the fairies

Once upon a time there was a widow who had two daughters.* She and her elder daughter resembled each other so closely, in appearance and character, that when you saw the daughter you would have said that it was the mother. They were both so disagreeable and proud that they were impossible to live with. The younger of the daughters, who for gentleness and good manners was the image of her father, was also as beautiful a girl as you could wish to see. Since like attracts like, the mother was excessively fond of the elder daughter, and had a terrible aversion for the younger. She made her eat in the kitchen and work all the time.

Among other things, the poor child was obliged to go a good half-league from the house twice a day to fetch water, and bring back a great big ewer filled to the top. One day, when she was at the spring,* a poor woman came up to her, and asked if she could have a drink. ‘Of course you can, good mother,’ said this pretty girl, and she rinsed out the ewer, went to fill it at the best spot along the stream, and offered it to the old woman, holding it so that she could drink more easily. When she had had her drink the good woman said to her: ‘You are so fair of face, so good-natured, and so considerate, that I cannot do otherwise than give you a gift’ (for she was a fairy, who had put on the shape of a poor village woman, in order to see how far the young girl’s kindness and politeness would go).

The fairy continued: ‘The gift that I give you is this:* at every word you speak, from your mouth a flower will come, or else a precious stone.’ When the beautiful daughter arrived home, her mother scolded her for coming back so late from the spring. ‘I beg your pardon, mother, for having taken so long,’ said the poor girl; and as she spoke, from her mouth came two roses, two pearls, and two great diamonds. ‘What’s this?’ exclaimed her mother in astonishment; ‘I do believe that those are pearls and diamonds coming from her mouth; how can that be, daughter?’ (which was the fi rst time she had ever called the girl daughter). The poor child told her exactly what had
happened, producing huge quantities of diamonds as she did so.

‘Really, I must send the other daughter,’ said the mother, ‘come along, Florrie, look at what has come from your sister’s mouth when she speaks. Wouldn’t you like to have the same gift? All you have to do is to go and get some water from the spring, and when a poor woman asks for some water to drink, give her some nicely.’ ‘Not likely,’ said the bad-mannered girl, ‘that would be a fine sight, me going to that spring.’ ‘You’ll go at once,’ said the mother, ‘and that’s an order.’ So she went, but grumbling all the time. She took the finest silver jug that there was in the house. As soon as she had arrived at the spring, she saw a lady, magnificently dressed, approaching from the wood, who came up and asked for a drink. She was the fairy who had appeared to her sister, but she had made herself look and dress like a princess, so as to see how far this daughter’s rudeness would go. ‘Do you think I’ve come here just to give you a drink?’ said this proud, rude girl. ‘I’m supposed to have brought a silver jug on purpose, am I, for Madam to drink from? As far as I’m concerned you can drink straight out of the stream, if you want.’ ‘That is not very polite,’ said the fairy, without getting angry. ‘Very well, then; since you are so disobliging, the gift that I give you is this: at every word you say, a toad or a viper will come out of your mouth.’

As soon as her mother saw her, she cried out: ‘Well, daughter?’ ‘Well, mother?’ replied the rude girl, and spat out two vipers and two toads.

‘Oh Heavens!’ exclaimed the mother, ‘what’s happened? This is all because of her sister; I’ll see she pays for it.’ And she rushed off at once to give her a beating. The poor child ran away and escaped into the forest nearby.
The King’s son, who was on his way back from hunting, met her there, and seeing how beautiful she was, he asked her what she was doing all alone, and what had made her cry. ‘Alas, sir! it was my mother, who chased me out of the house.’ The King’s son, seeing five or six pearls and as many diamonds coming from her mouth, asked her to explain how this could be. She told him the whole story. The King’s son fell in love with her, and, considering that the gift she had was worth more than any dowry that another girl could have, he took her back to his father’s palace, where he married her. As for her sister, she made herself so hateful that her own mother chased her out of the house, and the wretched girl, after a long time going from place to place without finding anyone to take her in, went off to die at the edge of a wood.

The moral of this tale
If you have gold and jewels galore
You’ll make a great effect, of course;
But gentle words are worth much more,
And move us with much greater force.

Another moral
To be polite and kind, and show respect
Is difficult: some effort must be made;
Sooner or later, though, you’ll be repaid,
And often in a way you don’t expect.

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Bluebeard

Once upon a time there lived a man who possessed fine houses in town and in the country, dishes and plates of silver and gold, furniture all covered in embroidery, and carriages all gilded; but unfortunately the man’s beard was blue, and this made him so ugly and fearsome that all the women and girls, without exception, would run away from him. Nearby there lived a noble lady, who had two daughters of the greatest beauty. The man asked her permission to marry one or other of them, leaving it to her to decide which daughter she would give to him. Neither of them wanted him, and each said that the other one could be his wife, for they could not bring themselves to marry a man with a blue beard. What put them off even more was that he had already been married several times, and nobody knew what had become of the wives.

