The Ogre

This time I am going to talk about myself, to tell you something that

really happened to me. If you do not believe this you must not listen. I

can only tell this story to children who are quite sure that I speak the

truth.

I was between six and seven years old and still learning my letters at

school. One fine Sunday afternoon in September I went with five or six

of my schoolfellows into the Aulnes wood.

It was the nut season, and we knew there were a number of nut-trees in

the wood.

After gathering nuts for some time on the edge of the wood, it happened

that in going from tree to tree we gradually separated from each other.

Before I became aware of it, I was deep in the wood. There I discovered

a sort of hedge where the nuts grew so plentifully that I could hardly

believe my eyes.

The spreading branches were weighed down with nuts in bunches of four,

five, or even six ripe nuts in their yellow cups, hanging so temptingly.

At first I ate a good many and had a regular feast. I had never eaten

such nuts! There were no bad ones and no empty shells. When I had eaten

as many as I wanted, I filled my pockets, all my pockets. First the

pockets of my Sunday coat, then my trouser pockets. I then filled my cap

and tied some up in my handkerchief. Just as I was thinking that I could

put in a few more I noticed that it was very still and lonely in the

wood and that the nuts did not show up so plainly among the leaves.

High above my head the last rays of the sunset shone among the branches

of the huge elms, oaks, and poplars. Here and there a bird chirped on

its nest, and far away towards the sunset I heard the sound of wheels on

the road.

I could not hear my companions, but no doubt they were within call, they

could not be far off. I put my hands to my mouth and shouted: “Hallo!

John! Peter Little Carrots! George!”

I called them all and shouted their names one after the other, shouting

louder and louder in all directions. But only the echo answered me. When

I shouted John, the echo mockingly replied “Ohn,” and when I shouted

George, it replied “Orge.”

Suddenly my heart sank within me, the last rays of light disappeared

above my head and with startling rapidity darkness fell among the trees

and bushes. The darkness seemed to grow out of the ground. The birds

were silent. A cold breeze shook the branches, and far, far away a

little bell rang out the Angelus.

I recognized the bell, it was our village bell. I knew that the carriage

I had heard was the post-cart which was returning from Ternath to

Lennick.

It was in the direction of these two sounds that I had to find a road,

however. I could not imagine how far I was from the edge of the wood,

and it was imperative that I should reach the fields before darkness

overtook me.

I started off with my cap full of nuts in one hand and my handkerchief

full in the other.

After going a few steps, I shouted again, “John! Peter!” but this time

even the echo made no reply and my voice sounded so strangely in my ears

that I did not recognize it.

I ran for about an hour and a half, when all at once I felt as though I

was bound with ropes and I fell. I was held fast by the long tendrils of

a blackberry-bush which I had not noticed in the gathering darkness.

I dropped my handkerchief and could barely distinguish it in the

darkness.

I then shouted again as loudly as ever I could until I lost courage and

could shout no more. I dared not, I dared not, because of the terrible

silence which seemed to close round me. The silence was so uncanny that

I distinctly heard the blood coursing through my veins.

I was alone, alone in the vast never-ending forest, lost, strayed, and

far from the road when night fell. I thought of home, of my gentle

mother and my good father. I thought of the terrible anxiety they would

be in when I did not return. Feeling my way I sat down on the roots of a

tree and began to cry....

I then closed my eyes as tightly as ever I could in order to see

nothing. I meant to sit there and see what would happen, but when I

raised my eyes to say a short prayer, I saw a soft light piercing

through the roof of branches above my head, which seemed to me like a

smiling face trying to throw its silver rays upon me.

It was the moon; she was rising in the opposite direction to which I had

seen the last rays of the sinking sun. As my eyes grew accustomed to the

light I began to distinguish things around me. At first the tree-trunks,

some as thick as my body, others as thick as my head, others as thick as

my legs and arms. Then I saw the shrubs and bushes, the flowers in the

grass, and the ferns.

Suddenly I saw something white--a little weasel--which approached very

cautiously. Had I moved a little twig? Quick as lightning the little

fellow darted off. I saw him disappearing like a white arrow.

Now I could see I was not so frightened. I got up, emptied my cap and

put it on my head, determined to try once again to find a path. I

started off in the same direction as the weasel had disappeared. I had

walked for about a quarter of an hour when, my heart beating violently,

I stopped--something like a star shone very low, low among the

foliage--no, so low that it could not be a star--it must be either a

light from a lantern or a window. Certainly some one must be passing

with a light or living in a little house.

However far it might be, I decided to walk towards it. I groped on hands

and knees, keeping out of the way of brambles and bushes. Then it was

easier walking among the trunks of the tall trees. I was always trying

to reach the light. Oh, dear! what a long way it was. The moon was

already far behind me above the trees. It was a beautiful starlit night.

