"There is a back way on to the lawn," said Mrs. Philidore Stossen to her
daughter, "through a small grass paddock and then through a walled fruit
garden full of gooseberry bushes.  I went all over the place last year
when the family were away.  There is a door that opens from the fruit
garden into a shrubbery, and once we emerge from there we can mingle with
the guests as if we had come in by the ordinary way.  It's much safer
than going in by the front entrance and running the risk of coming bang
up against the hostess; that would be so awkward when she doesn't happen
to have invited us."

"Isn't it a lot of trouble to take for getting admittance to a garden
party?"

"To a garden party, yes; to _the_ garden party of the season, certainly
not.  Every one of any consequence in the county, with the exception of
ourselves, has been asked to meet the Princess, and it would be far more
troublesome to invent explanations as to why we weren't there than to get
in by a roundabout way.  I stopped Mrs. Cuvering in the road yesterday
and talked very pointedly about the Princess.  If she didn't choose to
take the hint and send me an invitation it's not my fault, is it?  Here
we are: we just cut across the grass and through that little gate into
the garden."

Mrs. Stossen and her daughter, suitably arrayed for a county garden party
function with an infusion of Almanack de Gotha, sailed through the narrow
grass paddock and the ensuing gooseberry garden with the air of state
barges making an unofficial progress along a rural trout stream.  There
was a certain amount of furtive haste mingled with the stateliness of
their advance, as though hostile search-lights might be turned on them at
any moment; and, as a matter of fact, they were not unobserved.  Matilda
Cuvering, with the alert eyes of thirteen years old and the added
advantage of an exalted position in the branches of a medlar tree, had
enjoyed a good view of the Stossen flanking movement and had foreseen
exactly where it would break down in execution.

"They'll find the door locked, and they'll jolly well have to go back the
way they came," she remarked to herself.  "Serves them right for not
coming in by the proper entrance.  What a pity Tarquin Superbus isn't
loose in the paddock.  After all, as every one else is enjoying
themselves, I don't see why Tarquin shouldn't have an afternoon out."

Matilda was of an age when thought is action; she slid down from the
branches of the medlar tree, and when she clambered back again Tarquin,
the huge white Yorkshire boar-pig, had exchanged the narrow limits of his
stye for the wider range of the grass paddock.  The discomfited Stossen
expedition, returning in recriminatory but otherwise orderly retreat from
the unyielding obstacle of the locked door, came to a sudden halt at the
gate dividing the paddock from the gooseberry garden.

"What a villainous-looking animal," exclaimed Mrs. Stossen; "it wasn't
there when we came in."

"It's there now, anyhow," said her daughter.  "What on earth are we to
do?  I wish we had never come."

The boar-pig had drawn nearer to the gate for a closer inspection of the
human intruders, and stood champing his jaws and blinking his small red
eyes in a manner that was doubtless intended to be disconcerting, and, as
far as the Stossens were concerned, thoroughly achieved that result.

"Shoo!  Hish!  Hish!  Shoo!" cried the ladies in chorus.

"If they think they're going to drive him away by reciting lists of the
kings of Israel and Judah they're laying themselves out for
disappointment," observed Matilda from her seat in the medlar tree.  As
she made the observation aloud Mrs. Stossen became for the first time
aware of her presence.  A moment or two earlier she would have been
anything but pleased at the discovery that the garden was not as deserted
as it looked, but now she hailed the fact of the child's presence on the
scene with absolute relief.

"Little girl, can you find some one to drive away--" she began hopefully.

"_Comment?  Comprends pas_," was the response.

"Oh, are you French?  _Etes vous francaise_?"

"_Pas de tous.  'Suis anglaise_."

