The Little Men

In mountain caves and deep within the earth lives a tribe of little people called dwarves or gnomes.

Gnomes are no taller than a foot. They have long hair and long beards, wear furry caps, red suits, and silver shoes, and are armed with sabers and spears. These little people are not Christians. They will live until the end of the world, and then they will die, but they will not rise again on the Day of Judgment.

Gnomes are not an evil people and even render services to humans. But if you want to see them turn crimson with anger, all you need to do is shout like a goose: "Ga! Ga! Ga!" Gnomes dislike geese because geese, as soon as they spot a gnome, start pecking at them with all their might. If, however, you want to see the gnomes as cheerful as finches, just say: "There will be money today."

In olden times, gnomes sometimes appeared to people. Now, they are rarely heard of. Perhaps they have left our country. Or perhaps they dare not come out during the day for fear of evil people and geese who mistreat them.

Gnomes eat and drink just like we do. Now, I will tell you how they obtain everything they need.

The earth provides us with something new each month of the year: in June—hay, in July—grain, in September—grapes and corn. It also gives various fruits that ripen in their own time, as well as livestock, both large and small. All this is for us, Christians. These gifts of the earth we can see and touch whenever we wish.

But there are other harvests, other fruits, and other livestock, both large and small. These gifts of the earth are neither seen nor touched by Christians: the earth produces them for the little people in just one evening, on New Year's Eve, from sunset to midnight. And by sunrise, all of it must be gathered and stored underground.

Therefore, for seven hours, the gnomes must work tirelessly. They have exactly one hour left to bring out and air their gold—piles of louis d'or and Spanish gold coins—which they store inside the rocks. If this yellow gold is not brought out into the light once a year, it spoils and turns red. Then the gnomes no longer value it and throw it away.

I am telling you only what I know—this is as true as the fact that we will all die. Finally, I can easily prove to you that I am speaking the truth. Listen to this.

Once upon a time, there lived in Saint-Avit a weaver burdened with a large family and as poor as a church mouse. His real name was Cluzet. But when he later became rich, people out of envy gave him the nickname "Dung Gold." My grandfather (may God rest his soul!) often told me how this weaver became a wealthy man. And now you will hear his story.

Cluzet hunted rabbits. No one could match his skill in catching them at any time of the year—with snares, or hunting with a ferret, or shooting from ambush even on the darkest nights.

In his lifetime, he had killed over a thousand of these little creatures, and his wife and daughter would take them to sell at the market and fairs in Lectoure and Astaffort.

The noblemen and wealthy townsfolk who enjoyed rabbit hunting were furious with Cluzet. They called him a cheat, a poacher, and set the gendarmes on him. But Cluzet just laughed at this, because the judges in Lectoure often enjoyed delicious rabbit stew, thanks to him, which cost them little. And, of course, these gentlemen were not inclined to judge such a helpful man as Cluzet.

One winter evening, close to New Year's, Cluzet had supper as usual, a soup with his family. After eating, he said to his wife:

"Listen, wife! Tomorrow is the day for New Year's gifts. I want to give a few rabbits to the authorities in Lectoure. Put the children to bed and go to sleep yourself. I am going hunting."

Cluzet took his gun, a sack, and went out. It was freezing outside, and the stars sparkled in the black, moonless sky.

As soon as the weaver hid in ambush among the rocks of Gers, he heard someone shouting beneath his feet:

"Hey, you lazybones, hurry up! Everything must be ready by midnight!"

"We know, we know, master! We only have this one night before New Year's!"

Cluzet realized that the gnomes were preparing for their work and stayed in hiding: he wanted to hear and see what would happen.

At the entrance to the cave appeared the eldest gnome with a whip in his hand. He looked at the sky and shouted:

"Midnight! Quick, lazybones! Hurry up! By sunrise, all our supplies for the whole year must be stored underground."

"It will be done, master! We only have one night a year."

From the cave, under the crack of the elder gnome's whip, poured out an innumerable multitude of little people with scythes, sickles, flails, garden knives, and baskets for gathering grapes, with yokes, driving sticks—in short, with everything needed for harvesting and herding livestock.

When the little people ran off, their master called out to the weaver:

"Cluzet, do you want to earn a six-livre coin?"

"Why not, Master Gnome!"

"Very well, Cluzet, help my people. In an hour, some of the gnomes had already returned.

Some were pushing carts the size of half a pumpkin, loaded with hay, grapes, corn, and various fruits. Others were driving bulls and cows the size of dogs, herds of sheep no larger than weasels.

Cluzet worked hard, helping the gnomes, who were now arriving by the hundreds from all directions. And the master gnome kept cracking his whip and shouting:

"Faster, lazybones! Hurry up! All the supplies must be underground by sunrise!"

"We're hurrying, master. We know we only have one night before New Year's."

By sunrise, all the gnomes' supplies were already underground.

Then the master gnome said to the weaver:

"Cluzet, here are your six livres. You earned them honestly. Do you want to earn another écu?"

"Why not, Master Gnome!"

"Well then, help my people!"

The little people were already coming out of the depths of the cave, bending under the weight of sacks full of yellow gold, louis d'or, and Spanish gold coins. And their master kept cracking his whip and shouting:

"Faster, lazybones! Hurry up! We have exactly one hour left to air the yellow gold. If this gold is not brought out into the daylight once a year, it spoils, turns red, and must be thrown away."

"We're working, master, working as hard as we can."

Cluzet worked hard, pouring out the gold from the sacks, stirring it so that all of it could be aired and see the daylight.

As soon as the hour passed, the gnomes picked up their sacks of gold and quickly carried them back into the depths of the cave. And their master, cracking his whip, said:

"Well, Cluzet, take your second écu. You earned it honestly! But my people work poorly! Because of their laziness, ten pounds of yellow gold have not seen daylight for over a year. It has spoiled and turned red. Hey, you slackers! Throw this rubbish out so it doesn't clutter our cave."

The gnomes obeyed. They threw out ten pounds of red gold from the cave. Then they disappeared with their master into the depths of the cave.

Cluzet took one louis d'or and one Spanish gold coin, buried the rest of the gold, and went home.

"Well, husband, was the hunt successful today?"

"Very successful, wife."

"Show me what you brought."

"Not now. I have some business to attend to."

Without even eating, Cluzet went to the city of Agen and entered a goldsmith's shop.

"Hello, master! Take a look at this red gold! Here's a louis d'or and a Spanish gold coin. Are they as valuable as yellow gold?"

"Yes, my friend. If you want, I'll exchange them for écus."

Counting the money, Cluzet immediately, without eating or drinking, set off for Saint-Avit. When he got home, he could barely say:

"Quick, wife, quick, give me some soup. And bread, and wine! I'm dying of hunger and thirst."

After supper, the weaver went to bed and snored for fifteen hours straight. But the next night, without telling anyone, he went to the rocks of Gers and returned with three pounds of red gold. He went back twice more at night and took the rest. When all the gold was brought, Cluzet called his wife.

"Look! Wasn't I right when I told you the New Year's hunt was successful? Now we are rich. Let's leave this place and live in style!"

No sooner said than done. Cluzet and his family left Saint-Avit and went far, far away, beyond Moissac, to the land of Quercy. With his ten pounds of gold, Cluzet bought a large forest, a water mill with four millstones, twenty farms, and a magnificent castle where he lived long and happily with his wife and children. He was a good man, always ready to help his neighbors, and no one was more generous in helping the poor. But this did not stop people from envying him. That's why they gave him the nickname "Dung Gold."

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The Little Men

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