The Three Oranges
Throughout Italy, people tell the story of the three oranges. But here’s the curious thing—each region tells it differently. The Genoese say one thing, the Neapolitans another, and the Sicilians yet another. But we’ve listened to all these tales and now know how it really happened.Once upon a time, there lived a king and queen. They had a palace, a kingdom, and, of course, subjects, but the king and queen had no children.
One day, the king said:
“If we were to have a son, I would build a fountain in the square in front of the palace. And instead of wine, golden olive oil would flow from it. For seven years, women would come to it and bless my son.”
Soon after, the king and queen had a beautiful baby boy. The happy parents fulfilled their vow, and two fountains were built in the square. In the first year, the fountains of wine and oil soared higher than the palace tower. The next year, they were lower. In short, the prince grew bigger each day, while the fountains grew smaller.
By the end of the seventh year, the fountains no longer gushed; instead, wine and oil dripped from them drop by drop.
One day, the prince went out to the square to play skittles. At that very moment, a hunched, gray-haired old woman shuffled up to the fountains. She brought with her a sponge and two clay jugs. Drop by drop, the sponge soaked up the wine and oil, and the old woman squeezed it into the jugs.
The jugs were nearly full. And suddenly—crash!—both shattered into pieces.
What a precise shot! The prince had aimed a large wooden ball at the skittles but hit the jugs instead. At that very moment, the fountains dried up, no longer yielding a single drop of wine or oil. For it was precisely at that moment that the prince turned exactly seven years old.
The old woman shook her crooked finger and spoke in a creaky voice:
“Listen to me, prince. For breaking my jugs, I will place a curse on you. When you turn three times seven years old, a deep melancholy will come over you. It will torment you until you find a tree with three oranges.
And when you find the tree and pick the three oranges, you will become thirsty.
Then we shall see what happens.”
The old woman cackled maliciously and shuffled away.
The prince continued playing skittles, and within half an hour, he had forgotten all about the broken jugs and the old woman’s curse.
He remembered it when he turned three times seven—twenty-one years old. A deep melancholy fell upon him, and neither hunting nor lavish balls could lift his spirits.
“Oh, where can I find the three oranges?” he repeated.
The king and queen heard this and said:
“Surely we would not begrudge our dear son three oranges, or even thirty, or three hundred, or three thousand!”
And they piled a mountain of golden fruit before the prince. But the prince only shook his head.
“No, these are not the oranges I seek. And I don’t even know what kind they are.
Saddle my horse; I will go and search for them.”
The prince’s horse was saddled, and he mounted it and rode off. He rode and rode along the roads but found nothing. Then he left the road and rode straight ahead. He reached a stream when suddenly he heard a tiny voice:
“Hey, prince, be careful not to let your horse trample my house!”
The prince looked around—no one was there. He glanced under his horse’s hooves and saw an eggshell lying in the grass. He dismounted, bent down, and saw a fairy sitting inside the shell. The prince was astonished, and the fairy said:
“It’s been a long time since anyone visited me or brought me gifts.”
So the prince took a ring with a precious stone from his finger and gave it to the fairy as a belt. The fairy laughed with joy and said:
“I know, I know what you are seeking. Obtain a diamond key, and you will enter a garden. There, three oranges hang from a branch.”
“But where can I find the diamond key?” asked the prince.
“My elder sister probably knows. She lives in a chestnut grove.”
The young man thanked the fairy and jumped back on his horse. The second fairy indeed lived in a chestnut grove, inside a chestnut shell. The prince gave her a golden buckle from his cloak.
“Thank you,” said the fairy. “Now I will have a golden bed.”
In return, I will tell you a secret. The diamond key lies in a crystal casket.
“But where is the casket?” asked the young man.
“My elder sister knows,” replied the fairy. “She lives in a hazelnut grove.”
The prince found the hazelnut grove. The eldest fairy had made her home inside a hazelnut shell. The prince took a golden chain from his neck and gave it to the fairy. The fairy tied the chain to a branch and said:
“This will be my swing. For such a generous gift, I will tell you what my younger sisters do not know. The crystal casket is in a palace. The palace stands on a mountain, and that mountain lies beyond three mountains and three deserts. The casket is guarded by a one-eyed watchman. Remember this well: when the watchman sleeps, his eye is open; when he is awake, his eye is closed. Go, and fear nothing.”
