雙語·豪夫童話 大漠商旅_小矮子穆克

The Caravan_Little Muck

In Nic?ea, my dearly-loved native city, lived a man who was called Little Muck, I can recall him distinctly, although I was quite young at the time, chiefly because of a severe chastisement I received from my father on his account. This Little Muck was already an old man when I knew him, and yet he was not more than four feet in height. His figure presented a singular appearance, as his body, small and childlike, seemed but a slender support for a head much larger than the heads of ordinary people. He lived all alone in a large house, and cooked his own meals, and had it not been for the smoke that rose from his kitchen chimney at midday, the townspeople would have remained in doubt as to whether he still lived;for he went out but once a month. He was, however, occasionally seen walking on the house-top, and to one looking up from the street there was presented the singular sight of a head moving to and fro. My companions and myself were rather bad boys, who took delight in teasing and making sport of everybody; so it was always a great holiday for us whenever Little Muck went out. We gathered before his house on the appointed day, and waited; and when now the door opened, and the large head, wrapped in a still larger turban, peeped out, followed by the rest of his little body, done up in a threadbare cloak, baggy breeches, and a wide sash, from which hung a dagger so long that it could not be told whether Muck stuck on the dagger or the dagger on Muck—when he thus made his appearance, the air echoed with our shouts; we threw up our caps, and danced around him like mad. Little Muck, however, returned our salute with a grave nod of the head, and shuffled slowly down the street in such great, wide slippers as I had never seen before. We boys ran behind him, shouting: “Little Muck! Little Muck!” We also had a jolly little verse that we now and then sang in his honor, which ran as follows:

Little Muck, little Muck,

Living in a house so fair,

Once a month you take the air,

You, brave little dwarf, ‘tis said,

Have a mountain for a head;

Turn around just once and look;

Run and catch us, little Muck!

Thus had we often entertained ourselves, and, to my shame be it confessed, I behaved the worst—often catching him by the cloak, and once I trod on the heel of his slipper so that he fell down. This struck me as a very funny thing, but the laugh stuck in my throat as I saw him go to my father's house. He went right in and remained there for some time. I hid myself near the front door, and saw Little Muck come out again, accompanied by my father, who held his hand and parted from him on the door-step with many bows. Not feeling very easy in my mind, I remained for a long time in my hiding place; but I was at last driven out by hunger, which I feared worse than a whipping, and, spiritless and with bowed head, I went home to my father.

“I hear that you have been insulting the good Little Muck,” said he, in a grave tone. “I will tell you the story of Little Muck, and you will certainly not want to laugh at him again; but before I begin, and after I am through, you will receive ‘the customary.’”

Now “the customary” consisted of twenty-five blows, which he was accustomed to lay on without making any mistake in the count. He took for this purpose the long stem of a cherry pipe, unscrewing the amber mouth-piece, and belaboring me harder than ever before.

When the twenty-five strokes were completed, he commanded me to pay attention, and told me the story of Little Muck.

The father of Little Muck—whose proper name was Mukrah—was a poor but respectable man, living here in Nic?a. He lived nearly as solitary a life as his son now does. This son he could not endure, as he was ashamed of his dwarfish shape, and he therefore allowed him to grow up in ignorance. Little Muck, though in his sixteenth year, was only a child;and his father continually scolded him, because he who should have long since “put away childish things,” still remained so stupid and silly.

However, the old gentleman got a bad fall one day, from the effects of which he shortly died, and left Little Muck poor and ignorant. The unfeeling relatives, to whom the deceased had owed more than he could pay, drove the poor little fellow out of the house, and advised him to go out into the world and seek his fortune. Little Muck replied that he was ready for the journey, but begged that he might be allowed to have his father's clothes; and these were given him. His father had been a tall, stout man, so that the clothes did not fit the little son very well; but Muck knew just what to do in this emergency: he cut off every thing that was too long, and then put the clothes on. He seemed, however, to have forgotten that he should have cut away from the width as well; hence his singular appearance just as he may be seen to-day—dressed in the large turban, the broad sash, the baggy trousers, the blue cloak, all heirlooms from his father, which he has ever since worn. The long Damascus poniard, that had also belonged to his father, he stuck proudly in his sash, and, supported by a little cane, wandered out of the city gate.

