Chapter 9

“Pooh!” said the king, “stuff and nonsense! Just look at all the gold and jewels and horses and men. What will you do,” said he to Jacob Stuck, “if I let you marry the princess?”

“I will,” said Jacob Stuck, “build for her the finest palace that ever was seen in all this world.”

“Very well,” said the king, “yonder are those sand hills over there. You shall remove them and build your palace there. When it is finished you shall marry the princess.” For if he does that, thought the king to himself, it is something better than mere good luck.

“It shall,” said Jacob Stuck, “be done by tomorrow morning.”

Well, all that day Jacob Stuck feasted and made merry at the king’s palace, and the king wondered when he was going to begin to build his palace. But Jacob Stuck said nothing at all; he just feasted and drank and made merry. When night had come, however, it was all different. Away he went by himself, and blew his breath upon his piece of blue glass, and rubbed it with his thumb. Instantly there stood the Genie before him. “What wouldst thou have?” said he.

“I would like,” said Jacob Stuck, “to have the sand hills over yonder carried away, and a palace built there of white marble and gold and silver, such as the world never saw before. And let there be gardens planted there with flowering plants and trees, and let there be fountains and marble walks. And let there be servants and attendants in the palace of all sorts and kinds--men and women. And let there be a splendid feast spread for to-morrow morning, for then I am going to marry the princess.”

“To hear is to obey,” said the Genie, and instantly he was gone.

All night there was from the sand hills a ceaseless sound as of thunder--a sound of banging and clapping and hammering and sawing and calling and shouting. All that night the sounds continued unceasingly, but at daybreak all was still, and when the sun arose there stood the most splendid palace it ever looked down upon; shining as white as snow, and blazing with gold and silver. All around it were gardens and fountains and orchards. A great highway had been built between it and the king’s palace, and all along the highway a carpet of cloth of gold had been spread for the princess to walk upon.

Dear! Dear! How all the town stared with wonder when they saw such a splendid palace standing where the day before had been nothing but naked sand hills! The folk flocked in crowds to see it, and all the country about was alive with people coming and going. As for the king, he could not believe his eyes when he saw it. He stood with the princess and looked and looked. Then came Jacob Stuck. “And now,” said he, “am I to marry the princess?”

“Yes,” cried the king in admiration, “you are!”

So Jacob Stuck married the princess, and a splendid wedding it was. That was what a little bit of good luck did for him.

After the wedding was over, it was time to go home to the grand new palace. Then there came a great troop of horsemen with shining armor and with music, sent by the Genie to escort Jacob Stuck and the princess and the king and the prime-minister to Jacob Stuck’s new palace. They rode along over the carpet of gold, and such a fine sight was never seen in that land before. As they drew near to the palace a great crowd of servants, clad in silks and satins and jewels, came out to meet them, singing and dancing and playing on harps and lutes. The king and the princess thought that they must be dreaming.

“All this is yours,” said Jacob Stuck to the princess; and he was that fond of her, he would have given her still more if he could have thought of anything else.

Jacob Stuck and the princess, and the king and the prime-minister, all went into the palace, and there was a splendid feast spread in plates of pure gold and silver, and they all four sat down together.

But the prime-minister was as sour about it all as a crab-apple. All the time they were feasting he kept whispering and whispering in the king’s ear. “It is all stuff and nonsense,” said he, “for such a man as Jacob Stuck to do all this by himself. I tell you, it is all a piece of good luck, and not a bit of merit in it.”

He whispered and whispered, until at last the king up and spoke. “Tell me, Jacob Stuck,” he said, “where do you get all these fine things?”

“It all comes of a piece of good luck,” said Jacob Stuck.

“That is what I told you,” said the prime-minister.

“A piece of good luck!” said the king. “Where did you come across such a piece of good luck?”

“I found it,” said Jacob Stuck.

“Found it!” said the king; “and have you got it with you now?”

