Once upon a time, a rich landowner lived in the province of Phennando. He loved to eat deliciously, he loved to sleep to his heart's content, but most of all he loved to listen to different stories. And the landowner had a daughter, a beautiful woman. Many worthy young men sought her hand in marriage, but the rich man refused everyone and did not want to give his daughter in marriage.
One day the landowner's servants came out of the house and hung a long piece of paper on the gate. And on that paper it was written:
Anyone who wants to marry my daughter, let him tell me three lies. If he makes me say “not true” three times, I’ll give him my daughter as a wife.
The old people read the paper and shook their heads: “You have to come up with something like that!” And the young men, those who dreamed of marrying the landowner’s daughter, began to invent stories. They made up all sorts of tall tales and went to the landowner.
We arrived at the house and entered a large room. They look: the owner is sitting in the middle of the room, smoking a long pipe. The young men bowed to him, the owner clapped his hands three times, and the competition began. The young men told different stories for a long time, but the landowner was never surprised.
So the young men told everything they had come up with, the landowner smiled.
“Well,” he says, “it seems that the groom for my daughter has not yet been born.”
Suddenly another young man came forward. His pants are old and his shirt is patched. The unsuccessful suitors looked at each other.
– Where else did this guy come from? -Who let him into the house?
And the young man approached the landowner, bowed and said:
“My name, sir, is Pak Dol, and I live in the Tiger Gorge.” I heard that you will give your daughter to someone who makes you say “not true” three times. So I came to try my luck.
Pak Dol sat down with his legs crossed and told the following story:
– It snows all winter here in the Tiger Gorge. He goes on and on until all the houses and roads are covered. This is how we live under the snow. And the poor birds have nowhere to go. They fly around uselessly - there is not a bush or a blade of grass around. And we will rake the snow by the window, pour grains into our palms, stick our hands out of the window and wait for the birds. As soon as a bird lands on our hand, we grab it. During the winter we catch so many pheasants and partridges that we feed on them for the rest of the year. And you, sir, spend your money and buy birds at the market. Better come to the Tiger Gorge, we’ll catch pheasants together.
- But you’re not telling the truth! - the landowner hit the pipe on the floor.
Park Dol laughed:
- Why not! Of course, I made it all up. He was silent for a while and began to talk further:
“We have never had a bad harvest in the Tiger Gorge. And all because we know how to take care of the fields.
The landowner smiled:
- Well, how do you look after them? My peasants are trying so hard, but if there is no harvest, they can’t do anything.
“Don’t interrupt me, sir,” Pak Dol answers calmly. – I’ll explain everything to you now. We plant rice in the Tiger Gorge, water it thoroughly, and then cover all the fields with large mats.
- Look, what are you thinking! – the landowner Pak Dol interrupted again. - Why cover the field with mats?
And Pak Dol doesn’t seem to hear the landowner, he knows what he says:
“So we cover the field with mats and wait for the rice to grow.” The stems grow and emerge through the holes into the light. Then the weeds grow, but the holes are already all occupied - it’s impossible for the weeds to crawl out of the ground. So they die, every single one. That’s why we never have weeds, and our rice grows without interference.
The landowner jumped up from his chair.
- Well, Pak Dol, you again...
The rich man almost escaped the forbidden word. It’s good that he bit his tongue in time. But Park Dol still doesn’t let up:
“We never thresh rice and we don’t know what a flail is.” We take the mat from four ends and lift it off the ground at once. A thin stalk will fit through the hole, but the grain, all as it is, will remain on the mat. Why don't your peasants do the same?
How the landowner will jump up here, how he will shout in his heart:
- This is not true, you lying man! – and immediately covered his mouth with his hand. I pressed it, but it was too late: everyone had heard the forbidden word.
And Pak Dol pulled out a bundle from his bosom, took out a long scroll from the bundle and said respectfully:
“My father found out that I was going to your house, and he gave me a scroll, and on the scroll it is written that your grandfather owed me three hundred liang. So I came to collect my debt.
The landowner turned purple with anger.
- This is not true! The landowner could not owe the peasant.
And that’s all Pak Dol needs.
He married a beauty, took her away from her father’s house, and they lived in peace and happiness until they were a hundred years old.
And their children grew up as smart and cheerful as Pak Dol.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru