THE FAIRY AND THE DAUGHTER OF THE EARTH

A STORY OF THE ISLE OF OUESSANT

ONCE upon a time,—a very long time ago,—perhaps the time when Saint Pol came to us from Hibernia in a stone trough,—there was a young girl sixteen or seventeen years old, with fair hair, blue eyes, and cheeks as red as two apples, and her name was Mona Kerbile. She was so beautiful that all who saw her stopped to admire her, and said to her mother, old Jeanne Kerbile, a poor woman like myself,—

“You have a very pretty daughter, Jeanne! She is as pretty as a fairy! Such a beautiful girl has never before been seen in the island, and there are even those who say that she must be the child of a fairy.”

“Do not believe those who say so,” replied the good woman, “for I truly am her mother, and Fanch Kerbile, my husband, is surely her father.”

Mona’s father was a fisherman, and spent almost all of his time on the water, and her mother tended a small spot of ground that she had, as all the island people did, or spun in her hut when the weather was too bad. Mona went, as all the young girls of her age did, to seek for limpets, mussels, periwinkles, and other shell-fish on the shore. It seems that the fairies, who were then very numerous in the island, had observed her, and had, themselves also, been struck with her beauty. One day when she was on the shore with her companions as usual, they were talking of their lovers. Each one boasted of the skill of her own in catching fish, and steering a boat, and in guiding it among the numerous dangers by which the island was surrounded.

“You, Mona,” said Mare’harit Ar Fur to her, “you are wrong to discourage Fanch Kerdudal as you do, for he is a young fellow of excellent character, clever, and no one comes back in the evening with more fish than he, nor guides his bark better among the difficult passes of the Vieille Jument or the point of Stiff.”

“I,” said Mona, scornfully,—for on account of hearing it said that she was beautiful, she had become vain and proud,—“I will never take a fisherman for my husband; I am too pretty for that. I am as beautiful as a fairy; they tell me so every day, and I shall marry no one but a prince, or at least the son of a great lord.”

It happened that an old fairy, hidden behind a rock or under a tuft of sea-wrack, heard her, and jealous at seeing that a daughter of the earth could rival the beauty of the children of the fairies, he conceived the design of carrying her off and taking her with him to his home under the water. He dared not try to do it that day, for Mona was in the midst of her companions. But the next day about sunset, while she was still catching shell-fish with two other of the village girls, and was somewhat apart from her friends, the old fairy suddenly sprang out from behind a rock where he was watching her, seized her and took her away down to the bottom of the water. She cried loudly, and called her friends to her assistance, but alas! they could not come to help her; they could only run to the house and tell her mother what they had seen. Old Jeanne was spinning on her doorsteps. She threw down her distaff and her spindle, and ran to the shore, and called her daughter loudly, and even went into the water as far as she could at the place where they told her that Mona had disappeared with the fairy. But it was all in vain, and no voice replied to her cries and her tears.

The report of the adventure spread quickly over the island, and every one was of the opinion that what had happened to the beautiful Mona was a punishment for her pride and her vanity; for however beautiful a young girl may be, she should neither be proud nor vain, for God gives beauty and ugliness, and riches and poverty also, as it pleases him.

The old fairy was the king of the fairies in those parts, and he took the young Ouessantine with him to the bottom of the sea, to a beautiful palace made of shells and coral.

The old fairy had a son, the handsomest fairy that ever was seen, and he fell in love with Mona and asked his father to let him marry her. But the old king answered that he would never consent to allow him to take for his wife a daughter of man who boasted of being as beautiful as the daughter of a fairy. There were plenty of the most beautiful fairies, who would be glad to have him for their husband, and he would not withhold his consent when he should have made his choice among them.

Our young fairy was then in despair. He told his father that he would never marry if he was not allowed to have for his wife the daughter of man whom he loved. His father seeing him dying of sadness and grief, compelled him to marry a young fairy, the daughter of an old lord among the fairies, and who was celebrated for her beauty. The wedding day was fixed, and a great many people were invited. The betrothed couple set out on their way to the church, followed by a rich and numerous train; for it appears that these people of the sea have their religion and their churches as we do, although they are not Christians; they even have bishops, we are told, and an old bishop of the sea was to perform the ceremony. Poor Mona received an order from the old fairy to stay at home and prepare the wedding feast. But they gave her nothing that was needed for all this, absolutely nothing but large pots and empty sauce-pans (which were large shells), but they told her that if everything was not ready, and if she did not serve them a good feast when they returned from church she should be put to death immediately. Imagine her grief and perplexity, poor girl! But the poor young bridegroom was not less troubled and disconsolate.

As the procession was on its way to the church, he suddenly cried out,—

“I have forgotten the wedding ring!”

“Tell me where it is, and I will send for it,” said his father to him.

“No; no; I will go myself, for no one but me could find it where I have put it. I will hasten there and will return in a moment.”

And he let go the bride’s arm and ran to the house. He found poor Mona in the kitchen, weeping and desolate.

“Do not weep,” said he to her; “your feast will be ready and cooked to perfection; so do not be troubled on that account.”

And going to the fireplace, he said,—

“Good fire in the fireplace!”

And the fire burned up in the fireplace. Then touching with his hand each of the pots and saucepans successively, he said,—

“Some beef in this saucepan, veal and mutton in that other one; here a mutton on the spit; cider and wine in these pots!” and so on.

And the saucepans and pots were filled at once, to the surprise and joy of Mona, who was no longer weeping.

Then he hastened to rejoin his bride and his party, and they went to the church, and the ceremony was performed by a bishop of the sea. After that they returned to the house.

When they arrived there, the old fairy hastened the first thing to the kitchen, and asked for Mona.

“Here we are; we have come back; is everything ready for the feast?”

“Yes; everything is ready,” answered Mona quietly.

