Zeleni travnik

Prevod

_Nella is loved by a Prince, who often goes through a crystal passage to take his pleasure with her. But when her jealous sisters break the passage, he is cut all over and lies at death’s door. By a strange stroke of fortune, Nella learns what remedy may cure him, applies it to the sick man, restores him to health, and takes him for her husband._ _Oh, my dears, with what delight they listened to Zeza’s tale to the very end! Had it lasted another hour, it would have seemed no more than a moment. And since it was now Cecca’s turn, she took up the telling in this fashion._ It is truly a remarkable thing, when we stop to reckon it, that the same timber should yield statues of idols and crossbeams for gallows, emperors’ thrones and chamber-pot lids. And it is no less strange that the same rag should be made into paper which, with love letters written on it, receives a beautiful woman’s kisses, or wipes an ugly backside: enough to make the finest astrologer in the world lose his wits. The same may be said of a single mother, who brings forth one good daughter and another who is a curse; one lazybones and one industrious housewife; one beauty and one fright;

one envious and one loving; one chaste Diana and one wanton Kate; one unlucky and one blessed by fortune—though, since they all spring from the same stock, they ought by rights to share the same nature. But leaving that discussion to those who know more about it, I shall give you just one example of what I have mentioned, in the story of a mother’s three daughters. There you will see how their different dispositions brought the wicked ones down into a pit, and raised the good girl to the top of Fortune’s wheel.

Once upon a time there was a mother who had three daughters, two of whom were so unlucky that nothing ever went right for them: all their schemes went awry, and all their hopes turned to chaff. But the youngest, whose name was Nella, had brought good fortune with her from her mother’s womb; and I believe that, when she was born, all things conspired to give her the very best they had to offer. Heaven gave her the cream of its light; Venus, the first choice of beauty; Love, the first flowering of his power; Nature, the finest of dispositions. She never undertook a task that did not come out straight as a plumb line;

she never embarked on an enterprise that did not turn out just as she wished; she never stepped into a dance without coming out of it with honour. And so, much as her wretched sisters envied her, everyone else loved and cherished her; much as her sisters would have liked to put her underground, other people would have carried her in the palms of their hands. Now in that country there lived a Prince endowed with magic, who sailed the seas of her beauty; and so often did he cast the hook of his loving service towards this lovely sea bream that at last he caught her by the gills of affection and made her his own. So that they might enjoy one another without rousing the suspicions of her mother, who was a nasty piece of work, the Prince gave her a certain powder and made a crystal passage that led from the royal palace to beneath Nella’s bed, though she lived eight miles away. He told her, “Whenever you wish to feed me like a little bird on your sweet favours, put a little of this powder on the fire, and I shall come at once through the passage, running hotfoot along a crystal road to delight in that silvery face of yours.” With this arrangement made, not a night passed without the Prince going in and out, back and forth, through that passage. At last the sisters, who kept a watch on Nella’s doings, discovered these merry meetings and took counsel on how to make this tasty morsel stick in her throat. To break the thread of their love, they went and smashed the passage here and there;

so that when the poor girl threw the powder on the fire to signal her lover to come, he, who was accustomed to hurry through stark naked, was so mangled by the broken crystal that it was a pitiful sight to see. Unable to go any farther, he turned back, slashed all over like a German’s breeches, and took to his bed, summoning all the physicians in the city.

But because the crystal was enchanted, the wounds were so deadly that no human remedy could help him. Seeing his son’s case was hopeless, the King had a proclamation issued: whoever cured the Prince, if a woman, should have him for a husband; if a man, should have half the kingdom. When Nella, who was pining for the Prince, heard this, she stained her face and disguised herself completely, then slipped out of the house without her sisters’ knowledge to go and see him before he died. But by now the golden balls with which the Sun plays in the fields of Heaven were rolling towards the West, and night overtook her in a wood near an Ogre’s house. To escape any danger, she climbed a tree. The Ogre and his wife were at table, with the windows open so they could eat in the cool air; and when they had finished emptying their jugs and putting out their lamps, they began to chatter about this and that. The place was so close—no farther than nose from mouth—that Nella heard everything. Among other things, the Ogress said to her husband, “Well, my handsome Hairy One, what news? What are people saying out in the world?” And he answered, “You may take it that there is not a hand’s breadth of clean ground anywhere, and everything is going arse over head and all askew.” “But what is happening?” his wife asked. “There would be plenty to say,” replied the Ogre, “about all the knavery abroad, for you hear things that would make you jump out of your skin: buffoons rewarded, scoundrels esteemed, lazybones honoured, murderers protected, cutpurses defended, and honest men little valued and still less respected. But since these things are enough to make a body burst, I shall tell you only what has happened to the King’s son. He had a crystal road built along which he went naked to enjoy a pretty girl;

