Taming a Shrewish Wife
folktales of Aarne-Thompson type 900
reminiscent of
The Taming of the Shrew
by William Shakespeare
selected and edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 1999-2000
folktales of Aarne-Thompson type 900
reminiscent of
The Taming of the Shrew
by William Shakespeare
selected and edited by
D. L. Ashliman
© 1999-2000
There was a King of Solcolungo who had a daughter called Cinziella. She was a moon of loveliness, but every dram of her beauty was counterbalanced by a full pound of pride. Since she did not prize anybody, it was impossible for her poor father, who wanted to settle her in life, to find a husband, however good or great, who would satisfy her.
Among the many princes who had come together to court her was the King of Belpaese, who left no stone unturned in his efforts to capture Cinziella's love. But the more he gave good weight of services, the more she returned him short weight of reward. The more generous of his affections he, the more miserly of goodwill she. The more liberal minded he, the more wanting in heart she.
Not a day passed that the poor fellow did not say to her, "When, O cruel one, among all the melons of home that when gathered have turned to pumpkins, shall I find one that is red? When, O heartless fury, will the tempests of your cruelty cease and I be able with a good wind to set the helm of my wishes towards your fair port? When, after so many assaults of prayers and entreaties, shall I at last plant the banner of my desires on the walls of this fair fortress?"
But his words were all thrown to the winds, for although she had eyes that could pierce stone, she had no ear for the groans uttered by him whom she wounded. In fact, she behaved as badly to him as if he had cut down her vines. So that, at last, when he had fully tasted all Cinziella's cruelty, and realized that she made as much account of him as others do of some rascally thief, the poor gentleman went off with all his retinue, crying out in a sudden rush of anger, "I'm done with all the flames of love!" He vowed at the same time to be revenged on this hard-hearted Saracen in such a way that she would be forced to repent of ever tormenting him so.
After he had left the kingdom, he grew a beard and dyed his face, and at the end of several months he returned to Solcolungo disguised as a villager. There, by force of bribes, he succeeded in being taken on as one of the gardeners of the king. Working as best he could in the garden one day, he spread out under Cinziella's windows an imperial robe all worked in gold and diamonds. When her maids saw it, they at once showed it to their mistress, and she sent to ask the gardener if he would sell it. But he answered that he was neither a trader nor an old-clothes seller, but that he would give it to her on condition that she would let him sleep one night in the princess's apartments.
The girls told Cinziella this and said, "What is there to lose, Lady, in giving the gardener this satisfaction, and so earning a robe that might be a queen's?"
Cinziella, caught on the hook that lands better fish than she, was convinced and, taking the robe, let him have his way.
The next morning a dress of the same make was seen to be laid out in the same place, and when Cinziella repeated her question, she got the same answer, with a request to sleep in the princess's ante-chamber. And this time, too, Cinziella let herself be led away by her longing, and, to get the dress, granted the gardener his wish.
The third morning, before the sun came to strike a light on the tinder of the fields, the gardener displayed in the same spot a wonderful under-vest, which matched the dress. When Cinziella saw it she said, "I shall never be happy if I don't have that under-vest." So she called the gardener and said to him, "My good fellow, you really must sell me that vest which I saw in the garden, and you can take my heart for it."
The gardener replied, "I don't sell, but if you like, I will give you the vest and a chain of diamonds as well, and you shall let me sleep one night in your room."
"You impudent rascal, now," exclaimed Cinziella. "It's not enough for you to sleep first in my drawing-room, then in my ante-chamber. Now you want it to be my room. At this rate you'll want to sleep in my bed!"
The gardener answered, "My lady, I will keep my vest, and you your room. If you want to do business, you know the way. I will content myself with sleeping on the floor, which is what one wouldn't deny a Turk, and if you saw the chain which I would give you, perhaps you'd treat me better."
Cinziella, partly drawn by her desire, and partly encouraged by her ladies, who were helping the dog in his climb, let herself be persuaded to satisfy him. When evening came, and night, like a tanner, threw the tanning water over the hides of the heavens so that it became black, the gardener, taking with him the chain and under-vest, went to the princess's apartments and, having given her these things, was shown to her room.
The princess pushed him into a corner and said, "Now, stay there without a sound, and don't move, as you value my favor," and drawing a line in charcoal along the floor, added, "If you leave this line behind you, you leave your head behind you." Then she got into bed and had the curtains drawn around it.
