Beppe and the Statue

An Italian Folk Tale
Retold by Lee Wyndham

    Near the city of Palermo, in Italy, there once lived a widow named Mama Teresa. She had a only son - a foolish one - named Beppe. Of course she loved him, for she was his mother, yet time and again he tried her patience. 

     There was the day when went to market and left him at home with a setting hen. "Keep your eyes on the hen," she told Beppe. "Do not let her get off the nest. If the eggs get cold, the chicks will not hatch and we shall have neither eggs nor chicken to eat."

     "I shall do exactly what you say," Beppe assured her.

     And he did. He sat in front of the hen and stared at her. This the hen did not like. First she clucked uneasily. Then she ruffled her feathers. Finally, with a great squawking and flapping, she rose from the nest and flew over Bepped's head. As he tumbled backward, He grabbed at her tail feathers. The frightened hen flopped out into the yard and soon vanished down the road. 

     "Wicked hen," Bepped shouted after her. "If you will not set on your eggs, I will do it for you."

     And he did. And of course every single egg was squashed. 

     When Mama Teresa returned, she was furious. But when Beppe explained how he had kept his eyes on the hen and all else that had happened, she threw up her hands. "Enough, enough! Tell me no more. Change your clothes and go out to play."

     Some time after this, the widow sent Beppe to market with a basket of choice grapes from her vines. "Be sure to get a fair price for theme," she cautioned. 

     The first man Beppe met in the market has this, that, and the other thing to say about the grapes - and it was all bad. 

     Hearing this complaints, Beppe was so glad to get rid of the grapes that he sold them to the man for practically nothing. When he brought few coins at home, his mother cried out in dismay. "A whole basket of grapes - stolen from under your foolish nose. All that man had to do was open his mouth, and with the first word you agreed that our grapes were worthless." 

     "No, no, Mama. That was not the way at all," answered Beppe. "The man said the grapes were worthless a great many time." 

     Mama Teresa smacked Beppe soundly, and then she was sorry and kissed him, for he had no sense and could not help being foolish.

   Still, she could not allow him to play all day. One morning she said, "Beppe, here is a piece of pine linen I have maid that should bring at least five pieces of silver. Go into Palermo and find a buyer for it. And this time do not listen to anyone who tries to talk your head off."

     "That I won't," Beppe promised.

     In the bustling city Beppe pushed his way through the crowds, shouting, "Fine linen for sale!"

     Presently a man stopped hi. "My wife would like to see that piece of cloth," he said. "Go to--"

     "Stop!" Beppe cried. "Do not think that you can take my head off ," and he hurried away.

     Next a lady sid, "What do you want for this fine cloth? 

     "Never you mind," Beppe told her rudely. "I'll not let you talk me out of it either. My mother warned me against people like you." 

     Well please with him self, Beppe turned away every buyer who so much as uttered a word. At the end of the day the cloth was unsold, and Beppe was weary of tramping up and down the cobbled streets. 

     Dusk had fallen when he came to courtyard with a stone bench and a pale-faced man, dressed all in white, standing near it. 

     "May I sit here and rest, sir?" Beppe ask the man. The man did not speak, but Beppe thought that he nodded. "Thank you," Beppe said and sank down gratefully. The man did not go away, so Beppe help up the linen for him to see. "It is very fine cloth," he said, "made by my mother. Would you care to buy it?"

     Still the gentleman in white said nothing.

     Beppe's heart rose. He was one who would not talk him into a bad bargain. "I will sell it to you for five silver pieces," he said, and again thought the gentleman nodded. Beppe jumped up from the bench, draped the linen over the arms of the gentleman, and wait to be paid.

     "Five silver pieces, sir," Beppe reminded him. There was no response. "My money," Bepped said loudly. The man said nothing. "If will not pay, I will take back my cloth." Beep gave the linen a tug. It caught on the man's finger and started to rip.  

     "See what you have done!" Beppe yelled. "Pay up or give me the cloth at once!"

     Still the man said nothing and held on the linen. Beppe snatched a stick from the ground. "Let go of my linen," he shouted, "or I shall make you let go!" and he gave a man a whack on the arm with the stick.

     CRRA-AAACK! The man's arm fell off and shattered into a thousand white pieces.
     "Ai!" Bepped covered his eyes and peered through his fingers. The white gentleman stood as before, except that now he had no arms. Nor did he show any signs of pain. Beppe took a step closer to him - and discovered his secret. 
     "Fie on you for deceiving me.You are not a man but a plaster statue," Beppe exclaimed "I'm glad I've got even with you, for now you have no arms with which to play sticks." 
    At that moment a widow was flung open at the back of the courtyard, and a woman called out, "Who is that near my statue?"
     "It is I," shouted Beppe. "Your wicked statue tried to rob-"
     "A robber!" the woman screamed. "Help! Police!"
     "You don't understand!" Beppe tried to outshout her. It was no use. The woman kept screeching for the police.
     The police might not understand either. Beppe scooped up his linen and took his heels.
     As he slid around the corner, Beppe came to a church and slipped inside. He was dreadfully tired. So he climbed up on a marble ledge, wrapped himself in the white linen, and fell asleep. 
     Hushed voices and the click on metal awakened him. In the dim light of the candle, Bepped saw two men crouched over a pile of coins that they were dividing between them. 
     "This was a good night's work," said one to the other. "One for you --and one for me. One for you --one for me." Clink, clink.
     Beppe rubbed his eyes and yawned.
     "What was that?" one of them asked.
    