somehow—I do not know how—the road was broken, and when he tried to pass through he cut himself so badly that, before he can stop up all those holes, the pipe of his life will have drained quite dry. And though the King has issued a proclamation promising great rewards to whoever cures him, it is all wasted effort: he may as well pick his teeth with it. The best thing he can do is have the mourning clothes ready and prepare the funeral.” When Nella heard the cause of the Prince’s suffering, she sobbed bitterly and said to herself, “What accursed soul has broken the passage through which my pretty painted bird came to me, so that the passage through which my own life flows must break as well?” But as the Ogress continued speaking, she held her tongue and listened without a sound. “Can it be,” the Ogress was saying, “that all hope is lost for this poor lord, and no remedy can be found for his illness? Tell medicine to go and bake itself in an oven! Tell the physicians to stick a halter round their necks!

Tell Galen and Mesue to give their schoolmaster his money back, if they cannot find a fitting prescription to restore the Prince to health.” “Listen, my little Slobberchops,” answered the Ogre, “physicians are not obliged to find remedies beyond the bounds of nature. This is no colic that an oil bath will relieve; no wind to be driven out with suppositories of dried figs and mouse droppings; no fever to be banished with medicine and diet; nor are these ordinary wounds that call for a dressing of tow and St John’s wort oil. The spell upon the broken glass has the same effect as onion juice upon an arrowhead: it makes the wound incurable. There is only one thing that could save his life;

but do not make me tell you, for it is a grave matter.” “Tell me, my Tusky One,” pleaded the Ogress. “Tell me, unless you want to see me dead.” And the Ogre said, “I will tell you, provided you promise not to confide it to a living soul, for it would mean the overthrow of our house and the ruin of our lives.” “Have no fear, my handsome, handsome little husband,” answered the Ogress, “for pigs will grow horns, apes tails, and moles eyes before a word ever slips from my mouth.” And when she had sworn it, with one hand laid upon the other, the Ogre told her, “Know, then, that there is nothing under Heaven or upon the earth that can save the Prince from the claws of death except our fat. If his wounds were anointed with it, it would place an embargo upon that soul which is seeking to quit the house of his body.” When Nella heard this secret, she bided her time until they had finished chattering; then she climbed down from the tree, plucked up her courage, and knocked at the Ogre’s door, crying, “Oh, my most ogrely lord and lady, a little charity! A little mercy for a poor, wretched creature, battered by fortune, far from her homeland, bereft of all human help, overtaken by night in these woods and dying of hunger!” And knock, knock, knock she went.

When the Ogress heard all this clamour, she wanted to throw her half a loaf and send her away. But the Ogre, who was greedier for human flesh than a squirrel for nuts, a bear for honey, a cat for little fish, a sheep for salt, or a donkey for bran mash, said to his wife, “Let the poor thing in. If she sleeps out in the open, some wolf might tear her to pieces.” He said so much that his wife opened the door; and with this self-serving charity he meant to make four mouthfuls of her. But the glutton reckons one way and the innkeeper another: for when the pair had got thoroughly drunk and gone to sleep, Nella took a knife from a cupboard and made a slaughterhouse of them. Then she put all their fat in a jar and set off for court. Presenting herself before the King, she offered to cure the Prince. Overjoyed, the King had her shown into his son’s chamber, where she gave him a good rubbing with the fat; and there and then, as though she had thrown water on a fire, his wounds closed at once, and he became as sound as a fish.

Seeing this, the King said to his son, “This good woman deserves the reward promised in the proclamation: you should take her for your wife.” At these words the Prince replied, “She may take herself off this very moment, for I have no storehouse of hearts inside me to hand out to so many women. Mine is already pledged, and another woman owns it.” When Nella heard this, she answered, “You ought not to remember a woman who was the cause of all your suffering.” “It was her sisters who did me the harm,” replied the Prince, “and they shall shit out their penance for it.” “Then you truly love her so much?” Nella asked again. And the Prince answered, “More than these eyes of mine.”

