Italian Folktales (100 page)

The next day the king went to see his daughter and asked the mother superior for permission to speak to her. As he was king, it was granted him. “Listen, Father,” said the princess, “let's settle this matter once and for all. The prince has a brigantine of his own. Give Don Pidduzzu a brigantine. Let both of them sail off, one in one direction, the other in the opposite. Whoever returns with the finest presents will be my husband.”

“I like that idea,” replied the king. “It shall be done.” He called the two suitors to the palace and laid before them his daughter's plan. Both young men were delighted—the prince because he knew Don Pidduzzu hadn't a penny to his name, Don Pidduzzu because, with the book of magic, he was certain of success.

Thus they weighed anchor and departed. Out on the deep, Don Pidduzzu opened the book and read: “Tomorrow, dock at the first land you come to; go ashore with the whole crew and a crowbar.” The next morning an island was sighted, so Don Pidduzzu and the crew disembarked, carrying along a crowbar. On land he opened the book and read: “In the very middle of the place you will see a trapdoor, then another, and another; pry them up with the crowbar and descend.” That he did. He found the trapdoor in the middle of the island and raised it, using the
crowbar as a lever. Underneath was another trapdoor, and under it still another. When he had opened up the last one, he saw a staircase. Don Pidduzzu descended it and found himself in a gold-sequined gallery—walls, doors, floor, ceiling, all gold, and a table laid for twenty-four persons, with gold spoons, salt cellars, and candelabras. Don Pidduzzu looked in the book and read: “Take them.” He called the crew and ordered everything carried on board. It took them twelve days to load the treasure on the ship. There were twenty-four gold statues so heavy that a couple of days were needed to load them alone. In the book it was written: “Leave the trapdoors the way you found them.” That he did, and the brigantine weighed anchor.

“Hoist your sails and continue your voyage,” directed the book. So they sailed an entire month, and the sailors began to grow weary.

“Captain, where are you taking us?”

“Let's push on, boys. We'll be back in Palermo in no time.”

Every day he opened the book, but nothing was written in it. At last he saw: “Tomorrow you will sight an island: disembark.” On land, the book again said: “In the middle is a trapdoor; raise it. Then two more, and a staircase; descend, and everything you find is yours.” This time Don Pidduzzu found a cave hung with hams and cheeses, and countless jars lining the walls. Don Pidduzzu read in his book: “Eat nothing, but take the third jar on the left containing a balm that cures every sickness.” So Don Pidduzzu carried the jar on board, where he opened the book: “Go home,” it said. “At last!” shouted everyone.

But on the homeward voyage, while they sailed and saw only sky and sea and sea and sky, lo and behold on the horizon loomed ships of Turkish pirates. A battle ensued, and all the men were captured and taken to Turkey. Don Pidduzzu and his pilot were carried before the sultan, who asked his interpreter, “Where are these men from?”

“From Sicily, Majesty,” replied the interpreter.

“Sicily! Heaven help us!” exclaimed the sultan. “Chain them up! Put them on bread and water and, for their labor, let them transport boulders!”

So Don Pidduzzu and the pilot began that hard life, and all Don Pidduzzu could think of was his princess waiting for him to come back with gifts.

Note that the sultan suffered from an itch covering him from head to foot and which no doctor was able to cure. Learning about this from the other prisoners, Don Pidduzzu told the guards that, in exchange for his freedom, he would cure the sultan.

The sultan got wind of the statement and sent for the Sicilian. “You'll receive whatever you ask for, if only you cure my itch.” A promise wasn't
enough for Don Pidduzzu, who insisted on a written agreement and permission to return aboard his ship. The ship had been pulled up on shore, and nothing had been touched or stolen, since these were pirates of honor. Don Pidduzzu filled a bottle with balm from the jar and returned to the sultan. Instructing him to lie down, he took a brush and applied balm to his head, face, and neck. Before nightfall the sultan was shedding his skin like a snake, and underneath that itchy skin appeared new skin, smooth and pink. The next day Don Pidduzzu anointed the sultan's chest, belly, and back, and in the evening his skin changed. The third day arms and legs were anointed, and the sultan was completely well. So Don Pidduzzu sailed off with his crew.

