In ancient times, on the spot where King Rene built his famous castle, there was a huge rock, the foot of which went into the deep waters of the Rhone. In this rock, at the very surface of the water, there was a wide crevice, and in that crevice lived a monster, so terrible and cruel that the local residents were in constant fear for their property and their lives.
No one could describe with all truth what it really looked like, simply because those who, unfortunately, met it, never returned to their native places. From time to time, the monster crawled out of its hiding place, climbed onto the shore and devastated everything in the area - woe was whoever it met on its way, be it a donkey or a horse, a lamb or a child, an old woman or a young girl...
One day, twelve brave souls decided to put an end to his atrocities. Armed with clubs and slingshots, they positioned themselves around the rock at dawn, but the monster never appeared, and by evening the brave men decided to go home. However, on the coastal pebbles they noticed huge footprints that led to a wild gorge, where a river rushed in with a roar, crushed on all sides by impregnable rocks. The giant footprints first ran along the shore, and then turned into one of the crevices...
Soon the young people found themselves in a deep forest filled with roars and howls. And, hiding behind the trees, they finally saw the dragon, which was devouring the carcass of a bull.
- This is a bull from our herd! - exclaimed one young man.
- Quiet! – his comrades hissed at him. Late! The dragon had already sensed the intruders and rushed towards them, revealing hundreds of sharp and bloody teeth. The two hunters were immediately torn apart by the dragon's front paws, while he furiously scratched the ground with his hind paws, uprooting trees and turning over boulders. The other two suffocated, overtaken by a fetid tornado that burst from the dragon's mouth, as if from a bottomless abyss filled with the dead, and then were cut into pieces by its scaly snake tail. Finally, he cut two more with the blades of his dorsal crest.
The six remaining scattered as the dragon devoured its victims. Having run home, they told in horror about everything they had seen. And no one else ever dared to pursue the dragon, who has since been nicknamed Tarascus, after the name of the place where his traces were seen. The dragon continued to commit his atrocities - now on the river bank, now on river islands, now on forest paths.
One summer day, trouble came to the hut of a local fisherman: relatives and neighbors gathered at his house to mourn one of the sons of a poor man who had fallen into the clutches of a monster. Meanwhile, a young girl dressed in a white festive dress walked past. Stopping at a fishing hut, she asked in surprise:
– Why are you killing yourself like this, good people? “Tarasque ate the boy,” they answered her. -Who is this Tarascus? - The dragon that lives in a lair on the banks of the Rhone. Everyone knows this place, but no one goes there.
“Okay, I’ll go see him in the morning,” said the stranger. The fishermen looked at her in bewilderment: “He will swallow you in one sitting!” “We’ll see,” the girl answered. – Do you have some food and a place where you can spend the night? And in return, I will wash all your laundry tomorrow. In the morning, she went down from the baskets of laundry to the foot of the cliff and began to wash. And the fishermen hid in the coastal bushes and watched the young washerwoman.
“This little girl is brave,” whispered the fisherman.
“She’s just not herself,” his wife responded.
- If only she remained alive! Let him then live with us and be our daughter...
Suddenly the water began to boil, the earth shook and the wind whistled in the reeds. The air smelled of carrion. A monstrous dragon's head poked out of the water, and dark waves crashed onto the girl's white dress.
A thunderous voice asked:
- Who are you?
– My name is Marta, I’m not from the locals.
-Are you not afraid of me?
- Why should I be afraid of you?
- Because I am Tarasque! Do you see how scary I am? It’s impossible to even look at me! And my breath is so foul that people fall dead...
“I look at you and don’t go blind, but I breathe as before,” the girl answered calmly, continuing to wash her clothes. Tarasque approached her, and the fishermen, cowering in horror, bitterly regretted that they had rashly allowed the stranger to dare to act recklessly.
The dragon loomed menacingly over the girl, its scales smeared with silt and covered with dirty algae.
- Carefully! - exclaimed the washerwoman, throwing an innocent glance and splashing water from a handful.
- You'll stain my underwear! The dragon froze in his tracks; he couldn’t even say a word from amazement.
- Poor guy! – Martha continued meekly and tenderly.
“I see no one cares about you here.” Come on, sit down next to me and tell me about everything that’s bothering you. You know, I also had difficult moments when I ran away from everyone and wandered alone along the seashore...
Something incredible happened to the dragon: tears welled up in his red eyes, he climbed out of the water, sat down right in front of the girl and asked:
- Tell me what happened to you there, on the shore of this sea... And Marta began to tell. She remembered her home and those she met during her travels. she spoke about unknown lands and ordinary people, about their worries and joys, about love and hope. She spoke so calmly and sympathetically that the terrible dragon dozed off at her feet, like a domestic kitten.
The fishermen, amazed by this miracle, rushed as fast as they could into the village, and soon all the local residents gathered on the river bank. Imagine their amazement when they saw that the young stranger was washing away the dirt from the scaly sides of the monster. Then she took off her belt and tied it around the dragon’s neck, intending to lead the monster along like a tame animal. Then the crowd roared and dozens of stakes and axes soared above their heads.
- Stop! - the girl screamed.
- Be reasonable, he will never harm you again!...
But those who had lost their children and brothers, their horse, bull or sheep, those who had lived in fear and humiliation for many years, could no longer contain their hatred. No one listened to what this stranger was shouting to them. An angry crowd attacked the dragon, stakes pierced his chest, axes cut off his limbs, and the blood of Tarascus flooded everything around, mixing with the stormy water of the Rhone...
And before he gave up the ghost, the dragon looked at the girl with deep gratitude and said:
- With you, I learned what goodness is, I felt that hatred was leaving my heart, that my breath was becoming pure, and my eyes were tender... Another minute, and I would have believed that I could become beautiful! He collapsed to the ground and didn't move anymore.
The crowd dragged the huge remains of the dragon to the central square in the village, where they burned for long days under the hot southern sun, until only one skeleton of incredible size remained. The children climbed inside this skeleton, climbed its spine and rolled down its smooth ribs; adults, looking at such a colossus, only shook their heads, and daring young men made their way in the evenings between his bare teeth and frightened their girlfriends, blowing smoke from empty nostrils that once blazed with a deadly fire... And while the people were having fun, celebrating their liberation, no one paid attention to the fact that young Martha had left, and left these places forever, as imperceptibly as she had appeared. This tale is told in Provence.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru