Italian Folktales (107 page)

With Death trapped and corked up, nobody in the world died any more. Everywhere people were seen with white beards down to their feet
Taking note of this, the Apostles began dropping hints to the Lord, who finally decided to go and speak with the innkeeper.

“My dear man,” said the Lord, “do you think it's appropriate to keep Death shut up all these years? What about those poor old decrepit people who must drag on and on without ever being able to die outright?”

“Lord,” answered the innkeeper, “do you want me to let Death go? Promise to send me to Paradise, and I'll unstop the bottle.”

The Lord thought it over. What am I to do? If I deny him that favor, there's no telling what a mess I might be in! Therefore the Lord said, “So be it!”

At that, the bottle was uncorked, and Death was free. The innkeeper was allowed to live a few more years, so as to merit Paradise, and then Death returned for him.

 

V. St. Peter's Mamma

 

It's been said that St. Peter's mamma was a miser through and through. Never did she give to charity or spend a penny on her fellow man. One day while she was peeling leeks, a poor woman came by begging. “Will you give me a little something, good woman?”

“That's right, everybody comes to me begging . . . . Well, take this, and don't ask for any more!” And she gave her one leaf of a leek.

When the Lord called her into the next life, he sent her to Hell. The head of Heaven was St. Peter, and as he sat on the doorstep, he heard a voice. “Peter! Just look at how I'm roasting! Son, go to the Lord, talk to him, get me out of this misery!”

St. Peter went to the Lord. “Lord,” he said, “my mother is in Hell and begging to be let out.”

“What! Your mother never did a good turn in her whole life! All she has to her credit is one little leek leaf. Try this. Give her the leek leaf to catch hold to, and pull her up to Paradise by it.”

An angel swooped down with the leek leaf. “Grab hold!” ordered the angel, and St. Peter's mamma caught hold of the leaf. She was about to be pulled up out of Hell, when all the poor souls there with her and seeing her rise, latched on to her skirts. So the angel drew up not only her but all the others as well. Then that selfish woman screamed, “No! Not you all! Get off! Just me! Just me! You ought to have had a saint for a son, as I did!” She kicked and shook them from her, jerking about so much to get free, that the leek leaf broke in two and St. Peter's mamma went plummeting to the bottom of Hell.

 

(
Palermo
)

166

Time and again the story has been told about a barber who owned a clock that had run for centuries without being wound up; never did it stop or lose a minute, but always kept perfect time. The barber had wound it up just once, and from then on, ticktock, ticktock, ticktock . . . 

The barber was an old man, so old that he had lost count of the centuries he had lived and the generations of people he had seen. People from all over were accustomed to run to his shop to ask the clock things they needed to know.

There came the burly farmer, weary and out of sorts, in need of rain for planting time. Seeing the sky forever cloudless, he said, “Tell me, clock, when is it going to rain?”

The clock ticked:

 

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

I shine, I shine, I shine, I shine,

No rain, no rain, the sky is mine.

Come thunder, thunder, thunder, thunder,

And next year, water, water, water!

 

There came an old man leaning on a cane and wheezing from asthma, who asked, “Clock, clock, is there much oil left in my lamp?”

Right away the clock ticked:

 

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick . . . 

Three score, three score, three score,

Burns low, burns low, little more;

Three score past, three score past, three score past:

Poor wick, poor wick, poor wick! Tick . . . 

 

There came a youth in love and up in the clouds, who said, “Tell me, clock, could anyone fare better in love than I?”

 

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock

 

replied the clock:

 

Be a fool and you will fall:

Today you cut a figure at a ball,

Tomorrow lie you 'neath a pall!

 

Then came the foremost outlaw in the land, the head of the terrible Camorra, all rigged up in his tasseled beret and long hair and buttons and
rings, and muttered in his beard, “Say, clock, how many potentates is there 'at can 'scape my clutches? Speak up, or I'll bust your guts!”

And the clock outdid him, muttering in his beard:

 

Ticktockticktockticktock,

Bewarebewarebeware:

Tidesturn, tidesturn, tidesturn;

Burnandonedayyouwillburn!

 

Next came a poor man, suffering, hungry, half naked, sick all over. “Oh, clock, oh, clock, when will my tribulations end? Tell me, for pity's sake, when to expect Death?”

As usual, the clock provided an answer:

 

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, Tick Tock,

For him who sings no song,

Life may be very long.

 

Thus, all sorts of people came to see this wonderful clock, spoke to it, and received an answer. It could say when fruit trees would bear, when winter and summer would arrive, when the sun would rise and set, and how many years people had lived. In short, it was a timepiece without equal, an ingenious creation, and there was nothing under the sun it did not know. Everybody would have liked to have it in his house, but no one could, since it was enchanted; people therefore longed in vain to own it. But everyone, whether he wanted to or not, secretly or openly had to praise the old master barber who had been clever enough to make this unique timepiece and make it run forever and ever, without anyone being able to break it or take possession of it, except the artist who fashioned it.

