting all except himself so that they became certain that one of their party was missing. They ran up and down the bank of the ravine, wringing their hands in great distress and looking for signs of their lost comrade. There a farmer found them and asked what was the matter. Alas! said one, seven of us started from the other bank, and one must have been drowned on the crossing as we can only find six remaining. The farmer eyed them a minute, and then, picking up his stick, he dealt each a sounding blow, counting as he did so. One, two, three, and so on up to the seven. When the weavers found that there were seven of them, they were overcome with gratitude to one whom they took for a magician as he could thus make seven out of an obvious six. End of The Foolish Weaver. Read by Kara Schellenberg, www.kray.org. December 2009 in San Diego, California. Chapter 13 of The Orange Fairy Book. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Puno. The Orange Fairy Book by Andrew Lang, The Clever Cat. Once upon a time there lived an old man who dwelt with his son in a small hut on the edge of the plane. He was very old and worked very hard, and when at last he was struck down by illness, he felt that he should never rise from his bed again. So one day he bade his wife summon their son, when he came back from his journey to the nearest town, where he had been to buy bread. Come hither, my son, said he. I know myself well to be dying, and I have nothing to leave you, but my falcon, my cat, and my greyhound. But if you make good use of them, you will never lack food. Be good to your mother as you have been to me, and now for woe! Then he turned his face to the wall and died. There was great mourning in the hut for many days, but at length the sun rose up, and calling to his greyhound, his cat, and his falcon, he left the house saying that he would bring back something for dinner. Wondering over the plane, he noticed a troop of gazelles, and he pointed to his greyhound to give chase.  On the way, however, he passed a pond, and as the approach to cloud of birds flew into the air, shaking his wrists, the falcon seated on it darted into the air, and swooped down upon the quarry at Mart, which fell dead on the ground. The young man picked it up, and put it in his pouch, and then went towards home again. Near the hut was a small barn, in which he kept the produce to the little patch of corn, which grew close to the garden. Here a rat ran out, almost under his feet, followed by another and another, but quickest thought the cat was upon them and not one escaped her. When all the rats were killed, the young man left the barn. He took the path leading to the door of the hut, but stopped on feeling a hand laid on his shoulder. Young man, said the ogre, for such was the stranger. You have been a good son, and you deserve the peace of luck, which has fallen you this day. Come with me to that shining lake yonder, and fear nothing. Wondering a little at what might be going to happen to him, the youth did as the ogre bade him, and when they reached the shore of the lake, the ogre turned and said to him, step into the water and shut your eyes. You'll find yourself sinking slowly to the bottom, but take courage. All will go well. Only bring up as much silver as you can carry, and we will divide it between us. So the young man stepped bravely into the lake, and felt himself sinking, sinking till he reached firm ground at last. In front of him lay four heaps of silver, and in the midst of them a curious white shining stone, marked over with strange characters, such as he had never seen before. He picked it up in order to examine it more closely, and as he held it, the stone spoke. As long as you hold me, all your wishes will come true, it said.  In a few minutes, the young man stood again by the shores of the lake. Well, where's the silver? asked the ogre, who was awaiting him. My father, how can I tell you? So bewildered was I, and so dazzled with the splendors of everything I saw that I stood like a statue unable to move. Then hearing steps approaching, I got frightened, and I called to you as you know— You are no better than the rest! cried the ogre, and turned away in rage. When he was out of sight, the young man took the stone from his turban and looked at it. I want the finest camel that can be found, and the most splendid garments, said he.  And when he opened them again, the camel that he had wished for was standing before him, while the festal robes of a desert prince hung from his shoulders. Mounting the camel, he whistled the falcon to his wrist and followed by his greyhound and his cat. He started homewards. His mother was sewing at her door, when this magnificent stranger rode up and filled with surprise she bowed low before him. Don't you know me, mother? he said with a laugh, and on hearing his voice, the good woman nearly fell to the ground of astonishment. How have you got that camel in those clothes, as she? Can a son of mine have committed murder in order to possess them? Don't be afraid. They are quite honestly come by, answered the youth. I will explain all by and by, but now you must go to the palace and tell the king I wish to marry