“Yes, I have,” said Jacob Stuck; “I always carry it about with me;” and he thrust his hand into his pocket and brought out his piece of blue crystal.

“That!” said the king. “Why, that is nothing but a piece of blue glass!”

“That,” said Jacob Stuck, “is just what I thought till I found out better. It is no common piece of glass, I can tell you. You just breathe upon it so, and rub your thumb upon it thus, and instantly a Genie dressed in red comes to do all that he is bidden. That is how it is.”

“I should like to see it,” said the king.

“So you shall,” said Jacob Stuck; “here it is,” said he; and he reached it across the table to the prime-minister to give it to the king.

Yes, that was what he did; he gave it to the prime-minister to give it to the king. The prime-minister had been listening to all that had been said, and he knew what he was about. He took what Jacob Stuck gave him, and he had never had such a piece of luck come to him before.

And did the prime-minister give it to the king, as Jacob Stuck had intended? Not a bit of it. No sooner had he got it safe in his hand, than he blew his breath upon it and rubbed it with his thumb.

Crack! dong! boom! crash!

There stood the Genie, like a flash and as red as fire. The princess screamed out and nearly fainted at the sight, and the poor king sat trembling like a rabbit.

“Whosoever possesses that piece of blue crystal,” said the Genie, in a terrible voice, “him must I obey. What are thy commands?”

“Take this king,” cried the prime-minister, “and take Jacob Stuck, and carry them both away into the farthest part of the desert whence the fellow came.”

“To hear is to obey,” said the Genie; and instantly he seized the king in one hand and Jacob Stuck in the other, and flew away with them swifter than the wind. On and on he flew, and the earth seemed to slide away beneath them like a cloud. On and on he flew until he had come to the farthest part of the desert. There he sat them both down, and it was as pretty a pickle as ever the king or Jacob Stuck had been in, in all of their lives. Then the Genie flew back again whence he had come.

There sat the poor princess crying and crying, and there sat the prime-minister trying to comfort her. “Why do you cry?” said he; “why are you afraid of me? I will do you no harm. Listen,” said he; “I will use this piece of good luck in a way that Jacob Stuck would never have thought of. I will make myself king. I will conquer the world, and make myself emperor over all the earth. Then I will make you my queen.”

But the poor princess cried and cried.

“Hast thou any further commands?” said the Genie.

“Not now,” said the prime-minister; “you may go now;” and the Genie vanished like a puff of smoke.

But the princess cried and cried.

The prime-minister sat down beside her. “Why do you cry?” said he.

“Because I am afraid of you,” said she.

“And why are you afraid of me?” said he.

“Because of that piece of blue glass. You will rub it again, and then that great red monster will come again to frighten me.”

“I will rub it no more,” said he.

“Oh, but you will,” said she; “I know you will.”

“I will not,” said he.

“But I can’t trust you,” said she “as long as you hold it in your hand.”

“Then I will lay it aside,” said he, and so he did. Yes, he did; and he is not the first man who has thrown aside a piece of good luck for the sake of a pretty face. “Now are you afraid of me?” said he.

“No, I am not,” said she; and she reached out her hand as though to give it to him. But, instead of doing so, she snatched up the piece of blue glass as quick as a flash.

“Now,” said she, “it is my turn;” and then the prime-minister knew that his end had come.

She blew her breath upon the piece of blue glass and rubbed her thumb upon it. Instantly, as with a clap of thunder, the great red Genie stood before her, and the poor prime-minister sat shaking and trembling.

“Whosoever hath that piece of blue crystal,” said the Genie, “that one must I obey. What are your orders, O princess?”

“Take this man,” cried the princess, “and carry him away into the desert where you took those other two, and bring my father and Jacob Stuck back again.”

“To hear is to obey,” said the Genie, and instantly he seized the prime-minister, and, in spite of the poor man’s kicks and struggles, snatched him up and flew away with him swifter than the wind. On and on he flew until he had come to the farthest part of the desert, and there sat the king and Jacob Stuck still thinking about things. Down he dropped the prime-minister, up he picked the king and Jacob Stuck, and away he flew swifter than the wind. On and on he flew until he had brought the two back to the palace again; and there sat the princess waiting for them, with the piece of blue crystal in her hand.

