Love in a Bottle Read Online Free PDF

justice by means of the pigs. The bad farmer’s pig had its tail twisted slightly, and no bacon or ham ever came from that pig, for by the autumn it was dead. If he made a baleful sign on a fruit tree, it would be impossible to rid it of caterpillars: the sign simply brought forth wave after wave of new ones. But where he left a favourable sign the tree would produce fine fruit, so lush you could hardly bear to sink your teeth into it. The bad farmer’s land he scattered with salt, and it became saline and produced nothing. Over the good man’s land he made a sign with his staff, whereupon the mice gave it a wide berth and hail never struck it. Thus he went from house to house, like a nocturnal bishop on his rounds.
    Meanwhile, in the intimate language of plighted lovers, the two of them built up their plans for their future life together. The was no doubt in the scholar’s mind that the miller would grant him his daughter’s hand, and he took itfor granted that he would be rich. He knew that out in the marshland there was a hidden treasure, guarded by black dogs. He was the only person who understood their tongue, and they would allow him access to it. They agreed that the house of Máté the scholar would be built directly opposite the mill. It would not be an ordinary house, but a tower with a flat roof, and on it the two of them would sit out, on evenings just like this, and smile as they talked about times past, when the scholar was still a vagrant wandering the highways and Ajándok was a young girl, playing with her dolls and too young for marriage. Their cows would have glass bells hanging from their necks; they would never have to shout at their servants—when summoned they would obey in perfect silence; Ajándok would walk on tiptoe round the bedroom, and the door wouldn’t squeak; when their saucepans banged together they would make music, and Mirók the kitten would sit in pride of place on a tower of cushions. Their front door would be forever open, and all sorts of vagrants would come and stay with them, but because of these visitors they would often not leave the house for weeks, and on Sundays they would do nothing but just sit there gazing at each other, and Ajándok would say: “See, here I am at home, the children are growing up, and when my beloved comes back they will be as tall as he is,” and Máté the scholar would add: “See, here I am at home. The country roads were bumpy and hard going, but now the earth has grown soft and rich, the highways are behind me, and I can rest.”
    Thus, in a shared waking dream, they built their house of air: the vagrant looking to have a roof over his head and hisbetrothed, the child Ajándok; and both believed they really would live in it. Confidently they made their way through the sleeping village, and the scholar brought blushes from his bride’s cheek by talking of the little one they would one day have. His hair would be blond, like his mother’s. He would not come into the world, as his father had, with all his teeth full-grown: in fact he wouldn’t be like him at all, but calm and church-going, and the blessing of the holy water of baptism would shine on his brow for ever. The old ladies of the village would dandle him on their knees, and angels would sing to him. He would be truly beautiful, the king of all his little companions.
    In the heart of the village, just outside the church, they stopped, Máté the scholar and Ajándok, to exchange tokens. Ajándok was still too young to own a beautiful embroidered scarf, so she simply gave him the ribbon she tied in the hair of Faraj her doll.
    â€œBut what can I give you, Ajándok? I had a veil, made of gossamer, which I once bought from a peddler who was two hundred years old, and other little knick-knacks too, but I used the gossamer to bind a wound, and I gave the knick-knacks away in one place or another on my way here, before I