Luxehale was delighted to have brought things so far; and in proportion to the difficulty he had had in winning her, was the satisfaction he felt in being with her; thus he spent a longer time with her than he had with either of the other sisters. But the time came at last when he had to go upon earth about his business; and then he gave her the same charge as the others about the keys and the adamant door, and the rose which was not to fade till his return.
It was not many days either before the desire to see what was hid behind it took possession of her; but as she approached it she already perceived that the air that came from it was dry and heated, and as she really regarded the rose as a token of affection, she was concerned to keep it fair and fresh, so she went back and placed it in a glass of water, and then pursued her investigation of the secret of the adamant door.
She had learnt enough when she had but half opened it, and smelt the stifling fumes of sulphur which issued from the pit it guarded, and would have turned to go, but then her sisters’ voices, wailing in piteous accents, met her ear.
“Lucia! Orsola!” she cried.
“Regina!” they replied; and then, courageously advancing farther by the light of the lurid flames, which burnt fitfully through the smoke, now red with a horrid glare, now ashy grey and ghastly, she descried the beloved forms of her sisters writhing and wailing, and calling on her to help them.
She promised to use all her best endeavours to release them, and, in the meantime, bid them keep up their courage as best they might, and be on the look-out to take advantage of the first chance of escape she could throw in their way. With that she returned to her apartment, replaced the rose in her bosom, and looked out for the return of Luxehale. Nor did he keep her long waiting; and when he saw the rose blooming as freshly as at the first he was delighted, and embraced her with enthusiasm. In fact, he was so smiling and well inclined that she thought she could not do better than take advantage of his good humour to carry out the plan she had already conceived.
“Do you know,” she said, “I don’t like the way in which your people wash my things; they dry them in a hot room. Now I’ve always been accustomed to dry them on the grass, where the thyme grows, and then they not only get beautifully aired, but they retain a sweet scent of the wild thyme which I have always loved since the days when I was a little, little girl, and my mother used to kiss me when she put on my clean things.”
“It shall be done as you like,” said Luxehale. “I will order a field of thyme to be got ready immediately, and your things shall always be dried upon it. Is there nothing else, nothing more difficult, I can do for you?”
“Well, do you know,” she replied – for this would not have answered her purpose at all – “do you know, I don’t fancy that would be quite the same thing either; there is something peculiar about the scent of our grass and our thyme at home which is very dear to me. Wouldn’t it be possible to send the things home?”
Luxehale looked undecided.
“It’s the only thing wanted to make this beautiful place perfectly delightful,” she continued.
He couldn’t resist this, and promised she should do as she liked.
Regina then ordered a large box to be made, and packed a quantity of her things into it. But in the night when all slept she went down to the adamant door, and called Lucia.
Both sisters came running out. “One at a time!” she said. “Lucia has been in longest; it will be your turn next.” So she took Lucia up with her, and hid her in the box under the clothes, and told her what she had to do. She was to send all the linen back clean at the end of the week, and well scent it with thyme, and to fill up the vacant space with more linen, so that it might not seem to return with less in it than when it went. She told her also, if the porter who carried the box should take into his head to peep in, “all you have to say is, ‘I see you!’ and you will find that will cure him.” Then she went to bed, and slept quietly till morning.
Early next day Luxehale called a porter to carry the box, to whom she overheard him giving secret instructions that, as soon as he had got to a good distance, he should search the box, and let him know what was in it before he sent him up to her for final orders.
Regina told him all about the situation of her father’s cottage. “But,” she added, “I’ve had my eye on you a long time – you’re not a bad sort of fellow, but you’re too curious.”
“Why, I’ve never been where your worship could see me!” answered the porter; “I’ve always worked in the stables.”
“I can see every where!” replied Regina, solemnly. “I can see you in the stables as well as I can see you here, and as well as I shall be able to see you all the way you are journeying; and if an impertinent curiosity should take you to look at my clothes, I shall see you, you may be sure, and shall have you properly punished, so beware!”
The porter planted the chest on his strong shoulders and walked away. He was a devil-may-care sort of fellow, and didn’t altogether believe in Regina’s power of seeing “every where,” and, as his master’s injunction to look into the box accorded much better with his own humour than Regina’s order to abstain from opening it, before he had got halfway he set it down on the ground, and opened it.
