KATCHA AND THE DEVIL
THE STORY OF A CLINGING VINE
KATCHA AND THE DEVIL
THERE was once a woman named Katcha who lived in a village where she owned her own cottage and garden. She had money besides but little good it did her because she was such an ill-tempered vixen that nobody, not even the poorest laborer, would marry her. Nobody would even work for her, no matter what she paid, for she couldn’t open her mouth without scolding, and whenever she scolded she raised her shrill voice until you could hear it a mile away. The older she grew the worse she became until by the time she was forty she was as sour as vinegar.
Now as it always happens in a village, every Sunday afternoon there was a dance either at the burgomaster’s, or at the tavern. As soon as the bagpipes sounded, the boys all crowded into the room and the girls gathered outside and looked in the windows. Katcha was always the first at the window. The music would strike up and the boys would beckon the girls to come in and dance, but no one ever beckoned Katcha. Even when she paid the piper no one ever asked her to dance. Yet she came Sunday after Sunday just the same.
One Sunday afternoon as she was hurrying to the tavern she thought to herself: “Here I am getting old and yet I’ve never once danced with a boy! Plague take it, today I’d dance with the devil if he asked me!”
She was in a fine rage by the time she reached the tavern, where she sat down near the stove and looked around to see what girls the boys had invited to dance.
Suddenly a stranger in hunter’s green came in. He sat down at a table near Katcha and ordered drink. When the serving maid brought the beer, he reached over to Katcha and asked her to drink with him. At first she was much taken back at this attention, then she pursed her lips coyly and pretended to refuse, but finally she accepted.
When they had finished drinking, he pulled a ducat from his pocket, tossed it to the piper, and called out:
“Clear the floor, boys! This is for Katcha and me alone!”
The boys snickered and the girls giggled hiding behind each other and stuffing their aprons into their mouths so that Katcha wouldn’t hear them laughing. But Katcha wasn’t noticing them at all. Katcha was dancing with a fine young man! If the whole world had been laughing at her, Katcha wouldn’t have cared.
The stranger danced with Katcha all afternoon and all evening. Not once did he dance with any one else. He bought her marzipan and sweet drinks and, when the hour came to go home, he escorted her through the village.
“Ah,” sighed Katcha when they reached her cottage and it was time to part, “I wish I could dance with you forever!”
“Very well,” said the stranger. “Come with me.”
“Where do you live?”
“Put your arm around my neck and I’ll tell you.”
Katcha put both arms about his neck and instantly the man changed into a devil and flew straight down to hell.
At the gates of hell he stopped and knocked.
His comrades came and opened the gates and when they saw that he was exhausted, they tried to take Katcha off his neck. But Katcha held on tight and nothing they could do or say would make her budge.
The devil finally had to appear before the Prince of Darkness himself with Katcha still glued to his neck.
“What’s that thing you’ve got around your neck?” the Prince asked.
So the devil told how as he was walking about on earth he had heard Katcha say she would dance with the devil himself if he asked her. “So I asked her to dance with me,” the devil said. “Afterwards just to frighten her a little I brought her down to hell. And now she won’t let go of me!”
“Serve you right, you dunce!” the Prince said. “How often have I told you to use common sense when you go wandering around on earth! You might have known Katcha would never let go of a man once she had him!”
“I beg your Majesty to make her let go!” the poor devil implored.
“I will not!” said the Prince. “You’ll have to carry her back to earth yourself and get rid of her as best you can. Perhaps this will be a lesson to you.”
So the devil, very tired and very cross, shambled back to earth with Katcha still clinging to his neck. He tried every way to get her off. He promised her wooded hills and rich meadows if she but let him go. He cajoled her, he cursed her, but all to no avail. Katcha still held on.
Breathless and discouraged he came at last to a meadow where a shepherd, wrapped in a great shaggy sheepskin coat, was tending his flocks. The devil transformed himself into an ordinary looking man so that the shepherd didn’t recognize him.
“Hi, there,” the shepherd said, “what’s that you’re carrying?”
“Don’t ask me,” the devil said with a sigh. “I’m so worn out I’m nearly dead. I was walking yonder not thinking of anything at all when along comes a woman and jumps on my back and won’t let go. I’m trying to carry her to the nearest village to get rid of her there, but I don’t believe I’m able. My legs are giving out.”
The shepherd, who was a good-natured chap, said: “I tell you what: I’ll help you. I can’t leave my sheep long, but I’ll carry her halfway.”
“Oh,” said the devil, “I’d be very grateful if you did!”
So the shepherd yelled at Katcha: “Hi, there, you! Catch hold of me!”
When Katcha saw that the shepherd was a handsome youth, she let go of the devil and leapt upon the shepherd’s back, catching hold of the collar of his sheepskin coat.
Now the young shepherd soon found that the long shaggy coat and Katcha made a pretty heavy load for walking. In a few moments he was sick of his bargain and began casting about for some way of getting rid of Katcha.
Presently he came to a pond and he thought to himself that he’d like to throw her in. He wondered how he could do it. Perhaps he could manage it by throwing in his greatcoat with her. The coat was so loose that he thought he could slip out of it without Katcha’s discovering what he was doing. Very cautiously he slipped out one arm. Katcha didn’t move. He slipped out the other arm. Still Katcha didn’t move. He unlooped the first button. Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the second button. Still Katcha noticed nothing. He unlooped the third button and kerplunk! he had pitched coat and Katcha and all into the middle of the pond!
When he got back to his sheep, the devil looked at him in amazement.
“Where’s Katcha?” he gasped.
“Oh,” the shepherd said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, “I decided to leave her up yonder in a pond.”
“My dear friend,” the devil cried, “I thank you! You have done me a great favor. If it hadn’t been for you I might be carrying Katcha till doomsday. I’ll never forget you and some time I’ll reward you. As you don’t know who it is you’ve helped, I must tell you I’m a devil.”
With these words the devil vanished.
For a moment the shepherd was dazed. Then he laughed and said to himself: “Well, if they’re all as stupid as he is, we ought to be able for them!”
The country where the shepherd lived was ruled over by a dissolute young duke who passed his days in riotous living and his nights in carousing. He gave over the affairs of state to two governors who were as bad as he. With extortionate taxes and unjust fines they robbed the people until the whole land was crying out against them.
Now one day for amusement the duke summoned an astrologer to court and ordered him to read in the planets the fate of himself and his two governors. When the astrologer had cast a horoscope for each of the three reprobates, he was greatly disturbed and tried to dissuade the duke from questioning him further.
“Such danger,” he said, “threatens your life and the lives of your two governors that I fear to speak.”
“Whatever it is,” said the duke, “speak. But I warn you to speak the truth, for if what you say does not come to pass you will forfeit your life.”
The astrologer bowed and said: “Hear then, oh Duke, what the planets foretell: Before the second quarter of the moon, on such and such a day, at such and such an hour, a devil will come and carry off the two governors. At the full of the moon on such and such a day, at such and such an hour, the same devil will come for your Highness and carry you off to hell.”
The duke pretended to be unconcerned but in his heart he was deeply shaken. The voice of the astrologer sounded to him like the voice of judgment and for the first time conscience began to trouble him.
As for the governors, they couldn’t eat a bite of food and were carried from the palace half dead with fright. They piled their ill-gotten wealth into wagons and rode away to their castles, where they barred all the doors and windows in order to keep the devil out.
The duke reformed. He gave up his evil ways and corrected the abuses of state in the hope of averting if possible his cruel fate.
The poor shepherd had no inkling of any of these things. He tended his flocks from day to day and never bothered his head about the happenings in the great world.
Suddenly one day the devil appeared before him and said: “I have come, my friend, to repay you for your kindness. When the moon is in its first quarter, I was to carry off the former governors of this land because they robbed the poor and gave the duke evil counsel. However, they’re behaving themselves now so they’re to be given another chance. But they don’t know this. Now on such and such a day do you go to the first castle where a crowd of people will be assembled. When a cry goes up and the gates open and I come dragging out the governor, do you step up to me and say: ‘What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there’ll be trouble!’ I’ll pretend to be greatly frightened and make off. Then ask the governor to pay you two bags of gold, and if he haggles just threaten to call me back. After that go on to the castle of the second governor and do the same thing and demand the same pay. I warn you, though, be prudent with the money and use it only for good. When the moon is full, I’m to carry off the duke himself, for he was so wicked that he’s to have no second chance. So don’t try to save him, for if you do you’ll pay for it with your own skin. Don’t forget!”