"Then why not talk English?  I want to know if--"

"_Permettez-moi expliquer_.  You see, I'm rather under a cloud," said
Matilda.  "I'm staying with my aunt, and I was told I must behave
particularly well to-day, as lots of people were coming for a garden
party, and I was told to imitate Claude, that's my young cousin, who
never does anything wrong except by accident, and then is always
apologetic about it.  It seems they thought I ate too much raspberry
trifle at lunch, and they said Claude never eats too much raspberry
trifle.  Well, Claude always goes to sleep for half an hour after lunch,
because he's told to, and I waited till he was asleep, and tied his hands
and started forcible feeding with a whole bucketful of raspberry trifle
that they were keeping for the garden-party.  Lots of it went on to his
sailor-suit and some of it on to the bed, but a good deal went down
Claude's throat, and they can't say again that he has never been known to
eat too much raspberry trifle.  That is why I am not allowed to go to the
party, and as an additional punishment I must speak French all the
afternoon.  I've had to tell you all this in English, as there were words
like 'forcible feeding' that I didn't know the French for; of course I
could have invented them, but if I had said _nourriture obligatoire_ you
wouldn't have had the least idea what I was talking about.  _Mais
maintenant, nous parlons francais_."

"Oh, very well, _tres bien_," said Mrs. Stossen reluctantly; in moments
of flurry such French as she knew was not under very good control.  "_La,
a l'autre cote de la porte, est un cochon_--"

"_Un cochon? Ah, le petit charmant_!" exclaimed Matilda with enthusiasm.

"_Mais non, pas du tout petit, et pas du tout charmant; un bete feroce_--"

"_Une bete_," corrected Matilda; "a pig is masculine as long as you call
it a pig, but if you lose your temper with it and call it a ferocious
beast it becomes one of us at once.  French is a dreadfully unsexing
language."

"For goodness' sake let us talk English then," said Mrs. Stossen.  "Is
there any way out of this garden except through the paddock where the pig
is?"

"I always go over the wall, by way of the plum tree," said Matilda.

"Dressed as we are we could hardly do that," said Mrs. Stossen; it was
difficult to imagine her doing it in any costume.

"Do you think you could go and get some one who would drive the pig
away?" asked Miss Stossen.

"I promised my aunt I would stay here till five o'clock; it's not four
yet."

"I am sure, under the circumstances, your aunt would permit--"

"My conscience would not permit," said Matilda with cold dignity.

"We can't stay here till five o'clock," exclaimed Mrs. Stossen with
growing exasperation.

"Shall I recite to you to make the time pass quicker?" asked Matilda
obligingly.  "'Belinda, the little Breadwinner,' is considered my best
piece, or, perhaps, it ought to be something in French.  Henri Quatre's
address to his soldiers is the only thing I really know in that
language."

"If you will go and fetch some one to drive that animal away I will give
you something to buy yourself a nice present," said Mrs. Stossen.

Matilda came several inches lower down the medlar tree.

"That is the most practical suggestion you have made yet for getting out
of the garden," she remarked cheerfully; "Claude and I are collecting
money for the Children's Fresh Air Fund, and we are seeing which of us
can collect the biggest sum."

"I shall be very glad to contribute half a crown, very glad indeed," said
Mrs. Stossen, digging that coin out of the depths of a receptacle which
formed a detached outwork of her toilet.

"Claude is a long way ahead of me at present," continued Matilda, taking
no notice of the suggested offering; "you see, he's only eleven, and has
golden hair, and those are enormous advantages when you're on the
collecting job.  Only the other day a Russian lady gave him ten
shillings.  Russians understand the art of giving far better than we do.
I expect Claude will net quite twenty-five shillings this afternoon;
he'll have the field to himself, and he'll be able to do the pale,
fragile, not-long-for-this-world business to perfection after his
raspberry trifle experience.  Yes, he'll be _quite_ two pounds ahead of
me by now."

With much probing and plucking and many regretful murmurs the beleaguered
ladies managed to produce seven-and-sixpence between them.

"I am afraid this is all we've got," said Mrs. Stossen.

Matilda showed no sign of coming down either to the earth or to their
figure.

"I could not do violence to my conscience for anything less than ten
shillings," she announced stiffly.

Mother and daughter muttered certain remarks under their breath, in which
the word "beast" was prominent, and probably had no reference to Tarquin.

"I find I _have_ got another half-crown," said Mrs. Stossen in a shaking
voice; "here you are.  Now please fetch some one quickly."

Matilda slipped down from the tree, took possession of the donation, and
proceeded to pick up a handful of over-ripe medlars from the grass at her
feet.  Then she climbed over the gate and addressed herself
affectionately to the boar-pig.

"Come, Tarquin, dear old boy; you know you can't resist medlars when
they're rotten and squashy."