Bluebeard, in order to get better acquainted, took them and their mother, with three or four of their best friends, and some young men who lived in the neighborhood, to visit one of his country houses, where they stayed for a whole week. They had outings all the time, hunting parties, fishing trips, and banquets; nor did they ever go to sleep, but spent all the night playing practical jokes on one another; and they enjoyed themselves so much that the younger of the two sisters began to think that their host’s beard was not as blue as it had been, and that he was just what a gentleman should be. As soon as they were back in town, it was settled that they should marry. After a month had passed, Bluebeard told his wife that he had to go away for at least six weeks to another part of the country, on an important business matter. He told her to make sure that she enjoyed herself properly while he was away, to invite her friends to stay and to take them out into the country if she wanted to, and not to stint herself wherever she was. ‘Here are the keys of the two big store-rooms,’ he said, ‘the keys for the cupboards with the gold and silver dinner service that is not for every day, and for my strongboxes with my gold and silver coins, and for my jewel-boxes, and here is the master key for all
the rooms. As for this small key here, it will unlock the private room at the end of the long gallery in my apartment downstairs.* You may open everything and go everywhere, except for this private room, where I forbid you to go; and I forbid it to you so absolutely that, if you did happen to go into it, there is no knowing what I might do, so angry would I be.’ She promised to obey his commands exactly; and he kissed her, got into his carriage, and set off on his journey.

Her neighbors and friends came to visit the new bride without waiting to be invited, so impatient were they to see all the expensive things in the house; they had not dared to come while her husband was there, because of his blue beard, which scared them. And off they went to look at the bedrooms, the sittingrooms, and the dressing-rooms, each one finer and more luxurious than the one before. Then they went up to the store-rooms,* and words failed them when they saw how many beautiful
things there were, tapestries, beds, sofas, armchairs, side-tables, dining-tables, and mirrors so tall that you could see yourself from head to foot, some with frames of glass, some of silver, and some of silver-gilt, which were the most beautiful and splendid that they had ever seen. They kept on saying how lucky their friend was and how much they envied her; she, however, took no pleasure in the sight of all this wealth, because of the impatience that she felt to go and open the door to the private room downstairs.

So keen was her curiosity that, without reflecting how rude it was to leave her guests, she went down by a little secret staircase at the back; and she was in such a hurry that two or three times she nearly broke her neck. When the door of the little room was in front of her she stood looking at it for a while, remembering how her husband had forbidden her to open it, and wondering whether something bad might happen to her if she disobeyed, but the temptation was strong and she could not
resist it; so she took the little key and, trembling all over, opened the door. At first she could see nothing, because the shutters were closed. After a few moments, she began to see that the floor was all covered in clotted blood, and that it reflected the bodies of several women, dead, and tied up along the wall (they were the wives whom Bluebeard had married, and whose throats he had cut one after the other). She nearly died of fright, and the key, which she had taken out of the lock, fell out of her
hand.

When she had recovered herself a little, she picked up the key again, and locking the door behind her she went upstairs to her room to try to collect her thoughts, but she was unable to, because the shock had been too great. She noticed that the key was stained with blood, and although she cleaned it two or three times the blood would not go away. However much she washed it, and even scoured it with sand and pumice, the blood stayed on it; it was a magic key, and there was no way of cleaning it
completely: when the blood was removed from one side, it came back on the other.

Bluebeard returned from his journey that very night, saying that while he was still on his way, he had received letters telling him that the business he had gone to arrange had already been settled to his advantage. His wife did all she could to make him believe that she was delighted at his returning so soon. The next day, he asked for his keys back, and she gave them to him, but her hand was trembling so much that he easily guessed what had happened.
‘Why is it’, he asked, ‘that the key to my private room is not here with the others?’
She replied: ‘I must have left it upstairs on my table.’
‘Then don’t forget to give it to me later,’ said Bluebeard.
She made excuses several times, but fi nally she had to bring him the key. Bluebeard examined it, and said to his wife: ‘Why is there blood on this key?’
‘I know nothing about it,’ said the poor woman, as pale as death.

‘You know nothing about it?’ said Bluebeard; ‘but I do: you have tried to get into my private room. Very well, madam, that is where you will go; and there you will take your place, beside the ladies you have seen.’

She threw herself at her husband’s feet, weeping and pleading to be forgiven, and all her actions showed how truly she repented being so disobedient. So beautiful was she, and in such distress, that she would have moved the very rocks to pity; but Bluebeard’s heart was harder than rock. ‘You must die, madam,’ he said, ‘this very instant.’
‘If I must die,’ she said, looking at him with her eyes full of tears, ‘give me some time to say my prayers to God.’
‘I will give you ten minutes,’ said Bluebeard, ‘and not a moment longer.’
As soon as she was alone, she called to her sister and said: ‘Sister Anne’ (for that was her name), ‘go up to the top of the tower, I beg you, to see if my brothers are coming, for they promised to come today; and if you can see them, make them a signal to hurry.’

Her sister Anne went to the top of the tower, and the poor woman below cried up to her at every moment: ‘What can you see, sister Anne, sister Anne? Is anyone coming this way?’

And her sister would reply: ‘All I can see is the dust in the sun, and the green of the grass all round.’
Meanwhile, Bluebeard, holding a great cutlass in his hand, shouted as loud as he could to his wife: ‘Come down from there at once, or else I’ll come and fetch you.’
‘Please, just a minute longer,’ his wife answered, and immediately called out, but quietly: ‘What can you see, sister Anne, sister Anne? Is anyone coming this way?’
And her sister Anne replied: ‘All I can see is the dust in the sun, and the green of the grass all round.’
‘Down you come at once,’ Bluebeard was shouting, ‘or I will fetch you down.’
‘I’m coming now,’ his wife kept saying; and then she would call: ‘What can you see, sister Anne, sister Anne? Is anyone coming this way?’
And then her sister Anne replied: ‘I can see a great cloud of dust, and it is coming towards us.’
‘Is that our brothers on their way?’
‘Alas! sister, no; it is only a fl ock of sheep.’
‘Do you refuse to come down?’ shouted Bluebeard.
‘Just a moment more,’ his wife answered, and called out: ‘What can you see, sister Anne, sister Anne? Is anyone coming this way?’
‘I can see,’ she replied, ‘two horsemen riding towards us, but they are still a long way off . . . God be praised,’ she cried a moment later, ‘it’s our brothers; I shall wave to them as hard as I can, so that they will hurry.’