He tramped along merrily the whole day; for had he not been sent out to seek his fortune? If he came across a broken bit of pottery glistening in the sun, he straightway put it into his pocket, in the full belief that it would prove to be the most brilliant diamond. When he saw in the distance the dome of a mosque all ablaze with the sun's rays, or a lake gleaming like a mirror, he made all haste to reach it, believing he had arrived in an enchanted land. But alas, the illusions vanished as he neared them, while weariness and an empty stomach forcibly reminded him that he was still in the land of mortals. Thus hungry and sorrowful, and despairing of ever finding his fortune, he wandered on for two long days, with the fruits of the field for his only nourishment, and the hard earth for his couch.

On the morning of the third day he discovered, from a hill, a large city. The crescent shone brightly on its battlements, while gay banners waving from the roofs seemed to beckon him on. In great surprise, he stopped to look at the city and its surroundings.

“Yes, there shall Little Muck find his fortune,” said he to himself;and summoning all his strength, he started on towards the city. But, although the town seemed near by, it was nearly noon when he reached it, as his little legs almost refused to carry out his will, and he was forced to sit down in the shade of a palm tree to rest. At last he reached the gate. There he arranged his cloak with great care, gave a new fold to his turban, stretched out his sash to twice its usual width, stuck the long poniard in a little straighter, and wiping the dust from his shoes, grasped his stick more firmly and marched bravely in.

He had wandered through several streets, but not a door opened to him; nor did any one call out—as he had fancied would be done: “Little Muck! Come in and eat, And rest your weary little feet.”

Once more he looked up very longingly at a large, fine house before him, when suddenly a window was opened, and an old woman looked down, calling out in a sing-song tone:

O come, O come!

The porridge is done,

The table is spread,

May you all be well-fed;

O good neighbors, come,

The porridge is done!

The door of the house opened, and Muck saw many dogs and cats enter. He remained for some time in doubt whether he should accept the invitation, but at last he mustered up courage and walked in. Before him went two little kittens, and he concluded to follow them, as they might know the way to the kitchen better than he did.

As Muck ascended the stairs, he met the same old woman who had looked out from the window. She looked at him crossly, and asked him what he wanted. “Why, you invited everybody in to partake of your porridge,” answered Little Muck; “and as I was very hungry, I came in too.”

The old woman laughed and said: “Where in the world do you come from, you odd little fellow? The whole city knows that I cook for nobody but my dear cats, and now and then I invite company for them out of the neighborhood, as you see.”

Little Muck told the old woman how hardly it had fared with him since his father's death, and begged that she would permit him to eat with her cats to-day. The woman, who was pleased with the simple-hearted manner in which the dwarf told his story, allowed him to be her guest, and provided food and drink for him bountifully. When he had eaten his fill, and felt much stronger, the old woman looked at him for some time before saying: “Little Muck, remain in my service; you will have little to do, and will be well provided for.”

Little Muck, who had found the cats’ soup very nice, consented, and became the servant of Ahavzi. His duties were light, but quite peculiar. Ahavzi had, for instance, six cats, and every morning Little Muck had to comb their fur and rub in costly ointments; when the old woman went out he had also to look after the cats; when they were to be fed, he had to set the dishes before them; and at night it was his duty to lay them on silken cushions and cover them with velvet blankets. There were also a few small dogs in the house, which he had to wait upon; still, these received but little attention as compared with the cats, which Ahavzi considered as her own children. As for the rest, Muck led as lonely a life as he had suffered in his father's house; for, with the exception of the old woman, he saw only dogs and cats the livelong day.

For a little while, however, all went well with him. He always had enough to eat and but little to do, and the old woman found no fault with him. But after a while the cats became unruly; when the old woman had gone out, they would fly around the room as if possessed, throwing things about, and breaking many a fine dish that stood in their way. But whenever they heard the old woman coming up the stairs, they crouched down on their cushions, and wagged their tails, as if nothing had occurred. Ahavzi got very angry when she found her rooms in such disorder, and laid it all to Muck's charge; and though he might protest his innocence as much as he pleased, she believed her cats, which looked so harmless, more than she did her servant.

Little Muck felt very sad that he had failed to find his fortune, and secretly resolved to leave the service of Ahavzi. But, as he had discovered on his first journey how poorly one lives without money, he resolved to help himself to the wages which his mistress had often promised but never given him. There was one room in Ahavzi's house that was always kept locked, and whose interior Muck had never seen. But he had often heard the old woman bustling about in there, and as often he would have given his life to know what she had hidden there. When he came to think about the money for his journey, it occurred to him that the treasures of Ahavzi might be concealed in that room. But the door was always locked, and therefore he was unable to get at the treasures.

One morning, when the old woman had gone out, one of the dogs—to whom Ahavzi accorded little more than a step-mother's care, but whose favor Muck had acquired by a series of kindly services—seized Muck by his baggy trousers, and acted as if he wished the dwarf to follow him. Muck, always ready for a game with the dog, followed him, and behold, he was escorted to the bed-room of Ahavzi, and up to a small door that he had never noticed before. The door was soon opened, and the dog went in followed by Muck, who was greatly rejoiced to find that he was in the very room that he had so long sought to enter. He searched every-where for money, but found none. Only old clothes and strangely shaped dishes were to be seen. One of these dishes attracted his attention. It was crystal and in it were cut beautiful figures. He picked it up and turned it about to examine all its sides. But, horrors! He had not noticed that it had a lid which was insecurely fastened. The cover fell off, and was broken into a thousand pieces!

For a long time Little Muck stood there, motionless from terror. Now was his fate decided. Now he must flee, or the old woman would surely strike him dead. His journey was decided on at once; and as he took one more look around to see if there were nothing among the effects of Ahavzi that he could make use of on his march, his eye was caught by a pair of large slippers. They were certainly not beautiful; but those he had on would not stand another journey, and he was also attracted by this pair on account of their size, for when he once had these on his feet, everybody, he hoped, would see that he had “put away childish things.” He therefore quickly kicked off his own shoes and stepped into the large slippers. A walking stick ornamented with a finely cut lion's head, seemed to him to be standing too idly in the corner; so he took that along also, and hastened to his own bed-room, where he threw on his cloak, placed his father's turban on his head, stuck the poniard in his sash, and left the house and city as speedily as his feet would carry him.

Once free of the town, he ran on, from fear of the old woman, until he was ready to drop with exhaustion. Never before had he run so fast;indeed it seemed to him that some unseen force was hurrying him on so that he could not stop. Finally he observed that his power must have connection with the slippers, as these kept sliding along, and carried him with them. He attempted all kinds of experiments to come to a stand-still, but was unsuccessful; when as a last resort, he shouted at himself, as one calls to horses: “Whoa! whoa! stop! whoa!” Thereupon the slippers halted, and Muck threw himself down on the ground utterly exhausted.

The slippers pleased him very much. He had, after all, acquired something by his service, that would help him along in the world, on his way to find his fortune. In spite of his joy, he fell asleep from exhaustion—as the small body of little Muck had so heavy a head to carry that it could not endure much fatigue. The little dog, that had helped him to Ahavzi's slippers, appeared to him in a dream, and said to him:“Dear Muck, you don’t quite understand how to use those slippers; you must know that by turning around three times on the heel of your slipper, you can fly to any point you choose; and with this walking-stick you can discover treasures, as wherever gold is buried it will strike three times on the earth, and if silver, twice!” Such was the dream of Little Muck.

When he waked up, he recalled the wonderful dream, and resolved to test its truth. He put on the slippers, raised one foot and attempted to turn on his heel. But any one who will try the feat of turning three times in succession on the heel of such a large slipper, will not wonder that Little Muck did not at first succeed, especially if one takes into account his heavy head, that was constantly causing him to lose his balance. The poor little fellow got several hard falls on his nose, but he would not be frightened off from repeating his efforts, and at last he succeeded.