Tarquin couldn't.  By dint of throwing the fruit in front of him at
judicious intervals Matilda decoyed him back to his stye, while the
delivered captives hurried across the paddock.

"Well, I never!  The little minx!" exclaimed Mrs. Stossen when she was
safely on the high road.  "The animal wasn't savage at all, and as for
the ten shillings, I don't believe the Fresh Air Fund will see a penny of
it!"

There she was unwarrantably harsh in her judgment.  If you examine the
books of the fund you will find the acknowledgment: "Collected by Miss
Matilda Cuvering, 2s. 6d."

There was once a dove who built a nice soft nest as a home for her three
little ones. She was very proud of their beauty, and perhaps talked
about them to her neighbours more than she need have done, till at last
everybody for miles round knew where the three prettiest baby doves in
the whole country-side were to be found.

One day a jackal who was prowling about in search of a dinner came by
chance to the foot of the rock where the dove's nest was hidden away,
and he suddenly bethought himself that if he could get nothing better he
might manage to make a mouthful of one of the young doves. So he shouted
as loud as he could, 'Ohe, ohe, mother dove.'

And the dove replied, trembling with fear, 'What do you want, sir?'

'One of your children,' said he; 'and if you don't throw it to me I will
eat up you and the others as well.'

Now, the dove was nearly driven distracted at the jackal's words; but,
in order to save the lives of the other two, she did at last throw
the little one out of the nest. The jackal ate it up, and went home to
sleep.

Meanwhile the mother dove sat on the edge of her nest, crying bitterly,
when a heron, who was flying slowly past the rock, was filled with pity
for her, and stopped to ask, 'What is the matter, you poor dove?'

And the dove answered, 'A jackal came by, and asked me to give him one
of my little ones, and said that if I refused he would jump on my nest
and eat us all up.'

But the heron replied, 'You should not have believed him. He could never
have jumped so high. He only deceived you because he wanted something
for supper.' And with these words the heron flew off.

He had hardly got out of sight when again the jackal came creeping
slowly round the foot of the rock. And when he saw the dove he cried out
a second time, 'Ohe, ohe, mother dove! give me one of your little ones,
or I will jump on your nest and eat you all up.'

This time the dove knew better, and she answered boldly, 'Indeed, I
shall do nothing of the sort,' though her heart beat wildly with fear
when she saw the jackal preparing for a spring.

However, he only cut himself against the rock, and thought he had better
stick to threats, so he started again with his old cry, 'Mother dove,
mother dove! be quick and give me one of your little ones, or I will eat
you all up.'

But the mother dove only answered as before, 'Indeed, I shall do nothing
of the sort, for I know we are safely out of your reach.'

The jackal felt it was quite hopeless to get what he wanted, and asked,
'Tell me, mother dove, how have you suddenly become so wise?'

'It was the heron who told me,' replied she.

'And which way did he go?' said the jackal.

'Down there among the reeds. You can see him if you look,' said the
dove.

Then the jackal nodded good-bye, and went quickly after the heron. He
soon came up to the great bird, who was standing on a stone on the edge
of the river watching for a nice fat fish. 'Tell me, heron,' said he,
'when the wind blows from that quarter, to which side do you turn?'

'And which side do you turn to?' asked the heron.

The jackal answered, 'I always turn to this side.'

'Then that is the side I turn to,' remarked the heron.

'And when the rain comes from that quarter, which side do you turn to?'

And the heron replied, 'And which side do you turn to?'

'Oh, I always turn to this side,' said the jackal.

'Then that is the side I turn to,' said the heron.

'And when the rain comes straight down, what do you do?'

'What do you do yourself?' asked the heron.

'I do this,' answered the jackal. 'I cover my head with my paws.'

'Then that is what I do,' said the heron. 'I cover my head with my
wings,' and as he spoke he lifted his large wings and spread them
completely over his head.

With one bound the jackal had seized him by the neck, and began to shake
him.

'Oh, have pity, have pity!' cried the heron. 'I never did you any harm.'

'You told the dove how to get the better of me, and I am going to eat
you for it.'

'But if you will let me go,' entreated the heron, 'I will show you the
place where the panther has her lair.'

'Then you had better be quick about it,' said the jackal, holding tight
on to the heron until he had pointed out the panther's den. 'Now you may
go, my friend, for there is plenty of food here for me.'