“I see you!” said Lucia, from within; and her voice was so like her sister’s that the fellow made no doubt it was Regina herself who really saw him as she had threatened; and, clapping the box to again in a great fright, lifted it on to his shoulders with all expedition.
“I’ve brought your daughter’s linen to be washed!” cried the porter, when he arrived at the cottage, to the father of the Devil’s wives, who was in his field “breaking” Indian corn. “I’ve got a message to carry about a hundred miles farther and shall be back by the end of the week, so please have it all ready for me to take back when I call for it.”
The good peasant gave him a glass of his best Küchelberger83, and sent him on his way rejoicing.
He had no sooner departed than Lucia started up out of the box of linen, and hastily told her father all the story. The peasant’s hair stood on end as he listened, but they felt there was no time to be lost. All the linen Regina had sent, and all that remained in the cottage, was washed and well scented with thyme, and packed smoothly into the box for the porter to take back with him. They had hardly got it all ready when he came to the gate to ask for it.
“Here you are!” said the peasant; and the porter lifted the box on to his strong shoulders, and made the best of his way home.
“What did you find when you looked into the box?” asked the Devil, the first time he could catch the porter alone.
“Oh! nothing whatever but dirty linen,” replied he, too much of a braggadocio to confess that he had been scared by a woman’s voice.
After receiving this testimony the Devil made no sort of obstacle any more to his wife sending a box home whenever she would, and as soon as she collected sufficient to justify the use of the large chest she ordered the porter to be ready over night, and then went down and called Orsola.
Orsola came quickly enough, and was packed into the linen chest as her sister had been, and with the same instructions. “Only, as I don’t mean to stay here much longer behind, there is no reason why we should lose all our best linen, so don’t send a great deal back this time, but fill up the box with celery, of which Luxehale is very fond.”
The porter, feeling somewhat ashamed of his pusillanimity on the last occasion, determined this time to have a good look into the box, for the effect of his fright had worn off, and he said to himself, “It was only a foolish fancy – I couldn’t really have heard it.”
So he had hardly got half way when he set the box down, and lifted the lid.
“I see you!” exclaimed Orsola, in a voice so like Regina’s that the lid slipped out of his hand, and fell upon the box with a crash which startled Orsola herself. He loaded the box on his shoulders once more, nor stopped again till he reached his destination.
Hearty was the greeting of the two sisters and their father as soon as he was gone; and then they set to work to get the washing done.
“The weather has been so bad,” said the father, when the porter returned, “that we could not dry all the linen, please to say to your mistress, but we hope to have it ready to go back with next week’s; beg her acceptance, however, of the celery which I have packed into the box in its place.”
“Did you look into the box this time?” said Luxehale, as soon as he got the porter alone.
The porter did not like to acknowledge that he had been scared by a woman, and so declared again that there was nothing in the box but linen.
It was more difficult to arrange for her own escape, but Regina had a plan for all. The box had now gone backwards and forwards often enough for the porter to need no fresh directions, so she told him over-night where he would find it in the morning; and he, finding it seem all as usual, loaded it on his shoulders, and walked off with it by the usual path.
He had not performed half the journey when he determined to have a serious look into the box this time, and be scared by no one. Accordingly he lifted the lid, but this time the words, —
“I see you!” came out of the box so unmistakably in Regina’s voice, that there was no room for doubt of her power of seeing him, and with more haste than ever he closed it up again, and made the best of his way to the peasant’s cottage.
Both sisters and their father greeted Regina as their good angel and deliverer when she stepped out of the box; and they went on talking over all their adventures with no need to make haste, for Regina had brought away with her money and jewels enough to make them rich for the rest of their lives, so that they had no need to work any more at all.
When the porter returned to ask for the linen-chest, the peasant came out with a humorous smile, and bid him tell his master that they had not time to do the washing that week.
“But what shall I tell my mistress?” asked the man.
As he said so, Regina and her sisters came into the room, striking him dumb with astonishment.
