Translation:Collection of Slavic Folk Tales/XXIV

XXIV

THE ALMS

(POLISH TALE)

A poor old man was passing through a village, begging; he entered Blazkowa's house; she was a very stingy woman; she didn't give him even a piece of dry bread and sent him away without saying: "God help you!" The beggar knocked at another door and entered Janova's house. She was kind and compassionate; as soon as she saw the old man, she took two buttered slices she had just made for her children and gave them to him, saying:

"May God grant you something better; it's all I have in my cottage."

"May God repay you, kind woman, tenfold! May you have enough to clothe your naked children, may you be happy, and what you start today, may you not finish by this evening."

So spoke the poor old man as he left. Janova thanked him for all his blessings; but she didn't fully understand the meaning of his words. Janova was a poor widow; she had two children, whom she fed as best she could with her work; when the old man left, it was past noon; her children hadn't eaten lunch, and she had nothing for supper. Someone had recently given her three bundles of flax; she had worked this flax with great care and effort, retted, scutched, combed, and spun it alone; the weaver made twenty ells of cloth from it, and this cloth—her only possession—she kept to make winter clothes for herself and her children. But there was nothing left in the house; the children were crying for food. Janova began to cry too. What to do? Suddenly, she had the idea to sell a few ells of cloth to the Jew to buy bread and salt.

So she began measuring the cloth, the children calmed down watching her, she measured, ell after ell, endlessly until sunset. Thousands of ells had passed through her hands. In her joy, she thanked God. Since the Jew lived at the other end of the village and she wanted to feed her children as soon as possible, she took a few ells of flax and ran to sell them to her neighbor Blazkowa. The other paid her poorly, but above all, the children needed to eat. The next day, there was a market in town; Janova took her cloth there. As it was tightly woven and well-polished, it sold for a high price. Janova returned from town with all sorts of goods and a sack full of money. Soon after, she bought two cows, a piece of land, a meadow; she had servants and worked while praising God.

This prosperity aroused Blazkowa's jealousy. They often ate together, calling each other "my dear"; but Blazkowa wasn't the most sincere in her affections. One day, as they drank a small glass together, she asked Janova how she had gone from poverty to wealth. Janova told her everything.

"Oh, my dear," cried Blazkowa, "we're not the richest either; my husband and I work to feed our children, and we barely have enough to eat. If that old man ever comes back to you, don't fail to send him to us."

Janova, who wished well to everyone, answered at once:

"My dear, as soon as God sends him to me, I'll ask him to visit you. I promise."

About a week after this conversation, the old man passed through the village; he went to visit Janova. She didn't know how to thank him; she sat him at the table, offered him all sorts of gifts, and, when he left, urged him not to forget her neighbor Blazkowa. As soon as Blazkowa saw him through the window, she quickly made two slices for her children, and when the old man entered, she snatched them from their mouths and gave them to him.

"May God repay you!" said the old man. "What you're about to do, may you continue until sunset."

She had prepared her cloth to measure, and she was about to take her measuring rod from the corner when the children asked for a drink. She herself felt a great thirst. She took her jug and ran to the fountain. But as soon as she brought back the jug, she ran for another, then a third, a fourth. She brought water until sunset, water that was, of course, useless to her.