Household Tales, Wilhelm Grimm [good books to read for women TXT] 📗

Then there was another knock, but the knock was at the door of his room. It was his neighbour, a poor man who had a number of children whom he could no longer satisfy with food. “I know,” thought the poor man, “that my neighbour is rich, but he is as hard as he is rich. I don’t believe he will help me, but my children are crying for bread, so I will venture it.” He said to the rich man, “You do not readily give away anything that is yours, but I stand here like one who feels the water rising above his head. My children are starving, lend me four measures*

of corn.” The rich man looked at him long, and then the first sunbeam of mercy began to melt away a drop of the ice of greediness. “I will not lend thee four measures,” he answered, “but I will make thee a present of eight, but thou must fulfil one condition.” “What am I to do?” said the poor man. “When I am dead, thou shalt watch for three nights by my grave.” The peasant was disturbed in his mind at this request, but in the need in which he was, he would have consented to anything; he accepted, therefore, and carried the corn home with him.

It seemed as if the rich man had foreseen what was about to happen, for when three days were gone by, he suddenly dropped down dead. No one knew exactly how it came to pass, but no one grieved for him. When he was buried, the poor man remembered his promise; he would willingly have been released from it, but he thought, “After all, he acted kindly by me. I have fed my hungry children with his corn, and even if that were not the case, where I have once given my promise I must keep it.” At nightfall he went into the churchyard, and seated himself on the grave-mound. Everything was quiet, only the moon appeared above the grave, and frequently an owl flew past and uttered her melancholy cry. When the sun rose, the poor man betook himself in safety to his home, and in the same manner the second night passed quietly by. On the evening of the third day he felt a strange uneasiness, it seemed to him that something was about to happen. When he went out he saw, by the churchyard-wall, a man whom he had never seen before. He was no longer young, had scars on his face, and his eyes looked sharply and eagerly around. He was entirely covered with an old cloak, and nothing was visible but his great riding-boots. “What are you looking for here?” the peasant asked. “Are you not afraid of the lonely churchyard?”

“I am looking for nothing,” he answered, “and I am afraid of nothing! I am like the youngster who went forth to learn how to shiver, and had his labour for his pains, but got the King’s daughter to wife and great wealth with her, only I have remained poor. I am nothing but a paid-off soldier, and I mean to pass the night here, because I have no other shelter.” “If you are without fear,” said the peasant, “stay with me, and help me to watch that grave there.”

“To keep watch is a soldier’s business,” he replied, “whatever we fall in with here, whether it be good or bad, we will share it between us.” The peasant agreed to this, and they seated themselves on the grave together.

All was quiet until midnight, when suddenly a shrill whistling was heard in the air, and the two watchers perceived the Evil One standing bodily before them. “Be off, you ragamuffins!” cried he to them, “the man who lies in that grave belongs to me; I want to take him, and if you don’t go away I will wring your necks!” “Sir with the red feather,”* said the soldier, “you are not my captain, I have no need to obey you, and I have not yet learned how to fear. Go away, we shall stay sitting here.”

The Devil thought to himself, “Money is the best thing with which to get hold of these two vagabonds.” So he began to play a softer tune, and asked quite kindly, if they would not accept a bag of money, and go home with it? “That is worth listening to,” answered the soldier, “but one bag of gold won’t serve us, if you will give as much as will go into one of my boots, we will quit the field for you and go away.”

“I have not so much as that about me,” said the Devil, “but I will fetch it. In the neighbouring town lives a money-changer who is a good friend of mine, and will readily advance it to me.” When the Devil had vanished the soldier took his left boot off, and said, “We will soon pull the charcoal-burner’s nose for him, just give me your knife, comrade.” He cut the sole off the boot, and put it in the high grass near the grave on the edge of a hole that was half over-grown. “That will do,” said he; “now the chimney-sweep may come.

They both sat down and waited, and it was not long before the Devil returned with a small bag of gold in his hand. “Just pour it in,” said the soldier, raising up the boot a little, “but that won’t be enough.”