How long the prince traveled, we do not know. But he crossed three mountains, passed through three deserts, and finally arrived at that very mountain. There, he dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and looked around. There was a path, completely overgrown with grass—clearly, no one had been in these parts for a long time. The prince followed the path. It wound its way upward like a snake, twisting and turning. The prince did not stray from it, and eventually, the path led him to the top of the mountain, where a palace stood.
A magpie flew by. The prince called out to it:
"Magpie, magpie, look through the palace window. See if the guard is asleep."
The magpie peered through the window and cried out:
"He's asleep, asleep! His eye is closed!"
"Ah," the prince said to himself, "now is not the time to enter the palace."
He waited until nightfall. An owl flew by. The prince called out to it:
"Little owl, owl, look through the palace window. See if the guard is asleep."
The owl peered through the window and hooted:
"Hoo-hoo! The guard is not asleep! His eye is fixed on me!"
"Now is the time," the prince said to himself and entered the palace.
Inside, he saw a one-eyed guard. Next to the guard stood a three-legged table, and on it rested a crystal casket. The prince lifted the lid of the casket, took out a diamond key, but he did not know what to open with it. He began wandering through the palace halls, trying the key in every lock, but it did not fit any of them. Only one small golden door remained, in the farthest hall. The prince inserted the diamond key into the keyhole, and it fit perfectly. The door swung open, and the prince found himself in a garden.
In the middle of the garden stood an orange tree, bearing only three oranges. But what oranges they were! Large, fragrant, with golden skin. It was as if all the generous sun of Italy had been given to them alone. The prince plucked the oranges, hid them under his cloak, and began his journey back.
As soon as the prince descended the mountain and mounted his horse, the one-eyed guard closed his single eye and woke up. He immediately noticed that the diamond key was missing from the casket. But it was too late, for the prince was already galloping away on his trusty steed, carrying the three oranges.
He crossed one mountain and rode through the desert. The day was scorching, with not a single cloud in the azure sky. The hot air shimmered over the burning sand.
The prince grew thirsty. So thirsty that he could think of nothing else.
"But I have three oranges!" he said to himself. "I'll eat one and quench my thirst!"
As soon as he cut into the peel, the orange split into two halves. Out stepped a beautiful girl.
"Give me water," she pleaded in a pitiful voice.
What could the prince do? He himself was burning with thirst.
"Water, water!" the girl sighed, then collapsed onto the hot sand and died.
The prince mourned her and rode on. When he looked back, he saw that an orange grove had sprung up in that spot. The prince was amazed but did not turn back.
Soon the desert ended, and the young man reached a forest. At the edge of the forest, a cheerful brook babbled. The prince rushed to the brook, drank his fill, watered his horse, and then sat down to rest under a spreading chestnut tree. He took the second orange from under his cloak, held it in his palm, and felt a curiosity as strong as his earlier thirst. What lay hidden beneath the golden peel? And so, the prince cut into the second orange.
The orange split into two halves, and out stepped a girl. She was even more beautiful than the first.
"Give me water," the girl said.
"Here is the brook," the prince replied, "its water is pure and cool."
The girl bent over the stream and drank it all in an instant, leaving the sand at the bottom dry.
"Water, water!" she groaned again, then fell onto the grass and died.
The prince was deeply saddened and said:
"Ah, no, now I won't take a single drop of water until I quench the thirst of the third girl from the third orange!"
And he spurred his horse onward. He rode a little way and then looked back. What a miracle!
Orange trees had sprung up along the banks of the brook. Under their dense green branches, the brook filled with water and began to sing its song once more.
But the prince did not turn back. He rode on, clutching the last orange to his chest.
How he suffered from the heat and thirst on his journey is impossible to describe. Yet, sooner or later, the prince reached a river that flowed near the borders of his homeland. There, he cut into the third orange, the largest and ripest of all. The orange opened like petals, and before the prince appeared a girl of unparalleled beauty. The first two girls were lovely, but next to this one, they would have seemed plain. The prince could not take his eyes off her. Her face was as delicate as an orange blossom, her eyes green like the fruit's bud, and her hair golden like the peel of a ripe orange.
