‘There’s one of my three simpletons, at all events,’ says the young man, and journeys on.
The next day, at the inn where he spends the night, he hears a noise bru, bru! goes in to see, and finds a man fruitlessly trying to put walnuts into a sack by sticking a fork into them.
‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both his hands and so pour them in.
‘Ah, to be sure!’ answers the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the favour he has done him.
‘There is my second simpleton,’ says the young man, and goes further.
The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what he meets the third day; but it is something equally stupid, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he had promised.
When they had been married some time, he goes out for two or three days to shoot.
‘I’ll come with you,’ says the wife.
‘Well, it’s not quite the thing,’ answered he; ‘but perhaps it’s better than leaving you at home; but mind you pull the door after you.’
‘Oh yes, of course,’ answers the simple wife, and pulls it so effectually that she lifts it off its hinges and carries it along with her.