Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Fairy tales; Fantasy literature
“I know,” said he, “what has happened to you. If I were wise I
should let you alone in your folly; but once more I will have pity
on you and will help you, only this time it shall be the last.”
Once more he led the way to the stone room, where were the iron
candlestick and the magic carpet, and with him he took a good stout
cudgel. He stood the candlestick in the middle of the room, and
taking three candles from his pouch, thrust one into each branch.
Then he struck a light, and lit the first candle. Instantly there
appeared a little old man, clad in a long white robe, who began
dancing and spinning around and around like a top. He lit the
second candle, and a second old man appeared, and round and round
he went, spinning like his brother. He lit the third candle, and a
third old man appeared. Around and around and around they spun and
whirled, until the head spun and whirled to look at them. Then the
old graybeard gripped the cudgel in his hand. “Are you ready?” he
asked.
[Illustration]
“We are ready, and waiting,” answered the three. Thereupon, without
another word, the graybeard fetched each of the dancers a blow upon
the head with might and main--One! two! three! crack! crash! jingle!
Lo and behold! Instead of the three dancing men, there lay three
great heaps of gold upon the floor, and the spendthrift stood
staring like an owl. “There,” said the old man, “take what you
want, and then go your way, and trouble me no more.”
“Well,” said the spendthrift, “of all the wonders that ever I saw,
this is the most wonderful! But how am I to carry my gold away with
me, seeing I did not fetch my basket?”
“You shall have a basket,” said the old man, “if only you will
trouble me no more. Just wait here a moment until I bring it to
you.”
[Illustration]
The spendthrift was left all alone in the room; not a soul was
there but himself. He looked up, and he looked down, and scratched
his head. “Why,” he cried aloud, “should I be content to take a
part when I can have the whole?”
To do was as easy as to say. He snatched up the iron candlestick,
caught up the staff that the old man had left leaning against the
wall, and seated himself upon the magic carpet. “By the horn of
Jacob,” he cried, “I command thee, O Carpet! to carry me over hill
and valley, over lake and river, to a place where the old man can
never find me.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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