Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Toyoshima Yoshio

From Europe to West Asia, there exists a people scattered about in various places.
There are those who have settled in one location with some occupation, but many are wanderers roaming through different regions.
Thus, though small in number, they can be encountered everywhere.
They call themselves Rom or Kola people, but in France they are called Bohemians, in Italy Zingari, and in England Gypsies—in Japan, the English term "Gypsy" is the most widely known.

Among those Gypsies was a boy named Emilian.
Having lost his parents, he wandered from place to place all alone.
He had intended to settle down in some place that caught his fancy, but since such a place proved exceedingly hard to find, he simply continued his carefree travels.
As for his belongings, a small cage housing a beautiful striped squirrel and a violin were all he had.
At times he would join traveling performers, at others be hired for some temporary job, but most often he stayed alone—training his squirrel in tricks or playing the violin to earn coins—as he wandered onward without destination.
He was a clever, carefree, and cheerful boy.

Now, I shall relate a tale from this boy Emilian's journey—

I. A Story of Encountering Thieves

I

In a small mountain town in eastern France, a market had been held where farmers from nearby gathered in droves, bringing a bustling day to its close—it was on that very evening.
Emilian performed tricks like making his striped squirrel spin a wheel and played his violin in the square, earning a good amount of money before staying at an inn on the outskirts of town.
The inn had many guests, and since he was just a boy, he was put in a storage-like room in the corner of the second floor.

When midnight passed, everyone grew weary from the bustle of the market—the farmers returned home, and the townspeople went to bed.
Emilian also slept soundly.

In that stillness, near dawn, three thieves attacked the inn.
Since it was right after the market day, the inn had accumulated a great deal of money, and guests carrying money were staying there—that was what they were after.

The three thieves, each carrying a large pistol, forced open the back door and entered. First they tied up the employees, then bound the innkeeper couple, and made off with all the money.
With large pistols pressed threateningly against them, none could put up resistance—not even a single person made a sound.
Then the thieves made them hand over the master key, raided each guest room one after another, tied everyone up, and stole their money.

The last was Emilian’s room.

Emilian, who had been sleeping soundly, was shaken awake. When he opened his eyes, a lamp's light abruptly illuminated him. Startled, he sat up to find three rough-looking burly men pointing large pistols at him.

"What's this—a kid?" said one of the men.
"But you've got money, right? Hand it over."

Emilian stared intently at the three.
Once he realized they were thieves, he actually grew calmer.

“And who might you be?” Emilian inquired.

“We’re the honorable thieves,” answered one of the men.
“Quit dawdling and hand over the money.”

“Oh, burglars, huh?” said Emilian.
“If you’re gonna be burglars, you’re just clumsy amateurs.”

“What did you say?!
“We’re the Wolf Pack—the great thieves who live deep in these mountains!”

“Even so, threatening people with pistols is just clumsy amateur work.”
“I know a thief who’s said to be the best in the world.”
“Shall I tell you that story?”
“They were a trio of burglars too—just like you all.”

The three thieves exchanged glances.
Emilian started talking unperturbed.

II

“Now then, one day, three very cunning thieves encountered a peasant.”
“The peasant was dressed in fine clothes, riding a splendid donkey, and leading a magnificent goat with a bell around its neck on his way to town.”
“Seeing those fine clothes, splendid donkey, and magnificent goat, the three thieves decided to steal them all.”
“But they didn’t take them by threatening people with pistols like you do.”
“Being the world’s greatest thieves, they stole everything without being noticed—slipping away like shadows.”
“As for how they stole them—well, you lot probably wouldn’t understand.”
“Brr, it’s cold.”
“I’ll tell you the rest after I get dressed.”

And Emilian had finished getting completely dressed.
The three thieves were sitting on the edge of the bed, their pistols resting on their knees, waiting for the story to continue.
Emilian said with a laugh:

“First, one of the burglars followed after the peasant.”
“The peasant was riding his donkey, humming some tune.”
“So the burglar, while gently petting the goat’s head, cut its rope, tied the neck bell to the donkey’s tail, and made off with just the goat.”
“Because the bell was ringing on the donkey’s tail, the peasant didn’t notice a thing.”

After a while, the peasant suddenly turned around and noticed the goat was gone.
Startled, he jumped down from the donkey, tied it there, and turned back to search for the goat.
However, the goat was nowhere to be found.
When he returned dejectedly, the donkey had already been stolen by the second thief.
“The peasant burst into tears.”

Thereupon, the third thief happened to pass by.
When he asked why he was crying, the peasant must have replied that his splendid goat and splendid donkey had disappeared.
Then the thief said to him:
“Well then, I just saw a donkey falling into a well—it must be yours.”
“Perhaps while trying to rescue the goat that fell in, the donkey also tumbled down.”
“Hurry up and go see for yourself.”

The peasant was overjoyed and was led to the well.
The thief peered into the well and called, “Hello! Hello!”—whereupon from the depths echoed back, “Haaan... haaan...”
“Ah! My donkey!” the peasant cried and immediately tried to climb in—so the thief stopped him.
“And then he said—‘You’ll get your clothes wet if you don’t take them off, and there’s no one watching…’—so the peasant nodded in agreement, stripped off his fine clothes, and climbed into the well.”
“And then the thief stole those fine clothes and made off.”

The thieves listened to the story with amusement.
Emilian said with a grin.

“What do you think? Splendid thieves, don’t you think? By the way, among those three, who do you think was the most cunning?”

“I think it was the first thief,” said one of the thieves.

“I think it’s the second one,” said another thief.

“Nah, I think it’s the third one,” said the third thief.

And then the three of them began arguing.

“Indeed, you probably wouldn’t understand,” said Emilian.
“You’re still just bumbling novices.”
“To figure out who’s the craftiest among those three—well now—you’d first have to learn how to slip down from this second-story window without making so much as a rustle.”

“From this window here?”

“That’s right.”
“Jump down and you’ll thud; try sliding along the wall and you’ll scrape.”
“This is how you descend quietly—without a whisper.”

The thieves opened the window and looked outside.
It was a pitch-black night, and they couldn’t even make out what lay beneath the window.

III

“What do you think? You can’t do it, can you?” said Emilian.

“Well then, can you do it?” said one of the thieves.

“Of course I can!”

“Then show us!”

“Alright, I’ll show you how it’s done. But doing it with just my body would be too dull.”

Emilian looked around the room.

“I’ve got just the thing.”
“I’ll take this violin down with me.”
“It’ll make noise right away.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t make a sound.”

And he took up the violin.

“Ah, here’s the squirrel’s cage.”
“They might start making a racket soon, but make sure it doesn’t make a sound.”

And he took up the squirrel cage.

“Now, I wonder if there’s something heavy...”

“I’ll lend you this,” said one of the thieves amusedly, presenting a large pistol.

“This is heavy,” Emilian said as he took it.

“It’s loaded, so be careful.”

“No problem!”

