Every one was full of joy but the two other princes. There was not much
delay about the marriages, and they were all celebrated on the one day.
Soon after, the two elder couples went to their own courts, but the
youngest pair stayed with the old king, and they were as happy as the
happiest married couple you ever heard of in a story.
From ‘West Highland Tales.’
The Story of a Very Bad Boy
Once upon a time there lived in a little village in the very middle of
France a widow and her only son, a boy about fifteen, whose name was
Antoine, though no one ever called him anything but Toueno-Boueno. They
were very poor indeed, and their hut shook about their ears on windy
nights, till they expected the walls to fall in and crush them, but
instead of going to work as a boy of his age ought to do, Toueno-Boueno
did nothing but lounge along the street, his eyes fixed on the ground,
seeing nothing that went on round him.
‘You are very, very stupid, my dear child,’ his mother would sometimes
say to him, and then she would add with a laugh, ‘Certainly you will
never catch a wolf by the tail.’
One day the old woman bade Antoine go into the forest and collect enough
dry leaves to make beds for herself and him. Before he had finished it
began to rain heavily, so he hid himself in the hollow trunk of a tree,
where he was so dry and comfortable that he soon fell fast asleep. By
and by he was awakened by a noise which sounded like a dog scratching
at the door, and he suddenly felt frightened, why he did not know. Very
cautiously he raised his head, and right above him he saw a big hairy
animal, coming down tail foremost.
‘It is the wolf that they talk so much about,’ he said to himself, and
he made himself as small as he could and shrunk into a corner.
The wolf came down the inside of the tree, slowly, slowly; Antoine
felt turned to stone, so terrified was he, and hardly dared to breathe.
Suddenly an idea entered his mind, which he thought might save him
still. He remembered to have heard from his mother that a wolf could
neither bend his back nor turn his head, so as to look behind him, and
quick as lightning he stretched up his hand, and seizing the wolf’s
tail, pulled it towards him.
Then he left the tree and dragged the animal to his mother’s house.
‘Mother, you have often declared that I was too stupid to catch a wolf
by the tail. Now see,’ he cried triumphantly.
‘Well, well, wonders will never cease,’ answered the good woman, who
took care to keep at a safe distance. ‘But as you really have got him,
let us see if we can’t put him to some use. Fetch the skin of the ram
which died last week out of the chest, and we will sew the wolf up in
it. He will make a splendid ram, and to-morrow we will drive him to the
fair and sell him.’
Very likely the wolf, who was cunning and clever, may have understood
what she said, but he thought it best to give no sign, and suffered the
skin to be sewn upon him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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