As soon as the gardener-king felt she was asleep, he thought it was time to work in the fields of love, so he got in beside her, and before the owner of the garden was roused, he gathered the fruits of his love.
When Cinziella woke and saw what had happened, she felt that she did not want to remedy one evil by making two, or, for the sake of ruining the gardener, bring ruin of her own garden, so, making a vice of necessity, she accepted the misdeed and found pleasure in the fault. So, she who had disdained crowned heads, did not refuse to subject herself to a clumsy boor, for this was what the king appeared to be, and such she thought him.
The affair continued, and Cinziella became pregnant. So, seeing herself grow bigger day by day, she told the gardener that she knew she would be ruined if her father came to notice it, and that they must think of some way out of the danger. He answered that the only remedy he could find to the fault they had committed was for them both to go away together. He would take her to the house of a former mistress of his, how would make some provision for her when she was brought to bed. Cinziella, seeing to what a sad state she was brought by the sin of her own pride, which flung her against one rock after another, let herself be persuaded by this advice. She abandoned her home and entrusted herself to the arbiter of fortune.
The king led her, after a long tramp, to his home, and there told his mother of the whole affair, begging her to keep up the pretence, because he wanted Cinziella to pay for her past arrogance. So he put her in one of the palace stables, and there led her a miserable life, dealing her out daily bread at the price of continual vexations.
One day when the servants of the place were baking, he told them to call Cinziella to help them, and at the same time he secretly suggested to her that she should carry off some rolls to appease their hunger. The unhappy Cinziella, taking advantage of the moment when she was drawing the bread from the oven, snatched a roll in the twinkling of an eye and hid it in her pocket.
But at that moment the king came in dressed in his own clothes and said to the girls, "Who said you might bring this shameless hussy into the house? Can't you see by her face she's a thief? You put your hands in her pockets, and you'll find the proof of her crime."
So they searched her, and found the bread in her pocket. Then they jeered and mocked at her so that the din lasted all day.
The king put on his disguise again and went to Cinziella, whom he found all humbled and sad about the insults she had had to swallow. But he told her not to worry so much about it, for necessity is a tyrant of men, and as the Tuscan poet says:
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... the fasting beggar Oft is brought to deeds that in a happier state He would have blamed in others. |
So, if hunger drives the wolf from the forest, she should think it pardonable in her to do what would not be fitting in others. He advised her to go up to where the lady of the place was cutting out certain materials and offer to help, so as to see whether she could lay hands on some scraps, because, as she was so near her time, she would need all she could get.
Cinziella didn't know how to say "no" to her husband (for such she thought him), so she went up to the queen's apartments and took her place among the maids at cutting out cloths and napkins, shirts and caps. She stole a bit of cloth and hid it in her dress, but the king came in and scolded them again, as he had done about the bread. When they found the stolen goods on her, they gave her such a dressing down as if they had found her with entire pile of clean linen, so, crimson with shame, she took herself off to the stable.
This time, too, the king reappeared in disguise and, seeing her so unhappy and despairing, comforted her, saying that she should not let herself be overcome by melancholy, since everything in this world is a matter of opinion, and that she had better see if she could not get some trifles for herself, as she would now very soon be giving birth. "You have just fallen on a good moment. The mistress has just made a match between her son and a foreign lay. They want to send her a dress of brocade and cloth of gold all ready made for her as a present. The bride is just your size, so it will be easy for you to get hold of some cuttings. Put them away in your bag, and then we can sell them and live comfortably ever after."
Cinziella, carrying out her husband's orders, had just hidden a good length of rich brocade, when the king came in and made a great to-do, ordering that she should be searched. When they found the theft, they drove her out with great ignominy. But afterwards the king, disguised as the gardener, ran down quickly to comfort her, for if with one hand he wounded her, with the other, for the love he bore her, he gladly anointed the wound so as not to drive her to despair.
The miserable Cinziella, agonized at what had befallen her, held it to be the punishment of heaven for her former arrogance and pride, that she who had treated so many kings and princes as doormats should now be treated like the vilest slut. And having turned a stony heart to her father's advice, she now blushed with shame at the jeers of servants. The rage in her soul and the humiliation she had received caused her to suffer the first pains of labor.
The queen, as soon as her son told her this, felt full of pity for Cinziella's state, and had her brought up to her own rooms and put in a bed all embroidered with gold and pearls in a room all hung with cloth of gold. Cinziella was amazed at being moved from a stable to such a royal chamber, from a manure heap to such a costly bed, and could not understand what had happened to her. She was surrounded by people full of attentions, who gave her broths and cakes to give her strength for her deliverance. But the heavens willed that without too much pain she should bring into the world two lovely boys, who were the prettiest things you could see.
