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A Lost Paradise
by
‘Did you hear what he said?’ inquired the charcoal-burner in an awe-stricken voice. ‘We are to have what we want, and do what we please. Only we must not touch the soup-tureen.’
‘No, of course we won’t,’ answered the wife. ‘Why should we wish to? But all the same it is rather odd, and one can’t help wondering what is inside.’
For many days life went on like a beautiful dream to the charcoal- burner and his wife. Their beds were so comfortable, they could hardly make up their minds to get up, their clothes were so lovely they could scarcely bring themselves to take them off; their dinners were so good that they found it very difficult to leave off eating. Then outside the palace were gardens filled with rare flowers and fruits and singing birds, or if they desired to go further, a golden coach, painted with wreaths of forget-me-nots and lined with blue satin, awaited their orders. Sometimes it happened that the king came to see them, and he smiled as he glanced at the man, who was getting rosier and plumper each day. But when his eyes rested on the woman, they took on a look which seemed to say ‘I knew it,’ though this neither the charcoal-burner nor his wife ever noticed.
‘Why are you so silent?’ asked the man one morning when dinner had passed before his wife had uttered one word. ‘A little while ago you used to be chattering all the day long, and now I have almost forgotten the sound of your voice.’
‘Oh, nothing; I did not feel inclined to talk, that was all!’ She stopped, and added carelessly after a pause, ‘Don’t you ever wonder what is in that soup-tureen?’
‘No, never,’ replied the man. ‘It is no affair of ours,’ and the conversation dropped once more, but as time went on, the woman spoke less and less, and seemed so wretched that her husband grew quite frightened about her. As to her food, she refused one thing after another.
‘My dear wife,’ said the man at last, ‘you really must eat something. What in the world is the matter with you? If you go on like this you will die.’
‘I would rather die than not know what is in that tureen,’ she burst forth so violently that the husband was quite startled.
‘Is that it?’ cried he; ‘are you making yourself miserable because of that? Why, you know we should be turned out of the palace, and sent away to starve.’
‘Oh no, we shouldn’t. The king is too good-natured. Of course he didn’t mean a little thing like this! Besides, there is no need to lift the lid off altogether. Just raise one corner so that I may peep. We are quite alone: nobody will ever know.’
The man hesitated: it did seem a ‘little thing,’ and if it was to make his wife contented and happy it was well worth the risk. So he took hold of the handle of the cover and raised it very slowly and carefully, while the woman stooped down to peep. Suddenly she startled back with a scream, for a small mouse had sprung from the inside of the tureen, and had nearly hit her in the eye. Round and round the room it ran, round and round they both ran after it, knocking down chairs and vases in their efforts to catch the mouse and put it back in the tureen. In the middle of all the noise the door opened, and the mouse ran out between the feet of the king. In one instant both the man and his wife were hiding under the table, and to all appearance the room was empty.
‘You may as well come out,’ said the king, ‘and hear what I have to say.’
‘I know what it is,’ answered the charcoal-burner, hanging his head. The mouse has escaped.’
‘A guard of soldiers will take you back to your hut,’ said the king. ‘Your wife has the key.’
‘Weren’t they silly?’ cried the grandchildren of the charcoal- burners when they heard the story. ‘How we wish that we had had the chance! WE should never have wanted to know what was in the soup-tureen!’
From ‘Litterature Orale de l’Auvergne,’ par Paul Sebillot.