Cinderella: The Ultimate Collection

The Cat Cinderella by Giambattista Basile There was once a Prince who was a widower, and he had a daughter so dear to him that he saw with no other eyes but hers. He gave her an excellent teacher of sewing, who taught her chainwork, openwork, fringes and hems and showed her more love than was possible to describe. The father, however, shortly remarried, and his wife was an evil, malicious, bad-tempered woman who began at once to hate her step-daughter and threw sour looks, wry faces and scowling glances on her enough to make her jump with fright. The poor child was always complaining to her governess of her step-mother’s ill-treatment, finishing up with “O would to God that you could be my little mother, who are so kind and loving to me,” and she so often repeated this song to her that she put a wasp in her ear and, at last, tempted by the devil, her teacher ended by saying, “If you must follow this madcap idea, I will be a mother to you and you shall be the apple of my eye.” She was going on with the prologue, when Zezolla (as the girl was called) interrupted her by saying, “Forgive my taking the words out of your mouth. I know you love me well, mum’s the word, and sufficit; teach me the way, for I am new; you write and I will sign.” “Well, then,” answered the governess, “listen carefully; keep your ears open and you shall always enjoy the whitest bread from the finest flour. When your father leaves the house, tell your step-mother that you would like one of those old dresses that are kept in the big chest in the closet, to save the one you now have on. As she always wants to see you in rags and tatters, she will open the chest and say, ‘Hold the lid.’ You must hold it while she is rummaging inside and then suddenly let it fall so that it breaks her neck. After that, you know well that your father would even coin false money to please you, so when he fondles you, beg him to take me for his wife, and then you shall be happy and the mistress even of my life.” When Zezolla had heard the plan, every hour seemed a thousand years until she had carried out her governess’ advice in every particular. When the period of mourning for her step-mother was over, she began to sound her father about marrying the governess. At first the Prince took it as a joke, but Zezolla so often struck with the flat that at last she thrust with the point, and he gave way to the persuasive words of his daughter. Her therefore married Carmosina, the governess, with great celebrations. Now while this couple were enjoying themselves, Zezolla was standing at a balcony of her house, when a dove flew on to the wall and said to her, “If ever you desire anything, send to ask for it from the dove of the fairies of the Island of Sardinia, and you will at once have it.” For five or six days the new step-mother lavished every sort of caress on Zezolla, making her take the best seat at table, giving her the best tidbits, and dressing her in the finest clothes. But after a little time the service that Zezolla had done her was forgotten, and banished from her memory (how sorry is the mind that has an evil mistress!) and she began to push forward six daughters of her own that she had kept in hiding till then, and so worked on her husband that they won his good graces and he let his own daughter slip out of his heart. So that, a loser today and a pauper tomorrow, Zezolla was finally brought to such a pass that she fell from the salon to the kitchen, from the canopy to the grate, from splendid silks and gold to dish-clouts, from sceptres to spits; not only did she change her state, but also her name, and was no longer called Zezolla, but “Cat Cinderella.” Now it happened that the Prince was forced to go to Sardinia on important affairs of State, and before he left he asked one by one of his step-daughters, Imperia, Colomba, Fiorella, Diamante, Colombina, and Pascarella, what they wanted him to bring back for them on his return. One asked for a splendid gown, another for a head-dress, one for cosmetics for the face, and another games to pass the time; one thing and one another. At last, and almost to make fun of her, he asked his daughter, “And you! what would you like?’ and she answered, “Nothing, except to commend me to the dove of the fairies and beg them to send me something; and if you forget, may it be impossible for you to go forward or back. Bear in mind what I say: thy intent, thy reward.” The Prince went away, transacted his affairs in Sardinia, and bought the things his step-daughters had asked for, but Zezolla went quite out of his mind. But when they were embarked with the sails ready unfurled, it was found impossible to make the vessel leave the harbour: it seemed as if it were detained by a sea-lamprey. The captain of the ship, who was almost in despair, dropped off to sleep with weariness and in his dreams a fairy appeared to him who said, “Do you know why you cannot leave the harbour? Because the Prince who is with you has broken his promise to his daughter, remembering all the others except his own flesh and blood.” As soon as he woke up the captain told his dream to the Prince, who was overcome with confusion at his omission. He went to the grotto of the fairies, and commending his daughter to them, begged that they should send her some gift. Behold, out of the grotto there came a young girl, beautiful as a gonfalon, who bade him thank his daughter for her kind remembrances and tell her to be of good cheer for love of her. With these words, she gave him a date tree, a spade and a golden can with a silken napkin; the date tree for planting and the other articles to keep and cultivate it. The Prince, surprised at this present, took leave of the fairy and turned towards his own land. When he arrived, he gave his step-daughters the things they had asked for, and lastly he handed the fairy’s present to his own daughter. Zezolla nearly jumped out of her skin with joy and planted the date tree in a fine pot, watering it every day and then drying it with the silken napkin. As a result of these attentions, within four days the date tree grew to the size of a woman, and a fairy came out who said to the girl, “What do you want?” Zezolla answered that she would like sometimes to leave the house without the sisters knowing it. The fairy replied, “Whenever you want this, come to the plant and say: O my golden date tree, With golden spade, I’ve dug thee, With golden can I’ve watered thee, With golden napkin dried thee, Strip thyself and robe thou me. Then when you want to undress, change the last line and say: “Strip