As soon as she had brought forth, the king came in and said, "Where have your wits been wandering? Why have you put the rich horse's saddle on a donkey? Is this the bed for a low drab? Here, beat her out of this quickly, and then fumigate the room with rosemary to take away the stink."
Then the queen said, "Enough, my son enough. You've tormented the poor girl sufficiently! You ought to be content at having reduced her to this miserable ragged state after so much stress and anguish, and if you are not yet quits for the scorn she heaped on you at her court, these two jewels which she gives you should pay her debt." And she made them bring in the babies, who seemed the loveliest in the world.
The king, seeing these two little things, was overcome with tenderness, and, embracing Cinziella, told her who he was. He said that all that he had done was in indignation at seeing a king like himself so treated, but that from now on he would cherish her as the apple of his eye.
The queen, on her side, embraced Cinziella as a daughter, and her son's wife, and they both gave her such good return for her two boys that this one moment of bliss seemed a consolation for all her past troubles. However, from that time forward she always remembered to keep her sails low, bearing in mind that
Ruin is the daughter of pride.
There was once a king who had a daughter whose name was Stella. She was indescribably beautiful, but was so whimsical and hard to please that she drove her father to despair.
There had been princes and kings who had sought her in marriage, but she had found defects in them all and would have none of them. She kept advancing in years, and her father began to despair of knowing to whom he should leave his crown. So he summoned his council, and discussed the matter, and was advised to give a great banquet, to which he should invite all the princes and kings of the surrounding countries, for, as they said, there cannot fail to be among so many, someone who should please the princess, who was to hide behind a door, so that she could examine them all as she pleased.
When the kind heard this advice, he gave the order necessary for the banquet, and then called his daughter, and said, "Listen, my little Stella, I have thought to do so and so, to see if I can find anyone to please you. Behold, my daughter, my hair is white, and I must have someone to leave my crown to."
Stella bowed her head, saying that she would take care to please him.
Princes and kings then began to arrive at the court, and when it was time for the banquet, they all seated themselves at the table. You can imagine what sort of a banquet that was, and how the hall was adorned: Gold and silver shone from all their necks. In the four corners of the room were four fountains, which continually sent forth wine and the most exquisite perfumes.
While the gentlemen were eating, Stella was behind a door, as has been said, and one of her maids, who was nearby, pointed out to her now this one, now that one. "See, your majesty, what a handsome youth that is there."
"Yes, but he has too large a nose."
"And the one near your father?"
"He has eyes that look like saucers."
"And that other at the head of the table?"
"He has too large a mouth. He looks as if he liked to eat."
In short, she found fault with all but one, who, she said, pleased her, but that he must be a very dirty fellow, for he had a crumb on his beard after eating. The youth heard her say this, and swore vengeance. You must know that he was the son of the King of the Green Hill, and the handsomest youth that could be seen.
When the banquet was finished and the guests had departed, the king called Stella and asked, "What news have you, my child?"
She replied, that the only one who pleased her was the one with the crumb in his beard, but that she believed him to be a dirty fellow and did not want him.
"Take care, my daughter, you will repent it," answered her father, and turned away.
You must know that Stella's chamber looked into a courtyard into which opened the shop of a baker. One night, while she was preparing to retire, she heard, in the room where they sifted the meal, someone singing so well and with so much grace that it went to her heart. She ran to the window and listened until he finished. Then she began to ask her maid who the person with the beautiful voice could be, saying she would like to know.
"Leave it to me, your majesty," said the maid. "I will inform you tomorrow."
Stella could not wait for the next day; and, indeed, early the next day she learned that the one who sang was the sifter. That evening she heard him sing again, and stood by the window until everything became quiet. But that voice had so touched her heart that she told her maid that the next day she would try and see who had that fine voice. In the morning she placed herself by the window, and soon saw the youth come forth. She was enchanted his beauty as soon as she saw him, and fell desperately in love with him.
Now you must know that this was none other than the prince who was at the banquet, and whom Stella had called "dirty." So he had disguised himself in such a way that she could not recognize him, and was meanwhile preparing his revenge. After he had seen her once or twice he began to take off his had and salute her. She smiled at him, and appeared at the window every moment. Then they began to exchange words, and in the evening he sang under her window.
