Among the Brosselyan forest, in a dugout covered with branches, lived three orphan brothers. They were coal miners and worked day and night to somehow feed themselves. One evening, after they had lit a full stove of coal, Jean, the eldest of the brothers, said to the younger ones:
- Brothers, we have almost finished the work, all that remains is to keep the fire burning in the stove. I'll go to Paimpont to dance at Jerome Chouan's wedding.
“Okay, go,” said Jacques and Francois.
Jean immediately entered the hut and began to dress up for the wedding.
He put on an old jacket, trousers that had only two patches - one on the knee, the other on the back, shoes recently lined with new soles, and his wide-brimmed Sunday hat. After getting dressed, he left, humming.
When Jean left, the second brother thought:
“Does it really take two people to keep the fire going in the stove? Little Francois can handle this just fine on his own. Why should I sit at home and die of boredom, when today all the boys and girls have gathered at Julien Guenel’s, drinking cider, eating roasted chestnuts and telling fairy tales?”
And Jacques also left, telling François to look after the stove, since if the fire went out, all their work would be in vain. *
Francois was fourteen years old. He was an obedient and kind boy, and his older brothers often took advantage of this.
So that evening the poor child simply collapsed from fatigue. After helping his brothers all day, he still had to stay up for a good half of the night and keep the fire burning in the stove.
But he, without complaining, took the poker and began to stir the coals so that the fire would not go out.
Hours after hours passed slowly, and no matter how much Francois fought against fatigue, sleep gradually overcame him. In order not to fall asleep, he began to walk from the stove to the hut and from the hut to the stove. But nothing helped, and in the end Francois sat down exhausted and fell asleep.
He dreamed that he was a king and grazing cows, sitting on a large white horse. He is so rich that he eats white bread and lard every day. If anyone had seen Francois sleeping at these moments, he would have read on his face the bliss inspired by this wondrous dream.
But God, what disappointment and grief awaited him when he woke up! He was no longer a handsome prince riding on horseback across the steppe, he was a poor coal miner, the fire in his stove had gone out, and he knew that his brothers would certainly beat him for this.
What to do? What should I do? How to help trouble? Matches were not yet known at that time, and every morning women walked from house to house with an old wooden shoe in search of a burning coal.
Poor Francois tore out his hair in despair and called on all the saints for help.
Suddenly, raising his eyes to the sky, he noticed tongues of flame in the distance, high above the trees.
- Wow! - he shouted. “Apparently, some coal miners lit a big fire to protect themselves from the night dew.” I'll go quickly and ask them for a few firebrands
He ran in the direction where the flame was visible, and, coming closer, he was very surprised to notice that it shimmered in different colors: blue, white, yellow, red.
It shone so brightly that Francois could clearly see the part of the forest where he had wandered.
He remained frozen in place. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. after all, he was located two steps from the Tressel-en clearing, near the Baranton spring, where the fairies gathered!
Midnight struck the bell tower in Pempone.
And then Francois remembered that he had heard from people that forest spirits converge here at night. Here they play and dance. And they dragged all those mortals who tried to catch and see them into their hellish round dance and forced them to dance until they fell dead from exhaustion.
Move forward? Or run back? And is it still possible to escape?
While he was thinking, several forest fairies came out of the thicket. They surrounded him, grabbed him and led him away. Francois was neither alive nor dead, but willy-nilly followed them. He found himself in the middle of a clearing in front of a huge fire, where the god of oaks warmed his feet.
Seeing Francois, the forest god shouted in a terrible voice:
- Mortal! What are you doing here?
Francois, crying, told about his misfortune, about how he had made a mistake and was afraid of beatings. The forest god, listening to him, realized that the poor boy was not lying and softened. Pointing to the fire, he said almost affectionately:
- Well, young man, take some fire and use it to your health, and don’t come back here again.
The little coal miner did not wait for a second invitation: he stuck a shovel into the fire and pulled out a flaming brand, by the light of which he easily found his way home. Having reached his stove, he threw a firebrand into it, and the fire flared up immediately, as if by magic.
When the brothers returned home, the burning of coal in the furnace was finished, and they never knew what happened in their absence.
II
In the morning, Francois, as always, had to clean the oven.
Busy with thoughts about the events of the previous night, he shoveled out the ash and shuddered in surprise when he saw underneath it a firebrand from yesterday, which still glowed brightly with some kind of magical shine.
Having recovered from his surprise, Francois moved closer, began to turn the brand this way and that, saw that it was not burning, wiped it with the end of his apron and finally realized that in front of him was a huge ingot of gold and that this gold belonged to him!
The brothers went off to sell coal, and Francois couldn’t stop thinking about his find all day. Left to his own devices since childhood, he easily succumbed to evil passions. “Such a golden log,” he said to himself, “is worth a lot, a lot of money. This is wealth, and rich people are happy and have fun. The gold is mine, it was given to me alone. Jean and Jacques have no rights to it."
His conscience rebelled against such thoughts and spoke to him. “You were left an orphan when you were very young, and your brothers replaced your dead father and mother.”
But bad feelings took over and whispered to him:
“From then on, you worked constantly and more than paid for everything they did for you. You’ve been settled with them for a long time, don’t be embarrassed by this and keep the gold for yourself.”
Comforted by such thoughts, Francois dug a hole under a beech tree and buried his treasure in it.
From that day on, he did not know a minute of peace. He said goodbye forever to serene and joyful dreams. His life has completely changed. A persistent concern did not leave him. He avoided his brothers, his old friends, everyone. He wandered alone through the forest, thinking about the time when he would leave these places, go to Paris, exchange his gold, and then return and buy up all the land in their district, so that his acquaintances would burst with envy. He was already possessed by the demon of vanity.
But, despite the golden brand, Francois was poor and could not embark on the desired journey. Many years passed until he saved up money for the journey, pennie by penny.
He worked all day, helping his brothers, silently, never addressing them with a single word, and kept dreaming of future happiness, kept counting his savings, which he kept in a stocking, and for hours did not take his eyes off his treasure.
He was unable to save as much as he wanted and left his brothers to work with other coal miners who paid well.
III
And finally the long-awaited day has come.
Without saying goodbye to anyone, Francois left his native place, carrying his gold on his back, wrapped in old rags and tied with ropes.
Looking at this frail guy, pale, thin, seemingly frail and pathetic, no one would have believed that he was the owner of a large fortune.
He walked to Paris, moving from village to village, eating in Brittany only apples and chestnuts, which he picked under the trees, and further, beyond Brittany, grapes picked secretly in the vineyards, and ripe blackberries. He willingly enjoyed the hospitality of the peasants, who fed him out of compassion, deceived by his pitiful appearance. After long wanderings, one evening he saw in the distance the roofs of a great city. Soon, exhausted from fatigue, he entered the outskirts of Paris and began to look for shelter for the night.
The next morning he broke his gold brand into pieces and went to sell them to jewelers. He made a huge amount of money.
In the shop of a merchant, Francois took off his coal miner's dress and dressed in city clothes. New clothes and a pale face made him look like a noble gentleman.
He checked into a hotel and soon tasted all the pleasures that Paris offers people.
Possessing a rare mind, a beautiful and attractive appearance, and, moreover, scattering gold in handfuls, he very soon became close to noble people and acquired good manners. A whole retinue of new ‘friends’ made it easier for him to gain access to high society. All doors opened before him, and the Marquis de Compe - as he was now called - soon became a real nobleman, whom people fawned over, spoiled, and envied.
But all these successes, which he initially chased, quickly became boring to him. He was a Breton, and the memories of his homeland never left him.
In the midst of the most magnificent and cheerful feasts, the coal miner François thought about the tall trees of the Brosselyan forest, about the fields over which the aroma of blooming buckwheat floats, and often said to himself: “After all, I could have fun there, in my homeland, no worse than here, and feast with friends.”
IV
And then one fine morning, as usual, without saying goodbye to anyone, he left the ball, bought a horse and weapons - after all, in those days the roads were not as safe as they are now - and set off for Brittany.
The journey went well, and upon arrival Francois bought a magnificent castle in the vicinity of Ple-lan.
A fun life has begun. Nobles from all over the area were invited to the castle.
Packs of hounds poured into the castle courtyards. The sounds of horns were heard in the forest. Music was always ringing in the chambers of the castle.
