Twilight Land Part 21

"That is good," said the servant's comrade, "and if he will do so I will pay him well for his trouble."

So the young man put on his hat, and took up his stick, and off went the three, up hill and down dale, until by-and-by they came over the top of the last hill, and there below them lay the garden.

And what a sight it was, the leaves s.h.i.+ning and glistening like so many jewels in the sunlight! I only wish that I could tell you how beautiful that garden was. And in the middle of it grew a golden tree, and on it golden fruit. The servant, who had travelled so long and so far, could see it plainly from where he stood, and he did not need to be told that it was the fruit of happiness. But, after all, all he could do was to stand and look, for in front of them was a great raging torrent, without a bridge for a body to cross over.

"Yonder is what you seek," said the young man, pointing with his finger, "and there you can see for yourself the fruit of happiness."

The travelling companion said never a word, good or bad, but, suddenly catching the widow's son by the collar, he lifted him and flung him into the black, rus.h.i.+ng water. Splas.h.!.+ went the young man, and then away he went whirling over rocks and water-falls. "There!" cried the comrade, "that is your reward for your service!"

When the servant saw this cruel, wicked deed, he found his tongue at last, and all that he had bottled up for the seven days came frothing out of him like hot beer. Such abuse as he showered upon his travelling companion no man ever listened to before. But to all the servant said the other answered never a word until he had stopped for sheer want of breath. Then--

"Poor fool," said the travelling companion, "if you had only held your tongue a minute longer, you, too, would have had the fruit of happiness in your hand. Now it will be many a day before you have a sight of it again."

Thereupon, as he ended speaking, he struck his staff upon the ground.

Instantly the earth trembled, and the sky darkened overhead until it grew as black as night. Then came a great flash of fire from up in the sky, which wrapped the travelling companion about until he was hidden from sight. Then the flaming fire flew away to heaven again, carrying him along with it. After that the sky cleared once more, and, lo and behold! The garden and the torrent and all were gone, and nothing was left but a naked plain covered over with the bones of those who had come that way before, seeking the fruit which the travelling servant had sought.

It was a long time before the servant found his way back into the world again, and the first house he came to, weak and hungry, was the widow's.

But what a change he beheld! It was a poor cottage no longer, but a splendid palace, fit for a queen to dwell in. The widow herself met him at the door, and she was dressed in clothes fit for a queen to wear, s.h.i.+ning with gold and silver and precious stones.

The servant stood and stared like one bereft of wits. "How comes all this change?" said he, "and how did you get all these grand things?"

"My son," said the widow woman, "has just been to the garden, and has brought home from there the fruit of happiness. Many a day did we search, but never could we find how to enter into the garden, until, the other day, an angel came and showed the way to my son, and he was able not only to gather of the fruit for himself, but to bring an apple for me also."

Then the poor travelling servant began to thump his head. He saw well enough through the millstone now, and that he, too, might have had one of the fruit if he had but held his tongue a little longer.

Yes, he saw what a fool he had made of himself, when he learned that it was an angel with whom he had been travelling the five days gone.

But, then, we are all of us like the servant for the matter of that; I, too, have travelled with an angel many a day, I dare say, and never knew it.

That night the servant lodged with the widow and her son, and the next day he started back home again upon the way he had travelled before.

By evening he had reached the place where the house of the poor couple stood--the house that he had seen the angel set fire to. There he beheld masons and carpenters hard at work hacking and hewing, and building a fine new house. And there he saw the poor man himself standing by giving them orders. "How is this," said the travelling servant; "I thought that your house was burned down?"

"So it was, and that is how I came to be rich now," said the one-time poor man. "I and my wife had lived in our old house for many a long day, and never knew that a great treasure of silver and gold was hidden beneath it, until a few days ago there came an angel and burned it down over our heads, and in the morning we found the treasure. So now we are rich for as long as we may live."

The next morning the poor servant jogged along on his homeward way more sad and downcast than ever, and by evening he had come to the robbers'

den in the thick woods, and there the old woman came running to the door to meet him. "Come in!" cried she; "come in and welcome! The robbers are all dead and gone now, and I use the treasure that they left behind to entertain poor travellers like yourself. The other day there came an angel hither, and with him he brought the ring of discord that breeds spite and rage and quarrelling. He gave it to the captain of the band, and after he had gone the robbers fought for it with one another until they were all killed. So now the world is rid of them, and travellers can come and go as they please."

Back jogged the travelling servant, and the next day came to the town and to the house of the sorrowful young man. There, lo and behold!

Instead of being dark and silent, as it was before, all was ablaze with light and noisy with the sound of rejoicing and merriment. There happened to be one of the household standing at the door, and he knew the servant as the companion of that one who had stolen the ruby ring.

