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An ignorant man who associates with clever people has always been more praised than a wise man who keeps the company of fools, for as much profit and fame as a man gains from the former, so much wealth and honor one may lose by the fault of the latter, and as the proof of the pudding is in the eating, you will know from the story that I am going to tell you whether my proposition is true.

There was once a man who was as rich as the sea, but as there never can be any perfect happiness in this world, he had a son so idle and good-for-nothing that he could not tell a carob from a cucumber. So, being unable any longer to put up with his folly, he gave him a good handful of crowns, and sent him to travel to the Levant, for he well knew that seeing various countries and mixing with divers people works genius, sharpens the judgment, and makes men expert.

Moscione (for that was the name of the son) got on horseback and began his journey toward Venice, the arsenal of the wonders of the world, to embark on board some vessel bound for Cairo, and when he had traveled a good day’s journey he met with a person who was standing fixed at the foot of a poplar, to whom he said: “What is your name, my lad, whence are you, and what is your trade?” And the lad replied: “My name is Lightning, I am from Arrowland, and I can run like the wind.” “I should like to see a proof of it,” said Moscione, and Lightning answered, “Wait a moment, and you will see whether it is dust or flour.”

When they had stood waiting a little while a doe came bounding over the plain, and Lightning, letting her pass on some way, to give himself a handicap, darted after her so rapidly and light of foot that he would have gone over plains covered with flour without leaving the mark of his shoe, and in four bounds he came up with her. Moscione, amazed at this exploit, asked if he would come and live with him, and promised to pay him a salary.

So Lightning consented, and they went on their way together, but they had not journeyed many miles when they met another youth, to whom Moscione said: “What is your name, comrade, what country are you from, and what’s your trade?” “My name,” replied the lad, “is Hare’s-ear, I am from Vale Curious, and when I put my ear to the ground I hear all that is passing in the world without stirring from the spot. I perceive the monopolies and the agreements of tradespeople to raise the prices of all things, the ill-offices of courtiers, the appointments of lawyers, the plots of robbers, the reports of spies, the complaints of servants, the gossiping of old women, and the oaths of service, so that neither Lucian’s cocks nor Francois’s lantern discovered so much as my ears can.”

“If that be true,” said Moscione, “tell me what they are saying at my home.”

So the lad put his ear to the ground, and replied: “An old man is talking to his wife and saying, ‘Praised be Sol in Lea, I have got rid from my side of that fellow, Moscione, that nail in my heart, with his face of old-fashioned crockery. By traveling through the world he will at least become a man, and no longer be such a stupid donkey, such a simpleton, such a lose-the-day fellow, such a——‘”

“Stop, stop!” cried Moscione. “You told the truth, and I believe you, so come along with me, for you have found the road to good luck.”

“Well and good,” said the youth. So they all went on together and traveled ten miles farther, when they met another man, to whom Moscione said: “My brave fellow, where were you born and what can you do in the world?” And the man answered: “My name is Shoot-straight, I am from Castle Aim-well, and I can shoot with a crossbow so point-blank as to hit a crab-apple in the middle.”

“I should like to see a proof,” said Moscione, so the lad charged his crossbow, took aim, and made a pea leap from the top of the stone window. Moscione took him also, like the others, into his company, and they traveled on another day’s journey, until they came to some people who were building a large pier in the scorching heat of the sun, and who might well say, “Boy, put water to the wind, for my heart is burning.” So Moscione had compassion on them and said, “My masters, how is it you have the heart to stand in this furnace, which is bound to roast a buffalo?” And one of them answered: “Ah! we are as cool as roses, for we have a young man here who blows upon us from behind in such a manner that it seems as if the west wind were blowing.” “Let me see him, I pray,” cried Moscione, and so the mason called the lad, and Moscione said to him: “Tell me, by the life of your father, what is your name, what country are you from, and what is your profession?” And the lad replied: “My name is Blowblast, I am from Windy Land, and I can make all the winds with my mouth. If you wish a zephyr, I will breathe one that will send you into transports. If you wish for a squall, I will blow down houses.”

“Seeing is believing,” said Moscione, whereupon Blowblast breathed at first quite gently, so that it seemed to be the wind that blows in Posilippo toward evening; then, turning suddenly to some trees, he sent forth such a furious blast that it uprooted a row of oaks.

When Moscione saw this he took him for a companion, and, traveling on as far again, he met another lad, to whom he said: “What is your name, if I may make so bold? Whence are you, if one may ask, and what is your trade, if it is a fair question?” And the lad answered, “My name is Strongback, I am from Valentino, and I have such strength that I take a mountain on my back, and it seems to me a mere feather.” “If that be the case,” said Moscione, “you deserve to be a king of the custom house, and you should be chosen for the standard-bearer on the first of May, but I should like to see a proof of what you say.” Then Strongback began to load himself with masses of rock, stumps of trees, and so many other weights that a thousand large wagons could not have carried them, so, when Moscione saw the feat, he persuaded the lad to join them.

