Early in
the morning she woke the old man again, and he had to get up and go down to the
seashore. He was very much afraid, because he thought the fish would not take
it kindly. But at dawn, just as the red sun was rising out of the sea, he stood
on the shore, and called out in his windy old voice,--
"Head
in air and tail in sea,
Fish, fish, listen to me."
Fish, fish, listen to me."
And there
in the morning sunlight was the golden fish, looking at him with its wise eyes.
"I
beg your pardon," says the old man, "but could you, just to oblige my
wife, give us some sort of trough to put the bread in?"
"Go
home," says the fish; and down it goes into the blue sea.
The old
man went home, and there, outside the hut, was the old woman, looking at the
handsomest bread trough that ever was seen on earth. Painted it was, with
little flowers, in three colours, and there were strips of gilding about its
handles.
"Look
at this," grumbled the old woman. "This is far too fine a trough for
a tumble-down hut like ours. Why, there is scarcely a place in the roof where
the rain does not come through. If we were to keep this trough in such a hut,
it would be spoiled in a month. You must go back to your fish and ask it for a
new hut."
"I hardly
like to do that," says the old man.
"Get
along with you," says his wife. "If the fish can make a trough like
this, a hut will be no trouble to him. And, after all, you must not forget he
owes his life to you."
"I
suppose that is true," says the old man; but he went back to the shore
with a heavy heart. He stood on the edge of the sea and called out,
doubtfully,--
"Head
in air and tail in sea,
Fish, fish, listen to me."
Fish, fish, listen to me."
Instantly
there was a ripple in the water, and the golden fish was looking at him with
its wise eyes.
"Well?"
says the fish.
"My
old woman is so pleased with the trough that she wants a new hut to keep it in,
because ours, if you could only see it, is really falling to pieces, and the
rain comes in and --."
"Go
home," says the fish.
The old
fisherman went home, but he could not find his old hut at all. At first he
thought he had lost his way. But then he saw his wife. And she was walking
about, first one way and then the other, looking at the finest hut that God
ever gave a poor moujik to keep him from the rain and the cold, and the too
great heat of the sun. It was built of sound logs, neatly finished at the ends
and carved. And the overhanging of the roof was cut in patterns, so neat, so
pretty, you could never think how they had been done. The old woman looked at
it from all sides. And the old man stood, wondering. Then they went in
together. And everything within the hut was new and clean. There were a fine
big stove, and strong wooden benches, and a good table, and a fire lit in the
stove, and logs ready to put in, and a samovar already on the boil--a fine new
samovar of glittering brass.
You would
have thought the old woman would have been satisfied with that. Not a bit of
it.
"You
don't know how to lift your eyes from the ground," says she. "You
don't know what to ask. I am tired of being a peasant woman and a moujik's
wife. I was made for something better. I want to be a lady, and have good
people to do the work, and see folk bow and curtsy to me when I meet them
walking abroad. Go back at once to the fish, you old fool, and ask him for
that, instead of bothering him for little trifles like bread troughs and
moujiks' huts. Off with you."
The old
fisherman went back to the shore with a sad heart; but he was afraid of his wife,
and he dared not disobey her. He stood on the shore, and called out in his
windy old voice,--
"Head
in air and tail in sea,
Fish, fish, listen to me."
Fish, fish, listen to me."
Instantly
there was the golden fish looking at him with its wise eyes.
"Well?"
says the fish.
"My old
woman won't give me a moment's peace," says the old man; "and since
she has the new hut--which is a fine one, I must say; as good a hut as ever I
saw--she won't be content at all. She is tired of being a peasant's wife, and
wants to be a lady with a house and servants, and to see the good folk curtsy
to her when she meets them walking abroad."
"Go
home," says the fish.
The old
man went home, thinking about the hut, and how pleasant it would be to live in
it, even if his wife were a lady.
But when
he got home the hut had gone, and in its place there was a fine brick house,
three stories high. There were servants running this way and that in the
courtyard. There was a cook in the kitchen, and there was his old woman, in a
dress of rich brocade, sitting idle in a tall carved chair, and giving orders
right and left.
"Good
health to you, wife," says the old man.
"Ah,
you, clown that you are, how dare you call me your wife! Can't you see that I'm
a lady? Here! Off with this fellow to the stables, and see that he gets a
beating he won't forget in a hurry."
Instantly
the servants seized the old man by the collar and lugged him along to the
stables. There the grooms treated him to such a whipping that he could hardly
stand on his feet. After that the old woman made him doorkeeper. She ordered
that a besom should be given him to clean up the courtyard, and said that he
was to have his meals in the kitchen. A wretched life the old man lived. All
day long he was sweeping up the courtyard, and if there was a speck of dirt to
be seen in it anywhere, he paid for it at once in the stable under the whips of
the grooms.
-------------------------
From OLD
PETER’S RUSSAIN TALES
ISBN:
978-1-907256-40-0
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