his daughter. At those words the mother thought her son had certainly gone mad and stared blankly at him. The young man guessed what was in her heart, and replied with a smile, fear nothing. Promise all that he asks. It will be fulfilled somehow. So she went to the palace where she found the king sitting in the hall of justice, listening to the petitions of his people. The woman waited until all had been heard, and the hall was empty, and then went up and knelt before the throne. My son has sent me to ask for the hand of the princess, said she. The king looked at her and thought that she was mad, but instead of ordering his gods to turn her out, he answered gravely. Before he can marry the princess, he must build me a palace of ice, which can be warmed with fires and wherein the rarest singing birds can live. It shall be done, your majesty, said she, and got up and left the hall. Her son was anxiously awaiting her outside the palace gates, dressed in the clothes that he wore every day. Well, what have I got to do? he asked impatiently, drawing his mother aside so that no one could overhear them. Oh, something quite impossible, and I hope you'll put the princess out of your head, she replied. Well, what is it? persisted he. Nothing but to build a palace of ice where fires can burn that shall keep it so warm that the most delicate singing birds can live in it? I thought it would be something much harder than that, exclaimed the young man. I will see about it once, and leaving his mother, he went into the country and took the stone from his turban. I want a palace of ice that can be warmed with fires and filled with the rarest singing birds.  The fires throwing a soft pink glow over the ice. It is even fit for the princess, thought he to himself. As soon as the king awoke next morning, he ran to the window, and there, across the plain, he beheld the palace. That young man must be a great wizard. He may be useful to me. And when the mother came again to tell them that his orders had been fulfilled, he received her with great honor, and bade her tell her son that the wedding was fixed for the following day. The princess was delighted with her new home, and with her husband also, and several days slipped, happily by, spent in turning over all the beautiful things that the palace contained. But at length, the young man grew tired of always staying inside walls, and he told his wife that the next day he must leave her for a few hours and go out hunting. You will not mind, he asked. And she answered as became a good wife. Yes, of course I shall mind, but I will spend the day in planning out some new dresses, and then it will be so delightful when you come back, you know. So the husband went off to hunt, and the falcon on his wrist, and the greyhound and the cat behind him for the palace was so warm that even the cat did not mind living in it. No sooner had he gone than the ogre who had been watching his chance for many days knocked at the door of the palace. I have just returned from a far country, he said, and I have some of the largest and most brilliant stones in the world with me. The princess is known to love beautiful things, perhaps she might like to buy some. Now the princess had been wondering for many days what trimming she should put on her dresses, so that she should outshine the dresses of the other ladies at the court balls. Nothing that she thought of seemed good enough, so when the messages brought that the ogre and his wares were below, she had once ordered that he should be brought to her chamber. Ah, what beautiful stones he laid before her, what lovely rubies and what rare pearls. No other lady would have jewels like those if that princess was quite sure, but she cast down her eyes so that the ogre might not see how much she longed for them. Ah, I fear they are too costly for me, she said carelessly, and besides I have hardly need of any more jewels just now. I have no particular wish to sell them myself, answered the ogre with equal indifference, but I have a necklace of shining stone, which was left to me by my father, and one the largest engraven with weird characters is missing. I have heard that it is in your husband's possession, and if you can give me that stone, you shall have any of these jewels that you choose, but you will have to pretend that you want it for yourself, and above all, do not mention me, for he sets great store by it, and would never part with it to his stranger. Tomorrow I will return with some jewels, yet finer than those I have with me today, so ma'am, farewell. Left alone the princess began to think of many things, but chiefly as to whether she would persuade her husband to give her the stone or not. At one moment she felt he had already bestowed so much upon her that it was a shame to ask for the only object he had kept back. No, it would be mean. She could not do it, but then those diamonds, and those string of pearls, after all, they had only been married a week, and the pleasure of giving it to her ought to be far greater than the pleasure of keeping it for himself, and she was sure it would be. Well, that evening when the young man had sept off his favourite dishes, which the