In short, they began to make love in good earnest, and when he learned that she was free, he began to talk about marrying her. She consented at once, but asked him what he had to live on.
"I haven't a penny," said he. "The little I earn is hardly enough to feed me."
Stella encourage him, saying she would give him all the money and things he wanted.
To punish Stella for her pride, her father and the prince's father had an understanding, and pretended not to know about this love affair, and let her carry away from palace all she owned. During the day Stella did nothing but make a great bundle of clothes, of silver, and of money, and at night the disguised prince came under the balcony, and she threw it down to him.
Things went on in this manner some time, and finally one evening he said to her, "Listen. The time has come to elope."
Stella could not wait for the hour, and the next night she quietly tied a cord about her and let herself down from the window. The prince aided her to the ground, and then took her arm and hastened away. He led her a long ways to another city, where he turned down a street and opened the first door he met. They went down a long passage. Finally they reached a little door, which he opened, and they found themselves in a hole of a place which had only one window, high up. The furniture consisted of a straw bed, a bench, and a dirty table. You can imagine that when Stella saw herself in this place she thought she should die.
When the prince saw her so amazed, he said, "What is the matter? Does the house not please you? Do you not know that I am a poor man? Have you been deceived?"
"What have you done with all the things I gave you?"
"Oh, I had many debts, and I have paid them, and then I have done with the rest what seemed good to me. You must make up your mind to work and gain your bread as I have done. You must know that I am a porter of the king of this city, and I often go and work at the palace. Tomorrow, they have told me, the washing is to be done, so you must rise early and go with me there. I will set you to work with the other women, and when it is time for them to go home to dinner, you will say that you are not hungry, and while you are alone, steal two shirts, conceal them under your skirt, and carry them home to me."
Poor Stella wept bitterly, saying it was impossible for her to do that.
But her husband replied, "Do what I say, or I shall beat you."
The next morning her husband rose with the dawn, and made her get up, too. He had bought her a striped skirt and a pair of coarse shoes, which he made her put on, and then took her to the palace with him, conducted her to the laundry and left her, after he had introduced her as his wife, saying that she should remember what awaited her at home.
Meanwhile poor Stella did as her husband had commanded, and stole the shirts.
As she was leaving the palace, she met the king, who said, "Pretty girl, you are the porter's wife, are you not?" Then he asked her what she had under her skirt, and shook her until the shirts dropped out, and the king cried, "See there! The porter's wife is a thief. She has stolen some shirts."
Poor Stella ran home in tears, and her husband followed her when he had put on his disqu8ise again. When he reached home Stella told him all that had happened and begged him not to send her to the palace again. But he told her that the next day they were to bake, and she must go into the kitchen and help, and steal a piece of dough. Everything happened as on the previous day. Stella's theft was discovered, and when her husband returned he found her crying like a condemned soul, and swearing that she had rather be killed than go the palace again. He told her, however, that the king's son was to be married the next day, and that there was to be a great banquet, and she must go into the kitchen and wash the dishes. He added that when she had the chance she must steal a pot of broth and hide it about her so that no one should see it.
She had to do as she was told, and had scarcely concealed the pot when the king's son came into the kitchen and told his wife she must come to the ball that had followed the banquet. She did not wish to go, but he took her by the arm and led her into the midst of the festival. Imagine how the poor woman felt at the ball, dressed as she was, and with the pot of broth! The king began to poke his sword at her in jest, until he hit the pot, and all the broth ran on the floor. Then all began to jeer her and laugh, until poor Stella fainted away from shame, and they had to go and get some vinegar to revive her.
At last the king's mother came forward and said, "Enough. You have revenged yourself sufficiently." Then turning to Stella, "Know that this is your mother, and that he has done this to correct your pride and to be avenged on you for calling him dirty."
Then she took her by the arm and led her to another room, where her maids dressed her as a queen. her father and mother then appeared and kissed and embraced her. Her husband begged her pardon for what he had done, and they made peace and always lived in harmony. From that day on she was never haughty, and had learned to her cost that pride is the greatest fault.
A king had a daughter who was beautiful beyond all measure, but at the same time so proud and arrogant that no suitor was good enough for her. She rejected one after the other, ridiculing them as well.