“You have saved us!” cried the king.

“You have saved us!” cried Jacob Stuck. “Yes, you have saved us, and you have my piece of good luck into the bargain. Give it to me again.”

“I will do nothing of the sort,” said the princess. “If the men folk think no more of a piece of good luck than to hand it round like a bit of broken glass, it is better for the women folk to keep it for them.”

And there, to my mind, she brewed good common-sense, that needed no skimming to make it fit for Jacob Stuck, or for any other man, for the matter of that.

And now for the end of this story. Jacob Stuck lived with his princess in his fine palace as grand as a king, and when the old king died he became the king after him.

One day there came two men travelling along, and they were footsore and weary. They stopped at Jacob Stuck’s palace and asked for something to eat. Jacob Stuck did not know them at first, and then he did. One was Joseph and the other was John.

This is what had happened to them:

Joseph had sat and sat where John and Jacob Stuck had left him on his box of silver money, until a band of thieves had come along and robbed him of it all. John had carried away his pockets and his hat full of gold, and had lived like a prince as long as it had lasted. Then he had gone back for more, but in the meantime some rogue had come along and had stolen it all. Yes; that was what had happened, and now they were as poor as ever.

Jacob Stuck welcomed them and brought them in and made much of them.

Well, the truth is truth, and this is it: It is better to have a little bit of good luck to help one in what one undertakes than to have a chest of silver or a chest of gold.

“And now for your story, holy knight,” said Fortunatus to St. George “for twas your turn, only for this fair lady who came in before you.”

“Aye, aye,” said the saint; “I suppose it was, in sooth, my turn. Ne’th’less, it gives me joy to follow so close so fair and lovely a lady.” And as he spoke he winked one eye at Cinderella, beckoned towards her with his cup of ale, and took a deep draught to her health. “I shall tell you,” said he, as soon as he had caught his breath again, “a story about an angel and a poor man who travelled with him, and all the wonderful things the poor man saw the angel do.”

“That,” said the Blacksmith who made Death sit in his pear-tree until the wind whistled through his ribs--“that, methinks, is a better thing to tell for a sermon than a story.”

“Whether or no that shall be so,” said St. George, “you shall presently hear for yourselves.”

He took another deep draught of ale, and then cleared his throat.

“Stop a bit, my friend,” said Ali Baba. “What is your story about?”

“It is,” said St. George, “about--”

The Fruit of Happiness

Once upon a time there was a servant who served a wise man, and cooked for him his cabbage and his onions and his pot-herbs and his broth, day after day, time in and time out, for seven years.

In those years the servant was well enough contented, but no one likes to abide in the same place forever, and so one day he took it into his head that he would like to go out into the world to see what kind of a fortune a man might make there for himself. “Very well,” says the wise man, the servant’s master; “you have served me faithfully these seven years gone, and now that you ask leave to go you shall go. But it is little or nothing in the way of money that I can give you, and so you will have to be content with what I can afford. See, here is a little pebble, and its like is not to be found in the seven kingdoms, for whoever holds it in his mouth can hear while he does so all that the birds and the beasts say to one another. Take it--it is yours, and, if you use it wisely, it may bring you a fortune.”

The servant would rather have had the money in hand than the magic pebble, but, as nothing better was to be had, he took the little stone, and, bidding his master good-bye, trudged out into the world, to seek his fortune. Well, he jogged on and on, paying his way with the few pennies he had saved in his seven years of service, but for all of his travelling nothing of good happened to him until, one morning, he came to a lonely place where there stood a gallows, and there he sat him down to rest, and it is just in such an unlikely place as this that a man’s best chance of fortune comes to him sometimes.