“If that is so,” Nella replied, “embrace me, hold me close, for I am the fire of your heart.” But the Prince, seeing her face so blackened, answered, “You are more likely the coal than the fire; so keep away, lest you smudge me.” Seeing that he did not recognise her, Nella had a basin of fresh water brought, washed her face, and, lifting that cloud of soot, revealed the sun beneath. The Prince recognised her and clasped her like an octopus; and, having taken her for his wife, he had her sisters walled up inside a hearth, so that, like leeches in the ashes, they might purge themselves of the corrupt blood of envy, proving the truth of the saying, _No evil ever went unpunished._

Izvirnik

_Nella è amata da no Prencepe, lo quale pe no connutto de cristallo va spisse vote a gaudere con essa. Ma rutto lo passo da le ’nvediose de le ssore, se taccareja tutto, e sta ’n fine de morte. Nella pe strana fortuna ’ntenne lo remmedio, che se pò fare, l’appreca a lo malato, lo sana, e lo piglia pe mmarito._ _O bene mio, e co quanto gusto se sentie fi ’mponta lo cunto de Zeza, tanto, che si avesse durato n’autr’ora, le saria parzeto no momento. Ed avenno da fare la veceta soja Cecca, essa cossì secotaje lo pparlare._ È na gran cosa da vero quanno facimme buono lo cunto, che da lo stisso ligno rescano statole d’Idole, e travierze de forche; segge de ’Mperatore, e copierchie de cantare: comme ancora strana cosa è, che

da na pezza stessa se faccia carta, che scrittace lettere ammorose, aggia vasate de bella femmena, e stojate de brutto mafaro; cosa che farria perdere lo jodizio a lo meglio Astrolago de lo munno. Tanto se pò dire medesemamente de na stessa mamma, da la quale nasce na figlia bona, e n’autra ruina; na potrona, e na massara; na bella, e na brutta; na ’mmediosa, e n’ammorevole; na casta Diana, e na Catarina papara; na sfortunata, e na bona asciortata; che pe rragione essenno tutte de na streppegna, deverriano essere tutte de na natura. Ma lassanno sto descurzo a chi cchiù ne sape, ve portaraggio schitto l’assempio de chesso che v’aggio azzennato co tre ffiglie de na Mamma, addove vedarrite la deversetate de costumme, che portaje le mmarvase dinto no

fuosso, e la figliola da bene ’ncoppa la rota de la fortuna. Era na vota na Mamma, ch’aveva tre ffiglie, doje de le quale erano accossì sbentorate, che mmaje le venea na cosa mparo; tutte li designe le rescevano travierze, tutte le speranze le rescevano a brenna; ma la cchiù ppiccola, ch’era Nella, portaje da lo ventre de la Mamma la bona ventura; e ccreo, ca quanno essa nascette se conzertaro tutte le ccose a ddarele lo cchiù mmeglio meglio, che le potettero; lo cielo le deze l’accoppatura de la luce soja; Vennere lo primmo taglio de la bellezza; Ammore lo primmo vullo de la forza soja; Natura lo sciore de li costumme: non faceva servizio, che no le colasse a cchiummo; non se metteva a ’mpresa, che non le venesse a ppilo; non se moveva

a ballo, che no ne scesse a nnore: pe la quale cosa non tanto era da le guallarose de le ssore ’nvidiata, quanto era da tutte l’autre amata, e boluta bene; non tanto le ssore l’averriano voluto mettere sotto terra, quanto l’autre gente la portavano ’nchianta de mano: ed essendo a cchella terra no Prencepe fatato, lo quale jeva pe mmaro de la bellezza soja, tanto jettaje l’ammo de la servetute ammorosa a sta bella Aurata, pe fi che la ’ncroccaje pe le garge de l’affetto, e la fece soja; e perchè potessero senza sospetto de la mamma, ch’era na mala fercola, gauderese ’nsiemme: lo Prencepe le dette na certa porvere, e ffece no canale de cristallo, che responneva da lo Palazzo reale pe sotta lo lietto de Nella, ancora che stesse otto miglia

lontano, decennole: ogne bota, che tu mme vuoje cevare comme a ppassaro de sta bella grazia, e tu miette no poco de ssa porvere a lo ffuoco, ca io subbeto pe dinto a lo canale mme ne vengo a cciammiello correnno pe na strata de cristallo a gaudere ssa faccie d’argiento: e ccossì appuntato, non c’era notte, che non facesse lo Prencepe lo trase, e jesce, e lo vacaviene pe cchillo connutto: tanto che le ssore, che stavano spianno li fatte de Nella, addonatese de lo fatto-feste, fecero consiglio de ’nnozzarele sto buono muorzo: e pe sgarrare lo ffilato de st’ammure lloro, jettero a rrompere de parte ’nparte lo canale; tanto, che ghiettato chella negrecata fegliola la porvere a lo ffuoco, pe ddare signo a lo nnammorato, che se ne venesse, chillo, che ssoleva