So the jackal came up to the panther, and asked politely, 'Panther,
would you like me to look after your children while you are out
hunting?'

'I should be very much obliged,' said the panther; 'but be sure you take
care of them. They always cry all the time that I am away.'

So saying she trotted off, and the jackal marched into the cave, where
he found ten little panthers, and instantly ate one up. By-and-bye the
panther returned from hunting, and said to him, 'Jackal, bring out my
little ones for their supper.'

The jackal fetched them out one by one till he had brought out nine, and
he took the last one and brought it out again, so the whole ten seemed
to be there, and the panther was quite satisfied.

Next day she went again to the chase, and the jackal ate up another
little panther, so now there were only eight. In the evening, when she
came back, the panther said, 'Jackal, bring out my little ones!'

And the jackal brought out first one and then another, and the last one
he brought out three times, so that the whole ten seemed to be there.

The following day the same thing happened, and the next and the next and
the next, till at length there was not even one left, and the rest of
the day the jackal busied himself with digging a large hole at the back
of the den.

That night, when the panther returned from hunting, she said to him as
usual, 'Jackal, bring out my little ones.'

But the jackal replied: 'Bring out your little ones, indeed! Why, you
know as well as I do that you have eaten them all up.'

Of course the panther had not the least idea what the jackal meant by
this, and only repeated, 'Jackal, bring out my children.' As she got
no answer she entered the cave, but found no jackal, for he had crawled
through the hole he had made and escaped. And, what was worse, she did
not find the little ones either.

Now the panther was not going to let the jackal get off like that, and
set off at a trot to catch him. The jackal, however, had got a good
start, and he reached a place where a swarm of bees deposited their
honey in the cleft of a rock. Then he stood still and waited till the
panther came up to him: 'Jackal, where are my little ones?' she asked.

And the jackal answered: 'They are up there. It is where I keep school.'

The panther looked about, and then inquired, 'But where? I see nothing
of them.'

'Come a little this way,' said the jackal, 'and you will hear how
beautifully they sing.'

So the panther drew near the cleft of the rock.

'Don't you hear them?' said the jackal; 'they are in there,' and slipped
away while the panther was listening to the song of the children.

She was still standing in the same place when a baboon went by. 'What
are you doing there, panther?'

'I am listening to my children singing. It is here that the jackal keeps
his school.'

Then the baboon seized a stick, and poked it in the cleft of the rock,
exclaiming, 'Well, then, I should like to see your children!'

The bees flew out in a huge swarm, and made furiously for the panther,
whom they attacked on all sides, while the baboon soon climbed up out of
the way, crying, as he perched himself on the branch of a tree, 'I wish
you joy of your children!' while from afar the jackal's voice was heard
exclaiming: 'Sting, her well! don't let her go!'

The panther galloped away as if she was mad, and flung herself into the
nearest lake, but every time she raised her head, the bees stung her
afresh so at last the poor beast was drowned altogether.




The Little Hare

Contes populaires des Bassoutos. Recueillis et traduits par E. Jacottet.
Paris: Leroux, Editeur.


A long, long way off, in a land where water is very scarce, there lived
a man and his wife and several children. One day the wife said to her
husband, 'I am pining to have the liver of a nyamatsane for my dinner.
If you love me as much as you say you do, you will go out and hunt for
a nyamatsane, and will kill it and get its liver. If not, I shall know
that your love is not worth having.'

'Bake some bread,' was all her husband answered, 'then take the crust
and put it in this little bag.'

The wife did as she was told, and when she had finished she said to her
husband, 'The bag is all ready and quite full.'

'Very well,' said he, 'and now good-bye; I am going after the
nyamatsane.'

But the nyamatsane was not so easy to find as the woman had hoped. The
husband walked on and on and on without ever seeing one, and every now
and then he felt so hungry that he was obl

There was once a lad who went to look for a place. As he went along he
met a man, who asked him where he was going. He told him his errand, and
the stranger said, 'Then you can serve me; I am just in want of a lad
like you, and I will give you good wages--a bushel of money the first
year, two the second year, and three the third year, for you must serve
me three years, and obey me in everything, however strange it seems to
you. You need not be afraid of taking service with me, for there is no
danger in it if you only know how to obey.'