He disembarked at Palermo and jumped into a carriage to go to Pippina, who couldn't contain herself for joy. The king asked him how things had gone. “God only knows, Majesty,” replied Don Pidduzzu. “Now I would like a gallery readied for displaying my presents. True, they're trifles, but since I have them here . . . ”

And he ordered all the gold objects unloaded. For an entire month they did nothing but unload. When everything was finally in place, he said to the king, “Majesty, I will be ready tomorrow. If you like, go first and view what the prince has brought, then come and see my things.” The next day the king went to see the prince's presents—knickknacks, toiletries, pretty objects, but nothing to rave about. The king heaped praise on him. Then the two of them went to view Don Pidduzzu's display. At the sight of such splendor, the prince gasped, wheeled around, flew down the steps, boarded his ship, and was never seen again.

“Long live Don Pidduzzu!” cried the crowd, while the king embraced him. Together they went to St. Catherine's to fetch Pippina, and three days later the betrothed were joined in matrimony.

Don Pidduzzu sent for his mother and father, of whom he had lost track since leaving home. Poor dears, they were still going barefoot! He had them dressed in a manner befitting a prince's mother and father and from then on they lived at the palace with him.

 

They were always happy and content,

While we are here without a cent.

 

(
Palermo
)

156

There was, in Messina, a prince as miserly as he was rich, who ate only two meals a day consisting of one slice of bread, one slice of salami as thin as a communion wafer, and one glass of water. He kept only one servant and gave him two pence a day, an egg, and just enough bread to sop up the egg. Thus it happened that no servant could endure more than a week in his service; they all left after only a few days' work. Once he ended up with a servant who was a notorious rogue and, no matter how sly the master, this man could steal his very shoes and socks in a foot race.

When the servant, whose name was Master Joseph, saw how things were, he went to a coal dealer who had her shop next door to the palace, a rich woman and mother of a beautiful maiden, and said, “Neighbor, would you like to marry off your daughter?”

“Please God that some fine young man will turn up, Master Joseph,” replied the woman.

“What would you think of the prince as a suitor?”

“The prince? Don't you know how stingy he is? He'd have an eye gouged out sooner than spend a penny!”

“Madam, follow my advice, and I'll make sure there's a wedding. All you need do is say your daughter lives on wind.”

Master Joseph went to the prince. “Sir, why doesn't Your Majesty get married? You're growing older, and the passing years will never return . . . ”

“Ah! You want to see me dead!” exclaimed the prince. “Didn't you know that with a wife to support, your money runs through your fingers like water? Hats, silk gowns, plumes, shawls, carriages, plays . . . . No, indeed, Joseph, nothing doing!”

“But hasn't Your Majesty heard about the coal vendor's daughter, that lovely maiden who lives on wind? She already has money of her own and cares nothing for luxury, parties, or plays.”

“You don't mean it! How can anybody live on wind?”

“Three times a day she takes up her fan, fans herself, and thus fans away her appetite. To look at her plump face, you'd think all she ate was beefsteak.”

“Well, arrange for me to have a look at her.”

Master Joseph took care of everything, and in a week's time the wedding was celebrated, and the coal vendor became a princess.

Every day she went to the table and fluttered her fan, while her husband looked on as pleased as Punch. Then her mother would smuggle in roast chicken and cutlets, and the princess and the servant would gorge themselves. A month passed, and the coal vendor began to complain to the servant about the heavy expense to which they were putting her. “How much longer must I foot the bill?” she asked. “Let that silly prince of yours contribute something himself!”

Master Joseph said to the princess, “Know what you have to do, my girl?” (In public he addressed her as “Princess,” but in private he called her “my girl.”) “Tell the prince you would like to see his wealth, just to satisfy your curiosity. If he says he's afraid of a few gold pieces sticking to your shoes, tell him you're willing to go into the treasury barefoot.” The princess asked the prince, but he made a sour face and would not be persuaded. She kept on, saying she was even willing to go into the treasury barefoot, and at last obtained his consent. Then Master Joseph said, “Quick, smear glue all around the hem of your long skirt.” The princess did just that.