princess took care of specifically prepared for him, she sat down close beside him and began stroking his head. For some time she did not speak, but listened attentively to all the adventures that had befallen him that day. But I was thinking of you all the time, said he at the end, and wishing that I could bring you back something you'd like, but alas, what is there that you do not possess already? How good of you not to forget me when you were in the midst of such dangers and hardships, answered she. Yes, it is true, I have many beautiful things, but if you want to give me a present, and tomorrow is my birthday, there is one thing that I wish for very much, and what is that? Of course you shall have it directly, he asked eagerly. It is that bright stone which fell out of the folds of your turban a few days ago, she answered, playing with this finger. The little stone with all those funny marks upon it, I never saw any stone like it before. The young man did not answer at first, then he said slowly, I have promised and therefore I must perform, but will you swear never depart from it and to keep it safely about you always? More I cannot tell you, but I beg you earnestly to take heed to this. The princess was a little startled by his manner and began to be sorry that she had ever listened to the ogre, but she did not like to draw back and pretended to be immensely delighted at her new toy and kissed and thanked her husband for it. After all, I needn't give it to the ogre, thought she as she dropped off to sleep. Unluckily the next morning the young men went hunting again and the ogre who was watching knew this and did not come till much later than before. At the moment that he knocked at the door of the palace, the princess had tired of all her employments and her attendance were at their wits end how to amuse her. When a tall negro dressed in scarlet came to announce that the ogre was below and desired to know if the princess would speak to him. Bring him hither at once, cried she, springing up from her cushions and forgetting all her resolves of the previous night and another moment she was bending with rapture over the glittering gems. Have you got it? asked the ogre in a whisper for the princess's ladies were standing as near as they dared to catch a glimpse of the beautiful jewels. Yes, here, she answered, slipping the stone from her sash and placing it among the rest. Then she raised her voice and began to talk quickly of the prices of the chains and necklaces and after some bargaining to deceive the attendants she declared that she liked one string of pearls better than all the rest and that the ogre might take away the other things which were not half as valuable as he supposed. As you please, madame, said he, bowing himself out of the palace. Soon after he had gone a curious thing happened. The princess carelessly touched the wall of her room which was wont to reflect the warm red light of the fire on the earth and found her hand quite wet.  Hurdly she passed into the picture gallery, pools of water showed here and there on the floor in a cold chill ran through her whole body. At that instant her frightened ladies came running down the stairs, crying, madame, madame, what has happened? The palace is disappearing under our eyes! My husband will be home very soon, answered the princess who though nearly as much frightened as her ladies felt that she must set them a good example. Wait till then and he will tell us what to do. So they waited, seated on the highest chairs they could find, wrapped in their warmest garments and with piles of cushions under their feet, while the poor birds flew with numbed wings hither and tither till they were so luckiest to discover an open window in some forgotten corner. Through this they vanished and were seen no more. At last when the princess and her ladies had been forced to leave the upper rooms where the walls and floors had melted away and to take refuge in the hall, the young man came home. He had ridden back along a winding road from which he did not see the palace till he was close upon it and stood horrified at the spectacle before him. He knew in an instant that his wife must have betrayed his trust, but he would not reproach her as she must be suffering enough already. Hurring on he sprang over all that was left of the palace walls and the princess gave a cry of relief at the side of him. Come quickly, he said, or you'll be frozen to death. And a dreary little procession set out for the king's palace, the greyhound and the cat bringing up the rear. At the gates he left them, though his wife besought him to allow her to enter. Have you betrayed me and ruined me, he said sternly. I go to seek my fortune alone. And without another word he turned and left her. With his falcon on his wrist and his greyhound and cat behind him, the young man walked a long way, inquiring of everyone he met whether they had seen his enemy, the ogre, but nobody had. Then he bade his falcon fly up in the sky, up up and up, and try if his sharp eyes could discover the old thief. The bird had to go so high that he did not return for some hours, but he told his master that the ogre was lying asleep in a splendid palace in a far country on the shores of the sea. This was delightful news to the young man who instantly bought some meat for the falcon, bidding him make a good deal. To-morrow, said he, you will fly to the palace where the ogre lies, and while he is asleep you will search all about him for a stone on which is engraved strange signs. This you will bring to me, in three days I shall expect you back here. Well, I must take the cat with me, answered the bird. The sun had not yet risen before the falcon soared high into the air. The cat seated on his back, with his paws tightly clasping the bird's neck.  