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The Bird of Truth
by
For three days he wandered by the most out- of-the-way paths, but no signs of a tower were to be seen anywhere. On the fourth morning it was just the same, and, filled with despair, he flung himself on the ground under a tree and hid his face in his hands. In a little while he heard a rustling over his head, and looking up, he saw a turtle dove watching him with her bright eyes.
‘Oh dove!’ cried the boy, addressing the bird in her own language, ‘Oh dove! tell me, I pray you, where is the castle of Come-and- never-go?’
‘Poor child,’ answered the dove, ‘who has sent you on such a useless quest?’
‘My good or evil fortune,’ replied the boy, ‘I know not which.’
‘To get there,’ said the dove, ‘you must follow the wind, which to-day is blowing towards the castle.’
The boy thanked her, and followed the wind, fearing all the time that it might change its direction and lead him astray. But the wind seemed to feel pity for him and blew steadily on.
With each step the country became more and more dreary, but at nightfall the child could see behind the dark and bare rocks something darker still. This was the tower in which dwelt the witch; and seizing the knocker he gave three loud knocks, which were echoed in the hollows of the rocks around.
The door opened slowly, and there appeared on the threshold an old woman holding up a candle to her face, which was so hideous that the boy involuntarily stepped backwards, almost as frightened by the troop of lizards, beetles and such creatures that surrounded her, as by the woman herself.
‘Who are you who dare to knock at my door and wake me?’ cried she. ‘Be quick and tell me what you want, or it will be the worse for you.’
‘Madam,’ answered the child, ‘I believe that you alone know the way to the castle of Come- and-never-go, and I pray you to show it to me.’
‘Very good,’ replied the witch, with something that she meant for a smile, ‘but to-day it is late. To-morrow you shall go. Now enter, and you shall sleep with my lizards.’
‘I cannot stay,’ said he. ‘I must go back at once, so as to reach the road from which I started before day dawns.’
‘If I tell you, will you promise me that you will bring me this jar full of the many- coloured water from the spring in the court- yard of the castle?’ asked she. ‘If you fail to keep your word I will change you into a lizard for ever.’
‘I promise,’ answered the boy.
Then the old woman called to a very thin dog, and said to him:
‘Conduct this pig of a child to the castle of Come-and-never-go, and take care that you warn my friend of his arrival.’ And the dog arose and shook itself, and set out.
At the end of two hours they stopped in front of a large castle, big and black and gloomy, whose doors stood wide open, although neither sound nor light gave sign of any presence within. The dog, however, seemed to know what to expect, and, after a wild howl, went on; but the boy, who was uncertain whether this was the quarter of an hour when the giant was asleep, hesitated to follow him, and paused for a moment under a wild olive that grew near by, the only tree which he had beheld since he had parted from the dove. ‘Oh, heaven, help me!’ cried he.
‘Cross! cross!’ answered a voice.
The boy leapt for joy as he recognised the note of the owl of which the swallow had spoken, and he said softly in the bird’s language:
‘Oh, wise owl, I pray you to protect and guide me, for I have come in search of the Bird of Truth. And first I must fill this far with the many-coloured water in the courtyard of the castle.’