When Apples Grew Noses and White Horses Flew (3 page)

“Why can't you leave me alone?” she cried.

“I could,” said Ti-Jean. “But I think I can help you. I can do what others have not.”

“Then help me,” said the princess. “Help me as quickly as you can.”

“I'd like my payment first,” said Ti-Jean. “I'd like my bugle back.”

“Who cares about your old bugle?”

“I do.”

“Why should I part with it?”

“Because if you don't, I will leave at once.”

“All right,” said the princess. “But you can only have the bugle. You will find it in the drawer.”

Ti-Jean got the bugle.

“You remember what I can do with this, don't you?” he said.

“Of course I do,” the princess answered. “Can't you hurry?”

“Well,” said Ti-Jean, “I think you should try this plum. I think, with this plum, you will discover…”

Already the princess's nose was shrinking, but it shrank only to her knees.

“Give me another plum,” she ordered.

“I'd like my purse back first,” he told her.

“I don't want to give it to you.”

“Perhaps you will get used to your nose then. It won't drag on the ground any longer. Although when it comes to finding a husband...”

“The purse is in that other drawer.”

“Thank you,” Ti-Jean said. “I am most grateful. I'm sure this second plum will also help.”

The plum did help. The princess's nose stretched only to her waist now.

“I want my nose its proper length,” she cried.

“Then we must also discuss the matter of my belt.”

The princess did discuss it. She discussed it angrily, but at last she gave in.

Ti-Jean put on the belt. He held out a third plum. The princess's nose shrank until it reached only to her chest.

“It's not enough,” she screamed.

But it was too late. Already Ti-Jean was gone. He was back in his own home with his brothers. He was telling them about his adventures.

“I don't think the princess will steal anyone else's belongings,” he said.

His brothers congratulated him because they could see that in the end he had been quite smart. Together, they all settled down to enjoy life once more. They had plenty of money. The farm prospered. They took turns traveling wherever they wanted.

Sometimes, on a Saturday evening when the work was done and they needed entertaining, they blew on the bugle so they could watch the troops march back and forth, but they never again had to use them. They had no cause.

Sac-à-tabac,
Sac-à-tabi.
The story's ended.
C'est fini.

Ti-Jean the Marble Player

Ti-Jean here, Ti-Jean there,
Ti-Jean, Ti-Jean everywhere.

ERE'S SOMETHING
you should know about Ti-Jean. He loved to play at marbles. He would have played all day and all night if he had not had to work for his father in the fields.

Because he played marbles so often, he got better and better at it. By the time he was a young man, no one could beat him. He won every single game.

But he still had to work. So it was that one summer morning his father sent him out to hoe the turnips.

Ti-Jean was bending over, hoeing as hard as he could, when all of a sudden a little man popped up in front of him — a very little man indeed. The little man was dressed in red from head to toe. He even had a red tuque on his head.

Ti-Jean had been well brought up. He knew his manners.

“Good day to you,” he said.

“Good day to you,” said the little man.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Ti-Jean asked.

“I'm here to play marbles with you.”

Ti-Jean's eyes lit up, but he shook his head.

“I can't take time off from my work to play marbles. My father will be angry,” he replied.

“I only want to play one game,” said the little man. “Your father might not be angry with you anyway, for if you beat me, I will give you whatever you wish.”

“And if I should lose?” said Ti-Jean.

“You will have to do whatever I ask of you.”

A wish seemed like a good thing to try for. Ti-Jean thought how long it had been since anyone had beaten him.

“I don't see how one game can do any harm,” he said.

The little man reached into his pocket. He pulled out a bag of marbles. Right there in the field, they began to play.

Ti-Jean won. He won easily.

“You can tell me your wish now,” the little man said.

“Maybe I should know your name first,” said Ti-Jean.

“It's Bonnet Rouge. Red Cap, for my red hat.”