The bargain was made, and the lad went home with the man to whom he had
engaged himself. It was a strange place indeed, for he lived in a bank
in the middle of the wild forest, and the lad saw there no other person
than his master. The latter was a great troll, and had marvellous power
over both men and beasts.

Next day the lad had to begin his service. The first thing that the
troll set him to was to feed all the wild animals from the forest. These
the troll had tied up, and there were both wolves and bears, deer and
hares, which the troll had gathered in the stalls and folds in his
stable down beneath the ground, and that stable was a mile long. The
boy, however, accomplished all this work on that day, and the troll
praised him and said that it was very well done.

Next morning the troll said to him, 'To-day the animals are not to be
fed; they don't get the like of that every day. You shall have leave to
play about for a little, until they are to be fed again.'

Then the troll said some words to him which he did not understand, and
with that the lad turned into a hare, and ran out into the wood. He got
plenty to run for, too, for all the hunters aimed at him, and tried to
shoot him, and the dogs barked and ran after him wherever they got wind
of him. He was the only animal that was left in the wood now, for the
troll had tied up all the others, and every hunter in the whole country
was eager to knock him over. But in this they met with no success; there
was no dog that could overtake him, and no marksman that could hit him.
They shot and shot at him, and he ran and ran. It was an unquiet life,
but in the long run he got used to it, when he saw that there was no
danger in it, and it even amused him to befool all the hunters and dogs
that were so eager after him.

Thus a whole year passed, and when it was over the troll called him
home, for he was now in his power like all the other animals. The troll
then said some words to him which he did not understand, and the hare
immediately became a human being again. 'Well, how do you like to serve
me?' said the troll, 'and how do you like being a hare?'

The lad replied that he liked it very well; he had never been able to go
over the ground so quickly before. The troll then showed him the bushel
of money that he had already earned, and the lad was well pleased to
serve him for another year.

The first day of the second year the boy had the same work to do as on
the previous one--namely, to feed all the wild animals in the troll's
stable. When he had done this the troll again said some words to him,
and with that he became a raven, and flew high up into the air. This was
delightful, the lad thought; he could go even faster now than when he
was a hare, and the dogs could not come after him here. This was a great
delight to him, but he soon found out that he was not to be left quite
at peace, for all the marksmen and hunters who saw him aimed at him and
fired away, for they had no other birds to shoot at than himself, as the
troll had tied up all the others.

This, however, he also got used to, when he saw that they could never
hit him, and in this way he flew about all that year, until the troll
called him home again, said some strange words to him, and gave him
his human shape again. 'Well, how did you like being a raven?' said the
troll.

'I liked it very well,' said the lad, 'for never in all my days have I
been able to rise so high.' The troll then showed him the two bushels
of money which he had earned that year, and the lad was well content to
remain in his service for another year.

Next day he got his old task of feeding all the wild beasts. When this
was done the troll again said some words to him, and at these he turned
into a fish, and sprang into the river. He swam up and he swam down, and
thought it was pleasant to let himself drive with the stream. In this
way he came right out into the sea, and swam further and further out. At
last he came to a glass palace, which stood at the bottom of the sea. He
could see into all the rooms and halls, where everything was very grand;
all the furniture was of white ivory, inlaid with gold and pearl. There
were soft rugs and cushions of all the colours of the rainbow, and
beautiful carpets that looked like the finest moss, and flowers and
trees with curiously crooked branches, both green and yellow, white and
red, and there were also little fountains which sprang up from the most
beautiful snail-shells, and fell into bright mussel-shells, and at the
same time made a most delightful music, which filled the whole palace.

The most beautiful thing of all, however, was a young girl who went
about there, all alone. She went about from one room to another, but did
not seem to be happy with all the grandeur she had about her. She walked
in solitude and melancholy, and never even thought of looking at her
own image in the polished glass walls that were on every side of her,
although she was the prettiest creature anyone could wish to see. The
lad thought so too while he swam round the palace and peeped in from
every side.

'Here, indeed, it would be better to be a man than such a poor dumb fish
as I am now,' said he to himself; 'if I could only remember the words
that the troll says when he changes my shape, then perhaps I could help
myself to become a man again.' He swam and he pondered and he thought
over this until he remembered the sound of what the troll said, and then
he tried to say it himself. In a moment he stood in human form at the
bottom of the sea.