venire nudo correnno a ffuria, se conciaje de manera pe cchelle rotture de cristallo, che fu na compassione a bedere; e non potenno passare cchiù ’nnanze, tornaje arreto fellato tutto comm’a bracone de todisco, e se pose a llietto, facennoce venire tutte li miedece de la Cetate: ma perchè lo cristallo era ’ncantato, le ferite foro accossì mortale, che non ce jovava remmedio umano; pe la quale cosa vedenno lo Rrè desperato lo caso de lo figlio, fece jettare no banno, che qualunque perzona avesse arremmediato a llo male de lo Prencepe, s’era femmena, ’nce l’averria dato pe marito, e s’era mascolo l’averria dato miezo lo Regno. Sentuto sta cosa Nella, che spantecava pe lo Prencepe, tentase la faccia, e stravestutase tutta, annascuso de le ssore, se partette da

la casa pe ghirelo a vedere ’nnanze la morte soja. Ma perchè oramaje le ppalle ’nnaurate da lo Sole, co le quale joca pe li campe de lo Cielo, pigliavano la renza verso l’Occaso, se le fece notte a no vosco vicino la casa de n’Uorco, dove pe ffoire quarche ppericolo, se ne sagliette ncoppa n’arvolo; ed essenno l’Uorco co la mogliere a ttavola, tenenno le ffenestre aperte pe mmagnare a lo ffrisco, comm’appero fornuto de devacare arciule, e stutare lampe, commenzaro a cchiacchiariare de lo cchiù, e de lo mmanco, che pe la vicinanza de lo luoco, ch’era da lo naso a la vocca, sentette Nella ogne ccosa; e fra l’autre deceva l’Orca a lo marito: Bello Peluso mio, che se ’ntenne? che se dice pe sso munno? e cchillo responneva, fa cunto ca non c’è no parmo de nietto,

e tutte le ccose vanno a ccapoculo, e a la storta; ma pure, che nc’è (leprecaje la mogliere), e ll’Uorco ’nce sarria assaje che ddicere de le ’mbroglie, che ccorreno, pocca se sentono cose da scire da li panne, boffune regalate, forfante stimmate, potrune ’nnorate, assassine spalliate, zannettarie defenzate, ed uommene da bene poco prezzate, e manco stimmate. Ma perchè so ccose da crepare, diraggio schitto chello, ch’è ssocciesso a lo figlio de lo Rrè, lo quale avennose fravecato na strata de cristallo dove passava nudo a gauderese na bella guagnastra; non saccio comm’è stato rutto lo cammino, e a lo ppassare, che ha voluto fare, s’è ttrenciato de manera, che ’nnanze che appila tanta pertosa, se le spilarrà ’ntutto lo tufolo de la vita; e si be lo

Rrè ha fatto jettare banno co promesse granne a chi lo sana, è spesa perza, ca se ne pò spizzoliare li diente; e lo meglio, che pò fare, è ttenere leste li lutte, e apparecchiare l’assequie. Nella sentenno la causa de lo mmale de lo Prencepe chiagnenno a sselluzzo, disse ’nfra se mmedesima. Chi è stata st’arma mmardetta, c’ha spezzato lo canale pe ddove passava lo pinto auciello mio, azzò s’aggia a spezzare lo connutto pe ddove passano li spirite mieje? Ma secotanno a pparlare l’Orca stette zitto, e mmutto ad ausoleare; la quale deceva; ed è possibele, che è perduto lo munno pe sto povero Segnore? e che non s’aggia da asciare lo remmedio a lo mmale sujo; dì a la mmedecina, che se ’nforna; dì a li Miedece, che se chiavano na capenna ’ncanna;

dì a Galeno, e Mesuè, che ttornano li denare a lo masto, mentre non sanno trovare rezzette a pproposeto pe la salute de lo Prencepe. Siente vavosella mia, respose l’Uorco, non so obbrecate li miedece a ttrovare remmedie, che passeno li confine de la natura. Chessa non è ccolecapassa, che nce jova no vagno d’uoglio; non è ffrato che lo cacce co ssopposte de fico jedetelle, e ccacazze de surece; non è ffreve, che se ne vaga pe mmedicine, e ddieta; nè mango songo ferute ordenarie, che ’nce vorria stoppata, e uoglio de pereconna, perchè lo percanto ch’era a lo vrito rutto, fa chillo affetto stisso, che fa lo zuco de le ccepolle a lo fierro de frezza, pe la quale se fa la chiaga ncorabele: una cosa sarria schitto bona a ssarvarele la vita;