Emilian quietly slipped out through the window, his own violin and the striped squirrel's cage in one hand and the thieves' pistol at his waist.
The thieves watched intently, wondering whether he could descend with all that luggage without making a sound.

The room was at the end of the second floor, and by the window, a large rain gutter ran down to the ground.
Emilian grabbed the gutter’s clamp with one hand, hooked both feet onto the gutter, and smoothly slid down.
The violin twanged loudly.
The striped squirrel rustled into motion.
The rain gutter clattered.

“There’s a noise! There’s a noise!” the thieves shouted from the window.

But Emilian no longer cared whether there was noise or not.
He didn’t respond.
He had tricked the thieves, retrieved his belongings, and even snatched one of their pistols.
After sliding down the gutter, he immediately hid himself and fled along the building.

Emilian emerged into the town.
Every house was locked up fast asleep.
And here and there streetlights glowed.
Thinking this was dangerous, he fled toward the open fields.
He ran wildly through the pitch-black field.
He dove into the bushes.

It was a pitch-dark night, utterly still.
No human footsteps sounded anywhere, nor any rustle of movement.
The sky brimmed with stars.
Gazing at them through the thicket, Emilian finally settled.
Then, slipping in and out of sleep, he waited until dawn broke.

Emilian curiously fiddled with the thieves’ pistol.
It was a large six-shot revolver.
He removed the six bullets, stowed them in his pocket, and fastened the pistol to his waist.
Then, with the striped squirrel’s cage in hand and his violin tucked under his arm, he set off toward another town, whistling as he basked in the morning sun.

II The Tale of the Nocturnal Geese

I

A few days later, when Emilian passed through a certain village in southern France, the entire village had gathered and was in an uproar.
In the garden of what appeared to be the village's wealthiest household—a large house—they had hung curtains all around and had erected an altar. All the villagers wore their finest clothes and bustled about busily.

*What on earth had begun?*

Emilian stopped and tilted his head.

By the roadside, an old man with a white beard crouched alone, smoking his pipe.
Emilian approached and inquired.

“Is something going on?”

The old man raised his face and stared intently at Emilian.
And he replied.

“You’re a traveler, aren’t you? Then of course you wouldn’t know… Truly, something strange has happened.”

“What sort of thing?”

The old man tapped the ash from his pipe and began to explain.
According to him:

It happened three days ago.
In the middle of the night, the geese at the wealthiest household in this village suddenly began clamoring raucously.
Then following that, the neighbor’s geese started squawking.
Then the geese at the next house began squawking.
In the end, all the geese in the village began squawking.
The thing is—this village has many geese—the wealthy household alone kept dozens, and nearly every home had a few.
With all of them squawking “ga ga” like that, the noise was unbearable.
The villagers were all roused from sleep and couldn’t rest until dawn.

Then, on the following night as well, the same thing occurred.

Because it was all so strange, they concluded that some evildoer must have been prowling through the village, and on the third night, the village youths took up clubs to stand guard.
However, when midnight came, the wealthy household’s geese suddenly began squawking again, and with that, all the geese in the village started squawking.
All the villagers got up.
However, no trace of evildoers or suspicious figures could be found.

They all thought it strange.
Then someone began saying, “Could it be the devil has come?”
Another claimed they’d seen a bat-like creature with black wings flying through the sky.
Yet another insisted they’d spotted a horned black thing lurking in the bushes.

Well, at any rate, they decided to have a reverend perform prayers. They summoned a renowned reverend from a distant town, and just now those prayers were about to begin.

“It’s unusual,” the old man began.
“I may be seventy years old, but in these times, I’ve never even heard talk of a devil.”
“For it to suddenly pop up in this village now—that’s truly extraordinary.”

“Could you please show me that prayer ritual too?” said Emilian.

“Oh, certainly!
“It’s a renowned and revered Reverend.”
“Make sure to pay your respects properly.”

It was already time for the prayer ritual to begin.
Emilian was led by the old man and entered inside the curtained area.

Inside the curtained area, villagers dressed in their finest stood crowded in rows.
At the front stood an altar with lit candles, flowers, sweets, and various other offerings arranged before it, while incense smoke rose before a statue of Lord Christ.

Before long, guided by the wealthy household’s master, the Reverend emerged.
He wore a square black hat adorned with gold thread, a pristine white robe beneath a surcoat embroidered with red and gold patterns, and held thick, long rosary beads in his hands.

Incense smoke filled the curtained space, candle flames flickered, and the prayer ritual began.
In the hushed stillness, only the Reverend's voice resounded solemnly.
When that concluded, it transitioned into a hymn, and the villagers sang in unison.
And... Amen.

When the prayer concluded, all the villagers relaxed and returned to their respective homes.

Emilian followed the old man to his house.

“Will that settle things now?”

“Huh? The geese, you mean?”
“If it was the devil’s work, then yes—all’s well.”

Still, the old man seemed vaguely troubled.

That night, Emilian stayed at the old man’s house.

But what do you know? That very night, once again, the geese began to squawk.
Starting from the wealthy household’s flock, all those in the village began squawking raucously.
The villagers all got up.
They couldn’t sleep until morning.

Since this had continued for four days, not only the geese but also the villagers became sleep-deprived, their heads growing foggy.
If the Reverend’s prayers had proven ineffective, then perhaps it hadn’t been the devil’s doing after all.
Then what on earth could be causing it?
After all, could some evildoer still be prowling about…?

On the fifth night, the village youths began their night watch again.
Emilian also joined the night watch with the old man’s permission.

Emilian, carrying the large pistol he had taken from those thieves, was lying in wait in a corner of the wealthy family’s garden, ready to shoot dead any suspicious figure that might appear.

The night gradually deepened.
The only activity in the village was the night watch making their rounds; it was a windless, dark night.
Suddenly, from within the bird shed, a single goose let out a piercing cry, and in that instant, all the geese began squawking raucously.
At the same moment, Emilian peered intently through the darkness, yet not even a suspicious shadow could be seen.
Frustrated, he suddenly fired the pistol into the air.

With a boom, a loud sound reverberated.
And miraculously, the geese’s cries abruptly ceased.

The night watchmen came running.
Emilian simply kept laughing.
He maintained a straight face, feigning that he'd fired the pistol out of sheer annoyance.
But strangely enough, the geese had already fallen silent and didn't utter a single sound until daybreak.

Hearing this, the old man nodded.

“That’s right—young traveler—you’re quite clever. The geese must have been startled by the pistol shot and stopped squawking because of it. You’ll try doing it the same way again tonight.”

And so, the next night as well, Emilian carried the pistol and hid in the wealthy household’s garden. In the dead of night, the geese began squawking again. Emilian fired the pistol with a boom. The geese abruptly stopped squawking.

The following night was no different.

Now, as for why the geese began squawking in the dead of night—no one had any idea.
It had now been seven days since it began.
The night watch had been conducted for four nights.
Emilian fired the pistol three times.
But there was no trace of any suspicious figures—not a shadow or a shape to be seen.
Not a single one of the village’s geese had gone missing.