The shepherd remembered carefully everything the devil told him. When the moon was in its first quarter he went to the first castle. A great crowd of people was gathered outside waiting to see the devil carry away the governor.
Suddenly there was a loud cry of despair, the gates of the castle opened, and there was the devil, as black as night, dragging out the governor. He, poor man, was half dead with fright.
The shepherd elbowed his way through the crowd, took the governor by the hand, and pushed the devil roughly aside.
“What do you mean by this?” he shouted. “Get out of here or there’ll be trouble!”
Instantly the devil fled and the governor fell on his knees before the shepherd and kissed his hands and begged him to state what he wanted in reward. When the shepherd asked for two bags of gold, the governor ordered that they be given him without delay.
Then the shepherd went to the castle of the second governor and went through exactly the same performance.
It goes without saying that the duke soon heard of the shepherd, for he had been anxiously awaiting the fate of the two governors. At once he sent a wagon with four horses to fetch the shepherd to the palace and when the shepherd arrived he begged him piteously to rescue him likewise from the devil’s clutches.
“Master,” the shepherd answered, “I cannot promise you anything. I have to consider my own safety. You have been a great sinner, but if you really want to reform, if you really want to rule your people justly and kindly and wisely as becomes a true ruler, then indeed I will help you even if I have to suffer hellfire in your place.”
The duke declared that with God’s help he would mend his ways and the shepherd promised to come back on the fatal day.
With grief and dread the whole country awaited the coming of the full moon. In the first place the people had greeted the astrologer’s prophecy with joy, but since the duke had reformed their feelings for him had changed.
Time sped fast as time does whether joy be coming or sorrow and all too soon the fatal day arrived.
Dressed in black and pale with fright, the duke sat expecting the arrival of the devil.
Suddenly the door flew open and the devil, black as night, stood before him. He paused a moment and then he said, politely:
“Your time has come, Lord Duke, and I am here to get you!”
Without a word the duke arose and followed the devil to the courtyard, which was filled with a great multitude of people.
At that moment the shepherd, all out of breath, came pushing his way through the crowd, and ran straight at the devil, shouting out:
“What do you mean by this? Get out of here or there’ll be trouble!”
“What do you mean?” whispered the devil. “Don’t you remember what I told you?”
“Hush!” the shepherd whispered back. “I don’t care anything about the duke. This is to warn you! You know Katcha? She’s alive and she’s looking for you!”
The instant the devil heard the name of Katcha he turned and fled.
All the people cheered the shepherd, while the shepherd himself laughed in his sleeve to think that he had taken in the devil so easily.
As for the duke, he was so grateful to the shepherd that he made him his chief counselor and loved him as a brother. And well he might, for the shepherd was a sensible man and always gave him sound advice.
THE BETROTHAL GIFTS
THE STORY OF KUBIK AND THE FROG
THE BETROTHAL GIFTS
A FARMER who had three sons was much troubled in his mind as to how he should leave his property. “My farm is too small to divide,” he kept thinking to himself. “If I divide it into three equal parts and give each of my sons one part, they will all be poor cottagers, and yet, if I give it all to one son, I shall be unjust to the other two. My grandfather always said that it is a father’s duty to treat all his children alike and I’m sure I don’t want to depart from his teachings.”
At last he called his sons together and said: “I have hit upon a plan whereby fate shall decide which of you shall be my heir. You must all go out into the world and find brides, and he who brings back as a betrothal gift the most beautiful ring shall have the farm.”
The sons agreed to this plan and the next day they all set out in different directions in quest of brides.