“Well, Monsieur Bonnet Rouge, you see that field next to this one? My father has told me over and over that it would be just the place for dairy cattle. I'd like it filled with milk cows and I'd like it done by morning,” said Ti-Jean.

“A promise is a promise,” said Bonnet Rouge.

Sure enough, when Ti-Jean woke up the next morning, he saw a sea of horns. The milk cows were in the field. Of course, he had to tell his father how it had happened. He had to explain what he had done.

His father was pleased enough with the cows, but he gave Ti-Jean a warning.

“You're a generous lad,” he said. “Plenty of others would have wished for something just for themselves. Still, that was a risk you took. You could have lost and then who knows what might have occurred. Cows or no cows, I don't want you gambling on wishes any more.”

That day, he sent Ti-Jean to hoe potatoes. Ti-Jean hardly had the hoe in his hands when Bonnet Rouge popped up again.

“It's only fair I should have my chance at winning,” he declared.

“What will the arrangements be today, then?” Ti-Jean asked.

“They will be as before,” said Bonnet Rouge.

Ti-Jean did not forget his father's warning. But he thought of the cattle and of how easily he had won.

“Surely one more game can't do any harm,” he said.

Again Bonnet Rouge reached into his pocket and took out the bag of marbles. Again, right there in the field, the two of them played. Again Ti-Jean was the winner.

“What will you have now?” Bonnet Rouge asked.

“You see that other field, where the grass is greenest? My father has always said that would be the best place in the world for horses. I want it filled with horses — fine ones — and I want it done by morning.”

“A promise is a promise,” said Bonnet Rouge.

Sure enough, when Ti-Jean woke he could see that the promise had been kept. The field was filled with horses. They were racing and prancing. They were tossing their manes and stamping their feet.

His father guessed what had happened.

“Two risks are enough,” he said. And he set Ti-Jean to cleaning out the stable.

Ti-Jean had hardly been at work for a minute when Bonnet Rouge appeared again.

“You must let me have one more try,” he insisted.

“Will the arrangements be the same as before?” asked Ti-Jean.

“They will,” said Bonnet Rouge.

Ti-Jean thought of those cows. He thought of those horses. He thought of his father's warning, but he also thought of how easily he had won before.

“One game and that's the last,” he said.

Out came the bag of marbles from Bonnet Rouge's pocket. Right there in the stable, they played.

Bonnet Rouge won. He won easily.

“What do I have to give you?” Ti-Jean asked.

“You must come to where I live one hundred leagues beyond the setting sun,” said Bonnet Rouge. “If I do not see you there in a year and a day, your life will be forfeit.”

With that, Bonnet Rouge was gone.

Ti-Jean went to tell his father he had played and lost.

“What is the price you must pay?” his father asked.

“I must go to where Bonnet Rouge lives, one hundred leagues beyond the setting sun. I must visit him in a year and a day or I will lose my life,” Ti-Jean replied.

“Would that you had listened to me, my poor Ti-Jean,” his father cried.

Ti-Jean began to ask everyone he met about Bonnet Rouge, but no one had heard of him. The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. The horses and the cattle prospered, but Ti-Jean grew sadder and sadder.

He waited through the falling of the leaves. He waited through the bitter winter cold. He waited until the snow was gone and the ice had melted. He saw that the time for hoeing turnips and potatoes was approaching.

With a heavy heart, he set out.

He traveled by road, he traveled by canoe along the rivers. He went along the sea shore and through fishing villages. He went through the forests. He came upon the empty shanties where the loggers worked in winter cutting down the trees.

He did not know how far he journeyed. He knew only that a year and a day would soon be past.

At last he came upon a track so overgrown that it seemed no one could have stepped upon it for a very long time.

For many days he saw only forest creatures — squirrels, mink, rabbits, sometimes even a moose.

Finally, one evening, he found himself in front of a small hut. When he knocked, an old woman opened the door. She seemed very surprised to see him.