Emilian, sleep-deprived and dazed, went out to the sunlit field and sank into deep thought.
In the field, the wealthy household’s geese formed a flock and were foraging and playing.

When Emilian heaved a sigh of relief and looked up, the geese were still playing merrily.
Among them, one emaciated goose had separated from the flock and was crouching motionless in a single spot.

_Oh, is that one sick?_

Emilian stood up casually.
The crouching goose did not attempt to escape even as Emilian approached.
Emilian gently stroked its back.
The goose remained still.
Because it was so emaciated and huddled, upon closer inspection, its chest was grotesquely swollen.
When he examined it, he found a splinter from rotten wood embedded there, the surrounding flesh swollen and festering.

Emilian was startled.
He pulled out the splinter.
The pus oozed out thickly.
A foul odor wafted up.
Enduring it, he pressed out all the pus and applied wound medicine to the injury.
Since Emilian was a traveler, he always carried various medicines with him.

The goose, which had remained still until then, looked up at Emilian’s face as if to express gratitude once treated, let out a loud cry, then vigorously flapped its wings and suddenly regained its energy, dashing back toward its flock.

Emilian found himself feeling inexplicably happy and returned to the house with a smile to wash his hands.

But what do you know—that night, the geese didn’t make a single sound.

The villagers remained utterly clueless about what had happened.
But since the geese had finally quieted down, they breathed a sigh of relief.

Emilian chuckled to himself.
When he told the old man about treating the goose's wound, the old man clapped his hands and laughed.

"Ah, I see! That goose must've stiffened up at night, making its wound ache—that's why it kept squawking."
"The whole village made such a ridiculous fuss."
"Calling the priest, organizing night watches... Goodness me..."

“Thanks to that, I got to fire the pistol three times myself!”

"Hahaha..." The two laughed in unison.

And since the geese had already ceased their noise, Emilian bid farewell to the old man and the healed goose, then continued his journey.
He received many tokens of gratitude from the wealthy household and gave the pistol to the old man as thanks for lodging him.
And many villagers watched him depart, carrying the cage with the striped squirrel and violin while whistling, their gazes lingering wistfully.

III. Three Blind Men and the Clown’s Tale

I.

Emilian heard that a certain town in Italy was holding a festival with great bustle, so he took his usual violin and striped squirrel’s cage and headed that way.

It was a pleasantly clear, fine day.
Emilian was walking along, amusing the squirrel in the cage while whistling.
Perhaps having noticed his carefree demeanor, three blind men who had been walking along the same path stopped before him and asked for alms.

“Alms, please…”
“We are most impoverished, and what’s more, all of us lack sight—thus we face such hardships.”

Indeed, all three were truly blind and wore shabby clothing.

At that time, Emilian did not have much money, so being asked for alms struck him as amusing.
He felt a mischievous urge welling up.
He put on a solemn voice.

“Very well.
There’s one gold coin here, so I’ll give this to you three.”

“Oh Lord!” shouted the three blind men.
“Thank you very much.”

All three extended their hands at once, but eventually, thinking someone had received the gold coin, they all withdrew their hands and bowed deeply.

Emilian, wondering what the three blind men would do next, quietly followed them.

The blind men walked toward the town with the festival in high spirits.

"What a blessing we've encountered," one of them said.
“If we have one gold coin, we won’t have to start begging right away when we get to town.”
“Let’s first check into an inn, have a delicious feast for the first time in ages, sleep on soft beds, and get a good night’s rest, don’t you think?”

“Indeed, that sounds good,” the other two agreed.
“With one gold coin, it’s quite something.”

They reached the town and found an inn.
And they said to the innkeeper.

“Innkeeper, though our appearance may be shabby, you needn’t worry at all.”
“We have money.”
“So we’d like to rent a room, have our meal there, and stay the night—how about that?”

Since it often happened that blind men dressed in such shabby clothes actually carried considerable sums of money, the innkeeper trusted them and led them not to the crowded common hall but to a separate room.

“You should be able to settle here.”
“Please take your time and enjoy your meal.”

The blind men sat down at the dining table.
Bread, meat, and fish were served.
Delicious wine was also served.
They made a great commotion, drinking and eating.
Their revelry did not wane until midnight.
Then soft beds were prepared, and they slept soundly.

II

Emilian followed the blind men, entered the same inn, and stayed there.
And he woke up early in the morning and waited for the blind men to rise.

The blind men slept late and came down to the front desk with refreshed faces.
And they said to the innkeeper:

“Last night was pleasant.
Now, about the bill—since it’s a gold coin, please give us change.”

“Certainly.”

“Come on, hand over the gold coin,” said one of the blind men.

“Who’s got it?”

"It's not me."

"Then it must be you."

"No way! You're the one who has it."
"You must have it."

"Nonsense! It must be you!"

“I don’t have it.”

“Who’s got it?”
“You have it!”
“No—it’s you!”

Because the three of them were arguing in such a way, the innkeeper grew angry.

“Hand it over quick! If you keep stalling, I’ll beat you up!”

“Please wait! We’ll pay soon.”

And so the three’s argument began again.

“It must be you who got the coin—you were at the front…”

“No—it must be you! You were at the back… Hurry up and hand it over.”

“I don’t know.”
“Then it must be you—since you were in the middle…”

“No—it’s you!”

Because the argument showed no sign of ending, the innkeeper grew even angrier.

“You lot are making a fool of me.”
“Trying to pull a fast one? That won’t fly with me!”
“Hey, someone bring me a stick!”

Watching this spectacle from the sidelines, Emilian clutched his sides with laughter.
But when the innkeeper grabbed a thick stick and moved to truly strike the blind men, Emilian—startled—leapt forward.

“Wait a moment! You shouldn’t get so angry. I’ll pay for these people’s bill. One must show kindness to those in need.”

And he said to the blind men:

“Yesterday, in the middle of that road, it was me who said I’d give you a gold coin.”
“But I only pretended to give it.”
“You’re all quite careless, aren’t you?”
“But you ate a feast and slept soundly, so that should suffice.”
“I’ll take care of the bill, so you can go now.”

The blind men blinked their sightless eyes, then expressed their thanks and left.

Emilian told the innkeeper about the events from the previous day.
The innkeeper also found it amusing and began to laugh.

“Hmm, this is a problem…” Emilian scratched his head.
“I don’t have enough money to pay for those people’s share as well.
“I’ll go to the town square now and make some money with this violin and striped squirrel, so could you please wait until then?”

The innkeeper scrutinized Emilian’s appearance.

“In the town square—That is not how you can earn money there.”
“Just what kind of act can you do?”

“I can do any kind of act.”

“Hmm… Well then, why don’t you give it a try? If you do well, there’s a chance to get prize money…”

“What kind of act?”

So the innkeeper proceeded to explain.
"For the sake of enlivening this festival," he said, "the town’s richest person had donated a large sum of money to erect a grand stage in the park and organize an amusing performance competition—offering a prize of ten gold coins to whoever demonstrated a novel and extraordinary act."
Today was precisely that day.

