‘Well, it was our aunt who was the cause of our leaving home, for
we agreed that if the baby was a sister she should wave a white
handkerchief, and if it was a brother, she should brandish a sickle, for
then there would be nothing to come back for, and we might wander far
away. Now our aunt could not bear us, and hated us to live in the same
house with her, so she brandished the sickle, and we went away. That is
all our story.’
And that is all this story.
[Märchen und Gedichte aus der Stadt Tripolis. Von Hans Stumme.]
The White Wolf
Once upon a time there was a king who had three daughters; they were
all beautiful, but the youngest was the fairest of the three. Now
it happened that one day their father had to set out for a tour in a
distant part of his kingdom. Before he left, his youngest daughter made
him promise to bring her back a wreath of wild flowers. When the king
was ready to return to his palace, he bethought himself that he would
like to take home presents to each of his three daughters; so he went
into a jeweller’s shop and bought a beautiful necklace for the
eldest princess; then he went to a rich merchant’s and bought a dress
embroidered in gold and silver thread for the second princess, but in
none of the flower shops nor in the market could he find the wreath of
wild flowers that his youngest daughter had set her heart on. So he
had to set out on his homeward way without it. Now his journey led him
through a thick forest. While he was still about four miles distant
from his palace, he noticed a white wolf squatting on the roadside, and,
behold! on the head of the wolf, there was a wreath of wild flowers.
Then the king called to the coachman, and ordered him to get down from
his seat and fetch him the wreath from the wolf’s head. But the wolf
heard the order and said: ‘My lord and king, I will let you have the
wreath, but I must have something in return.’
‘What do you want?’ answered the king. ‘I will gladly give you rich
treasure in exchange for it.’
‘I do not want rich treasure,’ replied the wolf. ‘Only promise to give
me the first thing that meets you on your way to your castle. In three
days I shall come and fetch it.’
And the king thought to himself: ‘I am still a good long way from home,
I am sure to meet a wild animal or a bird on the road, it will be quite
safe to promise.’ So he consented, and carried the wreath away with him.
But all along the road he met no living creature till he turned into
the palace gates, where his youngest daughter was waiting to welcome him
home.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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