Bluebeard began to shout so loudly that the whole house shook. His poor wife came down, and fell at his feet in tears, with her hair all disheveled. ‘That will not save you,’ cried Bluebeard; ‘you must die.’ And taking her hair in one hand, and raising his cutlass in the air with the other, he was on the point of chopping off her head. The poor woman, turning towards him and looking at him with despair in her eyes, begged him to give her a minute or two to prepare herself for death.
‘No, no,’ he said, ‘commend your soul to God,’ and raising
his arm . . .

At that moment, there was heard such a loud banging at the door that Bluebeard stopped short; the door opened, and at once the two horsemen came in; they drew their swords and ran straight at Bluebeard. He recognized them for his wife’s brothers: one was a dragoon guard, the other a  musketeer;* immediately he ran to escape, but the two brothers went after him so fast that they caught him before he could get out of the front door. They cut him open with their swords, and left him dead. His poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, without even enough strength to get up and embrace her two brothers. It turned out that Bluebeard had no heirs, so that his wife became the mistress of all his riches. She used some to marry her sister Anne to a young gentleman who had loved her for years; some she used to buy captains’ commissions for her two brothers; and the remainder, to marry herself to a man of true worth, with whom she forgot all about the bad time she had had with Bluebeard.

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Ricky the Tuft

Once upon a time there was a Queen and she gave birth to a son, who was so ugly and so misshapen that it seemed doubtful for a long time that he was of human form. A fairy, who was present at the birth, declared that despite this he would still be attractive, because he would be very intelligent. She added that he would even be able, in virtue of a gift which she had just granted to him, to bestow as much intelligence as he had himself on the person he loved best.

All this was some comfort to the poor Queen, who was deeply unhappy at having brought such an ugly little runt into the world. And it is true that as soon as the child began to talk he said all sorts of clever things, while whatever he did had something so ingenious about it that people were delighted. I forgot to say that he was born with a little tuft of hair on his head, so that he was called Ricky the Tuft, Rickett being the family name.*

About seven or eight years later, the Queen of a neighbouring kingdom gave birth to twin girls. The first of them to come into the world was as fair as a summer’s day, and the Queen was overjoyed, so much so that it made people afraid that her excessive happiness might be harmful for her. The fairy who had been present at the birth of Ricky the Tuft was there also, and to moderate the Queen’s joy she told her that the little Princess would lack any intelligence, and would be as stupid as she was beautiful.

This was very distressing for the Queen; but a few moments later she had much greater cause to be unhappy, for when the second daughter was born she was found to be extremely ugly. ‘Do not be upset, ma’am,’ said the fairy; ‘your daughter will have other talents to make up for it, for she will be so intelligent that it will hardly be noticed that she lacks beauty.’ ‘God send that it may be so,’ replied the Queen; ‘but would it not be possible for her sister, who is so beautiful, to be given a little intelligence as well?’
‘As far as intelligence is concerned, madam,’ said the fairy, ‘I can do nothing for her, but as regards beauty I can do everything, and since I will do whatever I can to please you, I shall grant her a gift: she will be able to bestow beauty on any person she may choose.’ As the two princesses grew up, their qualities also increased in perfection, and people everywhere talked of nothing but the elder daughter’s beauty and the young one’s intelligence. However, their defects also worsened with age. The younger Princess became visibly uglier, and day by day the elder grew more stupid. When she was asked something, either she would fail to reply, or else she would say something silly. Besides, she was so clumsy that she could not even arrange a few vases on the mantelpiece without breaking one, or drink a glass of water without spilling half of it over her clothes.

Even though beauty is a great advantage for a young person, the younger Princess was almost always the favourite whenever they were in company together. At first people would go over to the beautiful Princess to see and admire her, but soon they would turn to the intelligent one, to listen to the many entertaining things she would say; and it was surprising to see how, in less than a quarter of an hour, the elder sister had nobody near her, while everyone was standing round the younger one. The elder, despite her great stupidity, noticed this quite clearly, and would willingly have given up all her beauty in order to have half her sister’s intelligence. The Queen, wise though she was, could not prevent herself from reproaching her daughter several times for being so silly, which made the poor Princess
almost die of misery.

One day, when she had gone alone to a wood in order to lament her unhappiness, she saw coming towards her a very ugly little man, most unpleasant to look at, but dressed with great magnificence. It was the young Prince, Ricky the Tuft, who had fallen in love with one of the portraits of her which were to be found everywhere, and had left his father’s kingdom in order to have the pleasure of seeing and talking to her. Delighted to encounter her alone, he greeted her with all the respect and politeness imaginable.