Emilian thought for a while before speaking.

“Anyway, I’ll go take a look.”

And he checked the time and headed out to the park.

3

In the park’s square, a large stage had been built, and a crowd of people had gathered.
All sorts of performers had gathered and were competing desperately to win the prize money.

There were those spinning plates.
There were those tossing rings.
There were those performing knife tricks.
There were those striking dramatic poses and performing tricks with their feet.
There were those performing tricks with karuta cards.
There were those who played the organ.
There were those performing comical dances.
There were those pulling faces.
In addition, all sorts of acts were performed.
However, all of them were just familiar acts, and no novel or new performances emerged at all.

Before long, a clown performer took the stage.
And then, shaking his head, he said.

“Now then, I shall present to you a truly rare, new, and amusing act.”
“Following the various splendid acts that have come before, I must admit my performance may not be dazzling—but I humbly request your attention to its rare novelty and amusing qualities.”

Now, he stood completely alone—carrying no props, with no assistants.
And he stood rigidly in the center of the stage, wearing a large, baggy black cloak.
The spectators, wondering what would begin, fell completely silent.

The clown performer gave a single cough, dug his head completely into the cloak, and crouched there.
Then from within that cloak came the cry of a piglet.
Oink, oink, oink….
Because the voice was so amusingly realistic, the spectators laughed and applauded.

The clown performer pulled his face out from the cloak.
When they saw this, the spectators found it slightly suspicious.
Four or five people climbed onto the stage and inspected his cloak.
They inspected his entire body.
But nowhere was the piglet hidden.
It was indeed he who had imitated the piglet’s cries.

When they realized this, the applause grew even more intense.
Imitating a piglet’s cry on stage—they had never even heard of such a thing before.
And coming right after all those various elaborate acts, it proved utterly hilarious.

It looked like the prize money was about to be awarded to him.

At that moment, Emilian, who had been mingling among the spectators, called out in a loud voice.

“That’s terrible. I could do way better than that.”

The people looked at Emilian in surprise.
Then, the two of them decided to compete.
Emilian said he wanted to do it the next day.
The clown performer agreed.
The next day, they set a time, and it was decided that they would hold a competition to imitate a piglet’s cries.

4

That evening, Emilian asked the innkeeper to have a large black cloak made for him and also to borrow a well-trained piglet.

The innkeeper wanted Emilian to win and was feeling anxious.

“Even if you’ve only practiced the oinks for one night… Do you really think that’s enough?”

Emilian simply laughed and, without practicing at all, slept soundly.

The next day, Emilian had the innkeeper carry his violin and striped squirrel’s cage, while he himself followed behind, hiding a piglet under his cloak as he set out.

In front of the park’s stage, an even larger crowd than the previous day gathered.
The piglet imitation competition was amusing and entertaining.

When the time came, the Clown Performer and Emilian stood side by side on the stage wearing large black cloaks.
They began with the Clown Performer going first.
He pulled the cloak over his head and imitated a piglet's cry—Oink, oink, oink....
A storm of applause erupted.

Now it was Emilian's turn.
Emilian pulled the cloak over his head.
Then he suddenly tugged the ear of the piglet hidden beneath his cloak.
The piglet cried out in surprise.
But no one applauded.
Emilian tugged the piglet's ear again.
The piglet cried.
Still no one applauded.

“The clown performer is better!” the people shouted.

Since they didn’t know Emilian was hiding a piglet and still thought he was merely imitating its cries, they had already concluded that the clown performer was better than that boy.

“The Clown Performer is better!”
“Drive that boy out!”

Then Emilian stripped off his cloak and revealed the piglet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, do you truly believe that an imitation of a piglet’s cry surpasses the real thing?”

The people were dumbfounded, unsure how to respond, and stared vacantly at Emilian and the piglet.

“You mustn’t make biased judgments,” said Emilian.
“However, it was wrong of me to deceive you by making a real piglet cry instead of imitating its sounds.”
“As an apology, allow me to now present an entertaining trick for your viewing.”

Then he fastened a large cloth from the piglet’s belly to its back, placed the striped squirrel into the pouch formed underneath, and set the piglet loose on the stage.
The squirrel moved around inside the pouch.
As it stroked its belly, the piglet couldn’t stand being tickled.
It cried and laughed, walking around the stage in a comically ticklish manner.
The combination of its cries, laughter, and stumbling steps was so strange and amusing that the spectators burst into laughter.

At the same time, Emilian took up his violin and, matching the piglet’s cries, laughter, and stumbling steps, produced even more peculiar music.
The spectators could no longer contain themselves.
They laughed while clutching their stomachs and rolling around, shedding tears, gasping for breath, and shouting—it was utter pandemonium.

Even after Emilian stopped playing his violin, put the squirrel in its cage, and retrieved the piglet, the laughter and cheers showed no sign of subsiding.
The clown performer who had imitated the piglet’s cries surrendered.
And then the prize of ten gold coins was handed to Emilian.

When Emilian began heading back, a large crowd followed, cheering all the while.
The innkeeper was overjoyed and served wine to everyone.
More and more people came crowding in.

Because he was being celebrated so excessively, Emilian was at a loss.
And then he left as if fleeing.
He declined the innkeeper’s attempts to make him stay, left two gold coins to cover the expenses for himself and the three blind men, bid a reluctant farewell with words of gratitude, and slipped away quietly.

Carrying his violin and squirrel cage, he made his way through back alleys and was approaching the edge of town when he came upon those three blind men crouching by the roadside, holding out their hats and begging from passersby.

Emilian stopped in front of them and said.

“Do you know who I am?”

The blind men squinted their eyes and nodded to each other.

“Sir… The kind sir who saved us at the inn…”

Being called “sir,” Emilian laughed.

“Never mind about the inn or whatever.
But more importantly, it was my fault for deceiving you by saying I’d give you gold coins.
You see, I made a bit of money.
So this time, I’ll really give each of you one gold coin.
Hold out your hands.”

The blind men could hardly believe it and hesitated, yet still timidly held out their hands. Onto their palms, Emilian placed one gold coin each.

The blind men withdrew their hands and fiddled with the gold coins for a while, but suddenly cried out.

“Ah, these are real gold coins!
“Thank you, God.”
“Thank you very much, sir.”

Pressed their foreheads into the dusty road, all three shedding streaming tears from their sightless eyes.

By that time, Emilian was already walking away, whistling cheerfully. His figure grew steadily smaller as it receded down the sunlit road.

Four: The Tale of Fleeing with the Devil

1.

In a small port town in Italy, a strange rumor had arisen.
No one knew where it had come from—perhaps even across the sea from Africa—but a devil appeared and played all sorts of pranks on people walking along lonely stretches of the coast at night.
When night fell, there was no longer anyone who went out toward the coast.

However, a traveling monk happened by and sealed that devil inside a cave.
The devil remained hidden deep within the cave and never showed itself.
The townspeople were relieved.
Not only that, but it was said that if one had the monk offer prayers, any illness could be cured...

