“Why didn’t you ask for a new cabin too?” his wife said angrily. “If you had had a grain of sense you would have done this without being told. Go back at once, and say that we must have one.
The old man was rather ashamed to trouble his friend again so soon; but the Gold Fish was as obliging as ever.
“Very well,” he said, “a new cabin you shall have.” And the old mart found one so spick-and-span that he hardly dare cross the floor for fear of soiling it. It would have pleased him greatly had his wife been contented, but she, good woman, did nothing but grumble still.
“Tell your Gold Fish,” she said next day, “that I want to be a duchess, with many servants at my beck and call, and a splendid carriage to drive in.
Once more her wish was granted, but now her husband’s plight was hard indeed. She would not let him share her palace, but ordered him off to the stables, where he was forced to keep company with her grooms. In a few days, however, he grew reconciled to his lot, for here he could live in peace, while he learned that she was leading those around her a terrible life, it was not long before she sent for him again.
“Summon the Gold Fish,” she commanded haughtily, “and tell him I wish to be Queen of the Waters, and to rule over all the fish.”
The poor old man felt sorry for the fish if they had to be under her rule, for prosperity had quite spoiled her. However, he dared not disobey, and once more summoned his powerful friend.
“Make your wife the Queen of the Waters?” exclaimed the Gold Fish. “That is the last thing I should do. She is unfit to reign, for she cannot rule herself or her desires. I shall make her once more a poor old woman. Adieu! You will see me no more.”
The old man returned sorrowfully with this unpleasant message, to find the palace transformed into a humble cabin, and his wife in a skirt of threadbare stuff in place of the rich brocade which she had worn of late. She was sad and humble, and much more easy to live with than she had been before. Her husband therefore had occasion many times to think gratefully of the Gold Fish, and sometimes when drawing up his net the glint of the sun upon the scales of his captives would give him a moment’s hope—which, alas! was as often disappointed—that once again he was to see his benefactor.