When they had exchanged the usual civilities, he said, having observed that she seemed very sad: ‘I cannot understand, madam, why someone as beautiful as you are should be as unhappy as you appear to be; for, although I am glad to say that I have seen a multitude of beautiful ladies before now, I must admit that I have never seen anyone whose beauty even approaches yours.’ ‘If you say so, Sir,’ replied the Princess; and that was all. ‘Beauty,’ Ricky the Tuft went on, ‘is so great a benefit that it
makes up for everything else; and when you possess it, I cannot see that anything can cause you much unhappiness.’
‘I’d rather be as ugly as you are,’ said the Princess, ‘provided I was clever, than beautiful and stupid like me.’
‘Nothing shows intelligence more clearly, madam, than the belief that one does not possess it, for it is in the nature of this quality that the more intelligence you have, the less you believe
you have.’
‘I couldn’t say, I’m sure,’ said the Princess, ‘but I know I’m very stupid, and it makes me so unhappy I could die.’
‘If that is the only thing that makes you sad, madam, I can easily put an end to your sorrow.’
‘And how can you do that?’ asked the Princess.
‘I have the power, madam,’ said Ricky the Tuft, ‘to give as much intelligence as anyone can have to the person I love the most, and since you, madam, are that person, you can choose whether to have as much intelligence as it is possible to have, on condition that you agree to marry me.’

The Princess was struck dumb with amazement, and made no answer.
‘I can see that you find my proposal disagreeable,’ said Ricky the Tuft, ‘which does not surprise me; but I will give you a whole year in which to decide.’ The Princess had so little intelligence, and at the same time desired so strongly to possess more, that she could not imagine that the end of the year would ever arrive; and so she accepted the proposal that had been made to her. No sooner had she promised Ricky the Tuft that she would marry him, on the same day a year later, than she began to feel quite different from before. She discovered in herself an incredible ability to say whatever she pleased, and to say it in a natural, elegant, and simple manner. At once she began a long conversation
about romantic matters with Ricky the Tuft, and she spoke with such brilliance that Ricky came to think that he had given her more, by way of intelligence, than he had kept for himself
.
When she returned to the palace, the whole court was baffled by the sudden and extraordinary change in her, for now she made as many amazingly witty and sensible remarks as she had previously made silly ones. You would not believe how delighted everyone was at court. The younger sister was the
only one not to be pleased, because she no longer had the advantage of being clever, and appeared in comparison only to be a picture of ugliness.

The King let himself be guided by his elder daughter’s opinions, and sometimes even held a Council in her apartments. Once the news of the change in her had become known, all the young princes of kingdoms nearby made efforts to make her fall in love with them, and almost every one asked her to marry him, but she could find no one among them who was clever enough; and although she listened to them all, she would not commit herself to any of them. However, one of the princes who arrived was so powerful and rich, so intelligent, and so handsome, that she could not prevent herself feeling favourably disposed towards him. Her father observed this, and told her that he would leave the choice of a husband to her, and that she had only to say whom she had chosen.

Now the cleverer you are, the harder you fi nd it to make a firm decision on this matter, and when she had thanked her father the Princess asked him for more time to think about it. By chance she went for a walk, so as to reflect more easily on what to do, in the very wood where she had met Ricky the Tuft. While she was walking, deep in thought, she heard muffled sounds coming from beneath her feet, as if a number of people were busily coming and going. She listened more carefully, and heard a man say:
‘Bring that pot over here’; another said: ‘Give me that saucepan’; and another: ‘Put some more wood on the fi re’. At the same moment, the earth opened before her, and she saw what looked like a great kitchen, full of cooks, scullions, and all the staff needed to prepare a magnificent banquet. A troop of twenty or thirty cooks with meat for roasting came out, and went off into an avenue among the trees, taking their positions around a very long table where, holding their larding-pins* in their hands and
with the tassels on their hats* over their ears, they all began to work, keeping time to the sound of a melodious song.

Astonished at the sight, the Princess asked them whom they worked for. ‘For the Prince, Ricky the Tuft, my lady,’ said the one who seemed to be in charge; ‘it’s his wedding-day tomorrow.’ The Princess, even more surprised than she had been before, remembered all of a sudden that it was a year to the day that she had promised to marry the Prince, Ricky the Tuft, and she felt as if the ground had given way beneath her. The reason why she had not remembered was that at the time when she had
made her promise she had been stupid, but when she acquired her new powers of thought from the Prince she had forgotten all her stupidities. She continued her walk, but had gone only twenty or thirty paces before Ricky the Tuft appeared in front of her, richly dressed and in all his fi nery, every inch a prince who is about to be married.

‘As you can see, madam,’ he said, ‘I have kept my word punctually, and I have no doubt that you are here in order to keep your promise, and make me the happiest of men by giving me your hand in marriage.’ ‘I must tell you frankly,’ replied the Princess, ‘that I have not yet reached a decision on the point, and it is my belief that I may never be able to make the decision that you wish.’
‘You astonish me, madam,’ said Ricky the Tuft.
‘I can well believe it,’ said the Princess, ‘and certainly, if I were dealing with a mere brute, a man without understanding, I should be in a very difficult situation. A princess’s word is her bond, he would say, and I am bound to marry him, because of my promise; but since the person I am addressing is the most intelligent man in the world, I am sure that he will listen to reason. You will recall that, when I was stupid, I still could not bring myself to marry you; how can you expect me today, having the intelligence you gave me, which also makes me more critical of other people than I was before, to take a decision which I was unable to take previously? If you really meant to marry me, it was very wrong of you to take away my stupidity and make me see things more clearly than I did once.’