Once the king sponsored a great feast and invited from far and near all the men wanting to get married. They were all placed in a row according to their rank and standing. First came the kings, then the grand dukes, then the princes, the earls, the barons, and the aristocracy. Then the king's daughter was led through the ranks, but she objected to something about each one. One was too fat: "The wine barrel," she said. Another was too tall: "Thin and tall, no good at all." The third was too short: "Short and thick is never quick." The fourth was too pale: "As pale as death." The fifth too red: "A prize rooster." The sixth was not straight enough: "Green wood, dried behind the stove."
And thus she had some objection to each one, but she ridiculed especially one good king who stood at the very top of the row, and whose chin had grown a little crooked. "Look!" she cried out, laughing, "He has a chin like a thrush's beak." And from that time he was called Thrushbeard.
Now the old king, seeing that his daughter did nothing but ridicule the people, making fun of all the suitors who were gathered there, became very angry, and he swore that she should have for her husband the very first beggar to come to his door.
A few days later a minstrel came and sang beneath the window, trying to earn a small handout.
When the king heard him he said, "Let him come up."
So the minstrel, in his dirty, ragged clothes, came in and sang before the king and his daughter, and when he was finished he asked for a small gift.
The king said, "I liked your song so much that I will give you my daughter for a wife."
The king's daughter took fright, but the king said, "I have taken an oath to give you to the very first beggar, and I will keep it."
Her protests did not help. The priest was called in, and she had to marry the minstrel at once. After that had happened the king said, "It is not proper for you, a beggar's wife, to stay in my palace any longer. All you can do now is to go away with your husband."
The beggar led her out by the hand, and she had to leave with him, walking on foot.
They came to a large forest, and she asked, "Who owns this beautiful forest?"
"It belongs to King Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would be yours."
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"Oh, I am a miserable thing; If only I'd taken the Thrushbeard King." |
Afterwards they crossed a meadow, and she asked again, "Who owns this beautiful green meadow?"
"It belongs to king Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would be yours."
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"Oh, I am a miserable thing; If only I'd taken the Thrushbeard King." |
Then they walked through a large town, and she asked again, "Who owns this beautiful large town?"
"It belongs to king Thrushbeard. If you had taken him, it would be yours."
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"Oh, I am a miserable thing; If only I'd taken the Thrushbeard King." |
"I do not like you to always be wishing for another husband," said the minstrel. "Am I not good enough for you?"
At last they came to a very little hut, and she said, "Oh goodness. What a small house. Who owns this miserable tiny hut?"
The minstrel answered, "This is my house and yours, where we shall live together."
She had to stoop in order to get in the low door.
"Where are the servants?" said the king's daughter.
"What servants?" answered the beggar. "You must do for yourself what you want to have done. Now make a fire at once, put some water on to boil, so you can cook me something to eat. I am very tired."
But the king's daughter knew nothing about lighting fires or cooking, and the beggar had to lend a hand himself to get anything done at all. When they had finished their scanty meal they went to bed. But he made her get up very early the next morning in order to do the housework.
For a few days they lived in this way, as well as they could, but they finally came to the end of their provisions.
Then the man said, "Wife, we cannot go on any longer eating and drinking here and earning nothing. You must weave baskets." He went out, cut some willows, and brought them home. Then she began to weave baskets, but the hard willows cut into her delicate hands.
"I see that this will not do," said the man. "You had better spin. Perhaps you can do that better." She sat down and tried to spin, but the hard thread soon cut into her soft fingers until they bled.
"See," said the man. "You are not good for any sort of work. I made a bad bargain with you. Now I will try to start a business with pots and earthenware. You must sit in the marketplace and sell them."
"Oh!" she thought. "If people from my father's kingdom come to the market and see me sitting there selling things, how they will ridicule me!"
But her protests did not help. She had to do what her husband demanded, unless she wanted to die of hunger.
At first it went well. People bought the woman's wares because she was beautiful, and they paid her whatever she asked. Many even gave her the money and let her keep the pots. So they lived on what she earned as long as it lasted. Then the husband bought a lot of new pottery. She sat down with this at the corner of the marketplace and set it around her for sale. But suddenly there came a drunken hussar galloping along, and he rode right into the pots, breaking them into a thousand pieces. She began to cry, and was so afraid that she did not know what to do.
"Oh! What will happen to me?" she cried. "What will my husband say about this?" She ran home and told him of the misfortune.
"Who would sit at the corner of the marketplace with earthenware?" said the man. "Now stop crying. I see very well that you are not fit for any ordinary work. Now I was at our king's palace and asked if they couldn't use a kitchen maid. They promised me to take you. In return you will get free food."
The king's daughter now became a kitchen maid, and had to be available to the cook, and to do the dirtiest work. In each of her pockets she fastened a little jar, in which she took home her share of the leftovers. And this is what they lived on.
It happened that the wedding of the king's eldest son was to be celebrated, so the poor woman went up and stood near the door of the hall to look on. When all the lights were lit, and people, each more beautiful than the other, entered, and all was full of pomp and splendor, she thought about her plight with a sad heart, and cursed the pride and haughtiness which had humbled her and brought her to such great poverty.
The smell of the delicious dishes which were being taken in and out reached her, and now and then the servants threw her a few scraps, which she put in her jar to take home.
Then suddenly the king's son entered, clothed in velvet and silk, with gold chains around his neck. When he saw the beautiful woman standing by the door he took her by the hand and wanted danced with her. But she refused and took fright, for she saw that he was King Thrushbeard, the suitor whom she had rejected with scorn.
Her struggles did not help. He pulled her into the hall. But the string that tied up her pockets broke, and the pots fell to the floor. The soup ran out, and the scraps flew everywhere. When the people saw this, everyone laughed and ridiculed her. She was so ashamed that she would rather have been a thousand fathoms beneath the ground. She jumped out the door and wanted to run away, but a man overtook her on the stairs and brought her back. And when she looked at him, it was King Thrushbeard again.
He said to her kindly, "Don't be afraid. I and the minstrel who has been living with you in that miserable hut are one and the same. For the love of you I disguised myself. And I was also the hussar who broke your pottery to pieces. All this was done to humble your proud spirit and to punish you for the arrogance with which you ridiculed me."
Then she cried bitterly and said, "I was terribly wrong, and am not worthy to be your wife."
But he said, "Be comforted. The evil days are past. Now we will celebrate our wedding."
Then the maids-in-waiting came and dressed her in the most splendid clothing, and her father and his whole court came and wished her happiness in her marriage with King Thrushbeard, and their true happiness began only now.
I wish that you and I had been there as well.
Once upon a time there was a princess who was so haughty and proud that no suitor was good enough for her. She made fun of them all, and sent them about their business, one after the other. But in spite of this, new suitors kept on coming to the palace, for she was a beauty, the wicked hussy!
One day a prince came to woo her, and his name was Haaken Grizzlebeard. The first night he was there, the princess commanded the king's jester to cut off the ears of one of the prince's horses, and to slit the jaws of the other up to the ears. The next day when the prince went out for a ride, the princess stood on the porch and watched him.
"Well!" she cried,"I never saw the like of this in all my life; the sharp north wind that blows here has taken the ears off one of your horses, while the other stood by gaping at what was going on until his jaws split right up to his ears."
With that she broke into a roar of laughter, ran in, slammed the door, and let him drive off.
He returned home; but as he went, he thought to himself that he would pay her off one day. After a bit, he put on a great beard of moss, threw a large fur cloak over his clothes, and dressed himself up like a beggar. He went to a goldsmith and bought a golden spinning wheel, and sat down with it under the princess's window and began to file away at his spinning wheel, and to turn it this way and that, for it wasn't quite in order, and besides, it did not have a stand.
So when the princess got up in the morning, she came to the window and opened it, and asked the beggar if he would sell his golden spinning wheel.
"No, it isn't for sale," said Haaken Grizzlebeard; "but if I may sleep outside your bedroom door tonight, I'll give it you."
The princess thought that that was a good bargain; there could be no danger in letting him sleep outside her door.
So she got the wheel and that night Haaken Grizzlebeard lay down outside her bedroom. But as the night wore on he began to freeze.
"Huttetuttetuttetu! It is so cold; let me in," he cried.
"I think that you're out of your mind," said the princess.
"Oh, Huttetuttetuttetu! It is so bitter cold, please let me in," said Haaken Grizzlebeard again.
"Be quiet! Hold your tongue!" said the princess. "If my father were to know that there was a man in the house, I should be in serious trouble."
"Oh, Huttetuttetuttetu! I'm almost frozen to death. Just let me come inside and lie on the floor," said Haaken Grizzlebeard.
There was nothing she could do about it. She had to let him in, and when he was inside, he lay on the ground and fell sound asleep.
Some time afterward, Haaken came again with the stand to the spinning wheel and sat down under the princess's window, and began to file at it, for it was not quite in order. When she heard him filing, she opened the window and began to talk to him, and to ask what he had.
"Oh, only the stand to that spinning wheel which your royal highness bought. I thought that because you had the wheel you might like to have the stand as well."