Emilian, who happened to be traveling through Italy at the time, heard this rumor and thought how strange things could be even in this day and age. He found himself wanting to meet that monk and see the cave where the devil had been sealed away.
And since his journey had no particular destination in mind, he made his way toward that port town.

It was a small town facing the Mediterranean Sea.
When he inquired about the monk who had sealed the devil in the cave, he quickly got his answer.

“Ah, Reverend Polimos, you mean? He’s a great man.”
“Since he’s always off praying, you can hardly ever meet him... Well, why don’t you go try?”

On the outskirts of the town stood a rocky hill extending into the sea, and at its base was a small hermitage.
This was the residence of Reverend Polimos.
It was a crude hermitage constructed leaning against the cliff of the rocky hill, its front door shut tight, a single small window open toward the sea, and inside lay a profound stillness.

After hesitating for a while, Emilian went to the open window and began to play his violin.
He played a beautiful sea song, matching its rhythm to the sound of the waves.

Finishing playing a piece, he looked toward the window to find someone standing there.
He was a man around fifty years old with long red hair, his beardless thin face wearing what seemed a lonely smile.
Emilian felt peculiar.
He had imagined Reverend Polimos as a bald, white-bearded old man with a stout build—that was exactly how he'd pictured him.

“Um, I was hoping to meet Reverend Polimos…” said Emilian.

“I am the one called Polimos… And you are?”

“My name is Emilian.”

“Emilian?”

“I’ve been traveling around.”

“Hmm, I see…”

As if he had completely grasped Emilian’s circumstances, the man wore a radiant smile. And then he opened the front door and ushered Emilian inside.

The hermitage’s interior was tidily arranged.
In the center stood a wooden table, with four chairs arranged around it.
In the corner was a bed.
On another shelf, a statue of Mary was enshrined, with various offerings placed before it.

Reverend Polimos sat down in a chair facing Emilian and gazed at his face with apparent delight.

“And so, you came all this way specifically to meet me, did you?”

“Yes. And I’d also like to see the cave where the devil’s sealed.”

“Ah, about that devil...”

Reverend Polimos began to say something, then fell silent and pondered for a while.

“Since you’ve been traveling all over, you must’ve come across quite a lot of interesting things. And you seem full of wisdom too.”

Emilian didn’t know how to respond and remained silent.

“Now then, let me tell you an interesting story.”
“It’s a secret story.”
“Then why don’t you put that clever mind of yours to work and help me think of a way to escape this place together?”

Emilian was startled and opened his eyes wide.

“Actually, I was completely at a loss about what to do on my own.”

And Reverend Polimos proceeded to tell him that interesting secret story.
That—

II

Reverend Polimos was, in truth, not a great monk but merely a traveler.
After having done all sorts of things and grown bored with the world, he set out on a journey to search for something rare, something mysterious, something astonishing.
But such things were nowhere to be found, and his journey had grown dull.
However, while in Italy, he happened to hear rumors about a devil in a small port town and came to investigate half out of curiosity.

When he inquired at the town's inn, he found various incidents had indeed occurred—when people walked through dark areas, their hats would suddenly get knocked off...
Their faces would get scratched by sharp claws from something unseen...
On a rock, a pitch-black thing stood...
A massive black thing that seemed to cover the sky swooped away...
Bloody rat carcasses that looked gnawed by something lay scattered everywhere...
At night, dogs barked wildly and ran about...
On top of that, one strange thing after another kept happening until people could no longer doubt the devil had come.

“If it were truly a devil, that would be interesting…”

Polimos muttered this and, in the dead of night, made his way alone toward the desolate coast where strange occurrences were said to happen.

Devils, you see, knew all sorts of mysterious arts.
If one learned them, something splendid might happen.
But devils demanded human souls in exchange for teaching those arts—not that Polimos cared.
The world had already grown so dull anyway.
Selling his soul to the devil and learning those mysterious arts in return...

It was a moonless, dark night.
The sound of the waves roared and roared, echoing around.
In the distance, the light of a ship glimmered faintly.
Through that dark desolation, Polimos wandered about seeking the devil.
When he grew tired, he would sit down on a rocky outcrop to rest.
But no matter how much he walked or waited, the devil did not appear.
There was only the dark night, the cold night wind, and the sound of the waves.

Polimos’s expectations were dashed, and he was disappointed.
There was a large cave on the cliff of a rocky mountain protruding into the sea, so when he entered inside and crouched down, he inadvertently nodded off.

And it was at that moment when Polimos—in some strange state of mind, neither fully dreaming nor awake—dazedly opened his eyes.
In the faintly whitened dimness, a large pitch-black thing glided smoothly, skimming along the cave’s ceiling before vanishing into the depths.
A chill ran through him, and Polimos truly awoke.
The night was faintly giving way to dawn across the sea and land.
Polimos looked around, but the large black thing from earlier was nowhere to be seen.
The depths of the cave were narrow and deep, pitch-dark and impossible to discern.

“Was it a devil…?”
“It might indeed have been.”

After muttering that, Polimos truly made up his mind.
Standing at the cave entrance, he said in a loud voice:

“O devil, O devil! I’ll give you my soul, so teach me your mysterious arts!”

The inside of the cave was deathly silent.
Polimos repeated once more.
But nothing happened.
Polimos repeated three times:

“O devil, O devil! I’ll give you my soul, so teach me your mysterious arts!”

But there was no response, and nothing emerged.
No matter how long he waited, it was no use.
Dawn had broken, and red clouds trailed across the eastern sky.

Polimos grew angry.
If that had been a devil…
Though I offer my beloved soul, it won't come out—this devil must be utterly cowardly.
If it wasn’t a devil…

“Either way, it’s certain that whatever it was entered and remained inside this cave. During the day, it lurks here. I’ll catch one.”

Polimos kept watch there until the morning sun shone through, then went to town where he purchased plenty of wire netting and even large nails and a hammer, completely sealing the cave entrance with wire netting.

III

When the townspeople saw Polimos blocking the rocky mountain cave with wire netting and keeping watch there, they found it strange.
They asked what he was doing.

“I’ve confined the devil,” Polimos answered jokingly.

The townspeople found it amusing.
They asked if the devil couldn’t pass through the wire netting.

“By praying, I rendered the devil’s arts ineffective,” answered Polimos with a laugh.

The townspeople were astonished.
However, in reality, it was just as Polimos had said.
That night, even in the desolate stretches along the coast, nothing suspicious occurred.
The same held true on the next night and the night after that.

From afternoon into night, Polimos, who kept watch at the cave, became Reverend Polimos.
It spread like wildfire that Reverend Polimos had used prayer’s power to seal the devil within the cave.

A patient with a paralyzed hand came to Reverend Polimos.
Then, after having Reverend Polimos pray for them and being told they would recover before long, when they returned home, the hand that had been paralyzed until then began to move freely.