“No, you had better not go back to him,” she said, compassionating him for the treatment that would have awaited him, had he returned without her; “Luxehale would doubtless vent his fury on you for my absence. Better to stay here and serve us; and you need not fear his power as long as you keep out of his territory.”
After this, Luxehale determined to give up young and pretty wives, since they proved sharp enough to outwit him, as he had before given up rich and titled ones, who were like to have knights and princes to deliver them.
This time he said he would look out for a bustling woman of good common sense, who had been knocked about in the world long enough to know the value of what he had to offer her.
So he went out into the town of Trient, and fixed upon a buxom woman of the middle class, who was just in her first mourning for her husband, and mourned him not because she cared for him, for he had been a bad man, and constantly quarrelled with her, but because, now he was dead, she had no one to provide for her, and after a life of comparative comfort, she saw penury and starvation staring her in the face.
He met her walking in the olive-yard upon the hill whence her husband’s chief means had been derived. “And to think that all these fine trees, our fruitful arativo, and our bright green prativo84, are to be sold to pay those rascally creditors of my brute of a husband!” she mused as she sat upon the rising ground, and cried. “If he had nothing to leave me, why did he go off in that cowardly way, and leave me here? what is the use of living, if one has nothing to live upon?”
The Devil overheard her, and perceived she was just in the mood for his purpose, but took care to appear to have heard nothing.
“And are you still charitably mourning because the Devil has taken your tyrant of a husband?”
“Not because he has taken him, but because he didn’t take me too, at the same time!” answered the woman, pettishly.
“What! did you love the old churl as much as all that?” asked Luxehale.
“Love him! what put that into your head? But I didn’t want to be left here to starve, I suppose.”
“Come along with me then, and you shan’t starve. You shall have a jollier time of it than with the old fool who is dead – plenty to eat and drink, and no lack, and no work!”
“That’s not a bad proposition, certainly; but, pray, who are you?”
“I am he who you regretted just now had not taken you. I will take you, if you wish, and make you my wife.”
“You the Devil!” exclaimed the woman, eyeing the handsome person he had assumed from head to foot; “impossible, you can’t be the Devil!”
“You see the Devil’s not so black as he’s painted,” replied Luxehale. “Believe me that is all stuff, invented by designing knaves to deceive silly people. You can see for yourself if I don’t look, by a long way, handsomer and taller than your departed spouse, at all events.”
“There’s no saying nay to that,” responded the widow.
“Nor to my other proposition either,” urged Luxehale; and, as he found she ceased to make any resistance, he took her up in his arms, and, spreading his great bat’s wings, carried her down to his palace, where he installed her as lady and mistress, much to her own satisfaction.
As she was fond of luxury and ease, and had met with little of it before, the life in the Devil’s palace suited her uncommonly well, and yet, though she had every thing her own way, her bad temper frequently found subject for quarrel and complaint.
It was on one occasion when her temper had thus been ruffled, and she had had an angry dispute with Luxehale, who to avoid her wrangling had gone off in a sullen mood to bed, that some one knocked at the door. All the servants were gone to bed, so she got up, and asked who was there.
“I, Pangrazio Clamer of Trient,” said a somewhat tremulous voice.
“Pangrazio Clamer of Trient!” returned the widow; “come in, and welcome. But how did you get here?”
“It’s a longish story; but, first, how did you get here, and installed here too, it seems? Ah, Giuseppa, you had better have married me!”
“I’ve forbidden you to talk of that,” answered Giuseppa. “Besides, I had not better have married you, for I have married a great prince, who is able to keep me in every kind of luxury, and give me every thing I can wish. You couldn’t have done that.”
“No, indeed,” he sighed.
“Well, don’t let’s talk any more about that. Tell me how every one is going on in Trient.”
“By-and-by, if there is time. But, first, let me tell you about myself, and what brought me here. That’s strange enough.”
“Well, what was it, then?”
“You know that you refused to have me, because I was poor – ”
“I have already forbidden you to allude to that subject.”
“You must know, then, that though I worked so hard to try and make myself rich enough to please you, I only got poorer and poorer; while at the same time, there was Eligio Righi, who, though his father left him a good fortune to begin with, kept on getting richer and richer, till he had bought up all the mines and all the olive-grounds, and all the vineyards and mulberry-trees that were to be sold for miles round – yours among the rest.”