And he uncovered all the saucepans, examined all the pots, and then said, with a displeased air,—

“You have been helped; but never mind; I have not finished with you yet.”

The wedding guests seated themselves at the table, and they eat and drank as much as they would; then they sang and danced till night.

After the evening’s entertainment, the two young married people retired to their chamber, and the old fairy told Mona to go with them, and remain there, holding in her hand a burning wax-taper to give them light. When the taper should be burnt down to her hand, she should be put to death.

Poor Mona was obliged to obey. The old fairy was in a room near by, and from time to time he asked,—

“Is the taper consumed?”

“Not yet,” answered Mona.

He asked this question several times. At last when the wax-taper was almost entirely consumed, the young husband said to the new wife,—

“It is your turn now to go and hold the wax-taper a while!”

As she did not know the intentions of her father-in-law, she got up and took the wax-taper from Mona’s hands.

The old fairy asked again,—

“Has the wax-taper burned down to your hand?”

“Tell him yes,” said the bridegroom.

“Yes,” answered the young fairy.

And immediately the old fairy came into the room, seized upon her who held in her hand the remnant of the wax-taper, and cut off her head. Then he went away.

In the morning, as soon as he had risen, the young fairy went to his father, and spoke thus to him,—

“I have come to ask you to allow me to marry, my father.”

“To allow you to marry? Were you not married yesterday?”

“That is true; but my wife is dead, father.”

“Your wife is dead? How did it happen? Have you killed her, you miserable creature?”

“It is not I who have killed her, father, but you, yourself.”

“I?”

“Yes, father; did you not yesterday cut off the head of the woman who was holding the lighted wax-taper near my bed?”

“Yes; but it was the daughter of the earth.”

“No, my father, it was the young fairy whom I had just married; and if you do not believe me, you can easily be assured of it, for her body is still in my chamber.”

The old fairy hastened to his son’s chamber, and recognized his mistake. His anger was terrible, and a little more and he would have killed his son himself.

“Whom do you wish to take for a wife?” he asked his son the next day when he was a little pacified.

“The daughter of the earth, my father.”

The father found at last that it was useless to seek to cure his son of this love, and he concluded to allow him to marry the daughter of the earth.

The young fairy was very attentive to his wife. He fed her on delicate little fish, and made for her necklaces and bracelets of fine pearls, and gathered for her every day pretty shell-fish and the most beautiful and rarest sea-plants. In spite of all this, Mona was weary, and wanted to return to the earth to see once more her island, and her father and mother in their little hut by the seashore. The fairy would not let her go, for he feared she would never return. Then she became very sad, and did nothing but weep night and day. Seeing this, her husband said to her one day,—

“Smile on me a little, and I will take you back to your father’s house.”

Mona smiled, and the fairy, who was also a magician, then said,—

“Bridge, rise up!”

And immediately a beautiful bridge rose up, reaching from the bottom of the sea to the land. The old fairy, seeing this, and feeling sure that his son knew well as he did himself how to use magic, said,—

“I should like to go with you also.”

The three went together on the bridge, the old man behind, and the other two a few steps in advance of him. But as soon as the young fairy stepped ashore with his wife, he turned and said,—

“Bridge, return!”

And immediately the bridge went back again to the bottom of the sea, and with it the old fairy, who was still on it.

The fairy not being able to accompany his wife to her father’s house, let her go alone, giving her the following precautions before leaving her:—

“Come back at sunset, and you will find me here waiting for you; but do not let any man embrace you, or even take your hand, or you will make me very unhappy.”

Mona promised, and hastened to her father’s house, which was not far off on the shore. It was the dinner hour, and all the family were assembled.

“Good morning, father and mother; good morning, brothers and sisters,” said she as she entered the poor hut.

The good people opened their eyes wide, and looked at her, astonished, and none of them recognized her for their daughter or their sister. She was so beautiful, so grand, and so well dressed! This grieved her very much, and tears came into her eyes; then she began to go around the house, touching each object with her hands, and saying,—

“Here is the little stool on which I sat beside the fire; here is the bed where I slept; here is the pitcher with which I brought water from the spring; here is the broom with which I swept the house; here is the wooden porringer from which I ate my soup.”

At last her brother, hearing all this, recognized her, and threw himself on her neck to embrace her, and her father and mother and sisters did the same thing; but from that moment Mona lost entirely all recollection of her husband, the fairy, and his home under the sea. She remained with her parents, and soon plenty of lovers came to the house to sue for her hand; but she would not listen to any of them, and had no desire to marry.

This family, like the other inhabitants of the island, had a bit of ground where they planted potatoes and sowed barley, and this, together with the daily supply of fish and shell-fish which they caught out of the sea, was sufficient for them to live simply but contentedly.

There was a little space before the house containing a stack of barley straw. Often when she was lying in bed, and the winds howled, and the waves dashed and broke against the rocks on the shore, Mona thought she heard plaintive moanings near her door; but she believed it to be poor shipwrecked souls asking for the prayers of the careless living beings, and she recited a “De profundis;” then she pitied the poor sailors who were in the sea, and went to sleep again.

But one night she heard distinctly these words, uttered in a sad, heart-broken voice:—

“Oh, Mona! have you then forgotten your husband, the fairy who loves you so much, who saved you from death, and brought you back from the depths of the sea to see your father and mother, your brothers and sisters? You promised me so faithfully to come back again; I have been waiting for you so long and I am so unhappy without you!”

Then Mona recollected everything all at once. She rose up hastily, set out and found the fairy, who was lamenting thus near the stack of barley straw. She threw herself into his arms, and since then she has never been seen.

This story is taken from an article entitled “A Voyage to the Island of Ouessant,” published in the “Revue de France,” March and April, 1874.

F. M. Luzel.