‘If a man of no intelligence,’ Ricky the Tuft answered, ‘would be justified—as you suggested a moment ago—in blaming you for not keeping your word, how can you expect me not to do the
same in a matter where my entire happiness is at stake? Is it reasonable that those who are intelligent should be in a worse position than those who are not? How can you make such a claim, you who are yourself so intelligent, and so much wanted to be? But allow me to come to the point. Apart from my ugliness, is there anything about me which you find displeasing? Are you dissatisfied with my station in life, my mind, my temperament, or my behaviour?’ ‘By no means,’ replied the Princess; ‘I am attracted by all the things that you have mentioned.’ ‘If that is the case,’ said Ricky the Tuft, ‘I shall be happy, since you have the power to make me the handsomest of men.’ ‘How can that be?’ asked the Princess. ‘It can be,’ replied Ricky the Tuft, ‘if you love me enough to want it to be; and to remove your doubts, madam, you should know that the same fairy who, on the day I was born, gave me the power to bestow intelligence on any person I chose, also gave you the power to bestow good looks on any person whom you loved and to whom you wished to grant such a favour.’ ‘If that is how things stand,’ said the Princess, ‘I wish with all my heart that you should be the handsomest and most attractive prince in all the world; and as far as it lies in my power to do so, I bestow this gift upon you.’ No sooner had she spoken these words, than Ricky the Tuft appeared to her to be the handsomest, best-looking, most attractive man she had ever seen.

Some people affirm that it was not the fairy’s magic which worked this transformation, but love alone. They say that the Princess, having reflected on her lover’s perseverance, his discretion,
and all his good qualities of soul and mind, no longer noticed the deformity of his body or the ugliness of his face; that his humped back appeared to her to be no more than the posture
taken by a proud man who is aware of his importance; and that, though before she had observed him hobbling along most dreadfully, she now perceived only a slight stoop, which she found delightful. They say furthermore that his eyes, which had a squint, seemed to her all the brighter for it, and that these crosseyes were to her mind a sign of passionate love; and finally that his big red nose seemed to her to have a military and heroic air.

However that may be, the Princess immediately promised to marry him, provided that he obtained the consent of the King her father. The King, having been informed that his daughter had a high opinion of Ricky the Tuft, and knowing besides that he was a wise and intelligent prince, accepted him with pleasure as his son-in-law. On the very next day the wedding took place, as Ricky the Tuft had foreseen, and according to the orders that he had given long before.

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Little Red Riding-Hood

Once upon a time, in a village, there lived a little girl, the prettiest you could wish to see. Her mother adored her, and her grandmother adored her even more. This kind lady had a riding-hood* made for her granddaughter; it was red, and it suited her so well that everywhere she went she was called Little
Red Riding-Hood.

One day, when her mother had done some baking, she made some buns,* and said: ‘Go and see how your grandmama is, because I’ve heard she isn’t well. Take her one of these buns, and a little pot of butter.’ Little Red Riding-Hood set off at once to visit her grandmother, who lived in another village. As she was going into a wood, she met Master Wolf, and he wanted very much to eat her up; but he did not dare, because there were some woodcutters in the forest. He asked her where she was going. The poor child, who did not know that it is dangerous to stay and listen to a wolf, told him: ‘I am going to see my grandmother, and I’m taking her a bun and a little pot of butter that my mother is sending me with.’

‘Does she live a long way off?’ asked the Wolf.

‘Oh yes,’ said Little Red Riding-Hood, ‘it’s beyond the mill that you can see ever so far away over there, and it’s the first house you come to in the village.’

‘Well then,’ said the Wolf, ‘I’d like to go and see her too. I’ll go by this path here, and you go by that one, and we’ll see who gets there fi rst.’

The Wolf began to run as hard as he could along his path, which was shorter, while the little girl went by the longer path, and amused herself gathering hazel-nuts, running after butterflies, and making posies out of the fl owers that she saw. The Wolf did not take long to reach the grandmother’s house.

He knocked at the door, rat-a-tat-tat!
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me, your granddaughter, Little Red Riding-Hood,’ said the Wolf, imitating the little girl’s voice, ‘and I’ve brought you a bun and a little pot of butter that Mummy has sent.’

The kind grandmother, who was in bed because she was not feeling very well, called out: ‘Draw the peg back, and the bar will fall.’* The Wolf drew the peg back and the door opened.
He flung himself on the old lady, and ate her all up in less than a moment, because he had not had a meal for more than three days. Then he shut the door, went to lie down in the grandmother’s bed, and waited for Little Red Riding-Hood. In a little while she came, and knocked on the door, rat-a-tat-tat!
‘Who is it?’
Little Red Riding-Hood, hearing the Wolf ’s gruff voice, was frightened at fi rst, but, believing that her grandmother had a cold, she answered: ‘It’s me, your granddaughter, Little Red Riding-Hood, and I’ve brought you a bun and a little pot of butter that Mummy has sent.’

Making his voice a little softer, the Wolf called out: ‘Draw the peg back, and the bar will fall.’ Little Red Riding-Hood drew the peg back and the door opened. When he saw her coming in, the Wolf hid under the bedclothes, and said: ‘Put the bun and the little pot of butter on the chest, and come and get into bed with me.’

Little Red Riding-Hood undressed and got into the bed, where she was very surprised to see what her grandmother looked like without any clothes on, and she said:
‘Oh grandmama, what long arms you have!’
‘All the better to hug you with, my dear.’
‘Oh grandmama, what long legs you have!’
‘All the better for running with, my dear.’
‘Oh grandmama, what big ears you have!’
‘All the better to hear you with, my dear.’
‘Oh grandmama, what big eyes you have!’
‘All the better to see you with, my dear.’
‘Oh grandmama, what great big teeth you have!’
‘And they are all the better to eat you with!’*
And as he said these words, the wicked Wolf flung himself on Little Red Riding-Hood, and ate her up.