The prince took her by the hand and led her to the river. The girl bent over the river and began to drink. But the river was wide and deep. No matter how much she drank, the water did not diminish.
Finally, the beauty raised her head and smiled at the prince.
– Thank you, prince, for giving me life. Before you stands the daughter of the king of orange trees. I waited so long for you in my golden prison!
And my sisters waited too.
– Ah, poor things, – sighed the prince. – It is my fault that they died.
– But they did not die, – said the girl. – Didn’t you see that they became orange groves? They will provide shade for weary travelers and quench their thirst. But now my sisters can never turn back into maidens.
– And you won’t leave me? – exclaimed the prince.
– I won’t, if you do not stop loving me.
The prince placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and swore that he would call no one his wife except the daughter of the king of orange trees.
He seated the girl in front of him on his saddle and galloped toward his native palace.
The palace towers gleamed in the distance. The prince stopped his horse and said:
– Wait for me here. I will return for you in a golden carriage and bring you a satin dress and satin slippers.
– I don’t need a carriage or fancy clothes. Just don’t leave me alone.
– But I want you to enter my father’s palace as befits the bride of a royal son. Don’t worry, I’ll place you on a tree branch, right above this pond. No one will see you here.
He lifted her in his arms, placed her on the tree, and rode through the gates.
At that moment, a lame, one-eyed servant girl came to the pond to rinse laundry. She bent over the water and saw the girl’s reflection in the pond.
– Is that really me? – cried the servant. – How beautiful I’ve become! Surely, even the sun envies my beauty!
The servant raised her eyes to look at the sun and noticed the girl among the thick foliage. Then she realized that what she saw in the water was not her own reflection.
– Hey, who are you and what are you doing here? – the servant shouted angrily.
– I am the bride of the prince and am waiting for him to come for me.
The servant thought: Here’s a chance to outwit fate.
– Well, it’s not yet clear for whom he’ll come, – she replied and began shaking the tree with all her might.
The poor girl from the orange tried her best to hold onto the branches. But the servant shook the trunk harder and harder. The girl fell from the branch and, as she fell, turned back into a golden orange.
The servant quickly snatched the orange, tucked it into her bosom, and climbed the tree. She had barely settled on the branch when the prince arrived in a carriage drawn by six white horses.
The servant didn’t wait to be helped down from the tree and jumped to the ground.
The prince recoiled when he saw his bride lame and one-eyed.
The servant quickly said:
– Oh, dear groom, don’t worry, it will all pass soon. A speck got into my eye, and my leg fell asleep on the tree. After the wedding, I’ll be even better than before.
The prince had no choice but to take her to the palace. After all, he had sworn on his sword.
The king and queen were deeply saddened to see the bride of their beloved son. Was it worth traveling to the ends of the earth for such a beauty? But a promise is a promise, and it must be kept. They began preparing for the wedding.
Evening came. The entire palace sparkled with lights. The tables were lavishly set, and the guests were dressed to the nines. Everyone was merry. Only the prince was glum. He was consumed by a longing so deep, it was as if he had never held the three oranges in his hands. He felt like mounting his horse again and riding off to who knows where, in search of who knows what.
Then the bell rang, and everyone sat down at the table. The young couple was seated at the head. Servants brought out skillfully prepared dishes and drinks.
The bride tasted one dish, then another, but every bite stuck in her throat. She was thirsty. But no matter how much she drank, her thirst would not subside. Then she remembered the orange and decided to eat it.
Suddenly, the orange rolled out of her hands and across the table, speaking in a gentle voice:
*The crooked lie sits at the table,
While the truth has entered the house with her!*
The guests held their breath. The bride turned pale. The orange rolled around the table, approached the prince, and split open. Out stepped the beautiful daughter of the king of orange trees.
The prince took her by the hand and led her to his father and mother.
– Here is my true bride!
The wicked deceiver was immediately driven away. And the prince and the girl from the orange celebrated a joyous wedding and lived happily ever after.
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