“Now she hears his howls resounding through the gloomy alleys of the
forest, and swift as the wind she runs. She hears the tramp of his
approaching feet, and the snuffle of his breath. Then she casts behind
her her handkerchief. The were-wolf seizes this with teeth and nails,
and rends it till it is reduced to tiny ribands. In another moment he
is again in pursuit foaming at the mouth, and howling dismally, whilst
his red eyes gleam like burning coals. As he gains on her, she casts
behind her her gown, and bids him tear that. He seizes the gown and
rives it to shreds, then again he pursues. This time she casts behind
her her apron, next her petticoat, then her shift, and at last rums
much in the condition in which she was born. Again the were-wolf
approaches; she bounds out of the forest into a hay-field, and hides
herself in the smallest heap of hay. Her father enters the field, runs
howling about it in search of her, cannot find her, and begins to upset
the different haycocks, all the while growling and gnashing his
gleaming white fangs in his rage at her having escaped him. The foam
flakes drop at every step from his mouth, and his skin is reeking with
sweat. Before he has reached the smallest bundle of hay his strength
leaves him, he feels exhaustion begin to creep over him, and he retires
to the forest.
“The king goes out hunting every clay; one of his dogs carries food to
the hay-field, which has most unaccountably been neglected by the
hay-makers for three days. The king, following the dog, discovers the
fair damsel, not exactly ‘in the straw,’ but up to her neck in hay. She
is carried, hay and all, to the palace, where she becomes his wife,
making only one stipulation before becoming his bride, and that is,
that no beggar shall be permitted to enter the palace.
“After some years a beggar does get in, the beggar being, of course,
none other than her were-wolf father. He steals upstairs, enters the
nursery, cuts the throats of the two children borne by the queen to her
lord, and lays the knife under her pillow.
“In the morning, the king, supposing his wife to be the murderess,
drives her from home, with the dead princes hung about her neck. A
hermit comes to the rescue, and restores the babies to life. The king
finds out his mistake, is reunited to the lady out of the hay, and the
were-wolf is cast off a high cliff into the sea, and that is the end of
him. The king, the queen, and the princes live happily, and may be
living yet, for no notice of their death has appeared in the
newspaper.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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