The moral of this tale
Young children, as this tale will show,
And mainly pretty girls with charm,
Do wrong and often come to harm
In letting those they do not know
Stay talking to them when they meet.
And if they don’t do as they ought,
It’s no surprise that some are caught
By wolves who take them off to eat.

I call them wolves, but you will find
That some are not the savage kind,
Not howling, ravening or raging;
Their manners seem, instead, engaging,
They’re softly-spoken and discreet.
Young ladies whom they talk to on the street
They follow to their homes and through the hall,
And upstairs to their rooms;* when they’re there
They’re not as friendly as they might appear:
These are the most dangerous wolves of all.

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The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood

Once upon a time there lived a king and queen who were ever so unhappy, because they had no children; so unhappy I can’t tell you. They went to all the spas to drink the waters there, gave presents to all the saints, went on pilgrimages, and always said their prayers; everything was tried and nothing worked. But at last the Queen did become pregnant, and had a baby daughter. They held a beautiful service for her to be christened; all the fairies they could find in the country were to come
(there were seven of them), to be godmothers for the little Princess, which meant that each would bestow a gift on her, which was the custom for fairies in those days, and then she would be as perfect as you could possibly imagine.

When the christening service was finished, all the guests went back to the royal palace, where a banquet was to be given in honour of the fairies. Each of them had her place laid magnificently at table with a solid gold case, which contained a knife, a fork, and a spoon made out of pure gold, and decorated with diamonds and rubies. But as everyone was sitting down to table, they saw an aged fairy come in, who had not been invited, because for more than fifty years she had never left the tower she lived in, so that she was believed to be dead, or under a spell. The King had a place laid for her at table, but there was no means of giving her a case of solid gold like the others, because only
seven cases had been made, one for each of the seven. The aged fairy believed herself insulted, and muttered threatening words between her teeth. Sitting beside her, one of the younger fairies
heard what she said, and guessed that the gift that she would give to the little Princess might be dangerous for her; so she went and hid behind a tapestry on the wall as soon as the meal was
finished, in order to speak last of all, and prevent if possible any harm that the old fairy might do.
Meanwhile the fairies began to present their gifts to the Princess. The gift that the youngest fairy gave was that she would be the loveliest person in the world; the next one’s gift was that she would be as clever as an angel; the third gift was that she would do everything with all the grace imaginable; the
fourth that she would dance to perfection; the fifth that she would sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she would play beautiful music on all kinds of instruments. When it came to the
turn of the very old fairy, whose head was shaking, but not so much from age as from bad temper, she said that the Princess would prick her hand on the point of the spindle on a spinningwheel,
and that she would die.

This terrible gift made the whole company shudder, and they all began to weep. It was then that the younger fairy stepped out from behind the tapestry, and in a loud voice she spoke these words: ‘Oh King and Queen, be reassured; your daughter will not die, although it is not in my power to undo completely what the older fairy has done. The Princess will prick her hand on a spindle, but instead of dying, she will fall into a deep sleep. It will last for a hundred years, and at the end of that time the son of a king will come to waken her.’ In order to try to prevent the disaster announced by the old fairy, the King at once had an edict proclaimed, by which every person was forbidden to spin
wool on a spinning-wheel or keep a spindle at home, on pain of death.

Fifteen or sixteen years went by, and one day, when the King and Queen were on a visit to one of their summer residences, it happened that the Princess, in running about the castle and going from apartment to apartment, went higher and higher up a tower. She came to a tiny attic room and found an old woman sitting alone, spinning wool from her distaff. This good lady had never heard that the King had forbidden everyone to use a spindle. ‘What is it that you are doing there, good woman?’ asked the Princess. ‘I am spinning, my pretty child,’ said the old woman, not knowing who she was talking to. ‘What fun!’ the Princess said then, ‘how do you do it? Give it to me and let me see if I can do it too.’

She took the spindle; and because she was hasty and impulsive, and in any case the fairies’ decree had decided what would happen, no sooner had she done so than she pricked her hand and fell down in a faint. The good woman was very upset and cried out for help; people came from everywhere, and
splashed water on the Princess’s face, loosened her clothes, slapped her wrists, and rubbed her temples with eau-de-cologne; but nothing could revive her. The King had come at once on hearing all the noise, and remembered the fairies’ prediction. He realized that it had to happen, because the fairies had said it would, and ordered that the Princess should be placed in the fi nest apartment in the castle, on a bed embroidered with gold and silver. You would have said she was an angel, she looked so beautiful. Fainting had not taken away the fresh colours from her face; her cheeks were rosy pink and her lips like coral. It was only that her eyes were closed; but you could tell that she was not dead because she could still be heard breathing gently. The King gave orders that she was to be left to sleep in peace until the time for her to be awakened should arrive. The good fairy who, in order to save her life, had condemned her to sleep for a hundred years, was twelve thousand leagues
away in the Kingdom of Matakin when the Princess had her accident, but she was given the news in an instant by a little dwarf with seven-league boots (these were boots in which you could go seven leagues in a single stride). The fairy set off at once and appeared at the castle an hour later in a chariot of fi re drawn by dragons. The King went to help her down from the chariot, and she gave her approval to everything he had done; but, possessing great foresight, she reflected that when the Princess awoke from her sleep she would find things very difficult all alone in the old castle; and this is what she did. With her wand, she touched everyone in the castle except the King and Queen:
governesses, maids of honour, ladies’ maids, gentlemen of the household, stewards, footmen, cooks, scullions, turnspits, guards, pages, doormen; she also touched all the horses in the stables, the ostlers there, the great guard-dogs in the stable-yard, and little Puff, the Princess’s lapdog, who was lying beside her on her bed. As soon as she touched them they all fell asleep, not to wake up until their mistress did, so as to be ready to serve her when they were needed. Even the spits in front of the kitchen fire, all covered with pheasants and partridges, went to sleep, and the fire did too.