ma non me lo ffare dicere, ch’è ccosa, che ’mporta. Dimmello, Sannuto mio, leprecaje l’Orca: dimmello, non me vighe morta. E l’Uorco; io te lo dirraggio, puro che mme ’mpromiette de non confidarelo a pperzona vivente: perchè sarria la scafazione de la casa nostra, e la ruina de la vita. Non dubetare marituozzolo bello, bello, respose l’Orca, perchè cchiù ppriesto se vederranno li puorce co le ccorna, le Scigne co le ccude, le Ttarpe co ll’uocchie, che mme scappa maje na parola da vocca; e ghioratone co na mano ’ncoppa all’autra, ll’Uorco le disse: ora sacce ca non è ccosa sotta lo Cielo, e ’ncoppa la terra, che ppotesse sarvare lo Prencepe da li tammare de la morte, forachè lo grasso nuostro, co la quale ontannole le chiaje, se farria no sequestro

a chell’arma, che bò sfrattare da la casa de lo cuorpo sujo. Nella, che ssentette sso chiajeto, dette tiempo a lo tiempo, che compessero de ciancoliare; e scesa da ll’arvolo, facenno buon’armo, tozzolaje la porta dell’Uorco gridanno; deh signure mieje orchisseme na carità, no poco de meserecordia a na povera meschina, tapina, che ttarrafinata da la fortuna, lontana da la patria, spogliata d’ogne ajuto umano, l’è ccogliuto notte a sti vuosche, e se more de famme, e ttuppete ttupete; ll’Orca, che ssentette sto frusciamiento de chiocche, le voze tirare meza panella, e mmannarenella; Ma l’Uorco, ch’era cchiù ccannaruto de carne de cristiano, che non è la lecora de la noce, l’Urzo de lo mmale, la gatta de li pescetielle, la pecora de lo ssale, e l’aseno

de la vrennata, disse a la mogliere: lassala trasire la poverella, che se dorme ’ncampagna porria essere guastata da quarche Llupo; e ttanto disse, che la mogliere l’aperze la porta, ed isso co sta carità ppelosa fece designo de faresenne quattro voccune. Ma no cunto fa lo gliutto, e n’autro lo tavernaro; perchè essennose buono ’mbriacato, e ppuostese a ddormire; Nella pigliato no cortiello da coppa no repuosto, nne ffece na chianca, e ppuosto tutto lo grasso a n’arvariello, s’abbiaje a la vota de la corte, dove presentannose ’nnanze a lo Rrè, s’offerze de sanare lo Prencepe, lo Rrè co n’allegrezza granne la fece trasire a la cammara de lo figlio, addove fattole na bona ontata de chillo grasso, ’nnitto ’nfatto, comm’avesse jettato l’acqua ’ncoppa lo ffuoco,

subeto se chiudettero le ferute, e ddeventaje sano comme no pesce. La qualemente cosa vedenno lo Rrè, disse a lo figlio, chesta bona femmena meretarria la remmonerazione prommessa pe lo banno, e che te la pigliasse pe mmogliere. Lo Prencepe sentenno chesto, respose; da mò se pò pigliare lo palicco, ca non aggio ’ncuorpo quarche despenza de core, che nne pozza dare a ttante; già lo mio è ’ncaparrato, ed autra femmena nn’è ppatrona: Nella, che ssentette chesto, respose: Non te devarrisse allecordare chesta, ch’è stata causa de tutto lo mmale tujo. Lo mmale mme l’hanno fatto le ssore, leprecaje lo Prencepe, ed esse nne deveno cacare la penetenzia. Tanto che le vuoje proprio bene, tornaje a ddicere Nella: e lo Prencepe respose, cchiù de ste bisole:

s’è cossì repigliaje Nella, abbracciame, strigneme, cà io so lo fuoco de sso core; ma lo Prencepe vedennole cossì tenta la facce, respose: cchiù priesto sarraje lo cravone, che lo ffuoco: perzò arrassate, che non me tigne. Ma Nella vedenno ca no la conosceva, fattose venire no vacile d’acqua fresca, se lavaje la facce, e llevatose chella nuvola de folinia, le mostraje lo Sole, che canosciuta da lo Prencepe, se la strenze comme a ppurpo, e ppigliatosella pe mmogliere, fece fravecare dinto no focolaro le ssore; perchè porgassero comme a ssangozuca dinto la cennere lo sango corrutto de la ’nvidia, facenno vero lo mutto _Nullo male fu mai senza castico._

Prevod

Izvirnik

Morda ti bo všeč tudi