The Classic Fairy Tales (Second Edition) (Norton Critical Editions)

by Edited by Maria Tatar

  The stepmother meanwhile wondered to see how well the boy looked, and she resolved to keep watch, for she suspected that he drank the milk while tending her cows; so she told her little daughter to keep a good look-out on all his doings, and to let her know. At last the girl confessed that they ate sweets every day, and the black cow provided the feast.

  That day when the Brahmin came home his wife begged him to sell the black cow, and said she would neither sleep nor eat until this was done.

  The poor boy was sad indeed when he heard this, and went at once to his favourite, where, throwing himself on the black cow’s neck, he wept bitterly.

  “Do not weep, my child, but get up on my back, and I will carry you to a place of safety where we can still be together.”

  So they escaped to a forest, and there lived in peace and security for many days.

  Now, in the forest was a hole, which led to the home of the Great Snake, which, together with a bull, holds up the universe. Into this hole the black cow poured five seers1 of milk daily to feed the snake. This pleased the snake so much that he said one day: “I must go up into the world and see for myself the creature who is so good to me and who sends me such good milk to drink.”

  When he came he saw the black cow grazing with the boy beside her.

  The cow asked no favours for herself, but when the snake asked what she would like, she said she would like her son, as she called the Brahmin’s son, to be clothed in gold from head to foot, and that all his body might shine as gold.

  This wish the snake readily granted, but both cow and boy afterwards regretted their request, for they feared robbers.

  One day as the boy had his bath by the river, and combed his long locks of pure gold, some of his golden hair fell into the water, and was swallowed by a fish. This fish was caught by a fisherman, and taken for sale to the King’s Palace. When they cut it open all present admired the lovely golden hair, and when the Princess saw it, she said she would never be happy again until she met the owner. The fisherman was asked where he caught the fish, and people were dispatched in all directions in boats to search both far and wide.

  At last a man in one of the boats espied in the distance a beautiful shining object taking a bath by the river-side. Little by little the boat came closer and closer, until it was alongside; then the man called out and asked the bather to come a little nearer. At first the Brahmin’s son would not listen, but after a time he came up to the boat, when, to his surprise, he was at once seized, tied up, and carried away.

  Arrived at the King’s Palace he met the Princess, who was very beautiful; and when he saw her he forgot everything else, and thought only of her.

  After a short time they were married, and spent many happy days together; but some one chanced to offer them a sweetmeat made of curds, such as the black cow often gave her boy, and in a frenzy of remorse, the Brahmin’s son remembered his faithful friend and hastened to the place in the distant forest where he had last seen her. Arrived there he found only a few bones of dead cattle strewn about.

  He was heart-broken at the sight, and gathered all the bones together into a funeral pyre, upon which he declared he would lay down his own life; but just as he was about to do this who should appear but his old friend, the black cow.

  They were overjoyed to see each other, and she told him she had only kept the bones there to test his affection; but now that she was satisfied that he had not forgotten her, the meeting was full of happiness and joy, so they held a great feast for many days and then went their separate ways as before.

  * * *

  †  From Simla Village Tales, or Folk Tales from the Himalayas, ed. Alice Elizabeth Dracott (London: Murray, 1906).

    1. A unit of measurement used in many parts of Asia before the twentieth century.

  LIN LAN

  [Cinderella]†

  There were once two sisters. The elder was very beautiful, and everyone called her Beauty. But the younger had a face covered with pock marks, so that everyone called her Pock Face. She was the daughter of the second wife, and was so spoiled that she was a very unpleasant girl. Beauty’s real mother had died when Beauty was very young. After her death she turned into a yellow cow and lived in the garden. Beauty adored the yellow cow, but it had a miserable existence because the stepmother treated it so badly.

  One day the stepmother took the ugly daughter to the theater and left Beauty at home. Beauty wanted to accompany them, but the stepmother said, “I will take you tomorrow if you straighten the hemp in my room.”