He whirled around like a wheel on his heel; wished himself in the next large city, and the slippers steered him up into the air, rushed him with the speed of the wind through the clouds, and before Little Muck could think how it had all happened, he found himself in a market-place, where many stalls had been put up, and a countless number of people were busily running to and fro. He mixed somewhat with the people but considered it wiser to take himself to a quieter street, as on the market-place every now-and-then somebody stepped on his slippers, so as to nearly throw him down, and then again, one and another, in hurrying by, would get a stab from his projecting poniard, so that he was continually in trouble.

Little Muck now began to think seriously of what he should do to earn some money. To be sure, he had a stick that would point out hidden treasures, but where might he hope to find a place where gold or silver was buried? He might have exhibited himself for money; but for that he was too proud. Finally his speed of foot occurred to him. Perhaps, thought he, my slippers may procure me a livelihood; and he resolved to hire himself out as a runner. Concluding that the king, who lived in this city, would pay the best wages, he inquired for the palace. At the door of the palace stood a guard, who asked him what business he had there? On answering that he was seeking service, he was referred to the head steward. To him he preferred his request, and begged him to give him a place among the king's messengers. The steward measured him with a glance from head to foot, and said: “How will you, with your little feet, scarcely a hand's breadth in length, become a royal messenger? Get away with you! I am not here to crack jokes with every fool.” Little Muck assured him that he meant every word he had said, and that he would run a race with the fastest, on a wager. The steward took all this as a bit of pleasantry, and in that spirit ordered him to hold himself ready for a race that evening. He then took him into the kitchen, and saw that he was given food and drink, and afterwards, betook himself to the king, and told him about the little fellow, and his offer to run a race.

The king was a merry gentleman, and well pleased with the steward for affording him an opportunity of having some sport with Muck, and ordered him to make such preparations for a race on the meadow, back of the castle, that his whole court could view the scene in comfort; and commanded him once more to pay every attention to the wants of the dwarf. The king told the princes and princesses of the entertainment that would be furnished in the evening, and they, in turn, informed their servants, so that when evening set in, all was expectancy, and every body who had feet to carry them, went streaming out to the meadow, where staging had been erected in order that they might see the vainglorious Muck run a race.

When the king with his sons and daughters had taken their seats on the platform, Little Muck entered the meadow, and saluted the lords and ladies with an extremely elegant bow; universal acclamation greeted the appearance of the little fellow. Surely such a figure had never been seen there before. The small body and the big head, the cloak and baggy breeches, the long dagger stuck through the broad sash, the little feet enclosed in such huge slippers—it was impossible to look at such a droll figure and refrain from shouts of laughter. But Little Muck did not permit himself to be disturbed by the merriment his appearance caused. He stood, leaning proudly on his cane, awaiting his opponent. The steward, in accordance with Muck's wish, had selected the king's fastest runner, who now stepped up and placed himself beside the dwarf, and both awaited the signal to start. Thereupon, Princess Amarza waved her veil, as had been agreed on, and, like two arrows shot at the same mark, the two runners flew over the meadow.

Muck's opponent took the lead at the start, but the dwarf chased after him in his slipper-chariot and soon overtook him, passed him, and reached the goal long before the other came up, panting for breath. Wonder and astonishment for some moments held the spectators still; but when the king clapped his hands, the crowd cheered and shouted: “Long live Little Muck, the victor in the race!”

Meanwhile, Little Muck had been brought up before the king. He prostrated himself and said: “Most High and Mighty King, I have given you here only a small test of my art. Will you now permit my appointment as one of your runners?”

But the king replied: “No; you shall be my body-messenger, dear Muck, and be retained about my person. Your wages will be one hundred gold pieces a year, and you shall eat at the head servants’ table.”

So Little Muck came to believe that at last he had found the fortune he had so long been looking for, and in his heart he was cheerful and content. He also rejoiced in the special favor of the king, who employed him on his quickest and most secret messages, which the dwarf executed with accuracy and the most inconceivable speed.