When that happened, the townspeople began making a commotion—leaving such a revered reverend at a mere town inn would be wasteful. First of all, if Reverend Polimos were to go away, the devil might come out of the cave again—there’s no telling what harm it could cause. They must not let Reverend Polimos go...

So the townspeople hastily built a hermitage near the cave and forced Reverend Polimos to reside there.
They brought various delicacies.
There were people who brought money too.
And constantly someone would come to take care of various errands.
Even patients came occasionally to have him pray for them.
Among them—perhaps because they truly believed—there were some whose illnesses were cured.
This became even more talked about.

The one troubled was Polimos. What he had said in jest became truth—through his prayers, the devil came to be sealed in the cave, and he had become a great reverend. That was all well and good, but he didn't even know whether what was in the cave was indeed a devil. When Polimos quietly placed the fish and other things the townspeople brought into the wire netting, they would eventually be devoured, so while it was certain something was inside, he had no idea what it was.

What troubled him even more was the cramped life within the hermitage.
He had to behave like a proper reverend and occasionally pray for the sick.
With so many visitors coming, he could scarcely ever go outside.

Polimos kept himself shut inside the hermitage as much as possible and avoided meeting people.
And he thought of nothing but how he might escape from that place.

Then Emilian arrived.

“Don’t you have some clever plan for escaping this place?”

Polimos said imploringly to Emilian.

IV

After hearing Polimos’s story, Emilian laughed with amusement and said:

“Escaping is no trouble at all.”
“Leave it to me.”
“In exchange, would you give me whatever’s in the cave—be it a devil or whatever?”

“Of course I’ll give it to you.”
“I have no use for such a thing.”
“I’ve had more than enough of this.”

Thereupon, Emilian promptly went to town and brought back a large birdcage, a black cloth to wrap it in, and plenty of boxwood leaves.

That night, late at night.
By the time the townspeople had all fallen asleep and the surroundings had grown quiet, Emilian got up, lifted a corner of the wire netting at the cave entrance, and went inside.
Then he piled up the boxwood leaves, lit a fire, and began smoking out the hole.
Boxwood leaves were something devils disliked, so he had used them as a precaution.

The inside of the cave grew dimly bright, and then became filled with smoke.
Emilian waited in readiness, certain that a devil or something would come out sneezing any moment now.

However, nothing came out.
And then it was Emilian who started sneezing.
Overcome by the smoke, he found it unbearably smoky and choking.
Emilian fled outside.

Polimos was laughing outside the cave.

“Oh, it’ll come out now. If it doesn’t come out, then there’s nothing there,” said Emilian.

And after a while, there it was.
It emerged.
A large pitch-black thing suddenly flew out, collided with the wire netting, rebounded, and kept flapping about.
Seeing this, Emilian leaped inside, covered it from above with the birdcage, and skillfully captured it.

Upon closer inspection, it was a large bat.

"Oh, come on!"

"Ah, a bat."

The two exchanged glances.
Emilian said.

“There’s a ship departing for Egypt tomorrow morning. Let’s make our escape on that.”

“I wonder if the townspeople won’t try to stop us…”
“After all, it’s Reverend Polimos here.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Everything’s fine now.”

And the two made all their preparations during the night.

When dawn broke, Emilian went around informing the entire town.
—Reverend Polimos had finally captured the devil alive.
However, since devils cannot be killed no matter how hard one tries, it was decided that he would depart on this morning’s ship to discard it to Africa.
He would probably return eventually, but since it will take some time, you should pay your respects now…

The rumor spread instantly throughout the town.
A great commotion arose.
The townspeople came rushing toward the Reverend’s hermitage.

The wire netting over the cave entrance had been completely removed.
The ashes of the boxwood leaves had also been swept away.
The interior of the hermitage had been neatly tidied up, and the Reverend’s travel preparations were also complete.
And the birdcage wrapped in black cloth caught people’s attention.
Inside it was the devil—or rather, the bat—that had been captured.
All those things had been prepared by Emilian during the night.

Soon, Polimos carried the devil’s cage, and Emilian held the striped squirrel’s cage and violin as they departed from the hermitage.
The person carrying Polimos’s luggage followed behind, and after them came the townspeople, forming a great procession all the way to the ship.

Some townspeople cowered before the devil’s cage, watching from afar, while others pressed forward to follow the Reverend.
And when Polimos was finally about to board the ship, everyone lingered over their farewells.
Emilian stood on the ship’s deck and played a farewell song on his violin.

Five: The Story of the Fat Man and His Sheep

One:

Emilian continued his voyage by ship for some time.
The ship was an extremely old-fashioned small vessel that sailed along the Mediterranean coast, primarily carrying cargo and livestock, with only a few passengers on board.
Such a modest ship was actually rather comfortable and suited Emilian perfectly.

Among the few passengers was a man as round and fat as a barrel.
He was leading about twenty splendid sheep.
And he took pride in being as well-fed as his sheep, just as he took pride in his sheep being as well-fed as himself.

Among the passengers, there were several very thin people.
Whenever he encountered one of these people, he would immediately boast about being well-fed.
In the morning, he would say this.

“You’re so thin. That won’t do.”
“Look at me and my sheep.”
“Aren’t we well-fed?”
“I’m grateful for a day like this.”

In the dining hall, he would say this.

“You’re so thin. That won’t do.
“Look at me and my sheep.”
“Aren’t we well-fed?”
“I’m happy to eat feasts.”

At night, he would say this.

“You’re so thin. That won’t do.”
“Look at me and my sheep.”
“Aren’t we well-fed?”
“I feel God’s grace runs deep.”

When faced with such remarks to their faces, the thin people resented it—their thinness wasn’t their fault at all.
What was there to boast about just being bloated?
That he kept making all these insinuating remarks was downright rude.

And so they conferred among themselves and decided to retaliate.
In the dining hall, they found an old rickety chair and placed it at the fat man’s usual seat.

The fat man, arching his back, leisurely entered the dining hall and took his usual seat, completely unaware.
And when his heavy body came crashing down on it, there was no withstanding it.
The old chair collapsed all at once, and he tumbled down below.
The thin people burst out laughing.

The fat man turned bright red and stood up.
And then he yelled at the waiter.
The waiter apologized flatly.
But he wouldn’t forgive him.

“This is utterly unacceptable! Did you forget there’s a fat man like me here? If you want forgiveness, serve a feast for two. And make it free. I won’t pay a cent. Serve two full courses—for free!”

The waiter reluctantly brought out a meal for two. He devoured it greedily and turned to a thin passenger nearby.

“See? Being fat’s a good thing.”
“I get to eat a feast for two—free of charge.”

The thin people resented this even more.
And this time, they piled sacks of wheat precariously on the deck and stood calmly beside them.

The fat man approached leisurely.
He came to a stop and, while lighting a cigarette, leaned against the stacked wheat sacks. The already unsteady pile collapsed all at once, and with that momentum, he too tumbled down there.
The thin people burst out laughing.

