“No,” replied A-lo-Sine, “I will not; for you are wicked, and you set fire to my field.”
Moû then went to his own field, and set fire to that also, and imitated all that his cousin had done: he wept, cried, and, like him, threw himself into the flames. Five monkeys, one of them a young one, who were feasting close by, drew near him, curious to see what he was about. “He is a god,” said they, also; “the flames have spared him. Let us carry him away.” No sooner said than done. Each monkey seized one an arm, the other a leg, and they set off.
They reached a neighbouring wood; but there the little monkey began to cry out, “I want to help to carry him also.” “But there is nothing of him to hold by,” said the mother. The little monkey, however, continued to cry, and at last seized Moû’s long tress of hair, and put himself at the head of the procession.
But this hurt Moû, and he tried to disengage his hair. The young monkey began to cry again. “Ah, you are angry; stay there, then,” said all the others, and they threw him into a prickly bush.
Moû had great trouble in extricating himself from his disagreeable position; and it was nearly evening when he reached home, all covered with blood.
“Well, cousin, have you also some gold and silver?” said A-lo-Sine, on seeing him. “Ah! I am thoroughly punished for the harm I did you,” replied Moû. “I bring back nothing but needles: call the women to take them out of me.”
TALE.
Translated from the Chinese by M. Henri Mouhot.
There lived formerly in a Chinese village an old couple who had no children; and one day the husband put himself in a violent passion with his wife for never having had any, and even beat her. The poor old woman rushed out of the house, crying, and ran a long way. A priest of Buddha met her accidentally, and asked her what had happened to her. “My husband was angry to-day, and beat me, because we had no children,” replied she. “Listen,” said the priest; “I will make you happy! Dig in this earth and knead it” (it was clay). The woman obeyed, and the priest then sat down, and with his fingers moulded nine little figures. “The first,” said he, “will have long ears and very quick hearing; the second, a piercing sight; the third, a skin so hard that he will not feel any blow; the fourth will stand fire without hurt; the fifth will have an enormous head, as hard as iron; the sixth, legs long enough to cross the deepest stream; the seventh, feet as large as those of an elephant, for walking in mire; the eighth, an immense stomach; and the ninth, a nose as long as a pipe, from which jets of water will issue at command. Now,” continued the priest, “go home, and every year eat one of these children.” The old woman bowed several times, professing her gratitude and happiness; then she returned home; but in her joy, instead of contenting herself with one child, she eat up all nine at once. Her stomach, which had begun to swell at once, grew every month bigger and bigger, and became frightful. The husband was beside himself with joy, and was very kind to his wife.