“That too?”
“Yes; and I often felt tempted to envy him, but I never did. One day he came to me while I was hard at work, and said, ‘You know, Pangrazio Clamer, that I am very rich;’ and I thought he didn’t need to have come and said that to me, who had all the labour in life to keep off envying him, as it was. ‘Pangrazio,’ says he, ‘I am not only rich, but I have every thing I can wish, but one thing; and if I meet any one who will do that one thing, I will take him to share my riches while I live, and make him my heir at my death. I come first to ask you.’ ‘Tell me what it is,’ says I; ‘I can’t work harder, or fare worse, than I do now, whatever it may be – so I’m your man.’ ‘Well, then, it’s this,’ he continued. ‘My one great unfulfilled wish through life has been to give the Devil three good kicks, as some punishment for all the mischief he does in the world; but I have never had the courage to make the attempt, and now I have got old, and past the strength for adventures, so if you will do this in my stead, I will put you in my shoes as far as my money is concerned.’ Of course, I answered I would set out directly; and, as he had made the road by which men get hither his study, for this very purpose, all through his life, he could give me very exact directions for finding the Devil’s abode.
“But, to get here, I had to traverse the lands of three different sovereigns; and, as I had to go to them to get my passport properly in order, they learned my destination, and each gave me a commission on his own account, which I accepted, because if I should fail with Eligio Righi’s affair, I should have a chance of the rewards they promised me to fall back on.”
“And what were these three commissions?”
“The first king wants to know why the fountain which supplied all his country with such beautiful bright water has suddenly ceased to flow. The second king wants a remedy for the malady of his only son, who lies at the point of death, and no physician knows what ails him. And the third king wants to know why all the trees in his dominions bear such splendid foliage, but bring forth no fruit.”
“And you expect me to help you in all this?” said the Devil’s wife.
“Well, for our old acquaintance’ sake, and the bond of our common home,” said Clamer, “you might do that; and for the sake of the nearer bond that might have united us.”
“I would have refused you all you ask, to punish you for going back to that story,” said Giuseppa, “but I really desire to see old Luxehale get a good drubbing, just now, for he has been very tiresome to-day. I daren’t give it him myself, but I’ll help you to do it, if you have a mind.”
“Never mind the motive, provided you give me the help,” replied Clamer. “And will you help me to trick him out of the answers for the three kings, as well as to give him a good drubbing?”
“That will I; for it will be good fun to counter-act some of his mischief.”
“How shall we set about it then?”
“I am just going to bed; he is asleep already. You must conceal yourself in the curtains, and bring a big stick with you; and when I make a sign, you must, without a moment’s notice, set to and give it him. Will that do for you?”
“Admirably! Only, remember, I have to do it three times, or I shan’t get my guerdon.”
“And do you think you are certain of getting all Eligio Righi’s fortune?” said Giuseppa, earnestly.
“Oh, as sure as fate!” replied Clamer; “he’s a man who never goes back from his word. But I must fulfil all he says with equal exactness.”
“And when I’ve helped you with half your labour, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have half your guerdon.”
“Nor I! You’ll always find me faithful and true; and what I offered you when I was poor, I offer you with equal heartiness when I have the prospect of being the richest man in Trient.”
“When you have done all you have to do, then, will you take me back with you?”
“Nothing would make me happier than your consent to come with me. And when I’m rich enough to be well fed and clothed, you’ll find I’m not such a bad-looking fellow, after all.”
“Ah, you’ll never be so handsome as Luxehale! But then I don’t half trust him. One never knows what trick he may take into his head to play one. I think I should have more confidence of being able to manage you.”
“Then it’s agreed; you come back with me?”
“Yes; I believe it’s the best thing, after all. And now we must make haste and set about our business.”
She crept up-stairs with soft steps, and Clamer still more softly after her. The Devil was sleeping soundly, and snoring like the roar of a wild beast. Giuseppa stowed Clamer away in the curtains, and went to bed too. When she heard what she reckoned one of the soundest snores, she lifted the bed-curtains, and whispered, “Now’s your time!”
