THE LAND OF WIND.
Pantagruel wondered at all this whistling; but he opened his eyes wider than ever when he caught sight of a big, bloated fellow whipping, with his slipper, a servant-man and a boy. When he asked what was the matter, he was told that the bloated fellow had accused the man and the boy of stealing from him the better half of a large leathern bag of southerly wind, which he had put by for his own private winter-use. All Pantagruel said to this was, "This is very strange." While he was on his way to the King's palace, on invitation, he saw several of the islanders, with large fans in their hands, taking a walk. The rich islanders were all stout. The poor islanders were all thin. It was a fight for wind; and the windmills and big fans won it.
The people of Ruach had these two proverbs always in their mouths:—
Small fans make small wind.
Great fans make great wind.
These were the only proverbs which had ever been known among them.
When he met the King of the island, Pantagruel began to pay him compliments on the cheapness of the food of the people. "You live on wind; it costs you nothing; you have only to breathe to take in your food; you and your people must be very happy."
"Not so happy as you may think, noble Giant. We have our troubles, like any other people."
"Troubles! Why, what troubles can you have?"
"I will tell you. Every year, in the spring, a wicked Giant, named Widenostrils, who lives, I believe, in the Island of Tohu, comes here for his health by the advice of his physicians. The moment he steps on shore he begins to swallow our windmills. We are not afraid of Widenostrils for ourselves, although he is so horrid a monster; but we have a mortal fear of him for our windmills. It will not be long before there will be no more windmills left! Then what are we to do? We must have wind; for without wind we must die."