Now the youngest son, whose name was Kubik, was not considered as bright as his brothers, for he was kind to beggars and he never drove a hard bargain. His brothers often laughed at him and his father pitied him, for he thought that Kubik was too gentle to make his way in the world.
Kubik’s path took him into a deep forest. He walked on and on until suddenly a little frog hopped up in front of him and said:
“Where are you going, Kubik?”
Now Kubik had never in all his life heard of a frog that could talk. At first he was frightened but even so he was too polite not to answer a civil question. So he told the frog about his father and the farm and the quest for betrothal gifts upon which he and his brothers were bound.
The frog listened and when he was finished she said: “Come with me, Kubik, and my daughter, Kachenka, will give you a more beautiful ring than any your father or brothers have ever seen.”
Kubik hesitated, but at last not to hurt the frog’s feelings he agreed. “But if your daughter Kachenka looks like you,” he thought to himself, “Heaven help me, for she’ll be a pretty dear price to pay for a farm!”
The frog led him to a deep valley at one side of which rose a high rocky cliff that was honey-combed with caverns. The frog hopped into one of these and called out:
“Kachenka, my child, where are you? Here is Kubik come to woo you and to beg a betrothal gift. Bring out your little box of rings.”
Instantly a second frog appeared dragging a heavy jewel casket. Kachenka, alas, was a hundred times uglier than her mother. Her legs were crooked, her face was all covered with spots, and when she spoke her voice was hoarse and croaking.
For a moment Kubik shivered and turned away in disgust, but only for a moment until he remembered that it wasn’t Kachenka’s fault that she was a frog.
The two frogs put the casket before him and opened it and Kubik saw that it was filled with a collection of the rarest and most beautiful rings in the world.
“Make your own choice, Kubik,” the old frog said.
Kubik selected as plain a ring as there was, for he was ashamed to take one of the handsomest.
“Not that one!” the old frog said, “unless you want your brothers to laugh at you.”
Thereupon she herself picked out the ring that had the biggest diamond of them all, wrapped it up carefully in paper, and handed it to Kubik.
“Now hurry home,” she said, “for your brothers are already there and your father is waiting for you.”
As soon as Kubik reached home the farmer called his three sons together and demanded to be shown their betrothal gifts.
All the eldest son had was a common brass ring.
“Um,” the farmer said, shaking his head. “Well, put it away for a keepsake.”
The second son showed a silver ring that was worth a few cents more.
“A little better,” the old man mumbled, “but not good enough for a farmer. Put it away for a keepsake. And now,” he said, turning to his youngest son, “let us see what Kubik has brought from his promised bride.”
They all looked at Kubik, and Kubik blushed as he felt in his pocket for the little package.
“Ho, ho!” his brothers laughed. “Kubik has such a fine ring that he has to keep it wrapped up.”
But when he opened the paper they stopped laughing, and well they might, for there was a great diamond that sparkled and blazed until it seemed that the sun was shining in the room.
“Kubik!” the farmer cried when at last he found his voice, “where did you get that ring? You must have stolen it, you wicked boy!” And without waiting to hear what Kubik had to say, he reached for a whip and trounced the poor lad to within an inch of his life. Then he took the ring and hid it carefully away.
“Now, my boys,” he said to his sons, “you will all have to make another trial. This time ask of your promised brides the gift of an embroidered kerchief and he who brings back the most beautiful kerchief shall be my heir.”
So the next day the three sons again started out, each in a different direction.
Kubik thought to himself: “I won’t go the way I went yesterday or I may meet that old frog again and then, when I get home, the only prize I’ll get will be another beating.”
So he took a different path but he hadn’t gone far before the old frog hopped up in front of him.
“What’s the matter, Kubik?” she asked.
At first Kubik didn’t want to tell her but she questioned him and finally, not to seem rude, he told her about the beating his father had given him on account of Kachenka’s ring and about the new quest for embroidered kerchiefs upon which his father was now sending him and his brothers.
“Now don’t think any more about that whipping,” the old frog advised him. “And as for an embroidered kerchief, why, Kachenka is the very girl for that! She will give you one that will make your brothers open their eyes!”
Kubik wasn’t sure that he wanted to accept another of Kachenka’s gifts, but the old frog urged him and at last he agreed. So again they took the path to the rocky cliff. The old frog called her daughter out as before and presently Kachenka appeared dragging a chest that was filled with the most wonderful of kerchiefs, all of fine silk and all richly embroidered and so large that they were more like shawls than kerchiefs.
Kubik reached in and took the first that came to hand.
“Tut, tut!” the old frog said. “That’s no way to select a kerchief.”
Then she herself picked out the biggest and the most richly embroidered of them all and wrapped it up in paper. She gave it to Kubik and said:
“Now hurry home, for your brothers are already there and your father is waiting for you.”
As soon as Kubik reached home the farmer called his three sons together and demanded to be shown their betrothal gifts.
All the eldest one had was a small cheap kerchief of no value whatever.
“Um,” the farmer said, shaking his head. “Well, put it away for a keepsake.”
The kerchief of the second had cost a few cents more.
“A little better,” the old man mumbled. “Perhaps it’s good enough for a farmer. And now,” he said, turning to his youngest son, “let us see what Kubik has brought from his promised bride.”
They all looked at Kubik, and Kubik blushed as he pulled out a parcel from under his shirt.
“Ho, ho!” his brothers laughed. “Kubik has such a fine kerchief that he has to keep it wrapped up in paper!”
But when Kubik opened the paper they stopped laughing, and well they might, for there was a silken kerchief so big that it could have covered the whole room and so richly embroidered that any princess in the world would have been proud to own it.
“Kubik!” the farmer cried when at last he was able to speak, “where did you get that kerchief? You must have stolen it, you wicked boy!” And without waiting to hear what Kubik had to say, he reached down the whip again and trounced the poor boy to within an inch of his life. Then he took the kerchief and hid it carefully away.
“Now, my sons,” he said, “you will all have to make another trial. But this time it will not be for a ring or a kerchief. This time bring home your brides and he whose bride is the most beautiful shall be my heir.”
So the next day the three sons again started out, each in a different direction.
“I don’t want to see Kachenka again,” poor Kubik said to himself. “Twice I’ve brought back the best betrothal gift and each time I’ve got a beating for it. I wonder what they would say if I brought home a frog for a bride! Then they would have something to laugh at!”
So he took a different path through the forest but again he hadn’t gone far before the old frog hopped up in front of him. This time Kubik turned and ran. The old frog called after him but the louder she called the faster he ran.
He ran on and on until suddenly a great snake stopped him. The snake reared high its head, then dropped into a coil. Again it reared up and swayed from side to side threatening to strike if Kubik went on. So Kubik saw that fate was determined that he should marry a frog and reluctantly he turned back.
The snake led him to the cliff, where the old frog greeted him kindly and thanked the snake for his faithful service.
Poor Kubik! He was very tired and very unhappy. When you come to think of it, who wouldn’t be unhappy at the prospect of being united for life to a frog?
Kubik was so tired that presently he fell asleep and it was just as well he did, for at least in dreams he could forget his troubles.
The next morning when he woke and rubbed his eyes, he found himself lying on a soft feather bed, white as snow, in a splendid room with decorations that were fit for a king. A fine silken shirt lay spread out on a chair beside the bed and beyond the chair was a stand with a silver basin. When he got up attendants came running in carrying clothes of richly woven cloth of gold. They dressed Kubik and they combed his hair until they had him looking like a young prince. Then they brought him breakfast and there was cream with the coffee and I would have you know that this was only the second time in his life that Kubik had ever had cream with his coffee!
Kubik did not know what to think of it all. His head went round and round. When he looked out the window he saw no trace of cliff or caverns or forest. Instead he saw a big town with streets and houses and people going to and fro.
Presently music began to play under the window, a great crowd gathered and soon attendants came in to escort Lord Kubik out. As he reached the castle gate, the people cheered and a coach and six drove up. Two ladies were in it, a mother and daughter, both dressed in beautiful silks. They alighted from the coach and when they saw Kubik they smiled and came toward him with outstretched hands.