This all happened in a moment; fairies did not take long over their work. Then the King and Queen, after having kissed their daughter without awakening her, left the castle. They issued orders that nobody should come near. But the ban was not needed, because within a quarter of an hour so many trees had shot up, large and small, all around the castle park, with brambles and thorns all intertwined, that neither man nor beast could have got through. All that could still be seen was the top of the castle towers, and only from a long way off. No doubt this was another of the fairy’s devices to make sure that the Princess would have nothing to fear from inquisitive visitors while she was asleep.
A hundred years later, the son of the king then ruling, who was
not of the same family as the sleeping Princess, went hunting in
that region. Seeing some towers rising above a tall dense wood,
he asked what they were. Everyone present answered according
to what he had heard tell. Some said that it was an ancient castle
where ghosts were seen to walk; others, that all the witches round
about held their sabbaths there. The commonest opinion was that
it was where an ogre lived, and where he brought all the children
he could catch, in order to eat them in peace without being followed,
since he alone had the power to make his way through the
wood. The Prince did not know what to believe; but then an
elderly peasant began to speak, saying: ‘Your Highness: more
than fi fty years ago, I heard my father say that in the castle there
lay a Princess, who was the most beautiful in the world; she was
to stay asleep for a hundred years, and would be awakened by the
son of a king, for whom she was destined.’ The young Prince
took fi re at the old man’s words: he took it for granted at once that
it was he who would succeed in this splendid adventure, and
inspired by love and glory he resolved to fi nd out at once how
things stood.

He had scarcely taken his fi rst step towards the wood than all
the great trees, brambles and thorns drew aside of themselves to
let him pass. He set out towards the castle, which he could see at
the end of a long avenue ahead, and was a little surprised to see
that none of his servants had been able to follow him; the trees
had closed behind him as soon as he passed. He continued on his
way regardless, for a young and ardent prince is always full
of courage. He came into a great forecourt, where everything
that met his eyes was such as to freeze his blood with fear.
The silence was terrible, and the look of death was all around.
Nothing was to be seen but the bodies of men and animals lying
stretched out, who appeared to be dead. He could tell nonetheless,
from the blotchy noses and fl ushed complexions of the
Swiss guards,* that they were only sleeping, and the dregs of
wine left in their glasses showed clearly enough that they had
fallen asleep in the middle of having a drink.

Through a great court paved with marble he went, up a fl ight
of steps, and entered the guardroom, where the guards were standing
in line, their guns on their shoulders, and snoring with all
their might. He passed through several rooms full of gentlemen
and ladies, all asleep, some standing and some sitting; he came
to a room that was all of gold, and saw on a bed, with its curtains
drawn back to leave it open, the most beautiful sight that he had
ever seen: a Princess who seemed to be about fi fteen or sixteen
years old, and who in her radiant splendour had something
luminous and divine about her. Trembling with wonder and
admiration, he approached and knelt down beside her.

Since the end of the enchantment had come, the Princess
woke up, and gazing at him with greater tenderness in her eyes
than might have seemed proper at a fi rst meeting, she said: ‘Is
that you, my prince? What a long time you have kept me waiting!’
Delighted at these words, and still more by the tone in
which she said them, the Prince did not know how to express his
gratitude and joy, but he told her that he loved her more than
himself. Although what he said was badly expressed it pleased
her all the more; the greatest love is the least eloquent. Of the
two of them, she was the less tongue-tied, which is not surprising
since she had had the time to think of what she would say;
for it is likely (though history is silent on the matter) that during
her long sleep the good fairy had seen to it that she enjoyed
sweet dreams. Be that as it may,* they spent four hours talking
to each other and still had not said the half of what they
wanted.

In the meantime, the whole palace had awakened with the
Princess. Everyone’s thoughts were on getting back to work, and
since they were not in love, they were all dying of hunger. The
lady-in-waiting, famished like the rest of them, grew impatient,
and said loudly to the Princess that her meal was served. The
Prince helped the Princess to her feet; she was fully dressed and
her clothes were magnifi cent, but he took good care not to tell
her that she was dressed like Grandmother in the old days, with
a starched high collar; it did not make her any the less beautiful.
They went into a hall lined with mirrors, where they had their
supper, and were served by the offi cers of the Princess’s household.
The violins and oboes played old pieces of music, which
were excellent, even though they had not been played for almost
a hundred years. After supper, without wasting time, the High
Chaplain married them in the castle chapel, and the lady-inwaiting
drew the bed-curtain. They slept little, for the Princess
had little need of it, and the Prince left her as soon as it was
morning to return to the town, since his father would be anxious
about him.

The Prince told him that he had got lost in the forest while
out hunting, and that he had spent the night in a hovel belonging
to a charcoal-burner, who had given him cheese and black
bread to eat. The King, who was a good soul, believed him, but
his mother was not convinced. She noticed that he went hunting
almost every day, and always had some excuse to give when he
had slept away from home for two or three nights; so she became
certain that he was carrying on some love-affair, for he lived in
this way with the Princess for more than two whole years, and
had two children with her. The fi rst was a girl, and was named
Dawn; and the second, who was a boy, was called Day, since he
looked even more beautiful than his sister.
The Queen said to her son several times, in the hope of drawing
him out, that one should enjoy oneself in life, but he never
dared to entrust her with his secret; although he loved her, he
was afraid of her, because she came from a family of ogres, and
the King had married her only because of her great wealth.
It was even whispered at court that she herself had ogreish
tendencies, and that when she saw small children going by she
found it almost impossible to prevent herself from jumping on
them, which is why the Prince would never say anything. But
when the King died, which happened after another two years,
and the Prince was in command, he made his marriage public,
and went in a grand procession to fetch the Queen his wife from
her castle. A magnifi cent reception was held for her in the capital,
where she made her entrance into the town accompanied by
her two children.

Some time later, the new King went to war against his neighbour
the Emperor Cantalabutto. He left the government of the
kingdom in the hands of the Queen his mother, asking her to
take special care of his wife and children, for he was to be away
at the war for the whole summer. As soon as he had left, the
Queen Mother sent her daughter-in-law and the children to a
summer residence she had in the forest, so as to satisfy her horrible
desires more easily. She went there herself a few days later,
and said one evening to her steward: ‘Tomorrow evening for
supper, I want to eat little Dawn.’

‘Alas, my lady!’ said the steward.

‘That is my wish,’ said the Queen, and her tone was the tone of
an ogress who wants fresh meat, ‘and I want to eat her with onion
and mustard sauce.’ The poor man, realizing that an ogress was
not to be trifl ed with, took a great knife and went up to little
Dawn’s room. She was then four years old, and came across the
room skipping and laughing to embrace him and ask him for
sweets. Tears came to his eyes, the knife fell from his hands, and
he went down to the farmyard and cut the throat of a small lamb,
which he served up to his mistress with such a good sauce that
she assured him that she had never tasted anything as good. He
had taken away little Dawn at the same time, and gave her to his
wife to hide in their lodgings at the end of the farmyard.
A week later, the wicked Queen said to the steward: ‘I want
to eat little Day for my supper.’ He did not protest, but resolved
to trick her again as he had before. He went to look for little
Day, and found him with a small sword in his hand, practising
fencing against a fat monkey, although he was only three years
old. The steward took him to his wife, who hid him with little
Dawn, and instead of the little boy he served up a tender young
kid, which the ogress found excellent.

Everything had gone well until then, but one evening the
wicked Queen said to the steward: ‘I want to eat the young
Queen, cooked in the same sauce as her children.’ This time the
poor steward despaired of being able to deceive her: the young
Queen was more than twenty years old, not counting the
hundred years when she had been asleep, and her skin was
somewhat tough, although it was fi ne and white. How was he to
fi nd, among the animals kept for eating,* one as tough as that?
He took the decision, in order to save his own life, to cut the
Queen’s throat, and went up to her room with the intention of
getting it over and done with. He worked himself up into a rage
and entered the Queen’s room with his dagger in his hand.
However, he did not want to kill her without any warning, and
told her, with great respect, of the orders he had received from
the Queen Mother.

‘Do your duty,’ she said, stretching out her neck; ‘carry out
the command you have been given. Then I shall see my children
again, my poor children, whom I loved so much.’ She
believed them dead, because, when they were taken away,
nobody had told her anything.
‘No, my lady, no,’ said the poor steward in tears, ‘you will
not die, and I will make sure that you do see your beloved children,
though it will be in my house, where I have hidden them,
and I will deceive the Queen again by giving her a young doe to
eat instead.’ At once he took her to his house, where he left her
to embrace her children and weep with them, and went to prepare
the doe for cooking; the Queen ate it for supper with as
much relish as if it had been the young Queen. She was very
pleased with her cruel deeds, and meant to tell the King, on his
return, that ravening wolves had eaten his wife and the two
children.

One evening, when she was prowling about the castle’s
courtyards and farmyards as usual, in order to catch the scent of
any fresh meat, she heard little Day who was crying in a basement
room, because the Queen his mother had said that she
would have him whipped for being naughty; she could also hear
little Dawn, who was pleading for her brother to be forgiven.
The ogress, recognizing the voices of the young Queen and her
children, was furious to have been tricked.

The next morning she ordered, in a dreadful voice that made
everyone shudder, that a huge cauldron was to be brought into
the middle of the main courtyard and fi lled with toads* and
vipers and snakes of every sort, for the young Queen and her
children to be thrown into it, together with the steward, his
wife, and their maidservant; she had given the order to have
them led out with their hands tied behind their backs.
They were standing there, with the executioners getting
ready to throw them into the cauldron, when the King, who
was not expected so soon, rode into the courtyard; he had
changed horses at every stage for speed. In amazement, he asked
what this horrible spectacle could mean. Nobody dared to
explain. And it was then that the ogress, maddened by what she
saw before her, fl ung herself head fi rst into the cauldron, and
was devoured in an instant by the horrid creatures she had put
there. Despite everything, the King was upset: she was his
mother; but he soon consoled himself with his beautiful wife
and children.

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