"What do you want for it?" asked the princess. It was not for sale any more than the wheel had been, but she might have it if she would let him sleep on the floor of her bedroom the next night.
She agreed, but only if he would to be sure to lie still, and not to shiver and call out "huttetu," or any such stuff. Haaken Grizzlebeard promised fair enough, but as the night wore on he began to shiver and shake, and to ask whether he might not come nearer, and lie on the floor alongside the princess's bed.
She couldn't do anything about it; she had to let him, or the king would hear the noise he was making. So Haaken Grizzlebeard lay alongside the princess's bed, and fell sound asleep.
It was a long while before Haaken Grizzlebeard came again, this time with him a golden yarn reel, and he sat down and began to file away at it under the princess's window. Then came the old story over again. When the princess heard what was going on, she came to the window and asked him how he was, and whether he would sell the golden yarn reel?
"It is not to be had for money; but I'll give it to you for nothing, if you'll let me sleep in your bedroom tonight, with my head on your bedstead."
She agreed, but only if he would give his word to be quiet and make no noise. He said he would do his best to be still; but as the night wore on he again began to shiver and shake until his teeth chattered.
"Huttetuttetuttetu! It is so bitter cold! Do let me get into bed and warm myself a little," said Haaken Grizzlebeard.
"Get into bed!" said the princess; "why, you must be out of your mind."
"Huttetuttetuttetu!" said Haaken; "do let me get into bed. Huttetuttetuttetu!"
"Hush! Hush! For God's sake, be quiet!" said the princess. "If father knows there is a man in here, I shall be in serious trouble. I'm sure he'll kill me on the spot."
"Huttetuttetuttetu! Let me get into bed," said Haaken Grizzlebeard, who kept on shivering so that the whole room shook. Well, there was nothing she could do about it. She had to let him get into bed. He slept soundly and gently, but a little while later the princess gave birth to a child. The king grew so wild with rage that he very nearly made an end of both mother and baby.
Just after this happened, Haaken Grizzlebeard came tramping that way once more, as if by chance, and took his seat down in the kitchen, like any other beggar.
When the princess came out and saw him, she cried, "Ah, God have mercy on me, for the bad luck you have brought me. Father is ready to fly into a rage. Let me go home with you."
"You're too well bred to follow me," said Haaken, "for I have nothing but a log hut to live in; and I don't know how I would ever feed you, for it's all I can do just to find food for myself."
"I don't care how you get it, or whether you get it at all," she said; "only let me be with you, for if I stay here any longer, my father will surely kill me."
So she got permission to go with the beggar, as she called him, and they walked a long, long way, even though she was not a good walker. When she left her father's land and entered into another, she asked whose it was?
"Oh! This is Haaken Grizzlebeard's, if you must know," he said.
"Indeed!" said the princess. "I could have married him if I had wanted to, and then I would not have had to walk about like a beggar's wife."
They came to grand castles, and woods, and parks, and when she asked whose they were, the beggar's answer was always the same, "Oh! They are Haaken Grizzlebeard's." The princess was very sad that she had not chosen the man who had such broad lands. Last of all they came to a palace, where he said he was known, and where he thought he could get work for her, so that they might have something to live on. He built a cabin at the edge of the woods for them to live in. Every day he went to the king's palace, as he said, to chop wood and draw water for the cook, and when he came back he brought a few scraps of food; but they did not go very far.
One day, when he came home from the palace, he said, "Tomorrow I will stay at home and look after the baby, but you must get ready to go to the palace, for the prince said you were to come and try your hand at baking."
"Bake!" said the princess; "I can't bake, for I never did such a thing in my life."
"Well, you must go," said Haaken, "since the prince has said it. If you can't bake, you can learn; you have only got to look how the rest bake; and as you leave, you must steal some bread for me."
"I can't steal," said the princess.
"You can learn that too," said Haaken; "you know that we are very short of food. But take care that the prince doesn't see you, for he has eyes everywhere."
When she was on her way, Haaken ran by a shortcut and reached the palace long before her, and took off his rags and beard, and put on his princely robes.
The princess took her turn in the bakehouse, and did as Haaken had asked her, for she stole bread until her pockets were crammed full. That evening, when she was about to go home, the prince said, "We don't know very much about this old vagabond woman. I think we'd best see if she is taking anything away with her."
He thrust his hand into all her pockets, and felt her all over, and when he found the bread, he became very angry, and raised a great stir.
