The Story of Blanche and Vermilion

THERE was once upon a time a widow, a very good kind of woman, who had two daughters, both very amiable. The elder was called “Blanche” and the younger “Vermilion.” They had received these names because one of them had the fairest complexion that was ever seen, and the other had cheeks and lips as red as coral.

One day, as the good woman was seated near the door of her cottage spinning, she perceived a poor old woman who could hardly hobble along with the assistance of her stick. “You appear to be very much tired, my good woman,” said the widow; “sit down here and rest yourself awhile”; and she then desired one of her daughters to fetch her a chair. Both of them immediately rose, but Vermilion outran her sister and brought the chair.

“Will you please to drink?” said the good old dame to the old woman. “With all my heart,” answered she; “and I feel even as if I could eat a little if you could give me a bit of something nice.” “You shall be welcome to anything that I have,” said the good widow; “but, as I am poor, it will be nothing out of the common way.” At the same time she desired her daughters to lay the table for the good old dame, who straightway seated herself at it.

The widow then told the elder daughter to go and gather some plums from a tree that she had planted herself, and was very fond of. Blanche, instead of obeying her mother willingly, murmured, and said to herself, “So it is for this old gormandizer that I have been so very careful of my plum tree.” She, however, dared not refuse to fetch a few plums, but she gave them with much reluctance and very ungraciously. “You, Vermilion,” said the good woman to her younger daughter, “have no fruit to give to this good dame, for your grapes are not ripe.” “That’s true,” said Vermilion; “but I hear my hen cackling, so she must have laid an egg, and if the gentlewoman would like a new-laid egg she is very welcome to it”; and without waiting for any answer from the old woman, she ran off to seek her egg. The moment she presented it, however, the old woman disappeared and was replaced by a beautiful lady who said to the mother: “I am about to recompense your two daughters according to their deserts. The elder shall become a great queen, and the younger a farmer’s wife.” With these words she struck the house with her wand; it disappeared, and in its place rose a nice, snug-looking farm. “That is your portion,” said she to Vermilion. “I know that I have given each of you what you like best.” Having thus said, the fairy departed; and the good woman and her two daughters remained in great surprise.