“You don’t know us, do you, Kubik?” the older lady said. “I was that old frog who coaxed you to the cliff and this, my beautiful daughter, was the other little frog, the very ugly one, that you feared you would have to take home to your father’s house as your bride. You see, Kubik, we were all under an evil enchantment. Many years ago a wicked magician brought ruin on us and our kingdom. He changed our subjects into snakes and us into frogs and turned our fine city into a rocky cliff. Nothing could break the enchantment until some one should come and ask a betrothal gift from my daughter. We lived in the forest for years and years and all those years I begged all the people who wandered by to help us but they only trod on us or turned away from us in disgust. You, Kubik, were the first not to scorn us for our ugly looks. By this you broke the evil spell that held us and now we are all free. As a reward you shall marry my daughter, the Princess Kachenka, and be made king!”
Then the old queen took Kubik by the hand and led him to the royal coach, where she made him sit between her and the princess. Music played and the people cheered, and in this style they drove to Kubik’s native village and to his father’s house.
The old man was in the yard chopping firewood and his older sons were helping him. They, too, had brought home their brides, plain country girls from poor farms, and at that moment they were all awaiting Kubik’s arrival.
“Look, father,” the oldest son cried, “some fine folk are turning in here!”
“We’re not behind in our taxes, are we?” the second son asked.
“Hush!” the old man whispered. “I have nothing to fear. My affairs are all in good order.”
He put his cap respectfully under his arm and stood bareheaded and both his sons followed his example.
The coach drove straight into the yard and a handsome young lord and two beautiful ladies alighted. The handsome young lord greeted the old man and his sons and they bowed and scraped and pressed their hats under their arms tighter and tighter.
Then they all stepped into the old kitchen that was black with the smoke of many years and the handsome young lord sat down on the bench behind the table as though that was where he always sat. The two brothers and their brides shrank back against the oven and held their breath.
Then the handsome young lord said to the old man: “Don’t you know me?”
“Where could I ever have seen your lordship?” the farmer asked, humbly. He kept bobbing so low it was a wonder he didn’t bump his head against the floor.
“And do neither of your sons know me? I think these are your sons, aren’t they?”
The farmer kept on bowing and the two sons looked down, too embarrassed to speak.
At length the handsome young lord said: “What, don’t you know your own son, Kubik, whom you used to beat for stealing when he showed you his betrothal gifts?”
At that the old man looked at him closely and cried out: “Bless my soul, I believe it is our Kubik! But who could recognize the boy!.. And is this his bride? That settles it! Kubik shall have the farm! Kubik has brought home the most beautiful bride!”
“Kubik doesn’t need the farm,” the old queen said, “nor will you need it any longer nor your other sons. You will all come home with us to our kingdom over which Kubik is now king. And may God grant you many years to live on in peace and quiet.”The farmer was overjoyed at this arrangement. He embraced his son, and his son’s bride, and his son’s royal mother-in-law.He gave his farm to the poorest man in the village and then he and his sons accompanied Kubik back to his kingdom. There he lived long in peace and comfort enjoying the thought that good fortune had come to them all on account of his determination not to divide the farm.The poor man who inherited the farm prayed for him and his sons every night and never tired of telling the story of how Kubik became a king and his brothers courtiers.So for many years the memory of Kubik was kept green. Now people are beginning to forget him, so I thought it was time that I tell his story again.
“Kubik doesn’t need the farm,” the old queen said, “nor will you need it any longer nor your other sons. You will all come home with us to our kingdom over which Kubik is now king. And may God grant you many years to live on in peace and quiet.”
The farmer was overjoyed at this arrangement. He embraced his son, and his son’s bride, and his son’s royal mother-in-law.
He gave his farm to the poorest man in the village and then he and his sons accompanied Kubik back to his kingdom. There he lived long in peace and comfort enjoying the thought that good fortune had come to them all on account of his determination not to divide the farm.
The poor man who inherited the farm prayed for him and his sons every night and never tired of telling the story of how Kubik became a king and his brothers courtiers.
So for many years the memory of Kubik was kept green. Now people are beginning to forget him, so I thought it was time that I tell his story again.