7
PRET’ OLIVO.[11]
When Jesus Christ was on earth, He lodged one night at a priest’s house, and when He went away in the morning He offered to give His host, in reward for his hospitality, whatever he asked. What Pret’ Olivo (for that was his host’s name) asked for was that he should live a hundred years, and that when Death came to fetch him he should be able to give her what orders he pleased, and that she must obey him.
‘Let it be granted!’ said Jesus Christ.
A hundred years passed away, and then, one morning early, Death came.
‘Pret’ Olivo! Pret’ Olivo!’ cried Death, ‘are you ready? I’m come for you at last.’
‘Let me say my mass first,’ said Pret’ Olivo; ‘that’s all.’
‘Well, I don’t mind that,’ answered Death; ‘only mind it isn’t a long one, because I’ve got so many people to fetch to-day.’
‘A mass is a mass,’ answered Pret’ Olivo; ‘it will be neither longer nor shorter.’
As he went out, however, he told his servant to heap up a lot of wood on the hearth and set fire to it. Death went to sit down on a bench in the far corner of the chimney, and by-and-by the wood blazed up and she couldn’t get away any more. In vain she called to the servant to come and moderate the fire. ‘Master told me to heap it up, not to moderate it,’ answered the servant; and so there was no help. Death continued calling in desperation, and nobody came. It was impossible with her dry bones to pass the blaze, so there she had to stay.
‘Oh, dear! oh, dear! what can I do?’ she kept saying; ‘all this time everybody is stopped dying! Pret’ Olivo! Pret’ Olivo! come here.’
At last Pret’ Olivo came in.
‘What do you mean by keeping me here like this?’ said Death; ‘I told you I had so much to do.’
‘Oh, you want to go, do you?’ said Pret’ Olivo, quietly.
‘Of course I do. Tell some one to clear away those burning logs, and let me out.’
‘Will you promise me to leave me alone for another hundred years if I do?’
‘Yes, yes; anything you like. I shall be very glad to keep away from this place for a hundred years.’
Then he let her go, and she set off running with those long thin legs of hers.
The second hundred years came to an end.
‘Are you ready, Pret’ Olivo?’ said Death one morning, putting her head in at the door.
‘Pretty nearly,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. ‘Meantime, just take that basket, and gather me a couple of figs to eat before I go.’
As she went away he said, ‘Stick to the tree’ (but not so that she could hear it); for you remember he had power given him to make her do what he liked. She had therefore to stick to the tree.
‘Well, Lady Death, are you never going to bring those figs?’ cried Pret’ Olivo after a time.
‘How can I bring them, when you know I can’t get down from this tree? Instead of making game of me, come and take me down.’
‘Will you leave me alone another hundred years if I do?’
‘Yes, yes; anything you like. Only make haste and let me go.’
The third hundred years came to an end, and Death appeared again. ‘Are you ready this time, Pret’ Olivo?’ she cried out as she approached.
‘Yes, this time I’ll come with you,’ answered Pret’ Olivo. Then he vested himself in the Church vestments, and put a cope on, and took a pack of cards in his hand, and said to Death, ‘Now take me to the gate of Hell, for I want to play a game of cards with the Devil.’
‘Nonsense!’ answered Death. ‘I’m not going to waste my time like that. I’ve got orders to take you to Paradise, and to Paradise you must go.’
‘You know you’ve got orders to obey whatever I tell you,’ answered Pret’ Olivo; and Death knew that was true, so she lost no more time in disputing, but took him all the way round by the gate of Hell.
At the gate of Hell they knocked.
‘Who’s there?’ said the Devil.
‘Pret’ Olivo,’ replied Death.
‘Out with you, ugly priest!’ said the Devil. ‘I’m surprised at you, Death, making game of me like that; you know that’s not the sort of ware for my market.’[12]
‘Silence, and open the door, ugly Pluto![13] I’m not come to stay. I only want to have a game of cards with you. Here’s my soul for stake on my side, against the last comer on your side,’ interposed Pret’ Olivo.
Pret’ Olivo won the game, and hung the soul on to his cope.
‘We must have another game,’ said the Devil.
‘With all my heart!’ replied Pret’ Olivo; and he won another soul. Another and another he won, and his cope was covered all over with the souls clinging to it.
Meantime, Death thought it was going on rather too long, so she looked through the keyhole, and, finding they were just beginning another game, she cried out loudly;
‘It’s no use playing any more, for I’m not going to be bothered to carry all those souls all the way up to Heaven—a likely matter, indeed!’
But Pret’ Olivo went on playing without taking any notice of her; and he hung them on to his beretta, till at last you could hardly see him at all for the number of souls he had clinging to him. There was no place for any more, so at last he stopped playing.
‘I’m not going to take all those other souls,’ said Death when he came out; ‘I’ve only got orders to take you.’
‘Then take me,’ answered Pret’ Olivo.
Death saw that the souls were all hung on so that she could not take him without taking all the rest; so away she went with the lot of them, without disputing any more.
At last they arrived at the Gate of Paradise. St. Peter opened the door when they knocked; but when he saw who was there he shut the door again.
‘Make haste!’ said Death; ‘I’ve no time to waste.’
‘Why did you waste your time in bringing up souls that were not properly consigned to you?’ answered St. Peter.
‘It wasn’t I brought them, it was Pret’ Olivo. And your Master charged me I was to do whatever he told me.’
‘My Master! Oh, then, I’m out of it,’ said St. Peter. ‘Only wait a minute, while I just go and ask Him whether it is so.’ St. Peter ran to ask; and receiving an affirmative answer, came back and opened the gate, and they all got in.