The Black One shook out all that was in the bag; the gold fell through, and the boot remained empty. “Stupid Devil,” cried the soldier, “it won’t do! Didn’t I say so at once? Go back again, and bring more.” The Devil shook his head, went, and in an hour’s time came with a much larger bag under his arm. “Now pour it in,” cried the soldier, “but I doubt the boot won’t be full.” The gold clinked as it fell, but the boot remained empty. The Devil looked in himself with his burning eyes, and convinced himself of the truth. “You have shamefully big calves to your legs!” cried he, and made a wry face. “Did you think,” replied the soldier, “that I had a cloven foot like you? Since when have you been so stingy? See that you get more gold together, or our bargain will come to nothing!” The Wicked One went off again. This time he stayed away longer, and when at length he appeared he was panting under the weight of a sack which lay on his shoulders. He emptied it into the boot, which was just as far from being filled as before. He became furious, and was just going to tear the boot out of the soldier’s hands, but at that moment the first ray of the rising sun broke forth from the sky, and the Evil Spirit fled away with loud shrieks. The poor soul was saved.

The peasant wished to divide the gold, but the soldier said, “Give what falls to my lot to the poor, I will come with thee to thy cottage, and together we will live in rest and peace on what remains, as long as God is pleased to permit.”

196 Old Rinkrank

There was once on a time a King who had a daughter, and he caused a glass mountain to be made, and said that whosoever could cross to the other side of it without falling should have his daughter to wife. Then there was one who loved the King’s daughter, and he asked the King if he might have her. “Yes,” said the King; “if you can cross the mountain without falling, you shall have her.” And the princess said she would go over it with him, and would hold him if he were about to fall. So they set out together to go over it, and when they were half way up the princess slipped and fell, and the glass-mountain opened and shut her up inside it, and her betrothed could not see where she had gone, for the mountain closed immediately. Then he wept and lamented much, and the King was miserable too, and had the mountain broken open where she had been lost, and though the would be able to get her out again, but they could not find the place into which she had fallen. Meanwhile the King’s daughter had fallen quite deep down into the earth into a great cave. An old fellow with a very long gray beard came to meet her, and told her that if she would be his servant and do everything he bade her, she might live, if not he would kill her. So she did all he bade her. In the mornings he took his ladder out of his pocket, and set it up against the mountain and climbed to the top by its help, and then he drew up the ladder after him. The princess had to cook his dinner, make his bed, and do all his work, and when he came home again he always brought with him a heap of gold and silver. When she had lived with him for many years, and had grown quite old, he called her Mother Mansrot, and she had to call him Old Rinkrank. Then once when he was out, and she had made his bed and washed his dishes, she shut the doors and windows all fast, and there was one little window through which the light shone in, and this she left open. When Old Rinkrank came home, he knocked at his door, and cried, “Mother Mansrot, open the door for me.” “No,” said she, “Old Rinkrank, I will not open the door for thee.” Then he said, “Here stand I, poor Rinkrank, On my seventeen long shanks, On my weary, worn-out foot, Wash my dishes, Mother Mansrot.”

“I have washed thy dishes already,” said she. Then again he said, “Here stand I, poor Rinkrank, On my seventeen long shanks, On my weary, worn-out foot, Make me my bed, Mother Mansrot.”

“I have made thy bed already,” said she. Then again he said, “Here stand I, poor Rinkrank, On my seventeen long shanks, On my weary, worn-out foot, Open the door, Mother Mansrot.”

Then he ran all round his house, and saw that the little window was open, and thought, “I will look in and see what she can be about, and why she will not open the door for me.” He tried to peep in, but could not get his head through because of his long beard. So he first put his beard through the open window, but just as he had got it through, Mother Mansrot came by and pulled the window down with a cord which she had tied to it, and his beard was shut fast in it. Then he began to cry most piteously, for it hurt him very much, and to entreat her to release him again. But she said not until he gave her the ladder with which he ascended the mountain. Then, whether he would or not, he had to tell her where the ladder was. And she fastened a very long ribbon to the window, and then she set up the ladder, and ascended the mountain, and when she was at the top of it she opened the window. She went to her father, and told him all that had happened to her. The King rejoiced greatly, and her betrothed was still there, and they went and dug up the mountain, and found Old Rinkrank inside it with all his gold and silver. Then the King had Old Rinkrank put to death, and took all his gold and silver. The princess married her betrothed, and lived right happily in great magnificence and joy.

197 The Crystal Ball

There was once