Far, far away a church clock struck. I could not tell this time if it

were our village clock; it struck nine and still I had not reached the

light. Sometimes it grew larger, then it disappeared for some time. I

was very frightened. Would it never appear again? Thank heavens! the

little star twinkled once more ... suddenly it was so near that I could

see it growing. Now it was as large as an egg--then as large as an

orange--and finally I saw it as large as the face of the moon high among

the bushes. Now I could see how the light showed up in a disc on a dark

surface. A few steps farther and I found myself outside a little house.

A light shone through a round opening in the shutter. Under the window

was an old broken barrel. There was no sound to be heard in the house.

Could I dare to knock? Did robbers, a witch, or, worse still, an ogre

live there?

To stay out all night was equally dangerous; there might be wolves or

savage dogs in the wood, and witches and ogres could soon scent me out.

I tapped on the shutter, and very soon heard footsteps approaching.

“Who knocks so late?” asked an anxious voice.

“I am a little boy from a neighbouring village, I have lost my

companions and have been wandering for three hours in the wood. Please

open the door and let me come in.”

I heard the sound of a heavy sigh behind the door and then the voice

said more gently than before:

“Oh, my child, do not ask to come in here! Get away as fast as your legs

can carry you. I would willingly give you shelter! But my husband is an

ogre. He devours without pity all who fall into his hands.”

However, I felt so weary, I was chilled by the cold night air, and the

loneliness of the wood so terrified me that to be under cover of a roof

with human beings I was willing to run all risks.

To be eaten alive by an ogre was not a very agreeable prospect! But if I

continued to wander about in the woods at night, I ran the danger of

coming face to face with this awful man. Perhaps under his own roof I

should be in less danger of being eaten.

I begged and implored so earnestly that the woman gave in and opened the

door.

“Little friend,” the good soul said to me, “you have not a moment to

lose. It is nearly ten o’clock, it is at that hour that my husband

returns from his first round. Here is a little bread and milk. If you

are hungry and thirsty, eat and drink! Take good heed of what I am going

to say to you! Directly you hear a knock at the door, hide yourself in

the dark corner by the cupboard behind those two large tubs. If you

value your life do not move a muscle. If my husband finds you, he will

eat you, skin, bones, and all. If you are as quiet as a mouse I may save

you, God helping me.”

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when “bang, bang, bang,” the

door shook under the blows of a heavy fist. A rough voice, at the sound

of which my blood ran cold, shook the little house.

“Great heavens! woman! How much longer must I wait before you open the

door?”

Before the wife had lifted the latch, I was crouching behind the two

tubs. I made myself as small as possible. I was so terrified that I

shrank with fear. I shrank more and more, sometimes I felt as small as a

little dog, then as small as a cat, and then as small as a frog!

Do you know why I was so frightened? While the woman was going towards

the door I very quickly lifted the lid of each tub. Oh, horror! what did

I see inside? One tub was filled with milk, but the other was filled to

the brim with human flesh! Hands, feet, heads of little boys about my

own age, and all were sprinkled with a quantity of coarse salt.

A tread like that of a giant sounded on the hard earth floor of the

house. From between the two tubs I saw the Ogre stop in the middle of

the room. His nostrils suddenly dilated as he sniffed around him like a

hound. His eyes sparkled--he smacked his lips.

“Wife,” he burst forth in thunderous tones, “wife, I smell it! There is

young and tender human flesh in the house! Speak! Where is it? My mouth

waters.”

He took a heavy axe from his belt and brandished it in the air in a

threatening manner. His wife denied this. “You certainly smell human

flesh,” she answered, “but you smell the three little boys you put in

the brine-tub last Friday. I have not seen a living soul all the blessed

day.”

“What!” replied the Ogre, and he began to swear. “Thunder and lightning,

do you call me a liar? I tell you that I smell a child’s fresh and

living flesh.”

I saw him brandish his axe in the air and fling it into the corner

where I was hiding ... oh, horror! the tub of milk was shattered to

atoms. I should certainly have been in his clutches if I had not become

as small as a frog from terror, and was thus carried down the drain,

which was hidden by the other tub, in the current of milk.

I found myself lying outside the house, my hair and eyes full of cream.

I was half dazed with alarm, but oh, so glad to be outside! I was much

colder now than when I knocked at the door. If only I could find a place

to rest my weary head. Just in front of me was the empty barrel which I

had seen on my arrival at the cottage. The outlet of the drain was

exactly under the only window. The moonlight enabled me to see inside

the barrel. To my great surprise I found it half full of hay. I soon

made up my mind. I crawled into the barrel through the bottom, which had

been staved in, drew the hay over me, and, after saying a short prayer,

tried to sleep.

I slept for some time. When I awoke, my clothes were dried. Very soon I

heard a strange growling sound not far from my hiding-place. It sounded

like the pattering of paws and a dog growling.

“A wolf,” was my first thought, after the Ogre, the wolf which ate

Little Red Riding Hood! How should I escape this time?

Suddenly the animal came near and licked the barrel, which had probably

contained lard, with its rough tongue.

Looking through the bung-hole, I saw by the light of the moon a large

and beautiful dog jumping about.

It suddenly struck me that if I could catch the dog by the tail I would

ask him very politely if he would draw me and my tub away--far, far away

from this terrible house.

The dog again approached, again I heard his tongue licking the staves. I

saw his body exactly opposite the bung-hole--then I spoke to him very

gently, as gently and as agreeably as I could. I asked him to do what I

wished. Oh, wonderful to relate, the dog turned round and offered me

his tail. I took hold of it and immediately felt myself being drawn

forward as though I were in a sledge or a boat.

At first he ran slowly without making a sound, but farther on, about

fifty or sixty yards from the little house, I was so enjoying this

midnight drive that I grew reckless.

I thought we were travelling too slowly. “Gee up,” I cried, “Gee up,

little fiery steed! Show me how you can gallop. Hallo! Gee up.”

I pulled his tail, and the animal not expecting this movement bolted off

like the wind.

He ran so wildly that the barrel bounded against the trees until, after

a violent blow, it was smashed to pieces. The dog ran off as fast as

ever he could.

Dear me! How the wood had changed! There was not a star in the sky and

the moon had vanished.

Everything was enveloped in a pale grey light. Birds’ song filled the

air. In the distance, far away outside the wood, a hundred cocks crowed

one after the other.

I again thought of my dear parents. I pictured their agony during the

long and terrible night, and my heart beat quickly at the thought of

being with them once more.

I would soon find the road. If only I could discover in which direction

lay the village.

I heard a bell ringing, “Ding, Ding, Ding, Dong.” Was it seven o’clock?

Unfortunately the wind whistled so loudly in the tree-tops that the

first “Ding” seemed to come from the north, while the last seemed to

come from the west. What was I to do?

Then I had a happy thought. I chose one of the highest trees, a poplar,

whose lower branches hung nearly to the ground. I climbed up like a cat

from bough to bough and reached the top--from there I could see right

over the wood. On one side I saw fields and meadows as far as the eye

could see, and on the other I saw my village, my dear little village.

The poplar I had climbed was only twenty yards from the edge of the

wood. It was so high that the topmost branches on which I was perched

were much higher than the surrounding trees.

My village lay there at the bottom, not far from the edge of the wood.

Not far from the wall of the churchyard was the white house, the white

house where my parents lived. Oh, if I could only be there, how I longed

to be at home.

But I was high up above all the other tree-tops, waving my cap so

vigorously in the air that the few remaining nuts fell out. While I was

perched there on the top of the tree, it began to sway gently from left

to right, then backwards and forwards. Then it swayed so violently that

it passed over the top of first two, then three, and then ten trees. The

morning breeze seemed to take pleasure in it, and blew stronger and

stronger--“whip, whip--whoop, whoop,” the tree-top swayed out beyond the

top of the trees on the edge of the wood.

Oh, dear! it was so amusing! “Whip, whip,” in a huge semicircle over the

top of a hundred trees behind me, then in a still wider semicircle in

front as far as the first houses of the village. “Whip, whip,” backwards

farther and farther, then “whoop, whoop,” in front as far as farmer Van

den Eeckhoudt’s farm. Then a few yards farther and I was swaying out

almost over my father’s house!

Should I dare, should I take the risk? Could I in leaning all my weight

make the top of the tree bend so that the rebound would send me right

over the house? “Whip, whip--whoop, whoop!” Before I had made up my mind

I found myself where I wished to be.

I crossed myself, let go my hold, and landed on the edge of the large

chimney-pot. I fell down the chimney into the stove.

My mother was making coffee. “My boy, my boy,” she cried, “what an

anxiety you have been to us. Your father and I have been up all night.”

At that moment my father came in; he had been hunting round his land in

search of me for the tenth time.

“My lad,” he said to me, when he succeeded in recognizing me, “where

have you been and why are you so black?”

“Father,” I answered, “I am black because I have just fallen down the

chimney into the house. I have come from the Aulnes wood, where I went

to gather nuts yesterday. The Ogre has not eaten me and the wolf did not

scent me out. Father, my pockets are full of lovely ripe nuts.”