The prince lifted a plank in the floor, opened a trapdoor, and directed her down the steps. The young woman was speechless with amazement when she saw the heap of gold doubloons. No king in the world was half so rich as her husband! As she gaped and ooed and ahed, she innocently swished her long skirt around, gathering gold pieces by the dozen. When she got back to her boudoir and pulled them off, there was a nice little pile of money, which Master Joseph carried to her mother. So they continued to stuff themselves, while the prince watched the princess work her fan and rejoiced over having a wife who lived on wind.

Once when the prince was out walking with the princess, he met one of his nephews whom he rarely saw. “Pippinu,” he said to the youth, “do you know this lady? She's the princess.”

“Oh, my uncle, I didn't know you had married!”

“You didn't? Now you do. And you're invited to dine with us one week from today.”

After extending the invitation, the prince got to thinking about it and was sorry he'd invited the young man. “There's no telling how much we'll have to spend now! How stupid I was to ask him to dinner!” But there was no getting out of it; he was going to have to plan for dinner.

Then the prince got an idea. “Do you know what, princess? Meat is expensive, and we'll go broke if we have to buy any. Instead of buying meat, I'll go hunting and bring some back. I'll take my gun and after five or sue days I'll bring you lots of game without spending a cent.”

“Yes, of course, prince,” she answered, “but be quick about it.”

As soon as the prince was gone, the princess sent Joseph for a lock
smith. “Sir,” she said to the locksmith, “make me a key right away to this trapdoor. I lost the one I had and now I can't open the door.”

In no time she had a key that fitted perfectly. She went underground and returned with a few sacks of doubloons. With that pile of money, she had all the rooms hung with tapestries. She bought furniture, chandeliers, portals, mirrors, carpets, and everything else they have in princes' palaces; she even employed a doorman with livery from head to toe and a stick topped with a gold knob.

The prince came back. “What on earth is this? Where is my house?” He rubbed his eyes, turned around and back, asking, “Where did it go?” And he kept on going round and round.

“Excellency,” said the doorman, “what is Your Excellency seeking? Why not go inside?”

“Could this be my house?”

“If not, whose is it? Walk in, Excellency.”

“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed the prince, slapping his forehead. “Every cent of my money has gone into all these things! Wife!”

He flew into the house, saw the white marble stairs and the tapestries on the walls. “Oh, my goodness, every cent! Wife!”

He saw the mirrors and rich frames, sofas, divans, armchairs. “Oh, my goodness! Every cent! Wife!”

He reached his bedroom and threw himself down on his bed.

“What is the matter, prince?” asked his wife.

“Oh, my goodness!” he exclaimed in a whisper, “every cent, wife . . . ”

His wife quickly sent for a notary and four witnesses. The notary arrived and asked, “Prince, what is the matter? Tell me, do you want to make your will?”

“Every cent . . . my wife . . . ”

“What? How's that again?”

“Every cent . . . my wife . . . ”

“You want to leave everything to your wife? Yes, I understand. Is this all right like this?”

“Every cent . . . my wife . . . ”

As the notary wrote, the prince gasped once or twice more, then gave up the ghost.

The princess was his sole heir and married Master Joseph when she came out of mourning, and who should get the miser's money in the end but the master swindler.

 

(
Palermo
)

157

Over and over it has been told that once upon a time there was a king and queen. Every time this queen had a baby, it was a girl. The king, who wanted a son, finally lost patience and said, “If you have one more girl, I shall kill it.”

Just as she had feared, the poor wife ended up bearing another girl, but the prettiest child you ever saw. Lest her husband kill it, she said to its godmother, “Take this infant and do what you think best.”

The godmother took it, saying to herself, “What am I to do with a baby girl?” She went into the country and laid it upon a wormwood bush.