All that day and all that night they flew, and in the morning they saw the ogre's palace lying beneath them. Dear me, said the cat, opening her eyes for the first time. That looks to me very like a rat's city down there. Let us go down to it. They may be able to help us. So they alighted in some bushes in the heart of the rat's city. The falcon remained where he was, but the cat lay down outside the principal gate, causing terrible excitement among the rats. At length, seeing she did not move, one bolder than the rest put its head out of an upper window of the castle and said in a trembling voice, Why have you come here? What do you want? If it is anything to our power, tell us, and we will do it. If you would have let me speak to you before, I would have told you that I came as a friend, replied the cat, and I shall be greatly obliged if you would send for the strongest uncunningness among you to do me a service. Oh, we shall be delighted, answered the rat, much relieved. But if you will inform me what it is you wish them to do, I shall be better able to judge who is more fitted for the post. I thank you, said the cat. Well, what they have to do is this. Tonight they must burrow under the walls of the castle and go up to the room where an ogre lies asleep. Somewhere about him he has hidden a stone on which are engraved strange signs. When they have found it, they must take it from him without his waking and bring it to me. Your order shall be obeyed, replied the rat, and he went out to give his instructions. About midnight the cat, who was still sleeping before the gate, was awakened by some water flung in her by the head rat, who could not make up his mind to open the doors. Here is a stone you wanted, said he, when the cat started up with a loud meow. If you hold up your paws, I will drop it down. And so he did. And now for well, continued the rat, you have a long way to go and will do well to start before daybreak. Your counsel is good, replied the cat smiling to itself and putting the stone in her mouth she went off to seek the falcon. Now all this time neither the cat nor the falcon had had any food and the falcon soon got tired carrying such a heavy burden. When night arrived he declared he could go no further but would spend it on the banks of a river. And it is my turn to take care of the stone, said he, or it will seem as if you had done everything and I had nothing. No, I got it. And I will keep it, answered the cat, who was tired and cross, and they began a fine quarrel. But unluckily in the midst of it the cat raised her voice and the stone fell into the ear of a big fish which happened to be swimming by. And though both the cat and the falcon spring into the water after they were too late. Half drowned and more than half choked, the two faithful servants scrambled back to land again. The falcon flew to a tree and spread his wings into the sun to dry. But the cat, after giving herself a good shake, began to scratch up at the sandy banks and to throw the bits into the stream. What are you doing that for? asked a little fish. Do you know that you are making the water quite muddy? That doesn't matter at all to me, answered the cat. I am going to fill up all the river so that the fishes may die. That is very unkind. As we have never done you any harm, replied the fish. Why are you so angry with us? Because one of you has got a stone of mine, a stone with strange signs upon it which dropped into the water. If you will promise to get it back for me, why perhaps I will leave your river alone? I will certainly try, answered the fish in a great hurry. But you must have a little patience as it may not be an easy task. And in an instant his scales might be seen flashing quickly along. The fish swam as fast as he could to the sea, which was not far distant, and calling together all his relations who lived in the neighborhood. He told them of the terrible danger which threatened the dwellers in the river. None of us has got it, said the fishes shaking their heads. But in the bay yonder there is a Tony who, although he is so old, always goes everywhere, he will be able to tell you about it if anyone can. So the little fish swam off to the Tony and again related his story. Why I was up at that river only a few hours ago, cried the Tony, and as I was coming back something fell into my ear, and there it is still, for I went to sleep when I got home and forgot all about it. Perhaps it may be what you want. And stretching up his tail he whisked out the stone. Yes, I think that must be it, said the fish with joy, and