Clamer did not wait to be told twice, but raised his stick, and, as Giuseppa lifted the bed-clothes, applied it in the right place, with a hearty good will.
Luxehale woke with a roar of pain, and Clamer disappeared behind the curtains.
“Forgive me, dear lord!” said Giuseppa; “I had such a strange dream, that it woke me all of a start, and I suppose made me knock you.”
“What did you dream about?” said Luxehale, thinking to catch her at fault; but Giuseppa had her answer ready.
“I thought I was travelling through a country where all the people were panting for want of water, and as I passed along, they all gathered round me, and desired me to tell them, what had stopped their water from flowing, saying, ‘You are the Devil’s wife, so you must know!’ and when I couldn’t tell them, they threw stones at me, so that I seemed to have a hard matter to escape from them.”
The Devil burst out into a loud laugh, which absorbed all his ill-humour, as he heard this story, and Giuseppa made a sign to Clamer to pay attention to what was to follow.
“You see, you never tell me any thing,” she continued, pretending to cry; “I never know any thing about your business, and, you see, all those people expected I knew every thing my husband knew, as other wives do.”
“I didn’t suppose you’d care to know any thing about it,” replied Luxehale, trying to soothe her; “and really there was nothing to tell! It’s an every-day matter. There was a pilgrimage chapel near the city, to which the people used to go in procession every year; and as long as they did that, I never could get past to get at the fountains. But now they have left off the procession, and so I got by, and had the fun of stopping the water.”
Clamer winked to Giuseppa, to show he understood what the remedy was, and Giuseppa said no more, so that the Devil very soon fell off to sleep again.
When he began to snore again very soundly, she lifted the bed-clothes, and made the agreed sign to Clamer. Clamer came forward, and applied his stick with a hearty will in the right place, and the Devil woke with a shout of fury.
“Oh, my dear husband!” cried Giuseppa, deprecating his wrath by her tone of alarm; “I have had another dreadful dream!”
“What was it?” growled the Devil.
“I thought I was going through a great city where all the people were in sorrow, and sat with ashes on their heads. And when they saw me pass, they said they sat so because the king’s son was at the point of death, and no one could tell what ailed him, and all the doctors were of no use; but that as I was the Devil’s wife, I must know all about it. When I couldn’t tell them, they began pelting me; as they kept putting fresh ashes on their heads each had a pan of fire by his side, in which they were making, and they actually took the red-hot cinders out of the pan of fire to pelt me with, and my clothes were all on fire; so you may believe if I tried to run away fast – and it is no wonder if I knocked you a little.”
The Devil’s fancy was more tickled than before with this story, and he laughed fit to split his sides, as she proceeded, so that he forgot all about the beating.
“It is all very well for you to lie there and laugh, but you wouldn’t have laughed if you had been treated as I was, I can tell you!” sobbed Giuseppa. “And it’s all because you never tell me any thing, as other husbands do.”
“Bosh!” answered the Devil; “I should have enough to do, if I told you all the stories like that! Why, it’s the commonest thing in the world. That king’s son was a good young man, obedient to all the advice of his elders. But after a time he got with bad companions, who introduced him to some of my people. After they had played him a number of tricks, one day one of them took into his head to give him a stunning good illness, to punish him for some luck he had had against them at cards. And that’s the history of that – there’s nothing commoner in life.”
Giuseppa made a sign to know if Clamer had heard all he wanted to know, and, finding he was satisfied, let the Devil go to sleep again.
As soon as he began to snore very soundly, Giuseppa lifted the bed-clothes, and Clamer once more applied his stick. Whether by getting used to the work and therefore less nervous, he really hit him harder, or whether the previous blows had made the Devil more sensitive, he certainly woke this time in a more furious passion than ever, and with so rapid a start that it was all Clamer could do to get out of his sight in time.
“What have you been dreaming now?” he exclaimed, in his most fearful voice. “I declare, I can scarcely keep my hands off you!”
“Don’t be angry,” answered Giuseppa; “it is I who have had the worst of it. I dreamt I was passing through a country where the trees had given up bearing fruit; and when the people saw me go by, they all came round me, and said, as I was the Devil’s wife, I must know what ailed their trees; and when I couldn’t tell them, they cut down great branches, and ran after me, poking the sharp, rough points into my sides! You may believe if I tried to run away fast.”