  Beauty went off and sat down in front of the stack of hemp, but after a long time she had only divided half of it. Bursting into tears, she took it off to the yellow cow, who swallowed the whole mass and then spat it out again all neatly arranged piece by piece. Beauty dried her tears, and gave the hemp to her mother on her return home. “Mother, here is the hemp. I can go to the theater tomorrow, can’t I?”

  When the next day came, her stepmother again refused to take her, saying, “You can go when you have separated the sesame seeds from the beans.”

  The poor girl had to divide them seed by seed, until the exhausting task made her eyes ache. Again she went to the yellow cow, who said to her, “You stupid girl! You must separate them with a fan.” Now she understood, and the sesame and beans were soon divided. When she brought the seeds all nicely separated, her stepmother knew that she could no longer prevent her going to the theater. However, she asked her, “How can a servant girl be so clever? Who helped you?”

  Beauty had to admit that the yellow cow had advised her, which made the stepmother very angry. Therefore, without saying a word, she killed and ate the cow. Beauty had loved the cow so dearly that she could not eat its flesh. Instead, she put the bones in an earthenware pot and hid them in her bedroom.

  Day after day, the stepmother would still not take Beauty to the theater. One evening, when the stepmother had gone to the theater with Pock Face, Beauty was so cross that she smashed everything in the house, including the earthenware pot containing the cow’s bones. Whereupon there was a loud crackling sound, and a white horse, a new dress, and a pair of embroidered shoes came out. The sudden appearance of these things gave Beauty a terrible start, but she soon saw that they were real objects. Quickly pulling on the new dress and the shoes, she jumped on the horse and rode out of the gate.

  While she was riding along, one of her shoes slipped off and fell into the ditch. She wanted to dismount and pick it up, but could not do so; at the same time she did not want to leave it lying there.

  She was in a real quandary, when a fishmonger appeared. “Brother fishmonger, please pick up my shoe,” she said to him. He answered with a grin, “With great pleasure, if you will marry me.” “Who could marry you?” she said crossly. “Fishmongers always stink.” Seeing that he had no chance, the fishmonger went on his way.

  Next, a clerk from a rice shop went by, and she said to him, “Brother rice broker, please give me my shoe.” “Certainly, if you will marry me,” said the young man. “Marry a rice broker! Their bodies are all covered with dust.”

  The rice broker departed, and soon an oil merchant came by, whom she also asked to pick up her shoe. “I will pick it up if you consent to marry me,” he replied. “Who could want to marry you?” Beauty said with a sigh. “Oil merchants are always so greasy.”

  Shortly a scholar came by, whom she also asked to pick up her shoe. The scholar turned to look at her, and then said, “I will do so at once if you promise to marry me.” The scholar was very handsome, and so she nodded her head in agreement. He picked up the shoe and put it on her foot. Then he took her back to his house and made her his wife.

  Three days later, Beauty went with her husband to pay the necessary respects to her parents. Her stepmother and sister had quite changed their manner, and treated them both in the most friendly and attentive fashion. In the evening they wanted to keep Beauty at home, and she, thinking they meant it kindly, agreed to stay and to follow her husband in a
few days.

  The next morning her sister took her by the hand and said to her with a laugh, “Sister, come and look into the well. We will see which of us is the more beautiful.” Suspecting nothing, Beauty went to the well and leaned over to look down. At this moment her sister gave her a shove and pushed her into the well; then she quickly covered the well with a basket. Poor Beauty lost consciousness and was drowned.

  After ten days the scholar began to wonder why his wife had still not returned. He sent a messenger to inquire, and the stepmother sent back a message that his wife was suffering from a bad attack of smallpox and would not be well enough to return for some time. The scholar believed this, and every day he sent salted eggs and other sickbed delicacies, all of which found their way into the stomach of the ugly sister.