But the other servants of the king did not feel very cordial towards him, because they found themselves superseded in the favor of their master by a dwarf, who knew nothing except how to run fast. They laid many plots to ruin him, but all these came to naught, because of the implicit confidence that the king placed in his chief body-messenger—for to this position had Little Muck been advanced.

Muck, who was quite sensible of this feeling against him, never once thought of revenge, such was his goodness of heart, but tried to hit upon some plan by which he might become useful to his enemies, and win their love. He thought of his little stick, which he had neglected since he had found his fortune, and he reflected that if he were to find treasures, his companions would be more favorably disposed towards him. He had often heard that the father of the present king had buried a great deal of treasure, when his country had been overrun by the enemy;and it was also said that the old king had died without being able to reveal the secret to his son. From this time forward Muck always carried his stick with him, in the hope of sometime passing over the place where the old king had hidden his money.

One evening he went, by chance, into an outlying part of the palace gardens, which he seldom visited; when suddenly he felt the stick twitch in his hand, and it bent three times to the ground. Well did he know what this betokened. He therefore drew out his poniard, made some marks on the neighboring trees, and stole back into the castle, where he provided himself with a spade, and waited until it was dark enough for his undertaking.

The digging made Little Muck much more trouble than he had anticipated. His arms were very weak, while his spade was large and heavy; and he had worked a full two hours before he had dug as many feet. Finally, he struck something hard, that sounded like iron. He now dug very fast, and soon brought to light a large iron lid. This caused him to get down in the hole to find out what the lid might cover, and he discovered, as he had expected, a large pot filled with gold pieces. But he had not sufficient strength to raise the pot, therefore he put into his pockets, his cloak, and his sash, as much as he wished to carry, covered up the remainder carefully, and took his load on his back. But if he had not had his slippers on, he would never have been able to move from the spot, so great was the weight of the gold. However, he reached his room unnoticed, and secured the gold under the cushions of his couch.

When Little Muck found himself in possession of such wealth, he believed that a new leaf would be turned, and he should win many friends and followers among his enemies: from which reasoning one may readily perceive that the good Little Muck could not have received a very good bringing up, or he would never have dreamed of securing true friends through the medium of money. Alas, that he did not then step into his slippers, and scamper off with his cloak full of gold!

The gold, which Little Muck from this time forth distributed so generously, awakened the envy of the other court servants. The chief cook, Ahuli, said: “He is a counterfeiter!”

The steward, Achmet, declared: “He coaxes it out of the king!”

But Archaz, the treasurer, and Muck's bitterest enemy, who occasionally dipped into the king's cash box himself, exclaimed decidedly: “He has stolen it!”

In order to make sure of their case, they all acted in concert; and the head cup-bearer placed himself in the way of the king, one day, looking very sad and cast-down. So remarkably sad was his countenance, that the king inquired the cause of his sorrow.

“Alas!” replied he, “I am sad because I have lost the favor of my master.”

“What fancy is that, friend Korchuz? Since when have I kept the sun of my favor from lighting on you?” asked the king. The head cup-bearer replied that the king had loaded the confidential body-messenger with gold, but had given nothing to his poor, faithful servants.

The king was very much surprised at this news, and listened to an account of the liberal gifts of Little Muck, while the conspirators easily created the suspicion in the royal mind that Muck had by some means stolen the gold from the treasury. This turn of affairs was very welcome to the treasurer, who, without it, would not have cared to render an account of the cash in his keeping. The king, therefore, gave an order that a secret watch should be kept on every step of Little Muck, to catch him, if possible, in the act.

On the night following this unlucky day, as Little Muck took his spade and stole out into the garden, with the intention of replenishing the heap of gold in his chamber, which his liberality had so wasted, he was followed at a distance by a guard, led by Ahuli, the cook, and Archaz, the treasurer, who fell upon him at the very moment when he was removing the gold from the pot, bound him, and took him straight before the king. The king, who felt cross enough at having his slumber disturbed, received his confidential chief body-messenger very ungraciously, and at once began an examination of the case. The pot had been dug from the earth, and, together with the spade and the cloak full of gold, was placed at the king's feet. The treasurer stated that, with his watchman, he had surprised Muck in the very act of burying this pot full of gold in the ground.