taking the stone in his mouth he carried it to the place where the cat was waiting for him. Ah, I am much obliged to you, so the cat, as the fish laid the stone on the sand, and toward you I will let your river alone. And she mounted the falcons back and they flew to their master. Ah, how glad he was to see them again with the magic stone in their possession. In a moment he had wished for a palace, but this time it was of green marble, and then he wished for the princess and her ladies to occupy it. And there they lived for many years. And when the old king died the princess's husband reigned in his deed. End of The Clever Cat, Recording by Puno Far away over the sea of the west there reigned a king who had two sons, and the name of the one was Oriel, and the name of the other was Irelad. When the boys were still children, their father and mother died, and a great council was held, and a man was chosen from among them who would rule the kingdom till the boys were old enough to rule it themselves. The years passed on, and by and by another council was held, and it was agreed that the king's sons were now of an age to take the power which rightly belonged to them. So the youths were bitten to appear before the council, and Oriel, the elder, was smaller and weaker than his brother. I like not to leave the deer on a hill and the fish in the rivers, and sit in judgment on my people, said Oriel. When he had listened to the words of the chief of the council, and the chief wax angrily, and answered quickly, not one clod of earth shall ever be yours if this day you do not take on yourself the vows that were taken by the king of your father. Then spake Irelad, the younger, and he said, let one half be yours, and the other give to me, when you will have fewer people to rule over. Yes, I will do that, answered Oriel. After this, one half of the men of the land of Lachlan did a homage to Oriel, and the other half to Irelad. And they governed their kingdoms as they would, and in a few years they began grown men with beards on their chins, and Irelad married the daughter of the king of Greece, and Oriel the daughter of the king of Orkney. The next year sons were born to Oriel and Irelad, and the son of Oriel was big and strong. But the son of Irelad was little and weak, and each had six foster brothers who went everywhere with the princes. One day Manus, son of Oriel and his cousin, the son of Irelad, called to their foster brothers, and bade them come and play a game at Shini in the great field near the school where they were taught all that princes and nobles should know. Long they played, and swiftly did the ball pass from one to another, when Manus drove the ball at his cousin, the son of Irelad.  The wife of Irelad grew white and angry, as she listened, the thrusting her son aside, sought the council hall where Irelad was sitting. Manus had driven a ball at my son, and feign would have slain him, said she.  But Irelad answered, Nay, I will not slay the son of my brother. And he shall not slay my son, said the queen, and calling to her chamberlain she ordered him to lead the prince to the four brown boundaries of the world, and to leave him there with a wise man who would care for him, and let no harm befall him. And the wise man set the boy on the top of a hill, where the son always shone, and he could see every man, but no man could see him. Then he summoned Manus to the castle, and for a whole year she kept him fast, and his own mother could not get speech of him. But in the end, when the wife of Oriol fell sick, Manus fled from the tower, which was his prison, and stole back to his on home. For a few years he stayed there in peace, and then with the wife of Irelad his uncle sent for him. It is time that you were married, she said, when she saw that Manus had grown tall and strong like Unto Irelad. Tall and strong you are and calmly aface, I know a bride that will suit you well, and that is the daughter of the mighty Earl of Finghaith, that does homage for his lands to me. I myself will go with a great following to his house, and you shall go with me. Thus it was done, and though the Earl's wife was eager to keep her daughter with her yet a while, she was fain to yield, as the wife of Irelad vowed that not a rude of lands should Earl have, unless he did her bidding. But if he would give his daughter to Manus, she would bestow on him the third part of her own kingdom, with much treasure to destroy him.  