Prevod

A father had two sons. The elder was clever and sensible and knew how to manage whatever came his way. The younger, however, was stupid and could neither understand nor learn anything, and whenever people saw him, they said, “That boy will be a burden to his father yet!” Whenever there was something to be done, the elder always had to do it. But if his father sent him to fetch something late in the evening, or even at night, and the way led through the churchyard or some other eerie place, he would say, “Oh no, Father, I won’t go there. It makes me shudder!” For he was afraid. Or when stories were told by the fire in the evening that made one’s skin creep, the listeners would sometimes say, “Oh, it makes me shudder!” The younger son sat in a corner and listened, but could not understand what they meant. “They’re always saying, ‘It makes me shudder, it makes me shudder!’ Nothing makes me shudder. It must be another skill I know nothing about.”

Now one day his father said to him, “Listen, you there in the corner. You’re growing big and strong, and you must learn something that will earn you your bread. See how hard your brother tries, while every effort spent on you is wasted.” “Well, Father,” he answered, “I’d gladly learn something. In fact, if it could be managed, I’d like to learn how to shudder. I don’t understand that at all yet.” The elder brother laughed when he heard this and thought to himself, “Good heavens, what a blockhead my brother is! He’ll never amount to anything as long as he lives. A twig that is to make a hook must bend while it is young.” The father sighed and answered him, “You’ll learn to shudder soon enough, but it won’t earn you your bread.”

Soon afterward the sexton came to visit. The father poured out his troubles to him, explaining how poorly his younger son fared in everything: he knew nothing and learned nothing. “Just imagine, when I asked him how he meant to earn his bread, he actually said he wanted to learn to shudder.” “If that’s all,” answered the sexton, “he can learn that with me. Just send him over, and I’ll knock the rough edges off him.” The father was content with this, thinking, “At least the boy will be brought into line a little.” So the sexton took him into his house, and the boy had to ring the bells. After a few days, he woke him at midnight and told him to get up, climb the church tower, and ring the bell. “You’ll soon learn what shuddering is,” he thought, and secretly went on ahead. When the boy reached the top, turned around, and was about to take hold of the bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the stairs opposite the opening through which the bells sounded. “Who’s there?” he called, but the figure gave no answer and did not stir or move. “Answer me,” cried the boy, “or be off with you! You’ve no business here at night!” But the sexton stood motionless, so that the boy would think he was a ghost. The boy called a second time, “What do you want here? Speak, if you’re an honest fellow, or I’ll throw you down the stairs.” The sexton thought, “He can’t mean that in earnest,” and made not a sound, but stood as though he were made of stone. Then the boy called to him a third time, and when that too was in vain, he took a run at the ghost and shoved it down the stairs, so that it tumbled down ten steps and lay in a corner. Then he rang the bell, went home, lay down in bed without saying a word, and went back to sleep. The sexton’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but he did not return. At last she grew frightened, woke the boy, and asked, “Do you know what has become of my husband? He went up the tower before you.” “No,” answered the boy, “but there was someone standing on the stairs opposite the bell opening, and because he wouldn’t answer or go away, I took him for a rogue and pushed him down. Go and see whether it was him. I’d be sorry if it was.” The woman hurried away and found her husband lying in a corner, groaning, with a broken leg.

She carried him down, then rushed to the boy’s father, crying out at the top of her voice. “Your boy,” she cried, “has done terrible harm! He threw my husband down the stairs and broke his leg. Get that good-for-nothing out of our house!” The father was horrified, came running, and scolded the boy. “What wicked tricks are these? The devil himself must have put them into your head.” “Father,” he answered, “just hear me out. I’m quite innocent. He stood there in the night like someone bent on mischief. I didn’t know who he was, and I warned him three times to speak or go away.” “Oh,” said the father, “you bring me nothing but trouble. Get out of my sight! I don’t want to look at you any longer.” “Yes, Father, gladly. Just wait until daylight, and then I’ll go out and learn to shudder. At least I’ll know a skill that can keep me fed.” “Learn whatever you like,” said his father. “It’s all the same to me. Here are fifty thalers. Take them and go out into the wide world, and don’t tell a soul where you come from or who your father is, for I’m ashamed of you.” “Yes, Father, whatever you wish. If that’s all you ask, I can easily do it.”