So they traveled on till they came to Fairflower, the king of which place had a daughter who ran like the wind and could pass over the waving corn without bending an ear, and the king had issued a proclamation that whoever should overtake her in running should have her to wife, but whoever was left behind should lose his head.

Moscione arrived in this country and heard the proclamation. He went straight to the king and offered to run with the daughter, making the wise agreement either to win the race or leave his noddle there. But in the morning he sent to inform the king that he was taken ill, and, being unable to run himself, he would send another man in his place. “Come who will,” said Ciennetella (for that was the king’s daughter), “I care not a fig; it is all one to me.”

So when the great square was filled with people come to see the race, insomuch that the men swarmed like ants, and the windows and roofs were all as full as an egg, Lightning came out and took his stand at the top of the square waiting for the signal, and lo, forth came Ciennetella, dressed in a little gown tucked half-way up to her knees, and a neat and pretty little shoe with a single sole. Then they placed themselves shoulder to shoulder, and, as soon as the Tarantará and the Too-too of the trumpets was heard, off they darted, running at such a rate that their hair touched their shoulders, and in truth they seemed just like foxes with the greyhounds after them, horses broken loose from the stable, dogs with kettles tied to their tails, or jackasses with furze bushes behind them. But Lightning (as he was by name and nature) left the princess more than a hand’s breadth behind him, and came first to the goal. Then you should have heard the buzzing and shouting and cries and the uproar, the whistling and clapping of all the people calling out, “Hurrah, long live the stranger!” whereat Ciennetella’s face turned as red as a schoolboy’s who is going to be whipped, and she stood lost with shame and confusion at seeing herself vanquished. But as there were to be two heats to the race, she fell to planning her revenge for this affront, and, going home, she put a charm in her ring with such a power that if any one had it on his finger, his legs would toddle so that he would not be able to walk, much less to run, and she sent it as a present to Lightning, begging him to wear it on his finger for love of her.

Hare’s-ear, who heard this trick plotted between the father and daughter, said nothing, and wanted to see the upshot of the affair, and when, at the trumpeting of the birds, they returned to the field, at the usual signal they fell to plying their heels. But if Ciennetella was like another Atalanta, Lightning had become like a shoulder-slipped ass and a foundered horse, for he could not stir a step, but Shoot-straight, who saw his coming danger, and heard from Hare’s-ear how matters stood, laid hold on his crossbow and shot the arrow so exactly that it hit Lightning’s finger, and out shot the stone from the ring in which the virtue of the charm lay, whereupon his legs that had been tied were set free, and with four good leaps he passed Ciennetella and won the race. The king, seeing the palm thus carried off by this figure of a blockhead, by a simpleton, the triumph of a fool, bethought himself seriously whether or not he should give him his daughter, and taking counsel with the wiseacres of his court, they replied that Ciennetella was not a mouthful for the tooth of such a miserable dog and lose-the-day bird, so that, without breaking his word, he might commute the terms of his daughter with a gift of crowns, which would be more to the taste of a poor beggar like Moscione than all the women in the world.

This advice pleased the king, and he asked Moscione how much money he would take to consider a wife who had been promised. Then Moscione, after consulting the others, said: “I will take as much gold and silver as one of my comrades can carry on his back.” The king consented, whereupon they brought Strongback, and on him began to lay bales of ducats, large purses full of crowns, pails of copper money, and kettles full of chains and rings, but the more they loaded him the firmer he stood, just like a tower, so that the treasurer, the bankers, the usurers, and the money dealers of the city did not suffice, and the king sent to all of the great people in every direction to borrow their silver candlesticks, basins, jugs, plates, brasses, and baskets, and yet there was not enough to make up a full load. At length Moscione and his companions went away, however, not laden, but tired and satisfied.

When the counselors saw what heaps of stores these four miserable fellows were carrying off, they said to the king that it was a great piece of nonsense to load them with all the sinews of his kingdom, and that it would be well to send people after them to lessen the load of that Atlas who was carrying on his shoulders a world of treasure. The king gave ear to this advice, and immediately despatched a party of armed men, foot and horse, to overtake Moscione and his friends, but Hare’s-ear, who had heard this counsel, informed his comrades, and while the dust was rising to the sky from the tramping of those who were coming to unload the rich cargo, Blowblast, seeing that things were come to a bad pass, began to blow at such a rate that he not only made the enemies fall flat on the ground, but he sent them flying more than a mile distant, as a north wind does those people who pass through his country. So, without meeting any more hindrances, Moscione arrived at his father’s house, where he shared the booty with his companions, since the saying goes, “A good deed deserves a good meed.” So he sent them away content and happy, but he stayed with his father, rich beyond measure, giving no lie to the saying, “Heaven sends biscuits to him who has no teeth.”