Part 9

The young man had not known this, but he replied:

"Say rather that I will be your friend if you help me get possession of this nun I love."

"Very well," said the Devil, "but you will have to make a bargain with me."

"What is it?" asked Fernao, rather anxiously.

"Grant me your solemn pledge that you'll give me all your children," responded the Devil.

"Agreed," said Fernao.

After that he saw much of the Devil. The nun, however, was as devout as she was beautiful. She refused to break the vows she had made and flee with the Flemish youth. She firmly resisted both him and the Devil.

"You are not a true friend to me after all," said Fernao to the Devil sadly.

"But you are my friend," said the Devil in reply.

Soon after, Fernao de Hutra left the city of Horta and the island of Fayal and went to join his kinsmen who had settled in Angra in the island of Terceira. Here his handsome face won many friends for him among the youth of the city. To some of these he confided the story of his relations with the Devil.

Now it happened that in the year 1666 the first bull fight was held in Angra. To this very day the island of Terceira is the only one in the Azores which has bull fights.

Fernao had taken part in this. He was one of the chief organizers of the bull fight held on St. John's Day of the following year. That day all the men and women and children of the city of Angra assembled in the public square before the fort. The bullfighters, richly clad, rode forth upon prancing steeds decked in costly velvets with streamers and ribbons of gold and silver which sparkled in the bright sunlight. The youths were resplendent in their garments of crimson or purple or blue velvet, richly embroidered. Fernao de Hutra was radiant in his jacket of blue decked with pearls, with a plumed hat upon his handsome head. He carried a yellow banner embroidered with the arms of his family.

Gay music sounded. The bulls were brought into the ring. The bullfighters saluted and the fight began.

In the windows of the castle the daughters of the chief magistrate of the city of Angra were seated among their friends. The eldest daughter, Sophia, was the most beautiful maid of the whole city. The magistrate watched her anxiously as her fair cheek alternately paled and flushed as the struggle went on. There could be no doubt about the fact that there was love in her eyes as they rested upon the handsome young Flemish cavalier, Fernao de Hutra. She was wearing his colors and in her hand she carefully held his bouquet of flowers. The ribbon which tied them secured also a piece of paper upon which were written these words:

"Oh, beautiful maid of my heart's desire, For your dear sake I'd go through fire."

The magistrate withdrew from the gay scene into the silence of the great hall of the castle. He bowed his head upon his hands.

"This youth is the friend of the Devil," he groaned. "I cannot consent to my daughter's marriage to him. He has promised to give all his children to the Devil, they say. I cannot allow my own grandchildren to be given to the Devil."

That very day he began to plot how to get rid of the handsome young Fernao.

Now in the bay before the city of Angra there are two rocky islands called to-day just as they were then, the Ilheos de Cabras, the islands of goats. The brother-in-law of the magistrate was the owner of these barren islands. There were a few goats there, a few mulberry bushes, and a tiny spring of fresh water. The magistrate called his brother-in-law to him as soon as the bull fight was over. He told him all his fears and asked if he might use the islands as a place of banishment for the young Flemish cavalier who was the friend of the Devil.

"You are quite welcome to use these islands for so worthy a purpose," replied his brother-in-law. "Indeed, I have often thought that the deep cave on the island led into Inferno. It is a most fitting spot for the habitation of the Devil's friend."

Thus it happened that the handsome young Flemish cavalier was seized and borne away to the barren rocky islands in the Bay of Angra. When he was received there a great earthquake shook the whole island of Terceira. When at last the people of the city of Angra were through contemplating all the destruction which had been wrought, some one looked in the direction of the island of goats. They saw that a great piece had been broken away from one of the islands.

Thus it was that the Devil received his friend.

THE MILLER'S CLOAK

_The Story of a Man Who Tried to Stay Home from Church_

There was once a pious miller. He was always to be found in the church praying. He prayed for the dead. He prayed for those who were alive. He prayed for all who suffered, for the homeless ones, for the hungry ones. He prayed for those upon the sea and those upon the land.

Now it happened that a terrible storm smote the island. The sea beat high against the rocky coast. Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. The wind howled. The rain fell in torrents as if it were a flood.

"Don't go out in the storm to-night," counselled his wife. "It is not a suitable night for one to go to church."

"I agree with you," replied the miller. "I do not need to go to the church in this fierce storm. Surely my prayers of other days and nights have been so many that to-night I have earned rest in my own dry house. The good God will pardon me."

The miller wrapped his heavy brown cloak about him and lay down upon his bed. The wind shrieked. Thunder shook the earth. Unseen hands pulled the miller's cloak from off his bed.

"The wind has blown out the candle! Light another!" cried the miller to his wife.

By the dim light of the candle the good miller again arranged his bed. He wrapped his heavy mantle about him and once more tried to sleep. Again his cloak was pulled from off his bed as if by unseen hands.

There was no rest for the miller that night. His cloak could not be made to cover him as he lay upon his bed.

"I might as well go to church and pray," he told his wife. "I can't rest here."

He wrapped himself in the brown cloak and went out to the church through the fierce blinding storm. He prayed for the dead. He prayed for those who were alive. He prayed for all who suffered, for the homeless ones, the hungry ones. He prayed for those upon the sea, for those upon the land.

"Surely the prayers of the pious are needed this night," said the miller to his wife when he came in out of the fierce storm.

Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. The rain fell in torrents. The wind howled and drove the pouring rain against the windows. It blew in sheets through the door before the miller had time to close it behind him. The storm beat upon the thatched roof as if it would carry it away.

