‘Well,’ said the old witch, ‘we have got the bird’s heart, but not the
wishing-cloak yet, and that we must also get.’ ‘Let us leave him that,’
said the young lady; ‘he has already lost his wealth.’ Then the witch
was very angry, and said, ‘Such a cloak is a very rare and wonderful
thing, and I must and will have it.’ So she did as the old woman told
her, and set herself at the window, and looked about the country and
seemed very sorrowful; then the huntsman said, ‘What makes you so sad?’
‘Alas! dear sir,’ said she, ‘yonder lies the granite rock where all the
costly diamonds grow, and I want so much to go there, that whenever I
think of it I cannot help being sorrowful, for who can reach it? only
the birds and the flies--man cannot.’ ‘If that’s all your grief,’ said
the huntsman, ‘I’ll take you there with all my heart’; so he drew her under
his cloak, and the moment he wished to be on the granite mountain they
were both there. The diamonds glittered so on all sides that they were
delighted with the sight and picked up the finest. But the old witch
made a deep sleep come upon him, and he said to the young lady, ‘Let us
sit down and rest ourselves a little, I am so tired that I cannot stand
any longer.’ So they sat down, and he laid his head in her lap and
fell asleep; and whilst he was sleeping on she took the cloak from
his shoulders, hung it on her own, picked up the diamonds, and wished
herself home again.
When he awoke and found that his lady had tricked him, and left him
alone on the wild rock, he said, ‘Alas! what roguery there is in the
world!’ and there he sat in great grief and fear, not knowing what to
do. Now this rock belonged to fierce giants who lived upon it; and as
he saw three of them striding about, he thought to himself, ‘I can only
save myself by feigning to be asleep’; so he laid himself down as if he
were in a sound sleep. When the giants came up to him, the first pushed
him with his foot, and said, ‘What worm is this that lies here curled
up?’ ‘Tread upon him and kill him,’ said the second. ‘It’s not worth the
trouble,’ said the third; ‘let him live, he’ll go climbing higher up the
mountain, and some cloud will come rolling and carry him away.’ And they
passed on. But the huntsman had heard all they said; and as soon as they
were gone, he climbed to the top of the mountain, and when he had sat
there a short time a cloud came rolling around him, and caught him in a
whirlwind and bore him along for some time, till it settled in a garden,
and he fell quite gently to the ground amongst the greens and cabbages.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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