Prunella

Once upon a time there was a woman who had an only daughter. When the child was about seven years old, she passed by an orchard every day on her way to school. There was a wild plum tree there with delicious ripe plums hanging from its branches.

Every morning the child picked a plum and put it in her pocket to eat at school. Therefore she was called Prunella. Now, the orchard belonged to a witch. One day the witch noticed the child picking a plum as she walked along the road.

Prunella did it quite innocently, without knowing that she was doing anything wrong by taking the fruit that hung near the roadside. But the witch was furious, and the next day she hid behind the hedge, and when Prunella came by and reached out her hand to pick the fruit, she jumped out and seized her by the arm.

"Oh, you little thief!" she exclaimed. "I have caught you at last. Now you must pay for your misdeeds."

The poor child, half dead with fright, begged the old woman to forgive her, assured her that she did not know she had done wrong, and promised never to do it again. But the witch had no pity, and she dragged Prunella into her house, where she kept her until the time came when she could have her revenge.

As the years went by, Prunella grew up to be a very beautiful girl. Now her beauty and goodness, instead of softening the witch's heart, awakened hatred and jealousy.

One day she called Prunella to her and said: "Take this basket, go to the well, and come back with it filled with water. If you do not do it, I will kill you."

The girl took the basket, went and lowered it into the well again and again. But her work was in vain. Every time she drew up the basket, the water ran out of it. At last, in despair, she gave up, leaned against the well, and began to cry bitterly, when she suddenly heard a voice beside her say: "Prunella, why are you crying?"

When she turned around, she saw a handsome young man who looked at her kindly, as if he felt sorry for her.

"Who are you," she asked, "and how do you know my name?"

"I am the witch's son," he replied, "and my name is Bensiabel. I know that she is determined that you shall die, but I promise you that she shall not carry out her wicked plan. Will you give me a kiss, if I fill your basket?"

"No," said Prunella, "I will not give you a kiss, because you are the son of a witch."

"Well," replied the young man sadly. "Give me your basket, and I will fill it for you." And he dipped it into the well, and the water remained in it. Then the girl returned to the house with the basket full of water. When the witch saw it, she turned white with rage and exclaimed: "Bensiabel must have helped you." And Prunella looked down and said nothing.

"Well, we shall see who wins in the end," said the witch, greatly enraged.

The next day she called the girl to her and said: "Take this sack of wheat. I am going out for a while; when I come back, I expect you to have made bread from it. If you have not done it, I will kill you." Having said this, she left the room, closing and locking the door behind her.

Poor Prunella did not know what to do. It was impossible for her to grind the wheat, make the dough, and bake the bread in the short time the witch would be away. At first she worked bravely, but when she saw how hopeless the task was, she threw herself on a chair and began to cry bitterly. She was roused from her despair by hearing Bensiabel's voice beside her say: "Prunella, Prunella, do not cry so. If you give me a kiss, I will make the bread, and you will be saved."

"I will not kiss the son of a witch," replied Prunella.

But Bensiabel took the wheat from her, ground it, made the dough, and when the witch returned, the bread was baked in the oven.

She turned to the girl with rage in her voice and said: "Bensiabel must have been here and helped you;" and Prunella looked down and said nothing.

"We shall see who wins in the end," said the witch, and her eyes blazed with anger.

The next day she called the girl to her and said: "Go to my sister, who lives beyond the mountains. She will give you a box, which you must bring back to me." This she said, knowing well that her sister, who was an even crueler and more wicked witch than herself, would never let the girl return, but would imprison her and starve her to death. But Prunella suspected nothing and set off quite cheerfully. On the way she met Bensiabel.

"Where are you going, Prunella?" he asked.

"I am going to my mistress's sister, to fetch a box."

"Oh, poor, poor girl!" said Bensiabel. "You are being sent straight to your death. Give me a kiss, and I will save you."

But again Prunella answered as before: "I will not kiss the son of a witch."

"Yet I will save your life," said Bensiabel, "for I love you more than myself. Take this jar of oil, this bread, this rope, and this broom. When you come to the witch's house, grease the hinges of the door with the contents of the jar, and throw the bread to the big, fierce watchdog that will come at you.

When you have passed the dog, you will see in the courtyard a poor woman who is vainly trying to lower a bucket into the well with her braided hair. You must give her the rope. In the kitchen you will find an even poorer woman trying to clean the hearth with her tongue; to her you must give the broom.

You will see the box on top of a cupboard; take it as quickly as you can, and leave the house without a moment's delay. If you do all this exactly as I have told you, you will not be killed."

So Prunella, having listened carefully to his instructions, did exactly as he had said. She reached the house, greased the hinges of the door, threw the bread to the dog, gave the poor woman at the well the rope and the woman in the kitchen the broom, seized the box from the top of the cupboard, and fled from the house with it. But the witch heard her as she ran away, and rushed to the window and called to the woman in the kitchen: "Kill that thief, I say!"

But the woman answered: "I will not kill her, for she gave me a broom, while you forced me to clean the hearth with my tongue."

Then the witch cried in a rage to the woman at the well: "Take the girl, I say, and throw her into the water and drown her!"

But the woman answered: "No, I will not drown her, for she gave me this rope, while you forced me to use my hair to lower the bucket to draw water."

Then the witch called to the dog to take the girl and hold her fast; but the dog answered: "No, I will not take her, for she gave me a loaf of bread, while you let me starve with hunger."

The witch was so angry that she almost choked, as she cried: "Door, slam shut on her and hold her captive."

But the door answered: "I will not, for she has greased my hinges, so they move easily, while you left them rough and rusty."

And so Prunella escaped, and with the box under her arm she reached her mistress's house, who, as you may believe, was as angry as she was surprised to see the girl standing before her, more beautiful than ever. Her eyes blazed, as she asked her in a furious tone: "Did you meet Bensiabel?"

But Prunella looked down and said nothing.

"We shall see," said the witch, "who wins in the end. Listen, there are three roosters in the henhouse; one is yellow, one is black, and the third is white. If one of them crows during the night, you must tell me which one it is. Woe to you if you are wrong. I will swallow you in one mouthful."

Now Bensiabel was in the room next to where Prunella slept. At midnight she woke up hearing a rooster crow.

"Which one was it?" cried the witch.

Then Prunella, trembling, knocked on the wall and whispered: "Bensiabel, Bensiabel, tell me, which rooster crowed?"

"Will you give me a kiss if I tell you?" he whispered back through the wall.

But she answered "No."

Then he whispered back to her: "Yet I will tell you. It was the yellow rooster that crowed."

The witch, who had noticed the delay in Prunella's answer, approached her door and shouted angrily: "Answer at once, or I will kill you."

So Prunella answered: "It was the yellow rooster that crowed."

And the witch stamped her foot and gnashed her teeth.

Soon after, another rooster crowed. "Now tell me which one it is," cried the witch. And, prompted by Bensiabel, Prunella answered: "It is the black rooster."

A few minutes later, crowing was heard again, and the witch's voice demanded: "Which one was it?"

And again Prunella begged Bensiabel to help her. But this time he hesitated, for he hoped that Prunella might perhaps forget that he was a witch's son, and promise to give him a kiss. And while he hesitated, he heard a desperate cry from the girl: "Bensiabel, Bensiabel, save me! The witch is coming, she is near me, I hear the gnashing of her teeth!"

With a bound, Bensiabel opened his door and threw himself against the witch. He pulled her back with such force that she stumbled, and falling headlong, fell dead at the foot of the stairs.

Then, at last, Prunella was touched by Bensiabel's goodness and kindness toward her, and she became his wife, and they lived happily all their days.