When day broke, the boy put his fifty thalers in his pocket, went out onto the main road, and kept saying to himself, “If only I could shudder! If only I could shudder!” A man came along and heard the boy talking to himself. When they had gone a little farther and the gallows came into view, the man said to him, “Do you see that tree over there, where seven men have married the rope-maker’s daughter and are now learning to fly? Sit beneath it and wait until nightfall, and you’ll soon learn to shudder.” “If that’s all there is to it,” answered the boy, “that’s easily done. And if I learn to shudder so quickly, you shall have my fifty thalers. Just come back to me tomorrow morning.” So the boy went to the gallows, sat beneath it, and waited until evening came. As he was cold, he lit himself a fire. But at midnight the wind blew so bitterly that, despite the fire, he could not get warm. And when the wind knocked the hanged men against one another, making them sway to and fro, he thought, “Here you are freezing beside the fire. How cold those fellows up there must be, with all their fidgeting!” Being kindhearted, he set up the ladder, climbed it, untied them one after another, and brought all seven down. Then he stirred up the fire, blew it into flame, and sat them around it to warm themselves. But they sat without moving, and the fire caught their clothes. Then he said, “Mind yourselves, or I’ll hang you up again.” But the dead men did not listen. They remained silent and let their rags go on burning. Then he grew angry and said, “If you won’t take care, I can’t help you. I’m not going to burn along with you,” and he hung them up again, one after another. Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep. The next morning the man came to him, hoping to collect the fifty thalers, and said, “Well, do you know what shuddering is now?” “No,” he answered. “How should I know? Those fellows up there never opened their mouths, and they were so stupid they let the few old rags on their backs catch fire.” The man saw that he would not be taking home the fifty thalers that day, and went away, saying, “I’ve never come across anyone like him before.”

The boy went on his way too, and once more began talking to himself. “Oh, if only I could shudder! Oh, if only I could shudder!” A carter walking behind him heard this and asked, “Who are you?” “I don’t know,” answered the boy. The carter went on, “Where do you come from?” “I don’t know.” “Who is your father?” “I’m not allowed to say.” “What are you always muttering under your breath?” “Well,” answered the boy, “I wish I could shudder, but nobody can teach me.” “Enough of your foolish chatter,” said the carter. “Come along with me, and I’ll see if I can find you a place to stay.” The boy went with the carter, and that evening they reached an inn where they meant to spend the night. As he entered the room, he said aloud once more, “If only I could shudder! If only I could shudder!” The innkeeper heard him, laughed, and said, “If that’s what you’re after, there should be a good chance of it here.” “Oh, hold your tongue,” said the innkeeper’s wife. “Many an inquisitive fellow has already paid with his life. It would be a dreadful pity if those fine eyes never saw daylight again.” But the boy said, “However hard it may be, I mean to learn. That’s why I set out in the first place.” He gave the innkeeper no peace until he told him that not far away stood an enchanted castle, where anyone could surely learn to shudder if he would only keep watch inside for three nights. The king had promised his daughter in marriage to anyone willing to venture it, and she was the loveliest maiden the sun ever shone upon. There were also great treasures in the castle, guarded by evil spirits; these would then be set free and could make a poor man very rich. Many had gone in, but none had ever come out again. So the next morning the boy went before the king and said, “If I may, I should like to keep watch for three nights in the enchanted castle.” The king looked at him, and, taking a liking to him, said, “You may ask for three things to take into the castle, but they must be lifeless things.” Then he answered, “In that case, I ask for a fire, a lathe, and a shaving bench with a drawknife.”

The king had all these things carried into the castle during the day. As night approached, the boy went up, lit a bright fire in one of the rooms, set the shaving bench and drawknife beside it, and sat down on the lathe. “Oh, if only I could shudder,” he said, “but I won’t learn it here either.” Toward midnight he was about to stir up his fire, and as he blew into it, a sudden cry came from a corner: “Ow, miaow! How cold we are!” “You fools,” he called, “what are you crying for? If you’re cold, come and sit by the fire and warm yourselves.” As soon as he had said this, two great black cats came bounding over, sat down on either side of him, and stared fiercely at him with fiery eyes. After a while, when they had warmed themselves, they said, “Comrade, shall we have a game of cards?” “Why not?” he answered. “But let me see your paws first.” They stretched out their claws. “My,” he said, “what long nails you have! Wait, I must trim them first.” With that he seized them by the scruffs of their necks, lifted them onto the shaving bench, and clamped their paws fast. “I’ve had a good look at your fingers,” he said, “and now I’ve lost my taste for cards.” Then he killed them and threw them out into the water. But when he had put those two to rest and was about to sit down by his fire again, black cats and black dogs on red-hot chains came out of every nook and cranny, more and more of them, until he could no longer move. They howled hideously, trampled on his fire, scattered it, and tried to put it out. For a while he watched them calmly, but when it grew too much for him, he seized his drawknife and cried, “Away with you, you rabble!” and struck out at them. Some fled, while the others he killed and threw out into the pond. When he returned, he blew the embers into a fresh blaze and warmed himself. As he sat there, his eyes would no longer stay open, and he felt like sleeping. He looked around and saw a large bed in the corner. “Just what I need,” he said, and lay down in it. But as he was about to close his eyes, the bed began moving of its own accord and went careering all around the castle. “That’s the way,” he said. “Faster still!” Then the bed rolled on as though six horses were harnessed to it, over thresholds and up and down stairs, until suddenly, bump, bump! It overturned, bottom uppermost, and lay on top of him like a mountain.

But he flung the blankets and pillows into the air, climbed out, and said, “Now whoever likes can take a ride.” Then he lay down beside his fire and slept until daylight. In the morning the king came, and when he saw him lying there on the floor, he thought the ghosts had killed him and he was dead. “What a pity,” he said, “to lose such a fine young man.” The boy heard this, sat up, and said, “It hasn’t come to that yet!” The king was astonished, but delighted, and asked how he had fared. “Very well,” he answered. “One night is over, and the other two will pass as well.” When he returned to the innkeeper, the man stared at him wide-eyed. “I never thought,” he said, “that I’d see you alive again. Have you learned to shudder now?” “No,” he said. “It’s all been in vain. If only someone could tell me how!”

The second night he went up to the old castle again, sat down by the fire, and took up his old refrain: “If only I could shudder!” As midnight drew near, there came a rattling and banging, quiet at first, then louder and louder. There was a brief silence, and at last, with a loud shriek, half a man came down the chimney and fell in front of him. “Hello there!” he cried. “There ought to be another half. That’s not enough.” Then the noise began afresh, with a raging and howling, and the other half fell down too. “Wait,” he said. “Let me blow up the fire for you first.” When he had done so and looked around again, the two pieces had joined together, and a hideous man was sitting in his place. “That wasn’t our bargain,” said the boy. “The bench is mine.” The man tried to push him away, but the boy would not stand for it. He shoved the man aside with all his strength and sat down in his place again. Then more men fell down, one after another. They fetched nine dead men’s leg bones and two skulls, set up the bones, and began playing ninepins. The boy wanted to join in and asked, “Listen, may I play too?” “Yes, if you have any money.” “Money enough,” he answered, “but your balls aren’t quite round.” He took the skulls, set them in the lathe, and turned them until they were round. “There,” he said, “now they’ll roll better. Hurrah! Now we’ll have some fun!” He played with them and lost a little of his money, but when the clock struck twelve, everything vanished before his eyes. He lay down and fell peacefully asleep. The next morning the king came to ask after him. “How did you fare this time?” he asked. “I played ninepins,” he answered, “and lost a few hellers.” “But didn’t you shudder?” “Not at all,” he said. “I had a fine time. If only I knew what shuddering was!”