But do you know what bride the wife of Irelad sought for her own son? It was no worldly wife, she found for him. But the swift March wind, and never can you prevail against her. Is it thus answered, Manu, and at the first streak of dawn, he went to the chamber where the queen lay in the midst of her maidens? I have come, he said, for the third part of the kingdom, and for the treasure which you promised me. But the wife of Irelad laughed as she heard him. Not a clod shall you have here, spakey. You must go to the old Bergen for that. May hap under its stones and rough mountains, you may find a treasure. Then give me your son's six fosters, brothers, as well as my own, answered he, and the queen gave them to him, and they set out for old Bergen, a year pass by, and found them still in the wild land, hunting the reindeer, and digging pits for the mountain sheep to fall into. For a time Manus and his companions lived merrily, while that length Manus grew wary of the strange country, and they all took ship for the land of Lachlan. The wind was fierce and cold, and long was the voyage, but one spring day they sailed into the harbour, that way beneath the castle of Irelad. The queen looked from her window and beheld him, mounting the hill, with twelve foster brothers behind him. Then she said to her husband, Manus has returned with his twelve foster brothers, would that I could put an end to him, and his murdering and his slaying? That were a great pity, answered Irelad, and it was not that I will do it. If you will not do it, I will, said she, and she called the twelve foster brothers, and made them vow of fealty to herself. So Manus was left with no man. And sorrowful was he when he returned alone to old Bergen. It was late when his foot touched the shore, and took the path towards the forest. On his way there met him a man in red tunic. It is you, Manus, come back again, as ye. It is I, answered Manus. Alone have I returned from the land of Lachlan. The man itemed silently for a moment, and then he said, I dream that you were a garrot with a sword, and became king of Lachlan. But Manus answered, I have no sword, and my bow is broken. I will give you a new sword, if you will make me a promise, said the man once more. To be sure I will make it, if ever I am king, answered Manus. But speak, and tell me what promise I am to make. I was your grandfather's armorer, replied the man, and I wish to be your armorer also. That I will promise readily, said Manus, and follow the man into his house, which was at a little distance. But the house is not like other houses, for the walls of every room were hung so thick with arms that you could not see the boards. Choose that you will, said the man, and Manus unhooked a sword, and tried it across his knee, and it broke, and so did the next, and the next. Leave off breaking the swords, cried the man, and look at this old sword at helmet and tunic that I wore in the wars of your grandfather. Perhaps you may find them of stouter steel, and Manus bend the sword thrice across his knee, but he could not break it. So he girded it to his side, and put on the old helmet. As he fastened the strap, his eye fell on a cloth, flapping outside the window. What cloth is that? asked he. It was a cloth that was woven by the little people of the forest, said the man, and when you are hungry it will give you food and drink.  Take it and use it well. Manus gladly wrapped the shawl around his arm, and was leaving the house, when he heard the rattling of the chain blown by the wind. What chain is that? asked he. The creature who has that chain round his neck, need not fear a hundred enemies, answered the armor, and Manus wounded, and round him and passed on into the forest. Suddenly there sprang out from the bushes two lions and a lion cub with them. The fierce beast wounded towards them, roaring loudly, and would feign have eaten him, but quickly Manus stooped and spread the cloth upon the ground. At that the lion stopped, and bowing their great hands, kiss the back of his rest, and went their ways. But the cub rolled itself up in the cloth, so Manus picked them both up, and carried them with him to the Old Bergen. Another year went by, and then he took the lion cub and set forth to the land of Lachlan, and the wife of Arled came to meet him, and a brown dog, small but full of courage, came with her. When the dog beheld the lion cub, he rushed towards him, thinking to eat him, but the cub caught the dog by the neck, and shook him, and he was dead. And the wife of Arled mourned him, soar, and her wrath was kindled, and many times she tried to slay Manus and his cub, but she could not. And at last they too went back to Old Bergen, and the twelve foster brothers went also. Let them go, said the wife of Arled. When she heard of it, my brother, the Red Gruagosh, will take the head off Manus as well in Old Bergen as elsewhere. Now these words were carried by a messenger to the wife of Oriel, and she made haste and set a ship to Old Bergen to bear away her son before. The Red Gruagosh should take the head off him, and in the ship was a pilot. But the wife of Arled made a thick fog to cover the face of the sea, and the rowers could not row, lest they should drive the ship onto a rock. And when the night came, the lion cub, whose eyes were bright and keen, stole up to Manus, and Manus got on his back, and the lion cub sprang ashore, and bade Manus rest on the rock and wait for him.  And he saw a ship in the water beneath him, and in the ship sat the lion cub in the shape of the pilot. Then they sailed away through the fog, and none saw them, and they reached the land of Loughlan. And the lion cub with the chain round his neck sprang from the ship, and Manus followed after. And the lion cub killed all the men that guarded the castle, and Arled and his wife also, so that in the end Manus, son of Oriel, was crowned king of Loughlan. End of the Story of Manus