thou me and robe thou thee.” One day it happened to be a feast day, and the governess’ daughters went out of the house in a procession all fluttering, bedaubed and painted, all ribbons, bells and gewgaws, all flowers and perfumes, roses and posies. Zezolla then ran to the plant and uttered the words the fairy had taught her, and at once she was decked out like a queen, seated on a white horse with twelve smartly attired pages. She too went where the sisters had gone, and though they did not recognize her, they felt their mouths water at the beauty of this lovely dove. As luck would have it, the King came to this same place and was quite bewitched by the extraordinary loveliness of Zezolla. He ordered his most trusty attendant to find out about this fair creature, who she was and where she lived. The servant at once began to dog her footsteps, but she, noticing the trap, threw down a handful of crowns that she had obtained for that purpose from the date tree. The servant, fired by the desire for these glittering pieces, forgot to follow the palfrey and stopped to pick up the money, whilst she, at a bound, reached the house and quickly undressed in the way the fairy had told her. Those six harpies, her sisters, soon returned, and to vex and mortify her, described at length all the fine things that they had seen at the feast. The servant in the meantime had returned to the King and had told him about the crowns, whereupon the King was furious, and angrily told him that he had sold his pleasure for a few paltry coins and that at the next feast he was at all costs to discover who this lovely girl was and where nested so fair a bird. When the next feast-day came, the sisters went out, all bedecked and bedizened, leaving the despised Zezolla by the hearth. But she at once ran to the date tree and uttered the same words as before, and behold a band of maidens came out, one with the mirror and one with the flask of pumpkin water, one with the curling-tongs and another with the rouge, one with the comb and another with the pins, one with the dresses and one with the necklace and earrings. They all placed themselves round her and made her as beautiful as a sun and then mounted her in a coach with the six horses accompanied by footmen and pages in livery. She drove to the same place as before and kindled envy in the hearts of the sisters and flames in the breast of the King. This time too, when she went away, the servant followed her, but so that he should not catch her up, she threw down a handful of pearls and jewels, which this trusty fellow was unable to resist pecking at, since they were not things to let slip. In this way Zezolla had time to reach home and undress herself as usual. The servant, quite stunned, went back to the King, who said, “By the soul of your departed, if you don’t find that girl again, I’ll give you a most thorough beating and as many kicks on your seat as you have hairs in your beard.” On the next feast-day, when the sisters had already started off, Zezolla went up to the date tree. She repeated the magic spell and was again magnificently dressed and placed in a golden coach with so many attendants around it that it looked as if she were a courtesan arrested in the public promenade and surrounded by police agents. After having excited the envy and wonder of her sisters, she left, followed by the King’s servant, who this time fastened himself to the carriage by double thread. Zezolla, seeing that he was always at her side, cried, “Drive on,” and the coach set off at such a gallop that in her agitation she let slip from her foot the richest and prettiest pattern you could imagine. The servant, not being able to catch up to the carriage, which was now flying along, picked up the pattern and carried it to the King, telling him what had happened. The King took it in his hands and broke out into these words: “If the foundation is so fair, what must be the mansion? Oh, lovely candlestick which holds the candle that consumes me! Oh, tripod of the lovely cauldron in which my life is boiling! Oh, beauteous corks attached to the fishing-line of Love with which he has caught his soul! Behold, I embrace and enfold you, and if I cannot reach the plant, I worship the roots; if I cannot possess the capitals, I kiss the base: you first imprisoned a white foot, now you have ensnared a stricken heart. Through you, she who sways my life was taller by a span and a half; through you, my life grows by that much in sweetness so long as I keep you in my possession.” The King having said this called a secretary and ordered out the trumpeters and tantarara, and had it proclaimed that all the women in the land were to come to a festival and banquet which he had determined to give. On the appointed day, my goodness, what an eating and feasting there was! Where did all the tarts and cakes come from? Where all the stews and rissoles? All the macaroni and ravioli which were enough to stuff an entire army? The women were all there, of every kind and quality, of high degree and low degree, the rich and the poor, old and young, the well-favoured and the ill-favoured. When they had all thoroughly worked their jaws, the King spoke the proficiat and started to try the pattern on his guests, one by one, to see whom it fitted to a hair, so that he could find by the shape of the slipper the one whom he was seeking. But he could find no foot to fit it, so that he was on the point of despair. Nevertheless, he ordered a general silence and said, “Come back tomorrow to fast with me, but as you love me well, do not leave behind a single woman, whoever she may be!” The Prince then said, “I have a daughter, but she always stays to mind the hearth, for she is a sorry, worthless creature, not fit to take her place at the table where you eat.” The King answered, “Let her be at the top of the list, for such is my wish.” So they all went away, and came back the next day, and Zezolla came with Carmosina’s daughters. As soon as the King saw her, he thought she was the one he wanted, but he hid his thoughts. After the banquet came the trial of the pattern. The moment it came near Zezolla’s foot, it darted forward of itself to shoe that painted Lover’s egg, as the iron flies to the magnet. The king then took Zezolla in his arms and led her to the canopy, where he put a crown on her head and ordered every one to make obeisance to her as to their queen. The sisters, livid with envy and unable to bear the torment of their breaking hearts, crept quietly home to their mother, confessing in spite of themselves that: He is mad who would oppose the stars.