As the servant sat there, there came two ravens flying, and lit upon the cross-beam overhead. There they began talking to one another, and the servant popped the pebble into his mouth to hear what they might say.

“Yonder is a traveller in the world,” said the first raven.

“Yes,” said the second, “and if he only knew how to set about it, his fortune is as good as made.”

“How is that so?” said the first raven.

“Why, thus,” said the second. “If he only knew enough to follow yonder road over the hill, he would come by-and-by to a stone cross where two roads meet, and there he would find a man sitting. If he would ask it of him, that man would lead him to the garden where the fruit of happiness grows.”

“The fruit of happiness!” said the first raven, “and of what use would the fruit of happiness be to him?”

“What use? I tell you, friend, there is no fruit in the world like that, for one has only to hold it in one’s hand and wish, and whatever one asks for one shall have.”

You may guess that when the servant understood the talk of the ravens he was not slow in making use of what he heard. Up he scrambled, and away he went as fast as his legs could carry him. On and on he travelled, until he came to the cross-roads and the stone cross of which the raven spoke, and there, sure enough, sat the traveller. He was clad in a weather-stained coat, and he wore dusty boots, and the servant bade him good-morning.

How should the servant know that it was an angel whom he beheld, and not a common wayfarer?

“Whither away, comrade,” asked the traveller.

“Out in the world,” said the servant, “to seek my fortune. And what I want to know is this--will you guide me to where I can find the fruit of happiness?”

“You ask a great thing of me,” said the other; “nevertheless, since you do ask it, it is not for me to refuse, though I may tell you that many a man has sought for that fruit, and few indeed have found it. But if I guide you to the garden where the fruit grows, there is one condition you must fulfil: many strange things will happen upon our journey between here and there, but concerning all you see you must ask not a question and say not a word. Do you agree to that?”

“Yes,” said the servant, “I do.”

“Very well,” said his new comrade; “then let us be jogging, for I have business in the town to-night, and the time is none too long to get there.”

So all the rest of that day they journeyed onward together, until, towards evening, they came to a town with high towers and steep roofs and tall spires. The servant’s companion entered the gate as though he knew the place right well, and led the way up one street and down another, until, by-and-by, they came to a noble house that stood a little apart by itself, with gardens of flowers and fruit-trees all around it. There the travelling companion stopped, and, drawing out a little pipe from under his jacket, began playing so sweetly upon it that he made one’s heart stand still to listen to the music.

Well, he played and played until, by-and-by, the door opened, and out came a serving-man. “Ho, piper!” said he, “would you like to earn good wages for your playing?”

“Yes,” said the travelling companion, “I would, for that is why I came hither.”

“Then follow me,” said the servant, and thereupon the travelling companion tucked away his pipe and entered, with the other at his heels.

The house-servant led the way from one room to another, each grander than the one they left behind, until at last he came to a great hall where dozens of servants were serving a fine feast. But only one man sat at table--a young man with a face so sorrowful that it made a body’s heart ache to look upon him. “Can you play good music, piper?” said he.

“Yes,” said the piper, “that I can, for I know a tune that can cure sorrow. But before I blow my pipe I and my friend here must have something to eat and drink, for one cannot play well with an empty stomach.”

“So be it,” said the young man; “sit down with me and eat and drink.”

So the two did without second bidding, and such food and drink the serving-man had never tasted in his life before. And while they were feasting together the young man told them his story, and why it was he was so sad. A year before he had married a young lady, the most beautiful in all that kingdom, and had friends and comrades and all things that a man could desire in the world. But suddenly everything went wrong; his wife and he fell out and quarrelled until there was no living together, and she had to go back to her old home. Then his companions deserted him, and now he lived all alone.

