‘Not so fast,’ answered she. ‘I can never be your wife till Ciccu puts
on my finger the ring I threw into the stream. Ciccu, who was standing
by expecting something of the sort, bowed his head when he heard her
words, and went straight to the horse.
‘Mount at once,’ said the horse; ‘this time it is very simple,’ and he
carried Ciccu to the banks of the little stream. ‘Now, call three times
on the emperor of the fishes, and beg him to restore you the ring that
the princess dropped.
Ciccu did as the horse told him, and a voice was heard in answer that
seemed to come from a very long way off.
‘What is your will?’ it asked; and Ciccu replied that he had been
commanded to bring back the ring that the princess had flung away, as
she rode past.
‘A fish is playing with it just now,’ replied the voice; ‘however, you
shall have it without delay.’
And sure enough, very soon a little fish was seen rising to the surface
with the lost ring in his mouth. And Ciccu knew him to be the fish that
he had saved from death, and he took the ring and rode back with it to
the king.
‘That is not enough,’ exclaimed the princess when she saw the ring;
‘before we can be man and wife, the oven must be heated for three days
and three nights, and Ciccu must jump in.’ And the king forgot how Ciccu
had served him, and desired him to do as the princess had said.
This time Ciccu felt that no escape was possible, and he went to the
horse and laid his hand on his neck. ‘Now it is indeed good-bye, and
there is no help to be got even from you,’ and he told him what fate
awaited him.
But the horse said, ‘Oh, never lose heart, but jump on my back, and make
me go till the foam flies in flecks all about me. Then get down, and
scrape off the foam with a knife. This you must rub all over you, and
when you are quite covered, you may suffer yourself to be cast into the
oven, for the fire will not hurt you, nor anything else.’ And Ciccu did
exactly as the horse bade him, and went back to the king, and before the
eyes of the fairest in the world he sprang into the oven.
And when the fairest in the world saw what he had done, love entered
into her heart, and she said to the king, ‘One thing more: before I can
be your wife, you must jump into the oven as Ciccu has done.’
‘Willingly,’ replied the king, stooping over the oven. But on the brink
he paused a moment and called to Ciccu, ‘Tell me, Ciccu, how did you
manage to prevent the fire burning you?’
Now Ciccu could not forgive his master, whom he had served so
faithfully, for sending him to his death without a thought, so he
answered, ‘I rubbed myself over with fat, and I am not even singed.’
When he heard these words, the king, whose head was full of the
princess, never stopped to inquire if they could be true, and smeared
himself over with fat, and sprang into the oven. And in a moment the
fire caught him, and he was burned up.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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