Up he came and laid hold of the servant by the collar, calling to his companions that he had caught one of the thieves. Into the house they hauled the poor servant, and into the same room where he had been before, and there sat the young man at a grand feast, with his wife and all his friends around him. But when the young man saw the poor serving-man he came to him and took him by the hand, and set him beside himself at the table. "n.o.body except your comrade could be so welcome as you," said he, "and this is why. An enemy of mine one time gave me a ruby ring, and though I knew nothing of it, it was the ring of discord that bred strife wherever it came. So, as soon as it was brought into the house, my wife and all my friends fell out with me, and we quarrelled so that they all left me. But, though I knew it not at that time, your comrade was an angel, and took the ring away with him, and now I am as happy as I was sorrowful before."

By the next night the servant had come back to his home again. Rap! tap!

tap! He knocked at the door, and the wise man who had been his master opened to him. "What do you want?" said he.

"I want to take service with you again," said the travelling servant.

"Very well," said the wise man; "come in and shut the door."

And for all I know the travelling servant is there to this day. For he is not the only one in the world who has come in sight of the fruit of happiness, and then jogged all the way back home again to cook cabbage and onions and pot-herbs, and to make broth for wiser men than himself to sup.

That is the end of this story.

"I like your story, holy sir," said the Blacksmith who made Death sit in a pear-tree. "Ne'th'less, it hath indeed somewhat the smack of a sermon, after all. Methinks I am like my friend yonder," and he pointed with his thumb towards Fortunatus; "I like to hear a story about treasures of silver and gold, and about kings and princes--a story that turneth out well in the end, with everybody happy, and the man himself married in luck, rather than one that turneth out awry, even if it hath an angel in it."

"Well, well," said St. George, testily, "one cannot please everybody.

But as for being a sermon, why, certes, my story was not that--and even if it were, it would not have hurt thee, sirrah."

"No offence," said the Blacksmith; "I meant not to speak ill of your story. Come, come, sir, will you not take a pot of ale with me?"

"Why," said St. George, somewhat mollified, "for the matter of that, I would as lief as not."

"I liked the story well enough," piped up the little Tailor who had killed seven flies at a blow. "Twas a good enough story of its sort, but why does n.o.body tell a tale of good big giants, and of wild boars, and of unicorns, such as I killed in my adventures you wot of?"

Old Ali Baba had been sitting with his hands folded and his eyes closed.

Now he opened them and looked at the Little Tailor. "I know a story,"

said he, "about a Genie who was as big as a giant, and six times as powerful. And besides that," he added, "the story is all about treasures of gold, and palaces, and kings, and emperors, and what not, and about a cave such as that in which I myself found the treasure of the forty thieves."

The Blacksmith who made Death sit in the pear-tree clattered the bottom of his canican against the table. "Aye, aye," said he, "that is the sort of story for me. Come, friend, let us have it."

"Stop a bit," said Fortunatus; "what is this story mostly about?"

"It is," said Ali Baba, "about two men betwixt whom there was--"

Not a Pin to Choose.

Once upon a time, in a country in the far East, a merchant was travelling towards the city with three horses loaded with rich goods, and a purse containing a hundred pieces of gold money. The day was very hot, and the road dusty and dry, so that, by-and-by, when he reached a spot where a cool, clear spring of water came bubbling out from under a rock beneath the shade of a wide-spreading wayside tree, he was glad enough to stop and refresh himself with a draught of the clear coolness and rest awhile. But while he stooped to drink at the fountain the purse of gold fell from his girdle into the tall gra.s.s, and he, not seeing it, let it lie there, and went his way.

Now it chanced that two f.a.got-makers--the elder by name Ali, the younger Abdallah--who had been in the woods all day chopping f.a.gots, came also travelling the same way, and stopped at the same fountain to drink.

There the younger of the two spied the purse lying in the gra.s.s, and picked it up. But when he opened it and found it full of gold money, he was like one bereft of wits; he flung his arms, he danced, he shouted, he laughed, he acted like a madman; for never had he seen so much wealth in all of his life before--a hundred pieces of gold money!

Now the older of the two was by nature a merry wag, and though he had never had the chance to taste of pleasure, he thought that nothing in the world could be better worth spending money for than wine and music and dancing. So, when the evening had come, he proposed that they two should go and squander it all at the Inn. But the younger fellow--Abdallah--was by nature just as thrifty as the other was spendthrift, and would not consent to waste what he had found.

Nevertheless, he was generous and open-hearted, and grudged his friend nothing; so, though he did not care for a wild life himself, he gave Ali a piece of gold to spend as he chose.

By morning every copper of what had been given to the elder f.a.got-maker was gone, and he had never had such a good time in his life before. All that day and for a week the head of Ali was so full of the memory of the merry night that he had enjoyed that he could think of nothing else.

At last, one evening, he asked Abdallah for another piece of gold, and Abdallah gave it to him, and by the next morning it had vanished in the same way that the other had flown. By-and-by Ali borrowed a third piece of money, and then a fourth and then a fifth, so that by the time that six months had pa.s.sed and gone he had spent thirty of the hundred pieces that had been found, and in all that time Abdallah had used not so much as a pistareen.

But when Ali came for the thirty-and-first loan, Abdallah refused to let him have any more money. It was in vain that the elder begged and implored--the younger abided by what he had said.

Then Ali began to put on a threatening front. "You will not let me have the money?" he said.

"No, I will not."

"You will not?"