To Beat the Devil
from Tales of the Rocky Tatras
A few years ago, there was a certain goral, a hill man, who felt humped and
bumped by life, and so he was about to hang himself when Old Nick appeared and
asked him what he was up to.
"If thy skin were mine," said the goral, "thou wouldst have hanged thyself thrice, not once."
"A bet on that?"
"For what stakes?"
"For thy part, thou shalt hang thyself and be mine; but if I cannot bear thy life for three days, I'll make thee a rich man." They shook on it; the Devil assumed the man's form and left for the goral's cabin.
There the wife was waiting: She was more than 40 summers old, fists like two milk pails and a mouth like a watchdog's -- barking that much.
"Where hast thou been?"
"In the forest, walkin' an' whistlin'," quoth Nick. He had not quite finished the saying, when he got a good belt in the mouth, so that bells were ringing in his ears like the ones at the minster.
"And dost thou not know that 'tis spring now, that there is work aplenty?" shrieked the virago. "So thou wouldst whistle in the forest? Look at the thrush! 'Tis good for thee thou art here. Get thyself ready. There is a wedding at Wally Lojas'. And mind, thou art to dance! 'Cause everybody says thou art an old codger and cannot move anymore!"
All night the Devil had to dance. Each time he wanted to sit down, the scold was after him: "Wouldst thou shame me? As is, folks regard thee no better than a dog's ear! Old gaffer! Dance!" And because the Devil was already afraid of her, he kept going until the white morn. Near killed himself.
Thought Old Nick to himself, We'll get home, then I'll sleep it off. That's what he thought! They drove up to the house, the Devil stripped and climbed between the sheets. The harridan jumped him: "Just look at him! Where wouldst thou pack thyself, thou dog's breakfast? Dost thou not know thy plow is waiting for thee in the fields?"
The Evil One stared at the shrew, but what could be done? No sooner did she give him a pittance of food to break his fast on than the Devil found himself at the plow.
At noon, the scold came over with lunch: "How much hast thou plowed?" And then how this dragon did start cussing and swearing! "Thou stupid broken windmill! Runt! Chewed-up dogs bone! That is all thou hast managed to plow? At the table thou art a grown man, but at the plow thou art just a babe in arms. So thou wouldst feed now? There's thy feed, swallow's nest!" And she slammed the lunch pail to the ground.
Till sunset, the Devil had to plow and not stop. In the evening, he went home.
"Chop the firewood?"
All his bones were creaking in his back, but he chopped because he was scared of the woman. She called him for his supper. He ate a bite: Thought he, Now I'll sleep it off.
The wife said her prayers. The Devil murmured something pretending to say his, and they lay together. He was tuckered out, almost to death, but when he closed his eyes, she said, "Matt." (The goral's name was Matthew.)
"What?"
"Sleeping?"
"And what else would I be doing?"
And after a while, she asked, "And why art thou asleep?"
"'Tis what the night is for."
And in a moment: "Matty! What about it?"
"What's it?"
"It's what we were married for."
"What? After I'm made to dance all night, plow all day and then chop firewood all evening? And the food thou gavest me was enough for a barn fly."
And the spitfire said: "Thou Hungarian corpse, thou wouldst give me lip? A klutz, a wet weakling! Dumb Matthew!" And she turned to him, please forgive the word, with her arse.
Good, thought the Devil. Let her be angry. It was not two moments before the woman began again:
"Matty!"
A moment back 'twas Dumb Matthew, and now 'tis Matty! thought the Devil. "What dost thou want?"
"Matty," cooed the gammer. "Come on. I'll give thee oatcakes with butter on the morrow."
And she took to traveling all over him with her hands, missed not one part.
The Devil saw there wouldn't be any sleeping and thought to himself: I'll give in, woman. I'll serve thee once, so that thou wilt leave me be.
The Devil took and did what had to be done, laid down, went to sleep.
And right away in his ears.
Oh! How many times did she want? It was the truth that man was telling when he said he had enough! The Devil kept his mouth and his eyes shut.
"Matty!"
And the Devil said nothing.
"Matt! Art thou listening?"
Nothing.
The poor Devil was hardly prepared for what happened next. The tarter lifted herself from the bedding and planted an almighty kick right above where his legs forked! The Devil flew from the bed onto the floor.
"Thou impotent old man! Thou curse Judas Iscariot!" shrieked the virago. "Sit thee over there. Thou art not worthy of the marriage bed!"
The Devil sat on a log, feeling his sides, because he got well banged up in the fall.
And the gammer started a lament: "Oh, poor, unhappy me! Why did my parents give me to thee for a wife? Oh, well did Aunt Agatha, rest her soul, advise: 'Don't give Kunnegunde to Matthew, he is a broken old man!' Oh, misery, misery! Oh, my saintly mum!"
And the woman was old enough to have been a grandmother.
So the poor Devil was sitting on the rough bark, cold and splintery, and he kept thinking until he got angry.
"Devils take thee!" he told the termagant. "Dance all night, work all day, eat as much as nothing, and then stir thine embers all the night! It's enough to beat the Devil!"
He ripped off his shirt, escaped through a slit in the shutter and flew to the goral in the dale.
The man was sitting by the fire.
"Here already?"
"Here," answered the Devil. "you were right to say that were I in thy place I'd hang myself thrice, not once." He lifted a rock and showed the goral a hidden treasure, a miracle to behold.
"Well, now I am a wealthy man," laughed the goral. "For the day chores I'll hire myself a hand or two, and I'll take care of the night work myself."
The Devil growled: "It will still be work enough for three Devils."