The king asked the accused if this were true, and where he had got the gold.

Little Muck, conscious of his innocence, replied that he had discovered it in the garden, and that he was attempting to dig it up, and not to bury it.

All present laughed loudly at his defense, but the king, extremely enraged at what he believed to be the cool effrontery of the dwarf, cried:“What, wretch! Do you persist in lying so shamelessly to your king, after stealing from him? Treasurer Archaz, I call upon you to say whether you recognize this as the amount of money that is missing from my treasury?”

The treasurer answered that, for his part, he was sure that this much, and still more, had been missing from the royal treasury for some time, and he would take his oath that this was part of the stolen money.

The king thereupon commanded that Little Muck should be put in chains, and thrown into the tower; and handed the money over to his treasurer to put back into the treasury. Rejoiced at the fortunate outcome of the affair, the treasurer withdrew, and counted over the gold pieces at home; but this wicked man never once noticed, that in the bottom of the pot lay a scrap of paper, on which was written:

The enemy has over-run my country, and therefore I bury here a part of my treasure; whoever finds it will receive the curse of a king if he does not at once deliver it to my son.—King Sadi.

Little Muck, in his prison, was a prey to the most melancholy reflections. He knew that the penalty for robbery of royal property was death; and yet he hesitated to reveal to the king the magical powers of his stick, because he rightly feared that it, and his slippers, would then be taken away from him. But neither could his slippers give him any aid in his present condition, for he was chained so closely to the wall that, try as he might, he could not turn on his heel. But when notice of death was served on him the following day, he thought better of the matter, concluding it was wiser to live without the stick, than to die with it. He, therefore, sent to the king, begging to make a private communication, and disclosed the secret to him. The king would not credit his confession; but Little Muck promised a test of the stick's power, if the king would grant him his life. The king gave him his word on it, and, unseen by Muck, had some gold buried in the garden, and then ordered Muck to find it. After a few moments hunt, Muck's stick struck three times on the ground. This assured the king that his treasurer had deceived him, and he therefore sent him—as is customary in the Levant—a silken cord, with which to strangle himself. But to Little Muck he said: “It is true that I promised to spare your life, but as I believe that you possess more than one secret in connection with this stick, you will be imprisoned for life, unless you confess what connection there is between this stick and your fast running.” Little Muck, whose experience for a single night in the tower had given him no desire for a longer imprisonment, acknowledged that his whole art lay in the slippers; still he did not inform the king about the three turns on the heel. The king tried on the slippers himself, in order to test them, and run about the garden like a madman, making many attempts to stop, but he did not know how to bring the slippers to a stand-still, and Little Muck, who could not forego this bit of revenge, let him run around till he fell senseless.

When the king recovered consciousness, he was fearfully enraged at Little Muck, who had run him out of breath. “I have pledged my word to give you life and liberty, but if you are within my territory in twelve hours, I will have you imprisoned!” As for the stick and slippers, he had them locked up in his treasury.

Poor as at first, Little Muck wandered out into the country, cursing the folly that had led him to think he could play an important part at court. The country from which he was driven was fortunately not a large one, so that in the course of eight hours he had reached the boundary line;although walking, after having been accustomed to his beloved slippers, was no pleasant task to him.

As soon as he had crossed the border, he turned off from the highways in order to reach the most desolate part of the wilderness, where he might live alone by himself, as he was at enmity with all mankind. In the dense forest he came across a place that seemed well suited to his purpose. A clear brook, overgrown by large, shady fig trees, and with banks of soft velvety turf, looked very inviting. Here he threw himself down, with the firm resolve not to eat again, but to calmly await death. While indulging in gloomy reveries, he fell asleep; but when he waked up, and began to experience the pangs of hunger, he reflected that starvation was rather an unpleasant thing, and t