THE GREEDY GEESE
FROM IL LIBRO D'ORO (ADAPTED)
Many years ago there was near the sea a convent
famed for the rich crops of grain that grew on its
farm. On a certain year a large flock of wild geese
descended on its fields and devoured first the
corn, and then the green blades.
The superintendent of the farm hastened to
the convent and called the lady abbess.
``Holy mother,'' said he, ``this year the nuns will
have to fast continually, for there will be no food.''
``Why is that?'' asked the abbess.
``Because,'' answered the superintendent, ``a
flood of wild geese has rained upon the land, and
they have eaten up the corn, nor have they left a
single green blade.''
``Is it possible,'' said the abbess, ``that these
wicked birds have no respect for the property of
the convent! They shall do penance for their
misdeeds. Return at once to the fields, and order
the geese from me to come without delay to the
convent door, so that they may receive just punishment
for their greediness.''
``But, mother,'' said the superintendent, ``this
is not a time for jesting! These are not sheep to
be guided into the fold, but birds with long, strong
wings, to fly away with.''
``Do you understand me!'' answered the abbess.
``Go at once, and bid them come to me
without delay, and render an account of their
misdeeds.''
The superintendent ran back to the farm, and
found the flock of evildoers still there. He raised
his voice and clapping his hands, cried:--
``Come, come, ye greedy geese! The lady abbess
commands you to hasten to the convent
door!''
Wonderful sight! Hardly had he uttered these
words than the geese raised their necks as if to
listen, then, without spreading their wings, they
placed themselves in single file, and in regular
order began to march toward the convent. As
they proceeded they bowed their heads as if confessing
their fault and as though about to receive
punishment.
Arriving at the convent, they entered the
courtyard in exact order, one behind the other,
and there awaited the coming of the abbess. All
night they stood thus without making a sound, as
if struck dumb by their guilty consciences. But
when morning came, they uttered the most pitiful
cries as though asking pardon and permission to
depart.
Then the lady abbess, taking compassion on
the repentant birds, appeared with some nuns
upon a balcony. Long she talked to the geese,
asking them why they had stolen the convent
grain. She threatened them with a long fast, and
then, softening, began to offer them pardon if
they would never again attack her lands, nor eat
her corn. To which the geese bowed their heads
low in assent. Then the abbess gave them her
blessing and permission to depart.
Hardly had she done so when the geese, spreading
their wings, made a joyous circle above the
convent towers, and flew away. Alighting at some
distance they counted their number and found
one missing. For, alas! in the night, when they
had been shut in the courtyard, the convent cook,
seeing how fat they were, had stolen one bird and
had killed, roasted, and eaten it.
When the birds discovered that one of their
number was missing, they again took wing and,
hovering over the convent, they uttered mournful
cries, complaining of the loss of their comrade,
and imploring the abbess to return him to the
flock.
Now, when the lady abbess heard these
melancholy pleas, she assembled her household, and
inquired of each member where the bird might be.
The cook, fearing that it might be already known
to her, confessed the theft, and begged for pardon.
``You have been very audacious,'' said the
abbess, ``but at least collect the bones and bring
them to me.''
The cook did as directed, and the abbess at a
word caused the bones to come together and to
assume flesh, and afterwards feathers, and, lo! the
original bird rose up.
The geese, having received their lost companion,
rejoiced loudly, and, beating their wings
gratefully, made many circles over the sacred
cloister, before they flew away. Neither did they
in future ever dare to place a foot on the lands of
the convent, nor to touch one blade of grass.
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