Stories from the Pentamerone

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Giambattista Basile. Stories from the Pentamerone

I. HOW THE TALES CAME TO BE TOLD

II. THE MYRTLE

III. PERUONTO

IV. VARDIELLO

V. THE FLEA

VI. CENERENTOLA

VII. THE MERCHANT

VIII. GOAT-FACE

IX. THE ENCHANTED DOE

X. PARSLEY

XI. THE THREE SISTERS

XII. VIOLET

XIII. PIPPO

XIV. THE SERPENT

XV. THE SHE-BEAR

XVI. THE DOVE

XVII. CANNETELLA

XVIII. CORVETTO

XIX. THE BOOBY

XX. THE STONE IN THE COCK'S HEAD

XXI. THE THREE ENCHANTED PRINCES

XXII. THE DRAGON

XXIII. THE TWO CAKES

XXIV. THE SEVEN DOVES

XXV. THE RAVEN

XXVI. THE MONTHS

XXVII. PINTOSMALTO

XXVIII. THE GOLDEN ROOT

XXIX. SUN, MOON, AND TALIA

XXX. NENNILLO AND NENNELLA

XXXI. THE THREE CITRONS

XXXII. CONCLUSION

Отрывок из книги

There lived in the village of Miano a man and his wife, who had no children whatever, and they longed with the greatest eagerness to have an heir. The woman, above all, was for ever saying, "O heavens! if I might but have a little baby—I should not care, were it even a sprig of a myrtle." And she repeated this song so often, and so wearied Heaven with these words, that at last her wish was granted; and at the end of nine months, instead of a little boy or girl, she placed in the hands of the nurse a fine sprig of myrtle. This she planted with great delight in a pot, ornamented with ever so many beautiful figures, and set it in the window, tending it morning and evening with more diligence than the gardener does a bed of cabbages from which he reckons to pay the rent of his garden.

Now the King's son happening to pass by, as he was going to hunt, took a prodigious fancy to this beautiful plant, and sent to ask the mistress of the house if she would sell it, for he would give even one of his eyes for it. The woman at last, after a thousand difficulties and refusals, allured by his offers, dazzled by his promises, frightened by his threats, overcome by his prayers, gave him the pot, beseeching him to hold it dear, for she loved it more than a daughter, and valued it as much as if it were her own offspring. Then the Prince had the flower-pot carried with the greatest care in the world into his own chamber, and placed it in a balcony, and tended and watered it with his own hand.

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So saying, they flew upon her, and instantly tore her in pieces, and each of them took her part. But the youngest would not join in this cruel act; and when she was invited by her sisters to do as they did, she would take nothing but a lock of those golden hairs. So when they had done they went quickly away by the passage through which they had come.

Meanwhile the chamberlain came to make the bed and water the flower-pot, according to his master's orders, and seeing this pretty piece of work, he had like to have died of terror. Then, biting his nails with vexation, he set to work, gathered up the remains of the flesh and bones that were left, and scraping the blood from the floor, he piled them all up in a heap in the pot; and having watered it, he made the bed, locked the door, put the key under the door, and taking to his heels ran away out of the town.

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