  After two months the stepmother was irritated by the continual messages from the scholar, and decided to deceive him by sending back her own daughter as his wife. The scholar was horrified when he saw Pock Face, and said, “Goodness! How changed you are! Surely you are not Beauty. My wife was never such a monster. Good Heavens!” Pock Face replied seriously, “If I am not Beauty, who do you think I am then? You know perfectly well I was very ill with smallpox, and now you want to disown me. I shall die! I shall die!” She began to howl. The tender-hearted scholar could not bear to see her weeping, and although he still had some doubts he begged her forgiveness and tried to console her. Gradually she stopped weeping.

  Beauty, however, had been transformed into a sparrow, and she used to come and call out when Pock Face was combing her hair, “Comb once, peep; comb twice, peep; comb thrice, up to the spine of Pock Face.” The wicked wife answered, “Comb once, comb twice, comb thrice, to the spine of Beauty.” The scholar was very mystified by this conversation, and he said to the sparrow, “Why do you sing like that? Are you by any chance my wife? If you are, call three times, and I will put you in a golden cage and keep you as a pet.” The sparrow called out three times, and the scholar brought a golden cage to keep it in.

  The ugly sister was very angry when she saw that her husband was keeping the sparrow, and so she secretly killed it and threw it into the garden. It was at once transformed into a bamboo with many shoots. When Pock Face ate the bamboo shoots, an ulcer formed on her tongue, but the scholar found them excellent. The wicked woman became suspicious again, and had the bamboo cut down and made into a bed. When she lay on it, innumerable needles pricked her, but the scholar found it extremely comfortable. Again she became very cross and threw the bed away.

  Next door to the scholar lived an old woman who sold money bags. One day on her way home she saw the bed and thought to herself, “No one has died here; why have they thrown the bed away? I shall take it.” She took the bed into her house and had a very comfortable night.

  The next day she saw that the food in the kitchen was already cooked. She ate it up, but naturally she felt a little nervous, not having any idea who could have prepared it. For several days she found she could have dinner the moment she came home. Finally, being no longer able to contain her anxiety, she came back early one afternoon and went into the kitchen, where she saw a dark shadow washing rice. She ran up quickly and clasped the shadow round the waist. “Who are you?” she asked, “and why do you cook food for me?” The shadow replied, “I will tell you everything. I am the wife of your neighbor the scholar and am called Beauty. My sister threw me into the well; I was drowned, but my soul was not destroyed. Please give me a rice pot as head, a stick as hand, a dish cloth as entrails, and firehooks as feet, and then I can assume my former shape again.”

  The old woman gave her what she asked for, and in a moment a beautiful girl appeared. The old woman was delighted at seeing such a charming girl, and she questioned her very closely about who she was and what had happened to her. She told the old woman everything, and then said, “Old woman, I have a bag which you must offer for sale outside the scholar’s house. If he comes out, you must sell it to him.” And she gave her an embroidered bag.

  The next day the old woman stood outside the scholar’s house and shouted that she had a bag for sale. Maddened by the noise, he came out to ask what kind of bags she sold, and she showed him Beauty’s embroidered bag. “Where did you get this bag?” he asked. “I once gave it to my wife.” The old woman then told the whole story to the scholar, who was overjoyed to hear that his wife was still alive. He arranged everything with the old woman, put a red cloth on the ground, and brought Beauty back to his house.

  When Pock Face saw her sister return, she gave her no peace. She began to grumble and say that the woman was only pretending to be Beauty, and that actually she was a spirit. She wanted to have a trial to see which was the genuine wife. Beauty, of course, knew that she herself was the real bride. She said, “Good. We will have a test.” Pock Face suggested that they should walk on eggs, and whoever broke the shells would be the loser. Although Pock Face broke all the eggs, and Beauty none, Pock Face refused to admit her loss and insisted on another trial.

  This time they were to walk up a ladder made of knives. Beauty went up and down first without receiving the tiniest scratch, but before Pock Face had gone two steps her feet were cut to the bone. Although she had lost again, she insisted on another test—that of jumping into a caldron of hot oil. She hoped that Beauty, who would have to jump first, would be burned. Beauty, however, was quite unharmed by the boiling oil, but the wicked sister jumped into it and did not come up again.