 

(
Inland vicinity of Palermo
)

167

The tale has been told over and over that once upon a time there was a count just rolling in wealth. He also had an eighteen-year-old sister as lovely as the sun and moon. He jealously guarded the girl, keeping her locked up all the time in a wing of his palace, so that no one had ever seen or talked to her. Now the beautiful little countess, having had quite
enough of being shut up, began slowly making a hole in the wall of her room. She worked on it at night, and kept the spot concealed by day with a painting. Flanking the count's palace was the prince's, and the opening made by the countess came through into the prince's chambers, right behind another painting, in such a way that it was not visible.

One night, the little countess pushed the picture slightly aside and looked into the prince's room. She saw a precious lamp burning, and addressed it:

 

“Golden light, silver light,

Does your prince sleep, or watch in the night?”

 

And the lamp relied:

 

“Come in, my lady, have no fear;

My prince is sleeping soundly here.”

 

She went in and lay down beside the prince. He awakened, took her in his arms, kissed her, and asked:

 

“Whence do you come, where do you live, dear lady?

From what country could you be?”

 

Laughing, she answered:

 

“Prince, dear prince, you ask awry;

Love me, love me, do not pry!”

 

When the prince woke up again and found that radiant goddess gone, he dressed in haste and summoned his council. “Council! Council!” The council convened, and the prince related what had taken place, asking in conclusion, “What must I do to keep her with me?”

“Sacred Crown,” replied the council, “when you take her in your arms, tie her hair around one of your arms. That way when she's ready to leave she will have to wake you up.”

Night fell, and the young countess asked:

 

“Golden light, silver light,

Does your prince sleep, or watch in the night?”

 

The lamp answered:

 

“Come in, my lady, have no fear:

My prince is sleeping soundly here.”

 

In she went and slipped under the covers.

 

“Whence do you come, where do you live, dear lady?

From what country could you be?”

“Prince, dear prince, you ask awry;

Love me, love me, do not pry!”

 

So they fell asleep, but not before the prince had fastened the countess's lovely hair to his arm. The countess pulled out a pair of scissors, cut off her hair, and left. The prince woke up. “Council! Council! The goddess left me her hair and vanished!”

“Sacred Crown,” replied the council, “put your head through the fine gold chain she wears around her neck.”

The next night the countess returned:

 

“Golden light, silver light,

Does your prince sleep, or watch in the night?”

 

And the lamp answered:

 

“Come in, my lady, have no fear:

My prince is sleeping soundly here.”

 

When the prince had her in his arms, he again asked:

 

“Whence do you come, where do you live, dear lady?

From what country could you be?”

 

As usual, she answered:

 

“Prince, dear prince, you ask awry;

Love me, love me, do not pry!”

 

The prince put his head through her gold necklace, but as soon as he was fast asleep she cut the chain and vanished. “Council! Council!” he called when it was day, and related what happened. The council said, “Sacred Crown, take a basin of saffron water and put it under the bed. When she removes her nightgown, throw it into the saffron water . . . . That way, when she puts it back on to go off, she will leave a trail behind her.”

At nightfall, the prince prepared the basin of saffron water and went to bed. At midnight she said to the lamp:

 

“Golden light, silver light,

Does your prince sleep, or watch in the night?”

 

And the lamp answered:

 

“Come in, my lady, have no fear;

My prince is sleeping soundly here.”

 

Awakening, the prince put the usual question to her:

 

“Whence do you come, where do you live, dear lady?

From what country could you be?”

 

And she gave the usual answer:

 

“Prince, dear prince, you ask awry;

Love me, love me, do not pry!”

 

When the prince was sound asleep, she eased out of bed without making a sound and made ready to leave, but her nightgown was soaking wet in the saffron water. Silently she wrung the gown out and slipped away without leaving a trace.

From that night on, the prince awaited his goddess in vain, and he was very sad. But nine months later, upon awakening one morning, he found in bed beside him a beautiful baby boy that looked like a cherub. He dressed in haste, crying, “Council! Council!” He showed the council the baby, saying, “This is my son. What can I do now to get his mother back?”

“Sacred Crown,” answered the council, “pretend he is dead. Put him in the middle of the church and give orders for all the women in the city to come and mourn him. The one who wails most of all will be his mother.”

The prince did that very thing. All sorts of women came, saying, “Son, son!” then departed as freely as they had come. At last appeared the young countess; with tears streaming down her cheeks, she began pulling out her hair and crying:

 

“Son, dear son!

I was much too beautiful,

And so I cut my locks;

I was much too beautiful,

And so I cut my chain;

I was much too vain,

And so a saffron gown is now my gain.”

 

The king and the council and everybody began crying, “She's the mother! She's the mother!”

At that moment a man pushed forward with his sword unsheathed. It was the count, who raised the blade over his sister. But the prince jumped between them and said:

 

“Halt, O Count, here is the key:

Count's sister is she, and wedded to me!”

 

And they got married in that very church.