So the lad put his ear to the ground, and replied: “An old man is talking to his wife and saying, ‘Praised be Sol in Lea, I have got rid from my side of that fellow, Moscione, that nail in my heart, with his face of old-fashioned crockery. By traveling through the world he will at least become a man, and no longer be such a stupid donkey, such a simpleton, such a lose-the-day fellow, such a——‘”
“Stop, stop!” cried Moscione. “You told the truth, and I believe you, so come along with me, for you have found the road to good luck.”
“Well and good,” said the youth. So they all went on together and traveled ten miles farther, when they met another man, to whom Moscione said: “My brave fellow, where were you born and what can you do in the world?” And the man answered: “My name is Shoot-straight, I am from Castle Aim-well, and I can shoot with a crossbow so point-blank as to hit a crab-apple in the middle.”
“I should like to see a proof,” said Moscione, so the lad charged his crossbow, took aim, and made a pea leap from the top of the stone window. Moscione took him also, like the others, into his company, and they traveled on another day’s journey, until they came to some people who were building a large pier in the scorching heat of the sun, and who might well say, “Boy, put water to the wind, for my heart is burning.” So Moscione had compassion on them and said, “My masters, how is it you have the heart to stand in this furnace, which is bound to roast a buffalo?” And one of them answered: “Ah! we are as cool as roses, for we have a young man here who blows upon us from behind in such a manner that it seems as if the west wind were blowing.” “Let me see him, I pray,” cried Moscione, and so the mason called the lad, and Moscione said to him: “Tell me, by the life of your father, what is your name, what country are you from, and what is your profession?” And the lad replied: “My name is Blowblast, I am from Windy Land, and I can make all the winds with my mouth. If you wish a zephyr, I will breathe one that will send you into transports. If you wish for a squall, I will blow down houses.”
“Seeing is believing,” said Moscione, whereupon Blowblast breathed at first quite gently, so that it seemed to be the wind that blows in Posilippo toward evening; then, turning suddenly to some trees, he sent forth such a furious blast that it uprooted a row of oaks.
When Moscione saw this he took him for a companion, and, traveling on as far again, he met another lad, to whom he said: “What is your name, if I may make so bold? Whence are you, if one may ask, and what is your trade, if it is a fair question?” And the lad answered, “My name is Strongback, I am from Valentino, and I have such strength that I take a mountain on my back, and it seems to me a mere feather.” “If that be the case,” said Moscione, “you deserve to be a king of the custom house, and you should be chosen for the standard-bearer on the first of May, but I should like to see a proof of what you say.” Then Strongback began to load himself with masses of rock, stumps of trees, and so many other weights that a thousand large wagons could not have carried them, so, when Moscione saw the feat, he persuaded the lad to join them.
So they traveled on till they came to Fairflower, the king of which place had a daughter who ran like the wind and could pass over the waving corn without bending an ear, and the king had issued a proclamation that whoever should overtake her in running should have her to wife, but whoever was left behind should lose his head.
Moscione arrived in this country and heard the proclamation. He went straight to the king and offered to run with the daughter, making the wise agreement either to win the race or leave his noddle there. But in the morning he sent to inform the king that he was taken ill, and, being unable to run himself, he would send another man in his place. “Come who will,” said Ciennetella (for that was the king’s daughter), “I care not a fig; it is all one to me.”
So when the great square was filled with people come to see the race, insomuch that the men swarmed like ants, and the windows and roofs were all as full as an egg, Lightning came out and took his stand at the top of the square waiting for the signal, and lo, forth came Ciennetella, dressed in a little gown tucked half-way up to her knees, and a neat and pretty little shoe with a single sole. Then they placed themselves shoulder to shoulder, and, as soon as the Tarantará and the Too-too of the trumpets was heard, off they darted, running at such a rate that their hair touched their shoulders, and in truth they seemed just like foxes with the greyhounds after them, horses broken loose from the stable, dogs with kettles tied to their tails, or jackasses with furze bushes behind them. But Lightning (as he was by name and nature) left the princess more than a hand’s breadth behind him, and came first to the goal. Then you should have heard the buzzing and shouting and cries and the uproar, the whistling and clapping of all the people calling out, “Hurrah, long live the stranger!” whereat Ciennetella’s face turned as red as a schoolboy’s who is going to be whipped, and she stood lost with shame and confusion at seeing herself vanquished. But as there were to be two heats to the race, she fell to planning her revenge for this affront, and, going home, she put a charm in her ring with such a power that if any one had it on his finger, his legs would toddle so that he would not be able to walk, much less to run, and she sent it as a present to Lightning, begging him to wear it on his finger for love of her.
Hare’s-ear, who heard this trick plotted between the father and daughter, said nothing, and wanted to see the upshot of the affair, and when, at the trumpeting of the birds, they returned to the field, at the usual signal they fell to plying their heels. But if Ciennetella was like another Atalanta, Lightning had become like a shoulder-slipped ass and a foundered horse, for he could not stir a step, but Shoot-straight, who saw his coming danger, and heard from Hare’s-ear how matters stood, laid hold on his crossbow and shot the arrow so exactly that it hit Lightning’s finger, and out shot the stone from the ring in which the virtue of the charm lay, whereupon his legs that had been tied were set free, and with four good leaps he passed Ciennetella and won the race. The king, seeing the palm thus carried off by this figure of a blockhead, by a simpleton, the triumph of a fool, bethought himself seriously whether or not he should give him his daughter, and taking counsel with the wiseacres of his court, they replied that Ciennetella was not a mouthful for the tooth of such a miserable dog and lose-the-day bird, so that, without breaking his word, he might commute the terms of his daughter with a gift of crowns, which would be more to the taste of a poor beggar like Moscione than all the women in the world.