"Quick, your cloak!" cried the miller's wife. "Take it off that I may dry it by the fire!"

The good man started to obey. As he touched his cloak, however, his eyes opened wide in amazement. It was entirely dry.

"Feel it yourself!" said he to his wife. "There is not a drop of rain upon it!"

The miller's wife discovered that his words were true.

"It is a miracle of God!" cried she as she crossed herself.

THE MAGIC MOUTHFUL

_The Story of a Woman Who Quarreled_

Once upon a time there was a woman who lived a most unhappy life. She and her husband were always quarreling. Every day when he came home from work he was cross, and said harsh words to her. She would respond with bitter words, and things would go from bad to worse until at last he would beat her.

One day the woman took her water jar and went to the fountain to fill it as usual. She was so unhappy that great tears were rolling down her cheeks.

There was a little old woman standing by the fountain.

"What is the matter, my daughter?" she asked as she saw the tears upon the poor woman's cheeks.

When she had heard all the story, the little old woman took the water jar and filled it at the fountain.

"Go home, my daughter," she said. "Keep this water in the jar. The moment your husband says a cross word to you, fill your mouth with the water."

The sad woman thanked her and went to her own house.

The next day when her husband came home he began to scold as usual. She was about to reply when she suddenly remembered the old woman's advice. She ran to the water jar and filled her mouth with water.

To her great amazement her husband soon stopped scolding. That night, for the first time in many weeks, she went to sleep without a beating.

Things kept on going well for several days. Just as soon as her husband came home cross and said unpleasant things she would fill her mouth with water from the jar. Then he would get over being cross. Now there were smiles instead of tears on the woman's face.

At last, however, the water jar grew empty.

Once more the woman went to the fountain, hoping that she would again find the little old woman who had given her the magic water. She found her waiting at the fountain.

"How did my prescription succeed, dear daughter?" she asked as soon as she saw her.

"How can I ever thank you for all you have done for me!" cried the woman. "Now I am happy once more. My husband no longer beats me. I did not dream that my life could ever be so full of joy. Give me, I pray you, some more of the magic water."

The little old woman smiled gently.

"Dear daughter," she said, "the water which I put in your jar is nothing but the water from this fountain. It is the very same which you always carry home. This is the secret: When your mouth is full of water you cannot reply when your husband says cross words to you. If you do not keep up the quarrel it soon ends. That is why your life is happy now instead of sad. Go home, and whenever your husband says an unkind word pretend that your mouth is full of water and do not reply. Go in peace, my child."

The woman always remembered this good advice and never again quarreled with her husband. When she had children of her own she passed on to them the secret.

Now it is generally known in the Azores that if one does not want to keep up a quarrel it is well to pretend that his mouth is full of water. This is the reason why the people of the islands are so peaceful and happy.

THE MESSENGERS

_The Story of a Youth Who Met Death_

There lived once upon a time in the island of Terceira a youth whose name was Vladmiro. He had come from Flanders, a cavalier of the order of St. John. He was betrothed to a fair maid of the island.

One morning he was hunting in the forest of cedars when he suddenly saw Death standing before him. He fell upon his knees and sent up a fervent prayer to the Holy Virgin.

Then he said to Death: "O Death, why is it that you have come in search of me so soon? I am young, rich, happy. I am betrothed to a maid who loves me. Life looks very bright and fair."

Death stepped back a pace.

"Your prayer to the Holy Mother has saved you," he said. "I had indeed come in search of you. You were about to die from an accident with your hunting arms. See, I have already retreated a pace. I have decided not to take you with me this time."

Vladmiro returned a prayer of thanksgiving. Then he said:

"O Death, I am going to make a request of you. Please do not come up to me so suddenly again. It gives me a fright. Next time you come for me will you please be so kind as to send messengers in advance to give me a little warning?"

"Yes, young cavalier," responded Death. "I will gladly do what you ask. I give you my promise that next time I will send my messengers ahead of me to warn you that I am approaching."

With these words Death withdrew and went on alone through the forest of cedars.

The spring of that very year the young cavalier married the fair maid who loved him. Life was full of joy. Many children were born to the worthy couple. Riches and honors came, too. The years sped by as if they flew on wings.

At last a half century had passed. Vladmiro held his grandchildren upon his knees and told them the story of the day he met Death in the forest of cedars.

"We are glad that Death passed on and left you," said the children.

"If he hadn't we could not have had you for our grandfather," said the namesake grandson Vladmiro, snuggling closer in his arms.

"You do not have to fear Death now, grandfather, do you?" asked the little Maria. "He will keep his promise and send his messengers, don't you think so?"

"Yes, Death is a good Christian and will keep his word," replied the aged cavalier.

The next morning he set sail for the island of Fayal where there were other grandchildren to visit in the home of his married daughter, Francisca.

On the voyage a fierce storm arose. The small boat was buffetted about by the gales. Suddenly Vladmiro was startled to see Death standing beside him just as in the forest years ago when he had been young.

"Why have you come to-day?" he cried in alarm. "Why is it that you have not kept your word? You gave me your promise that you would send your messengers, next time you came, to warn me of your approach."

"I have kept my word," said Death. "I have sent my messengers."

"Where are they?" asked the old man in amazement.

Death pointed to Vladmiro's snowy hair.

"I have sent my messengers in your white locks, your failing eyesight and hearing, the wrinkles on your cheeks. Can it be that you have failed to recognize them?"

Vladmiro bowed his head in silence and without a murmur went with Death.

In truth, Death had been a good Christian and had kept his word.

THE END

End of Project Gutenberg's The Islands of Magic, by Elsie Spicer Eells