“Yours is a hard case,” said the travelling companion, “but it is not past curing.” Thereupon he drew out his pipes and began to play, and it was such a tune as no man ever listened to before. He played and he played, and, after a while, one after another of those who listened to him began to get drowsy. First they winked, then they shut their eyes, and then they nodded until all were as dumb as logs, and as sound asleep as though they would never waken again. Only the servant and the piper stayed awake, for the music did not make them drowsy as it did the rest. Then, when all but they two were tight and fast asleep, the travelling companion arose, tucked away his pipe, and, stepping up to the young man, took from off his finger a splendid ruby ring, as red as blood and as bright as fire, and popped the same into his pocket. And all the while the serving-man stood gaping like a fish to see what his comrade was about. “Come,” said the travelling companion, “it is time we were going,” and off they went, shutting the door behind them.

As for the serving-man, though he remembered his promise and said nothing concerning what he had beheld, his wits buzzed in his head like a hive of bees, for he thought that of all the ugly tricks he had seen, none was more ugly than this--to bewitch the poor sorrowful young man into a sleep, and then to rob him of his ruby ring after he had fed them so well and had treated them so kindly.

But the next day they jogged on together again until by-and-by they came to a great forest. There they wandered up and down till night came upon them and found them still stumbling onward through the darkness, while the poor serving-man’s flesh quaked to hear the wild beasts and the wolves growling and howling around them.

But all the while the angel--his travelling companion--said never a word; he seemed to doubt nothing nor fear nothing, but trudged straight ahead until, by-and-by, they saw a light twinkling far away, and, when they came to it, they found a gloomy stone house, as ugly as eyes ever looked upon. Up stepped the servant’s comrade and knocked upon the door--rap! tap! tap! By-and-by it was opened a crack, and there stood an ugly old woman, blear-eyed and crooked and gnarled as a winter twig. But the heart within her was good for all that. “Alas, poor folk!” she cried, “why do you come here? This is a den where lives a band of wicked thieves. Every day they go out to rob and murder poor travellers like yourselves. By-and-by they will come back, and when they find you here they will certainly kill you.”

“No matter for that,” said the travelling companion; “we can go no farther to-night, so you must let us in and hide us as best you may.”

And in he went, as he said, with the servant at his heels trembling like a leaf at what he had heard. The old woman gave them some bread and meat to eat, and then hid them away in the great empty meal-chest in the corner, and there they lay as still as mice.

By-and-by in came the gang of thieves with a great noise and uproar, and down they sat to their supper. The poor servant lay in the chest listening to all they said of the dreadful things they had done that day--how they had cruelly robbed and murdered poor people. Every word that they said he heard, and he trembled until his teeth chattered in his head. But all the same the robbers knew nothing of the two being there, and there they lay until near the dawning of the day. Then the travelling companion bade the servant be stirring, and up they got, and out of the chest they came, and found all the robbers sound asleep and snoring so that the dust flew.

“Stop a bit,” said the angel--the travelling companion--“we must pay them for our lodging.”

As he spoke he drew from his pocket the ruby ring which he had stolen from the sorrowful young man’s finger, and dropped it into the cup from which the robber captain drank. Then he led the way out of the house, and, if the serving-man had wondered the day before at that which the comrade did, he wondered ten times more to see him give so beautiful a ring to such wicked and bloody thieves.

The third evening of their journey the two travellers came to a little hut, neat enough, but as poor as poverty, and there the comrade knocked upon the door and asked for lodging. In the house lived a poor man and his wife; and, though the two were as honest as the palm of your hand, and as good and kind as rain in spring-time, they could hardly scrape enough of a living to keep body and soul together. Nevertheless, they made the travellers welcome, and set before them the very best that was to be had in the house; and, after both had eaten and drunk, they showed them to bed in a corner as clean as snow, and there they slept the night through.

But the next morning, before the dawning of the day, the travelling companion was stirring again. “Come,” said he; “rouse yourself, for I have a bit of work to do before I leave this place.”

And strange work it was! When they had come outside of the house, he gathered together a great heap of straw and sticks of wood, and stuffed all under the corner of the house. Then he struck a light and set fire to it, and, as the two walked away through the gray dawn, all was a red blaze behind them.