On the third night he sat down on his bench again and said, quite crossly, “If only I could shudder!” When it grew late, six tall men came in carrying a coffin. Then he said, “Ha, ha! That must be my dear cousin who died only a few days ago.” He beckoned with his finger and called, “Come, cousin, come!” They set the coffin on the floor, and he went over and took off the lid. Inside lay a dead man. He touched his face, but it was cold as ice. “Wait,” he said, “I’ll warm you a little.” He went to the fire, warmed his hand, and laid it on the dead man’s face, but the corpse remained cold. Then he lifted him out, sat by the fire, laid him across his lap, and rubbed his arms to set his blood flowing again. When that did no good either, it occurred to him, “When two people lie in bed together, they keep each other warm.” So he carried him to the bed, covered him up, and lay down beside him. After a while the dead man grew warm and began to stir. Then the boy said, “You see, cousin? Where would you be if I hadn’t warmed you?” But the dead man rose up and cried, “Now I’m going to strangle you!” “What?” he said. “Is that my thanks? Back into your coffin with you this instant!” He lifted him up, threw him in, and shut the lid. Then the six men came and carried him away again. “I still can’t shudder,” he said. “I’ll never learn it here as long as I live.”

Then a man came in who was taller than all the others and dreadful to look upon, but he was old and had a long white beard. “You wretch!” he cried. “Now you’ll soon learn to shudder, for you are going to die.” “Not so fast,” answered the boy. “If I’m to die, I must have a say in it too.” “I’ll soon get hold of you,” said the monster. “Easy, easy! Don’t make yourself out to be so mighty. I’m as strong as you, and very likely stronger.” “We shall see,” said the old man. “If you’re stronger than I am, I’ll let you go. Come, let us put it to the test.” He led him through dark passages to a forge, took an axe, and drove one of the anvils into the ground with a single blow. “I can do better than that,” said the boy, and went over to the other anvil. The old man stood beside him to watch, his white beard hanging down. Then the boy seized the axe, split the anvil with one stroke, and trapped the old man’s beard in the cleft. “Now I’ve got you,” said the boy. “Now it’s your turn to die.” Then he seized an iron bar and beat the old man until he whimpered and begged him to stop, promising him great riches. The boy pulled out the axe and let him go. The old man led him back into the castle and showed him three chests full of gold in a cellar. “Of this,” he said, “one share is for the poor, another for the king, and the third for you.” Just then the clock struck twelve, and the spirit vanished, leaving the boy standing in the dark. “I’ll manage to find my way out,” he said, and groped around until he found his way back to the room, where he fell asleep beside his fire. The next morning the king came and said, “Now surely you’ve learned to shudder?” “No,” he answered. “What can it be? My dead cousin was here, and a man with a beard came and showed me a great deal of money down below, but no one told me what shuddering is.” Then the king said, “You have freed the castle from its spell, and you shall marry my daughter.” “That’s all very well,” he answered, “but I still don’t know what shuddering is.”

Then the gold was brought up and the wedding celebrated. But though the young king loved his wife dearly and was very happy, he still kept saying, “If only I could shudder! If only I could shudder!” At last this vexed her. Her chambermaid said, “I’ll put that right. He’ll learn to shudder soon enough.” She went out to the brook that flowed through the garden and had a whole bucketful of gudgeons brought to her. That night, while the young king slept, his wife had to pull off his covers and pour the bucket of cold water and gudgeons over him, so that the little fish wriggled all around him. Then he woke and cried, “Oh, how I shudder! How I shudder, dear wife! Yes, now I know what shuddering is.”