  Beauty put the roasted bones of the wicked sister into a box and sent them over to her stepmother by a stuttering old servant woman, who was told to say, “Your daughter’s flesh.” But the stepmother loved carp and understood “carp flesh” instead of “your daughter’s flesh.” She thought her daughter had sent her over some carp, and opened the box in a state of great excitement; but when she saw the charred bones of her daughter lying inside, she let out a piercing scream and fell down dead.

  * * *

  †  Lin Lan, “San-ko yüan-wang (Three Wishes)” (Shanghai, 1933), in Folktales of China, trans. Wolfram Eberhard and Desmond Parsons (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1965). Copyright © 1965. Reprinted by permission of the University of Chicago Press.

  The Princess in the Suit of Leather†

  Neither here nor elsewhere lived a king who had a wife whom he loved with all his heart and a daughter who was the light of his eyes. The princess had hardly reached womanhood when the queen fell ill and died. For one whole year the king kept vigil, sitting with bowed head beside her tomb. Then he summoned the matchmakers, elderly women wise in the ways of living, and said, “I wish to marry again. Here is my poor queen’s anklet. Find me the girl, rich or poor, humble or well-born, whose foot this anklet will fit. For I promised the queen as she lay dying that I would marry that girl and no other.”

  The matchmakers traveled up and down the kingdom looking for the king’s new bride. But search and search as they would, they could not find a single girl around whose ankle the jewel would close. The queen had been such that there was no woman like her. Then one old woman said, “We have entered the house of every maiden in the land except the house of the king’s own daughter. Let us go to the palace.”

  When they slipped the anklet onto the princess’s foot, it suited as if it had been made to her measure. Out of the seraglio went the women at a run, straight into the king’s presence, and said, “We have visited every maiden in your kingdom, but none was able to squeeze her foot into the late queen’s anklet. None, that is, except the princess your daughter. She wears it as easily as if it were her own.” A wrinkled matron spoke up. “Why not marry the princess? Why give her to a stranger and deprive yourself?” The words were hardly spoken when the king summoned the qadi1 to pen the papers for the marriage. To the princess he made no mention of his plan.

  Now there was a bustle in the palace as the jewelers, the clothiers, and the furnishers came to outfit the bride. The princess was pleased to know that she was to be wed. But who her husband was she ha
d no inkling. As late as the “night of the entering,” when the groom first sees the bride, she remained in ignorance even though the servants with their whispers were busy around her, combing and pinning and making her beautiful. At last the minister’s daughter, who had come to admire her in her finery, said, “Why are you frowning? Were not women created for marriage with men? And is there any man whose standing is higher than the king’s?”

  “What is the meaning of such talk?” cried the princess. “I won’t tell you,” said the girl, “unless you give me your golden bangle to keep.” The princess pulled off the bracelet, and the girl explained how everything had come about so that the bridegroom was no other than the princess’s own father.

  The princess turned whiter than the cloth on her head and trembled like one who is sick with the forty-day fever. She rose to her feet and sent away all who were with her. Then, knowing only that she must escape, she ran onto the terrace and leaped over the palace wall, landing in a tanner’s yard which lay below. She pressed a handful of gold into the tanner’s palm and said, “Can you make me a suit of leather to hide me from head to heels, showing nothing but my eyes? I want it by tomorrow’s dawn.”

  The poor man was overjoyed to earn the coins. He set to work with his wife and children. Cutting and stitching through the night they had the suit ready, before it was light enough to know a white thread from a dark. Wait a little! and here comes our lady, the princess. She put on the suit—such a strange spectacle that anyone looking at her would think he was seeing nothing but a pile of hides. In this disguise she left the tanner and lay down beside the city gate, waiting for the day.

  Now to return to my lord the king. When he entered the bridal chamber and found the princess gone, he sent his army into the city to search for her. Time and again a soldier would stumble upon the princess lying at the gate and ask, “Have you seen the king’s daughter?” And she would reply,