The fat man turned bright red and stood up.
And then he yelled at the sailors.

“Did you forget there’s a fat man like me here? If you want forgiveness, hand over a sack of this wheat and go feast my sheep.”

The sailors reluctantly carried a sack of wheat and went to feed his sheep.
He said to the thin people.

“See? Being fat has its advantages.”
“And I can treat my sheep to feasts for free too.”

The thin people still resented it.
The fat man just kept tumbling about without getting injured, reaping nothing but benefits.
This time, they discussed whether there wasn’t some clever plan they could devise.
But try as they might, no good ideas came to mind.

Then, one of them thought of Emilian.
Perhaps a boy like that might come up with a clever idea better than adults—especially since there was a rumor circulating aboard the ship that Emilian had done something remarkable in Italy.
So everyone decided to seek Emilian’s wisdom.

Emilian listened to the thin people’s story, thought for a while, then answered.

“I bear neither gratitude nor grudge toward that fat man, but I do think it’s not good for him to boast so much or act so self-centeredly.”
“Very well.”
“Let’s think of something that would trouble him.”

II

When the fat man was standing on the deck, Emilian approached and spoke to him.

“I hear you have many splendid sheep with you. Might I see them?”

The fat man gladly turned toward Emilian.
Until now, no matter how much he had boasted about them, no one had ever asked to see his sheep.

“Oh yes, I’ll show you.”
“Please come this way.”

And he took the lead and guided Emilian.
After descending to the middle deck and walking a little, they came upon a wide partitioned area in the corner where about twenty sheep were kept.
In the dim light, they stood or lay about listlessly, utterly bored, but indeed, they were all splendid sheep.

“How about that – impressive, aren’t they? I am as fat as my sheep, and my sheep are as fat as I am.”

“Truly splendid sheep.”

Emilian answered thus and watched the sheep for a while before eventually saying.

“They are splendid, but the world is vast—there may well be others like these elsewhere.”
“In comparison, I have a bat that’s truly one of a kind in this world.”

“Huh? A bat that’s unique in all the world…”

“Exactly.”
“Let me show you.”

And Emilian guided the fat man to his cabin.
In the corner of the room sat the bat he had received from Polimos in its cage, left exactly as it had been given.
The fat man peered into the cage.

“I see… That’s quite a large bat.”

“Not only is it large, but it’s also carefree and very clever.”
“Long ago during the war between birds and beasts, those who betrayed both sides were cast out by all—but this one isn’t some cowardly creature like that.”

Emilian cleared his throat with great ceremony and continued his story.

“This bat once carelessly jumped into a weasel’s nest and settled down to rest.
“Now, as ill luck would have it, that particular weasel happened to be furious with mice at that very moment—so there was no escaping trouble.
“The weasel came charging in, shouting ‘How dare you, a mouse, come ransacking my nest again!’ and tried to swallow the bat whole.
“Startled, the bat tried to calm the weasel as it spoke:
“‘Call me a mouse? What nonsense!
“‘As you can plainly see, I possess splendid wings and can freely soar through the sky.
“‘I am a bird!
“‘Do not mistake me.’
“Indeed—upon closer inspection—it did resemble a bird.
The weasel forgave it.”

“Then a couple of days later, the carefree bat carelessly jumped into another weasel’s nest.
However, this time’s weasel was furious with birds.
Suddenly charging in, it declared ‘How dare you, a bird, act so arrogantly!’ and tried to swallow the bat whole.
The bat, startled, protested: ‘Calling me a bird? Don’t be mistaken.
Birds are supposed to have feathers.
As you can see, I am a mouse.
Please take a good look—’ And so the bat managed to escape.”

Upon hearing this story, the fat man burst out laughing.
He suddenly stopped laughing and said,

“Are you saying this is that bat?”
“But just who did you hear that story from?”

“That story… the bat told it to the owl, the owl told it to the otter, the otter told it to the cat, the cat told it to the monkey, and the monkey… finally, it reached my ears—so I caught that bat.”

And the two of them burst out laughing together.
Then Emilian became a bit more serious and began to speak.

“Anyway, it’s a large and splendid bat.
“So, how about it? Would you be willing to exchange this bat for one of your sheep?”

“Hmm, that could be entertaining.”

So, the matter was settled: Emilian gave the bat to the fat man, and in return, he received one sheep of his choice from the fat man’s flock.

The thin people, believing Emilian’s words that the real fun was about to begin, eagerly waited in anticipation.

III

When the ship arrived at a port in Greece, since the fat man was scheduled to disembark there, Emilian handed over the bat to him as promised.
He had the sheep lined up on the ship's deck and let Emilian choose whichever one he liked.

They were approximately twenty splendid sheep. Having been led out from a dimly lit area and lined up on the spacious upper deck, their joyful milling about made them appear even more splendid.

Emilian gazed at the flock of sheep for a while.
Then, among them, he noticed one that appeared older than the rest, seemingly stronger, always walking at the front—a leader of the flock.

"I'll take this one!" said Emilian.

“Very well,” answered the fat man.

Emilian led that one sheep to the edge of the deck.
Then the other sheep trailed along after him one after another.
Seeing this, Emilian directed his sheep toward the sea and, while pinching its rump hard, pushed it forward.
The sheep, startled, started to run and in that momentum leaped over the deck, crying out loudly as it plunged into the sea.
The other sheep, chasing after it, cried out “Baa, baa…” in a clamor as they leaped into the sea one after another.

When he saw this, the fat man seemed to lose his mind.
He ran around frantically trying to stop the sheep.
Then he began shouting frantically.

“Someone, please help!
“The sheep are leaping into the sea!”
“Please save them!”
“Please save them quickly!”
“I’ll give one silver coin for every sheep!”
“Please save them!”

Even as he shouted, oddly enough, he kept hold of the bat’s cage and chased after the sheep, until he too finally ended up leaping into the sea.

At that point, even Emilian—who had been watching with amusement—along with the thin people and sailors, could not simply stand by.
They hurriedly lowered a lifeboat and began rescuing the fat man and his sheep.

The fat man, drenched from head to toe and still soaked through, continued clutching the bat cage.
The sheep were equally drenched.
Yet not a single one had drowned.
For each sheep, a silver coin was handed over.

Emilian said.

“Since you were also saved, hand over one silver coin as your share. Just like the sheep, I’ll set your life’s price at one silver coin.”

The fat man, still dazed, handed over his final silver coin as the price for his life.
Emilian received it and tossed it high into the air.
In the sunlight, it glittered brightly.

VI The Story of the Grim Reaper and the Old Woman

I

Emilian landed in Syria and continued his carefree journey toward Palestine.

One evening, as he passed along a desolate road between mountains and sea, there stood an old house a short distance from a small village, its stone entrance steps occupied by a solitary old woman.
Having walked all day and grown thirsty, Emilian requested some water to drink.

“Yes, please drink freely,” answered the old woman.

Following her instructions, he went around to the side of the house where cold, clear water gushed and overflowed from the stone rim of the dug well.
Emilian drank his fill, felt refreshed, returned to the old woman, and expressed his thanks.

She simply nodded, hands clasped on her knees, remaining perfectly still.
White hair, long eyebrows, swollen eyelids, sagging cheeks, thick lips, and small sharp eyes—the red evening sun bathed them in its light.
Emilian felt as though he’d met someone from his grandmother’s grandmother’s time—a figure from distant antiquity—and lingered there, unable to tear himself away.

Before long, the old woman smiled gently.
Emilian asked.

“You must have some great sorrow.”

“Not at all,” answered the old woman with a gentle smile.

“Then there must be something you’re pondering deeply?”

“Not at all,” replied the old woman with a gentle smile.

Emilian was perplexed.
Then he said awkwardly,
"But... since you let me drink water, as thanks, shall I play the violin for you?"

The old woman nodded with a pleased expression.

Emilian took out the violin and played all sorts of music for her to hear.
Music imitating birdsong, wind sounds, and wave rhythms; then Russian riverboat captains' chanteys, Swiss mountain woodcutters' ballads, Alpine foothill shepherds' airs, French countryside grape-pickers' tunes, Spanish festival dance melodies, African desert caravan chants...

Until the setting sun sank and dusk began to gather, Emilian continued playing.

The old woman listened intently for him.
There had never before been anyone who listened so attentively for him.
When Emilian stopped playing, the old woman took both his hands and kindly grasped them.

“Thank you very much.”
“It was a joy to listen.”

Emilian blushed.

“I truly enjoyed listening.”
“Now let me return the kindness by preparing you a meal.”
“And if it pleases you, do stay the night.”

Emilian gladly accepted.
When he followed the old woman into the house, though small, it was neatly kept.

The old woman happily prepared the meal.
The meal was modest but came with truly delicious wine.
Emilian took a sip and was startled.
He had never tasted anything so delicious before.

“This is quite old,” said the old woman.
“It must be about two hundred years old.”
“I have been waiting all this time for someone I wanted to share this with.”
“You are kind, clever, radiant—exactly that person.”
“Now that you have drunk it, I shall choose to die.”

Emilian jumped up.

“What… You’re going to die…?”

“There’s no need to be so surprised.”
“Please calm down and listen.”
“Let me tell you.”

And the old woman began her story.

II

It was long ago, but I had considerable wealth, and helping unfortunate people was my greatest joy.
To everyone who came seeking help, I would give a little money or some bread.
Therefore, people who begged others would always stop by my house.

Among those people was a saint who came to share meals at my place many times.
Saints are different from ordinary people in some way—you can tell them at a glance.
One day, that saint said to me:

“I have been granted power by God to fulfill any one wish of yours.”
“Now think carefully and tell me your one wish.”

“I thought for a long time.
And then I said:

“In my garden stands a large almond tree. If I could make anyone who climbs it intending to pick its almonds become unable to move from there exactly as I wish—that would be my desire.”

“That’s quite a strange wish, isn’t it? But since you desire it so earnestly, I shall certainly grant your wish.”

And then the saint left. Since he never returned after that, he must have gone back to heaven.

Many years later, the Grim Reaper happened to pass by my house.
—This woman has already turned eighty.
She’s lived long enough.
Today I’ll take her to the afterlife.— Muttering this, he entered the house.

When I saw that figure, I said:

“Oh—the Grim Reaper.”
“I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”
“I do not feel the slightest regret about leaving this world.”
“There’s just one thing—before that, I’d like to eat some almonds…”

“If that’s all you want, it’s no trouble.”
“Just wait a moment.”

And the Grim Reaper ran to the garden, climbed the almond tree, picked some of its fruit, and attempted to climb down.
I had been waiting for that moment and issued a command.
“The Grim Reaper must not descend from the tree without my permission.”
And just like that, the command was carried out exactly as given.
The Grim Reaper pleaded, threatened, shouted, and made a fuss, but he could not descend from the almond tree.

From that time on, no one died anymore.
However, people with disabilities, the injured, the sick, and those living without any hope suffered terribly, and voices calling for the Grim Reaper arose here and there.
“I was surprised to learn how many people wanted to die.”
“People came to me from all directions and begged me to release the Grim Reaper.”

I was perplexed.
“If I release the Grim Reaper, he will surely take away not only those who wish to die but even those who want to live.”
“So I went to the Grim Reaper and made him promise.”
“I made him swear that he would never come to take me until I called three times, and that he must not forcibly take away those to whom I give almonds even if they do not wish to die.”
And I let the Grim Reaper down from the almond tree.

And so people began dying again in various places.
Whenever I heard of people who suffered terribly from illness yet didn't want to die，I would take almonds from my tree and go to them.
Then those people were saved.

However，when others saw me doing such things，before long those who called me a witch began appearing.
“Because I’ve lived so very long，the rumor that I’m a witch came to seem quite plausible.”
“Moreover，I’ve grown too old—it’s become difficult for me to carry these almonds around everywhere.”

“I suppose I’ve lived too long.”
“Since they called me a witch, people stopped coming around much either.”
“I am thinking of calling the Grim Reaper.”

“Then you came and played all sorts of music for me—there’s nothing that could make me happier.”
“This wine is the sole remaining bottle of those I had served to the saint long ago.”
“Please drink your fill.”

Three

Emilian grew dreamy from the delicious wine.
The white-haired old woman said to have lived two hundred years, the rumors of a witch, the Grim Reaper, the almonds… everything felt like a dream.

“No, you must not die.”
“You must not call the Grim Reaper.”

Emilian shouted those words frantically.
Then again, to please the old woman, he played the violin and had the striped squirrel perform tricks.

The old woman smiled gently.
As he looked at her face, Emilian grew drowsy.

In the middle of the night, Emilian woke up many times and shouted.

“You must not die.”
“You must not call the Grim Reaper.”

Then the old woman peered at him with a gentle smile.

Early in the morning, when Emilian woke up, the old woman was nowhere to be seen.
Emilian, startled, leapt to his feet.
He searched throughout the house, but the old woman was nowhere to be found.

When he went outside... there, under the large almond tree in the garden, sat the old woman in a chair—dead.

Emilian clung to her knees and burst into tears.
Tears flowed endlessly.

When the morning sun began to shine, Emilian wiped his tears and stood up.
Since he couldn’t manage alone, he went to call the villagers who lived a little ways away.
All the villagers—those who had called her an angel and those who had called her a witch alike—rushed over in astonishment.
When she had died, they came to understand deeply just how kind and good the old woman had been.

That night, a great many people held a wake, and it was decided that the funeral would take place the following day.

On the morning of the funeral, miraculously, the almond tree in the garden burst into full bloom.
It bore fruit within a single day, and by the evening when the funeral ended, the almonds had already sweetly ripened.
Emilian picked those almonds and had everyone eat them.

And Emilian lived for a while in the house after the old woman had passed away.
The large almond tree in the garden always bore an abundance of sweet fruit.