The Devil had never had such a laugh since he had been a devil, as at this story, and the whole palace echoed with his merriment.
When Giuseppa found him once more in such good humour, she went on, —
“And why do you do such mischievous things, and make people so savage? It isn’t fair that they don’t dare to touch you and all their ill-will falls on me.”
“As it happens, it’s not my doing at all this time; at least, I didn’t go out of my way to do it for any sort of fun. It all came about in the regular way of business.”
“What do you mean?” pursued Giuseppa, who knew it was necessary to probe the matter to the bottom.
“Why, the king of that country is a regular miser. He is so afraid that any body should get any thing out of their gardens without paying the due tribute to him first, that he has built such high walls round all the orchards, and vine-gardens, and olive-yards, that no sun can get at them. And he is so stingy, he won’t pay people to dig round them and manure, and prune, and attend to the property; so how can the fruit grow? As long as he defrauds the poor people of their work, he can have no fruit. It’s not my fault at all!
“But, really, I’ve had enough of this. You’d better go and sleep somewhere else for the rest of the night, for I can’t stand being woke up any more. If you do it again, I am sure I shall strangle you – and that would be a pity! Go along, and dream somewhere else – and I hope you may get properly punished before you wake next time!”
Giuseppa desired no command so much; but pretending to cry and be much offended, she got up and went to lie down in another bed till the Devil began to snore soundly again. Then she rose up, and, taking all her fine clothes and jewels, went out softly, and beckoned to Clamer to follow her.
“Suppose the Devil wakes before we get far away?” said Clamer, beginning to get frightened as the time of trial approached.
“Never fear!” answered Giuseppa; “when he gets disturbed like that, he sleeps for a week after it.”
Then she clapped her hands, and a number of great birds came flapping round. She helped Clamer on to the back of one, and, loading her jewels on to another, sprang on to a third, and away they flew, while she beckoned to three more to follow behind.
When they came to the first kingdom, Clamer left the strange cortége behind a mountain, and went alone up to the court, to tell the king he was a miser, and that if he gave up his sordid ways and set the people, who were starving for want of work, to pull down half the height of his walls, and to dig, manure, and prune his trees, he would have as good a crop of fruit as any in the world. Then the king acknowledged his fault, and praised Clamer for pointing it out, and gave him a great bag of gold as his reward.
Clamer packed the sack of gold on to the back of one of the birds which were following them, and away they sped again. When they arrived at the second kingdom, Clamer hid his cortége in a pine forest, and went alone to the court, to tell the king that if his son would give up his bad companions, and live according to the advice of his elders, he would be all well again as before. The prince was very much astonished to find that Clamer knew about his bad behaviour, for he had concealed it from his parents and all about him, but this convinced him that he must be right in what he said, so he promised to alter his life and behave according to the wise counsel of his elders in future. From that moment he began to get better; and the king, in joy at his restoration, gave Clamer a great sack of gold, which he laded on to the back of the second bird; and away they flew again.
When they arrived at the third kingdom, Clamer hid his retinue in the bed of a dried lake and went alone to the court, to tell the king that if he would order the procession to the pilgrimage chapel to be resumed, the Devil would not be able to get in to stop the fountains. The king at once ordered the grandest procession that had ever been known in the memory of the oldest inhabitant, and all the people went out devoutly praying. Immediately the springs and fountains began to flow again; and the king was so pleased that he gave Clamer a great sack of gold, which he packed on to the back of the third bird; and away they flew again, till they reached the gloomy shades of the Val d’Ombretta, under the cold, steep precipices of the Marmolata85.
“Here will be a good place to hide all this treasure,” said Giuseppa; “it will never do to take it into Trient all at once. We will bury it here where foot of man seldom falls, and my birds will keep good watch over it and defend it, and yet by their services we shall be able to fetch down any portion of it as we want it.”
Clamer saw there was some good in the proposal, but he hardly liked giving up the possession of the treasure to Giuseppa’s birds, neither did he like to show any want of confidence.