He made haste then to enter the glass palace, and went up to the young
girl and spoke to her.

At first he nearly frightened the life out of her, but he talked to
her so kindly and explained how he had come down there that she soon
recovered from her alarm, and was very pleased to have some company to
relieve the terrible solitude that she lived in. Time passed so quickly
for both of them that the youth (for now he was quite a young man, and
no more a lad) forgot altogether how long he had been there.

One day the girl said to him that now it was close on the time when he
must become a fish again--the troll would soon call him home, and he
would have to go, but before that he must put on the shape of the fish,
otherwise he could not pass through the sea alive. Before this, while he
was staying down there, she had told him that she was a daughter of the
same troll whom the youth served, and he had shut her up there to keep
her away from everyone. She had now devised a plan by which they could
perhaps succeed in getting to see each other again, and spending the
rest of their lives together. But there was much to attend to, and he
must give careful heed to all that she told him.

She told him then that all the kings in the country round about were
in debt to her father the troll, and the king of a certain kingdom,
the name of which she told him, was the first who had to pay, and if he
could not do so at the time appointed he would lose his head. 'And he
cannot pay,' said she; 'I know that for certain. Now you must, first of
all, give up your service with my father; the three years are past,
and you are at liberty to go. You will go off with your six bushels
of money, to the kingdom that I have told you of, and there enter the
service of the king. When the time comes near for his debt becoming due
you will be able to notice by his manner that he is ill at ease. You
shall then say to him that you know well enough what it is that is
weighing upon him--that it is the debt which he owes to the troll and
cannot pay, but that you can lend him the money. The amount is six
bushels--just what you have. You shall, however, only lend them to
him on condition that you may accompany him when he goes to make the
payment, and that you then have permission to run before him as a fool.
When you arrive at the troll's abode, you must perform all kinds of
foolish tricks, and see that you break a whole lot of his windows, and
do all other damage that you can. My father will then get very angry,
and as the king must answer for what his fool does he will sentence him,
even although he has paid his debt, either to answer three questions or
to lose his life. The first question my father will ask will be, "Where
is my daughter?" Then you shall step forward and answer "She is at the
bottom of the sea." He will then ask you whether you can recognise her,
and to this you will answer "Yes." Then he will bring forward a whole
troop of women, and cause them to pass before you, in order that you may
pick out the one that you take for his daughter. You will not be able
to recognise me at all, and therefore I will catch hold of you as I go
past, so that you can notice it, and you must then make haste to catch
me and hold me fast. You have then answered his first question. His next
question will be, "Where is my heart?" You shall then step forward again
and answer, "It is in a fish." "Do you know that fish?" he will say,
and you will again answer "Yes." He will then cause all kinds of fish
to come before you, and you shall choose between them. I shall take good
care to keep by your side, and when the right fish comes I will give you
a little push, and with that you will seize the fish and cut it up. Then
all will be over with the troll; he will ask no more questions, and we
shall be free to wed.'

When the youth had got all these directions as to what he had to do when
he got ashore again the next thing was to remember the words which the
troll said when he changed him from a human being to an animal; but
these he had forgotten, and the girl did not know them either. He went
about all day in despair, and thought and thought, but he could not
remember what they sounded like. During the night he could not sleep,
until towards morning he fell into a slumber, and all at once it flashed
upon him what the troll used to say. He made haste to repeat the words,
and at the same moment he became a fish again and slipped out into the
sea. Immediately after this he was called upon, and swam through the sea
up the river to where the troll stood on the bank and restored him to
human shape with the same words as before.

'Well, how do you like to be a fish?' asked the troll.

It was what he had liked best of all, said the youth, and that was no
lie, as everybody can guess.

The troll then showed him the three bushels of money which he had earned
during the past year; they stood beside the other three, and all the six
now belonged to him.

'Perhaps you will serve me for another year yet,' said the troll, 'and
you will get six bushels of money for it; that makes twelve in all, and
that is a pretty penny.'

'No,' said the youth; he thought he had done enough, and was anxious to
go to some other place to serve, and learn other people's ways; but he
would, perhaps, come back to the troll some other time.

