GRAIN-OF-MILLET
There was, once, in Lacouture, near Lectoure, a sharecropper and his wife, who were married for seven years. However, they did not yet have children.
One day, the sharecropper's wife thought, while kneading in the oven room:
“Ah! When will I have a son?"
"Mother, you have one."
"Where are you, my son? I hear you, but I do not see you."
"Mother, I am too small to be seen. This is why you will call me Grain-of-Millet.
"Grain-of-Millet, do you want to nurse?"
"Thanks, Mom. I was born fully formed, fully clothed, and fully armed. I know more than men who are forty years old. Order, mother. Whatever you say will be done.
"Grain-of-Millet, chase the chickens out of the oven room."
Grain-of-Millet chased the chickens out of the oven room. His mother heard him shout: “Psch! psch! psch!" But she didn't see him.
“Mother, now that the chickens are chased away, I want to go find my father."
"Grain-of-Millet, do you know where he is?"
"Yes, mother. He plows, over there, over there, with our pair of oxen. I want to bring him his snack."
"Grain-of-Millet, you won’t be able to."
"Mother, fill the basket. The rest is my business."
Grain-of-Millet left, taking the basket.
“Father, hold on. Here is your snack."
"Who is here? I hear talk, but I don't see anyone."
"Father, I am Grain-of-Millet. I am your son, born an hour ago. Father, I am too small to be seen. This is why you will call me Grain-of-Millet. Here, here is your snack. Where should I put it?"
"Grain-of-Millet, put it under this tree."
"Father, it’s done. Eat your snack, I will plow for you."
"Grain-of-Millet, you won’t be able to."
"Father, trust me."
While his father ate his snack, Grain-of-Millet climbed up to the tip of the right horn of the Caubet, the left ox. And there he goes.
“Ha! Lauret. Ha! Caubet."
The herdsman had never plowed in such a way.
At that moment, the Bishop of Lectoure was passing, returning from Fleurance, in a superb car. He was very surprised to see a pair of oxen plowing alone and to hear the cries of a herdsman, without seeing the one who was shouting.
“Sharecropper,” he said to the man who was eating his snack, “sharecropper, what is this?”
"Bishop, it is my son Grain-of-Millet, who plows in my place."
"Sharecropper, I hear it; but I don't see it."
"Bishop, my son is too small to be seen. This is why it is called Grain-of-Millet."
"Sharecropper, I want your son to be my coachman. Sell it to me. I'll give you a thousand pistoles."
"Bishop, excuse me. Grain-of-Millet is not for sale."
Source: Grain-de-Millet, from the French book Contes populaires de la Gascogne, tome 2, published in 1886
Previous Tale: The Two Girls
Hello, my name is Vincent Celier.
I am writing translations of folk tales that I found in public domain French books, so that people who do not understand French may enjoy them too.
Another folk tale, very different from the previous ones. There is no King and no poor widow with 3 sons.
The main character, Grain-of-Millet is so small that nobody can see him. But he is also very smart.
There is no King in this tale, but there is a bishop that plays a major role.
Yesterday morning, we succeeded in charging the battery of Kati's car, and we were able to join my daughter Betty and her boyfriend Chris in an Ethiopian restaurant.
Betty was born in Haiti in 1980, and I adopted her, with her oldest sister Roseline, in 1985. She is currently living in my house in Harrison Hot Springs, about 150 km from Vancouver. She is working mostly from home as a strata manager.
Chris is living in Vancouver.
In other news, today Kati sent me this picture, with the comment "Vincent Templar".
This is related to Simon Templar, known as "The Saint", a character in a series of novels and in TV series.
The picture was taken last May at the celebration of the 100th birthday of the mother of a Hungarian friend of Kati and me, who is also our accountant.
-- Vincent Celier