     Beppe sat up on his marble --only it was not a ledge at all but the marble tom of someone long dead. He yawned again and stretched his arms, spreading wide the white linen cloth as he did so. "It is time to rise?" they yelled, and rushed out of the church. 
     "Wait! Wait!" Beppe shouted after them. "I'm no ghost!" 
     But they were gone-- and there was all that money glittering in the light of the candle. Beppe gathered the coins into the line cloth. It was no longer so fine and white, but that could not be helped. Beppe shrugged as he tied up the corners.
     "I might as well take this money home," he said. "My mama will know what to do with it." And he hoisted the heavy bundle onto his back. 

     Mama Teresa saw him coming and flew to the door.
"Beppe! Where have you?" She clasped him to her tightly, and tears poured from her eyes. When she realized that he was safe and unharmed, she pushed him from her and saw the linen cloth tied in a dirty bundle. 
     "Well, it happened this way," Beppe said, and he told her the story from the beginning. By the time he got to the part about whacking the statue, his mama was pale with fright. 
     "The police! Are they after you?" she asked.
     "No," Beppe said, and told her about hiding in the church and about the men who mistook him for a ghost. "I tried to tell them I was no ghost, but they ran away. So I gathered up the money and brought it with me --and here it is." Beppe untied the linen so she could see the pile of gold and silver coins.
     His mother gasped. Then she swooped up the four corner of the cloth and tied the money once more in a bundle. "Come with me," she commanded and dragged Beppe out the door with her. "We are going straight to the police with this. Even though the thieves left this money behind, it does not belong to us. The police will know what to do with it. And we'll see what we can do about the statue. Ai, ai, ai, Beppe. What a lot of trouble you bring upon my head."
     But as it happened, this time it was not trouble. For the money Mama Teresa turned over to the police chief was exactly the amount stolen from a merchant traveling through the city of Palermo. The merchant was so grateful to see his gold and silver again, the he gave Mama Teresa and Beppe a handsome reward. Part of this they used to pay for the repair of the statue Beppe had broken. And with the rest they were able to live comfortably for many months. 

END

Source: CRICKET the magazine for children

Volume 3 Number 5

Copyright January 1976

Published by: Open Court Publishing Company

Pictures by Fritz Wegner

copyright 1976 by Lee Wyndham

King Richard & His Five Daughters

by Esther Vlietinck


  Long ago, when there were still many kingdoms and dukedoms and earldoms in the world, there was a king who lived in an old castle in the middle of a wild and mountainous country. His name was King Richard, and he was not a happy man. His queen had died young, and he was left to took after their five daughters alone. Fate had not given him son, and this was another great sorrow for him.
   
     King Richard knew nothing about raising children, so when his daughters were old enough to leave the nursery, he sent for his sister to teach the five girls to behave as princesses should. Aunt Michtilde was forbidding old lady; she was very stiff and very, very formal. She showed the girls how to curtsy, how to nod, and how to use their fans properly. She instructed them to say, "Yes, Your Majesty," and "No, Your Majesty," in a submissive voice, and -most important -to keep quite at the dinner table, a very difficult thing indeed. The girls were allowed to dine with their father only on Sundays, for he was a very busy king. And even then Aunt Michtilde surveyed their manners with an eagle eye.

   
     The youngest daughter, however, was excluded from this strict training and from the dinner ceremony. Her name was Rosalinda, and aunt Michtilde found her a most stubborn and disobedient child - she simply would not behave. And so she was entrusted to the care of an old nurse, who spoiled her quite dreadfully.
     Rosalinda, who called herself Linda because she found her name much too long, spent her days running through the large gardens and exploring the rooms of the castle. She spied on the aristocratic guest who visited her father, and then made the cooks and maids scream with laughter at her droll imitations. When nobody was looking, she slid down the ornamental banisters that lined the staircase -from the very top if the turret to the very bottom of the big marble entrance hall. Oh, it was glorious fun.

     But Linda always took great care to stay out of King Richard's sight. Long ago her nurse had told her that the king was angry because she was a girl. He had hoped so much for the fifth child to be a little prince, that he wanted nothing to do with yet anther daughter.  

     King Richard saw his youngest child so seldom that, in time, he almost believed he had but four daughters. For were quite enough, he thought. The search for acceptable suitors was an overwhelming task for a busy, unhappy king.
     When the eldest girl came of age, the king gave a ball in their honor. He hoped to have at least one of his daughters married by the end of the year. But four years and four balls went by, and not one candidate had come forward to woo one of his four daughters. What could be wrong? The princesses all had candidate, regular features. For each ball they were attired in silk and brocade, and their thick braids -coiled around their heads - were decorated with glittering jewels. What was lacking?
   

     Every year Linda watched the festivities through a secret little window. But instead showing compassion for her neglected sisters, she laughed and made fun of theme. "You are much too stiff and much too formal!" she said. "You never even smile." And she would laugh again and imitate theri wooden expressions and their proper curtsies.
     Another year passed, and another ball was to be held. Linda had grown tall and lanky; she was sixteen now, and she was still full of mischief. One week before the dance she told her old nurse of a plan she had devised. She coaxed and begged for assistance, and although her nurse was horrified at first, she let Linda have her way, as usual.

     First she made Linda a velvet suit, just perfect for a young gentleman. Then she cut off Linda's unruly braids and snipped and trimmed until the hair was cut in the latest man's fashion. Linda added to the costume a green felt hat with feathers, s flowing cape, a glittering sword. Then she practiced in front of a large mirror until she could sit and stand, bow and dance like the most elegant of the young gentlemen she had observed. She capered about for hours, enjoying herself hugely and bringng teras of laughter to her nurse's eyes.

     On the night of the ball, the dancing had just begun when a new arrival was announced. The Prince of Livonia!
Livonia? No one had ever heard of such a place. People craned their necklace to see. The prince was a handsome young man, self-assured, proud, and a bit arrogant; he wore a small mask over his eyes. A mystery! At last, something to break a monotony of this tiresome ball.
     The prince dance first with the eldest daughter Miranda. He was visibly courting her, but to the curious guest it seemed a most unusual conversation. The princess laughed at everything he whispered in her ear! Then the prince danced with each of the other three princesses -with Tatiana, with Elfrieda, with Doarda -and each time with the same result: he made them laugh out loud. Though they tried hard to smoother their giggles and now and then looked stealthily to see if their father and aunt were angry, they could not sop their unseemly behavior.
     The other young gentlemen in the hall, who had been thoroughly bored with the formal ball and the dull princesses, begun to wonder whether the king's daughters were as serious as they looked. In five years they had not been able to win even one small smile from the princesses, but this upstart from Livonia had succeeded at once! What did that strange fellow whisper into their ears? One after the other they jealously asked for a privilege of a dance.
     From his throne King Richard watched the proceedings with growing amazement. Never had he seen his daughter s so animated, so lively, so . . . noisy. Aunt Michtilde choked with indignation and had to be carried away, but the king found - to his great surprise -that he was enjoying himself immensely. But when in heaven's name was causing all this merriment?
     The dancers wanted to know, too, but each time they asked their partners, the princesses could only giggle, and blush, and stumble. The young en had to hold them closer for fear they might fall. Never before had such a spectacle been in the palace.
     The Prince from Livonia still danced -now with the on, now with another princess -and after each dance the gaiety rose higher, till at last everybody had to join n the laughter. And without really knowing why, the people became so merry, and the dancing so lively, that not four but eight young men fell in love with the four princesses. Two suitors for each daughter! Another dilemma. king Richard rubbed his beard thoughtfully.
    But the Prince of Livonia had a suggestion, " Your Majesty," he said, bowing very low, "allow all the suitors to visit your court; then let the princesses decide for themselves."
     "A wise decision," agreed the king. "You are a very clever young man." There was cheering and singing from the guests. "One more thing I should very like much to know," continued the king. "What did you say that made my daughters so merry? I've never known them to be anything but serious."
     To everyone's astonishment, the Prince of Livonia climbed the few steps up to the throne and whispered something in King Richard's ear. The king's face was indeed a picture to be hold. First he opened his eyes wide in surprise, then he grinned from ear to ear, and then he laughed until his royal belly shook so much that he had to hold it fast with both hands. This sight was so ridiculous, that the whole company burst into laughter, too. Dancing started all over again and only stopped in the early hours of the morning. By that time everyone was too tired to ask any more questions.
     The four princesses were married three months later- all on the same day. It was a holiday for the entire kingdom, and the Prince of Livonia and Aunt Mechtilde were the only one who missed the celebration. But arm in arm with old King Richard stood Princess Rosalinda, smiling mischievously and waving to all of her subjects. Everyone agreed that she promised to become the dearest and loveliest of King Richard's five daughters.
     That she was also the cleverest, only the King knew.

THE END

Source: CRICKET the magazine for children

Volume 3 Number 5

Copyright January 1976

Published by: Open Court Publishing Company