The troll said that he would always be welcome; he had served him
faithfully for the three years they had agreed upon, and he could make
no objections to his leaving now.

The youth then got his six bushels of money, and with these he betook
himself straight to the kingdom which his sweetheart had told him of.
He got his money buried in a lonely spot close to the king's palace, and
then went in there and asked to be taken into service. He obtained his
request, and was taken on as stableman, to tend the king's horses.

Some time passed, and he noticed how the king always went about
sorrowing and grieving, and was never glad or happy. One day the king
came into the stable, where there was no one present except the youth,
who said straight out to him that, with his majesty's permission, he
wished to ask him why he was so sorrowful.

'It's of no use speaking about that,' said the king; 'you cannot help
me, at any rate.'

'You don't know about that,' said the youth; ' I know well enough what
it is that lies so heavy on your mind, and I know also of a plan to get
the money paid.'

This was quite another case, and the king had more talk with the
stableman, who said that he could easily lend the king the six bushels
of money, but would only do it on condition that he should be allowed to
accompany the king when he went to pay the debt, and that he should
then be dressed like the king's court fool, and run before him. He would
cause some trouble, for which the king would be severely spoken to, but
he would answer for it that no harm would befall him.

The king gladly agreed to all that the youth proposed, and it was now
high time for them to set out.

When they came to the troll's dwelling it was no longer in the bank, but
on the top of this there stood a large castle which the youth had never
seen before. The troll could, in fact, make it visible or invisible,
just as he pleased, and, knowing as much as he did of the troll's magic
arts, the youth was not at all surprised at this.

When they came near to this castle, which looked as if it was of pure
glass, the youth ran on in front as the king's fool. Heran sometimes
facing forwards, sometimes backwards, stood sometimes on his head, and
sometimes on his feet, and he dashed in pieces so many of the troll's
big glass windows and doors that it was something awful to see, and
overturned everything he could, and made a fearful disturbance.

The troll came rushing out, and was so angry and furious, and abused the
king with all his might for bringing such a wretched fool with him, as
he was sure that he could not pay the least bit of all the damage that
had been done when he could not even pay off his old debt.

The fool, however, spoke up, and said that he could do so quite easily,
and the king then came forward with the six bushels of money which the
youth had lent him. They were measured and found to be correct. This the
troll had not reckoned on, but he could make no objection against it.
The old debt was honestly paid, and the king got his bond back again.

But there still remained all the damage that had been done that day, and
the king had nothing with which to pay for this. The troll, therefore,
sentenced the king, either to answer three questions that he would put
to him, or have his head taken off, as was agreed on in the old bond.

There was nothing else to be done than to try to answer the troll's
riddles. The fool then stationed himself just by the king's side while
the troll came forward with his questions. He first asked, 'Where is my
daughter?'

The fool spoke up and said, 'She is at the bottom of the sea.'

'How do you know that?' said the troll.

'The little fish saw it,' said the fool.

'Would you know her?' said the troll.

'Yes, bring her forward,' said the fool.

The troll made a whole crowd of women go past them, one after the other,
but all these were nothing but shadows and deceptions. Amongst the very
last was the troll's real daughter, who pinched the fool as she went
past him to make him aware of her presence. He thereupon caught her
round the waist and held her fast, and the troll had to admit that his
first riddle was solved.

Then the troll asked again: 'Where is my heart?'

'It is in a fish,' said the fool.

'Would you know that fish?' said the troll.

'Yes, bring it forward,' said the fool.

Then all the fishes came swimming past them, and meanwhile the troll's
daughter stood just by the youth's side. When at last the right fish
came swimming along she gave him a nudge, and he seized it at once,
drove his knife into it, and split it up, took the heart out of it, and
cut it through the middle.

At the same moment the troll fell dead and turned into pieces of flint.
With that a,ll the bonds that the troll had bound were broken; all the
wild beasts and birds which he had caught and hid under the ground were
free now, and dispersed themselves in the woods and in the air.

The youth and his sweetheart entered the castle, which was now theirs,
and held their wedding; and all the kings roundabout, who had been
in the troll's debt, and were now out of it, came to the wedding, and
saluted the youth as their emperor, and he ruled over them all, and kept
peace between them, and lived in his castle with his beautiful empress
in great joy and magnificence. And if they have not died since they are
living there to this day.