She began to moan and cry, and said, "The beggar made me do it, and I couldn't help it."
"Well," said the prince at last, "it ought to have gone hard with you; but for the beggar's sake I will forgive you this time."
When she was on her way home, he took off his robes, put on his skin cloak, and his false beard, and reached the cabin before her. When she came home, he was busy tending the baby.
"You made me go against my own conscience. Today was the first time I ever stole, and it will be the last;" and with that she told him how it had gone with her, and what the prince had said.
A few days later, Haaken Grizzlebeard came home in the evening and said, "Tomorrow I will stay at home and tend the baby, for they are going to kill a pig at the palace, and you must help them make sausages."
"I make sausages!" said the princess; "I can't do any such thing. I have eaten sausages often enough, but I have never made one in my life."
But there was nothing that she could do about it; the prince had said it, and she had to go. As for not knowing how, she only had to do what the others did, and at the same time Haaken asked her to steal some sausages for him.
"No, I can't steal," she said; "you know how it went last time."
"Well, you can learn to steal. Who knows? You may have better luck this time," said Haaken Grizzlebeard.
When she was on her way, Haaken ran by a shortcut, reached the palace long before her, took off his skin cloak and false beard, and stood in the kitchen with his royal robes as she came in. So the princess stood by when the pig was killed. She made sausages with the others, and she did as Haaken had told her to, and stuffed her pockets full of sausages. That evening, when she was about to go home, the prince said, "This beggar's wife was long fingered last time; we had better see that she isn't carrying anything off."
So he began to thrust his hands into her pockets, and when he found the sausages he was again very angry, and made a great to do, threatening to send for the constable and have her thrown into jail.
"Oh, God bless your royal highness; do let me off! The beggar made me do it," she said, and cried bitterly.
"Well," said Haaken,"you ought to be punished for it; but for the beggar's sake I forgive you."
When she was gone, he changed his clothes again, ran by the shortcut, and when she reached the cabin, there he was before her. She told him the whole story, and swore it was the last time he would get her to do such a thing.
Now a little later the man came home from the palace and said, "Our prince is going to be married, but the bride is sick, so the tailor can't measure her for her wedding gown. The prince wants you to go to the palace and be measured instead of the bride; for he says that you are just the same height and shape. But after you have been measured, don't just leave. You can stand about, and when the tailor cuts out the gown, you can pick up the largest scraps, and bring them home for a vest for me."
"No, I can't steal," she said; "besides, you know how it went last time."
"You can learn then," said Haaken, "and you may have better luck this time."
She thought it bad, but still she went and did as she was told. She stood by while the tailor was cutting out the gown, and she swept up all the biggest scraps, and stuffed them into her pockets; and when she was on her way out, the prince said, "We may as well see if this old girl has not been long fingered this time too."
So he began to feel and search her pockets, and when he found the pieces he became very angry, and began to stamp and scold furiously, while she cried and said, "Please forgive me; the beggar made me do it, and I couldn't help it."
"Well, you ought to be punished for it," said Haaken; "but for the beggar's sake I forgive you."
So it went now just as it had gone before, and when she got back to the cabin, the beggar was there before her. "Oh, Heaven help me," she said; "you will be the death of me by making me wicked. The prince was so angry that he threatened me both with the constable and jail."
One evening, some time later, Haaken came home to the cabin and said, "The prince wants you to go up to the palace and stand in for the bride, for the bride is still sick in bed. He won't put off the wedding, and he says, that you are so like her, that no one could tell one from the other; so tomorrow you must get ready to go to the palace."
"I think that you are out of your mind, both you and the prince," she said. "Do you think I look fit to stand in the bride's place? Look at me! Can any beggar's wench look worse than I?"
"Well, the prince said you were to go, and so you have to go," said Haaken Grizzlebeard.
There was nothing that she could do about it. She had to go; and when she reached the palace, they dressed her out so finely that no princess ever looked so beautiful.
The bridal procession went to church, where she stood in for the bride, and when they came back, there was dancing and merriment in the palace. But just as she was dancing with the prince, she saw a gleam of light through the window, and behold, the cabin at the edge of the woods was all one bright flame.
"Oh! The beggar, and the baby, and the cabin," she screamed out, and was just about to faint.
"Here is the beggar, and there is the baby, and so let the cabin burn away," said Haaken Grizzlebeard.
She recognized him again, and then the joy and celebration began for real. Since that time, I have heard nothing more about them.