Dinner parties, balls, hunting continuously replaced each other. There was no limit to extravagance, and only the poor remained forgotten and abandoned.
With this way of life, the Marquis de Compe's gold was noticeably melting, and besides, he decided to return by gambling the money that he had squandered so recklessly. It ruined him. He lost everything he still had.
After one feast, Francois lost every last penny in one night and again became the same beggar as in his youth.
The game was in full swing when they came to tell him that a fire had broken out in the castle's stables and could not be put out. But Francois was too passionate about the game. He wanted to win as quickly as possible so he could try his luck again. And in response he just shrugged his shoulders.
A few hours later, all the buildings became victims of fire; nothing could be saved.
When the fire destroyed everything, the guests went home, but none of them invited Francois to their place. His drinking companions now avoided him. The unfortunate man was left alone among the ruins and ashes.
He stayed there the whole day, completely absorbed in his misfortune. Hunger forced him to look for shelter somewhere. Only now did he remember that he had brothers, and headed towards the old hut.
Jean and Jacques lit a fire in the stove and sang as they worked.
Before this, they had seen the marquis several times when he rode on horseback with his pack of hounds, and found in him some resemblance to their younger brother. But it never occurred to them that it was he. However, when he entered the hut, they had no doubt that it was Francois, dressed like a nobleman.
“Brother,” they said, “you are apparently very rich: you have a castle, horses, dogs, the maintenance of which is probably more expensive than feeding all the peasants in our forest, and you have so many friends!”
“No, I’m not rich anymore,” Francois objected. “My castle burned down, my horses and dogs were sold, my money was spent, my friends left me.” I have nothing and I am dying of hunger and cold.
“Then share lunch with us and warm up by the fire,” said the coal miners, pointing to the hearth and to the pot of black bread. “There is always a place for the poor here.”
Francois satisfied his hunger and went to the fire, while the brothers continued to work.
This friendly welcome seemed to him more humiliating than the rudest refusal at the shelter. He suffered from the fact that his brothers were better off than him, and did not want to stay with them.
And, besides, he was completely unaccustomed to working and understood perfectly well that he could not stay with his brothers if he did not work with them.
- Eh! Come what may! I'll try my luck for the last time! - he said to himself. - I’ll go to the forest spirits in the Tresselenskaya clearing.
He waited until it was dark and left the hut.
V
Around midnight, the unfortunate marquis, struggling with fear, walked towards the clearing.
The weather was terrible, thunder roared, lightning streaked the sky.
As the first time, Francois saw multi-colored flames shining above the tops of the tallest trees.
The owls squawked ominously. Bats and nightjars glided over the bushes like shadows. It was summer—the time when frogs and toads, grasshoppers and crickets sing and chirp all night long. But that night they showed no signs of life. Only the wind rustled in the thicket, the larches sighed, the ferns trembled, the heather swayed - all nature moaned and complained.
The Marquis, gathering all his courage, moved forward.
Explosions of laughter, voices, and singing suddenly came from the thicket. And soon fairies surrounded the unfortunate man, dragged him into a clearing, and whirled him around in a frantic dance.
The God of the Oaks, seeing Francois, immediately recognized him and shouted in a terrible voice:
- Mortal, why did you come here?
Francois began to tell him the same story about the fire going out in the stove. But the old man interrupted him:
- I heard, I heard, I can’t believe it! However,” he added, chuckling, “now we’ll see if you’re telling the truth.” Place the spatula in the fire and try to pull out the firebrand.
Pale, with a wandering gaze, the poor fellow approached the fire, stuck a spatula into the fire and wanted to pull it back out. But he couldn't. It seemed as if some invisible force was holding her back.
His hands tensed convulsively. They seemed to have grown to the shoulder blade he was holding. The flame first licked the shoulder blade, then the hands of the unfortunate marquis, then engulfed him all. Screaming in terrible agony, he disappeared into the fire.
By morning, at dawn, the dancing stopped, the fairies disappeared, the flames went out, and only the charred corpse of the unfortunate Francois remained in the clearing.
Time passed, and the body became covered with bark; shoots of branches began to emerge from the bark, and now in this place there stands an old stunted tree, the branches of which touch the ground. It is called the "coal miner's tree."
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru