“I will give you a great deal of money if you will let your daughter come to my house for a few days; the three will be happier together, and I will send you the two back again together.”
The father believes it, and gives him his third daughter. The gentleman gives him the money, and he takes this young girl, like the others. At the end of some days he leaves her, saying that he is going to make a short journey. He gives her all the keys of the house, saying to her—
“You will go into all the rooms except this one,” pointing out the key to her. He locks the outside door, and goes off. This young girl goes straight, straight to the forbidden chamber; she opens it, and think of her horror at seeing so many dead people. She thought that he would kill her too, and, as there were all kinds of arms in this chamber, she takes a sabre with her, and hides it under her dress. She goes a little further on, and sees her two sisters almost dying with hunger, and a young man in the same condition. She takes care of them as well as she can till the gentleman comes home. On his arrival, he asks her—
“Have you been in that room?”
She says, “Yes;” and, in giving him back the keys, she lets them fall on the ground, on purpose, and at the instant that this gentleman stoops to pick them up, the young lady cuts off his head (with her sword). Oh, how glad she was! Quickly she runs to deliver her sisters and that young man, who was the son of a king. She sends for her father, the cobbler, and leaves him there with his two daughters, and the youngest daughter goes away with her young gentleman, after being married to him. If they lived well, they died well too.
In another version, by Estefanella Hirigaray, we have the more ordinary tale of “Blue Beard”—that of a widower who has killed twenty wives, and marries a twenty-first, who has two brothers. She drops the key in the forbidden chamber, and is detected by the blood on it. She manages to write to her brothers, and the dialogue by which she endeavours to gain time is rather spirited. She is allowed to put on her wedding-dress, etc., to die in. She goes to get ready, and she hears the cries of her husband, “Are you ready?” “I am putting on my dress.” He bawls out again, “Are you ready?” “Give me a moment more.” “Are you ready?” “I am fastening my dress.” “Are you ready yet?” “I am putting on my stockings.” And she kept constantly looking out of window to see if her brothers were coming. “Are you ready?” “Stop one moment; I am putting on my shoes.” “Are you ready?” “I am brushing my hair.” “Are you ready?” “Let me put on my wreath.” And she sees her brothers coming on horseback in the forest, but a very long way off. She hears again, “Are you ready?” “I am coming in an instant.” “You are coming? I’ll come, if you do not come down.” “Don’t come; I will come down myself, without you.” He seizes her on the stairs to kill her; but the brothers rush in just in time to prevent her death, and they put him in prison.
We heard, also, another version, which, unfortunately, we did not take down. It had something about a horse in it, and was like “The Widow and her Daughters,” in Campbell, Vol. II., Tale xli., p. 265.
The Singing Tree, the Bird which tells the Truth, and the Water that makes Young.
Like many others in the world, there were three young girls. They were spinning together, and as girls must always talk about something while they are spinning, the eldest said: