In Lain-au-Bois, not far from the large city of Troyes, lived a rich curé, that is, a priest. Almost all the lands of the wide plain belonged to him. Shepherds grazed his sheep there. And the forests on the High Hills were his too, and, believe me, the woodcutters did not have to complain that they did not have enough work. So you yourself probably guessed that this curate had money, and a lot of it.
He should live and be happy, but no, suspicion overcame him. He didn’t trust anyone and hid his money in an old pot, and buried the pot in the cabbage beds in the garden.
The priest had a servant, an honest and cheerful girl, and a young man often came to visit her - probably her fiancé.
And then one day the curate received new money for selling the wood and decided to add it to what was lying in an old pot in the cabbage patch. He waited for the dark night, dug up the earth in the right place, lifted the heavy lid from the pot and... bit his tongue so as not to curse. Holy fathers are not supposed to use bad words, you know. But how could one not express it if the pot turned out to be empty! Not otherwise, the thief was here.
The next morning the priest called the maid to him and asked sternly:
- Where is your friend?
— Left early in the morning for Troyes!
- Let him come back, otherwise it will be worse!
- It’s absolutely impossible, Monsieur curé. He left on business. What happened?
“And then... then...” the curé hesitated, “that cabbage disappeared from my garden.”
- Oh, they would have said that right away! I cut it off last night to pickle it, otherwise it would freeze.
- And your sweetheart helped you?
- Why not! There's no way I could have done it alone. And so we worked in the garden until dark, and when we were about to leave, I also noticed by the fence - in the very place where there was a big hole, you know? - our neighbor the shoemaker. “And what is he doing here in such darkness?” - I still thought.
- So, you say, a shoemaker? Call him to me!
“Oh, this damned hole in the wall! - thought the priest. - It’s true that through her the shoemaker saw me hiding the money in the pot and stole it. The scoundrel didn’t leave me a broken crown!”
When the shoemaker appeared, Monsieur curé asked him:
- How are you, neighbor?
- Better than ever! - answered the shoemaker.
“What an impudent fellow!” - thought the priest, but did not show that he was angry, but said politely, in a friendly way:
“Tell you what, friend: I need a pair of shoes, strong and comfortable, otherwise I often have to go to the bishop in Troyes.” I’ll tell you a secret: he entrusted me with buying him some land in our area.
- You will have shoes! - the shoemaker promised. “I’ll get to work today.”
- Thank you! Or maybe you need money in advance to buy leather? Don't be shy, tell me!
But the shoemaker had a lot of leather, and two days later he brought shoes to the priest. Never before had the priest had such a strong, comfortable and beautiful pair! He quickly put them on and walked to the city of Troyes to see the bishop. Or maybe some other place.
When he returned, the shoemaker met him at the threshold and asked:
- Well, are you happy with your shoes?
- I’m so happy, I didn’t even notice the road.
— How does Mr. Bishop feel?
- Not bad, not bad. So he gave me money so that I could buy a better plot of land for him. - And the priest showed the shoemaker a heavy bag, and who knows what was in it? - Just shhh, don’t say a word to anyone!
But I must tell you that while the priest was going to Troyes or some other place, the shoemaker ran into the garden and put back what he had taken. The next night he decided to return and then take all the money - both the curate's and the bishop's. What a cunning one!
But for every cunning man there is a cunning man!
That same night, Monsieur curé ran to his garden, dug up an old pot and took out his expensive money from it. And instead of them he put a bunch of thistles.
The next night, the shoemaker, as planned, went to visit the treasured pot. And yet I found him in the same place! But there was no more money there than in my wallet now. And instead of them, you already know what he found. And although he did not eat the thistle, he really looked like a donkey. Or stupid, whichever you prefer.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru