«Aren’t you very much afraid?»
«Wouldn’t do me any good, would it?»
The Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood in «The Company of Wolves»
In a village there lived a little country girl, the prettiest creature that ever was seen. Her mother was excessively fond of her, and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had made for her a little red riding-hood, which suited her so well that she would never wear anything else. So she was always called «Little Red Riding-Hood».
One day, her mother said to her, «Come, my dear. Here is a loaf of fresh bread and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother. I hear she has been ill and weak, and they will do her good. Go carefully, and keep the basket steady, lest you fall and break the bottle. And be home before dark.»
The grandmother lived deep in the wood, a good hour’s walk from the village. Just as Little Red Riding-Hood had entered the wood and passed within sight of a few woodcutters, a wolf caught sight of the red hood. He had not eaten for three days, so he went up to meet her.
«Good day, Little Red Riding-Hood,» he said.
«Thank you kindly, wolf.»
«Are you going into the forest for a picnic?» asked the wolf politely, pointing to her basket, in which lay the wine and bread.
«Oh, no, I am going to see my grandmother. She has been ill and weak and it will do her good.»
«The widow by the river?» asked the wolf. «I passed her chimney this morning, but there was no smoke.»
«No, not by the river, but by the three oaks, almost an hour from here — the cottage beyond the hazel clearing.»
«Ah, yes,» said the wolf. «But why don’t you pick a few flowers for her as well? That gift would brighten any grandmother’s day.»
The wolf pointed to the flowers blooming in patches beyond the path. When Little Red Riding-Hood looked around, the forest seemed more beautiful than ever: the soft rushing of the wind in the leaves, the steady chop of the woodcutters’ axes, the smell of green things, the light shining through the branches, and the sheer majesty of it all.
«Why, yes, a fresh nosegay would please her well, and it is early in the day. I shall still get there in good time,» she said with a smile. The wolf smiled back and watched her as she carefully put her basket down. Then she went to look for flowers. Whenever she had picked one, she fancied that she saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it.
After a while, she looked around to thank the wolf for the idea, but he was nowhere to be seen. ‹He must be on an errand as well,› she thought. Then she turned again to the flowers.
Meanwhile, the wolf had run straight to the grandmother’s house and knocked at the door.
«Who is there?»
«It is your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood,» replied the wolf, counterfeiting her voice. «I have brought you a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine, which will do you good.»
«Pull the bobbin, and the latch will rise. I am weak and cannot get up,» said the grandmother.
The wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. Once inside, he fell upon the old woman and, in his great hunger, swallowed her whole. Afterward, he shut the door, put on her clothes and her cap, drew the curtains and lay down in her bed.
Little Red Riding-Hood, however, had been picking flowers. Only when she had gathered so many that she could carry no more did she think again of her grandmother and her errand. Then she took up her basket and resumed her way. When she reached the house, she knocked at the door — tap, tap.
«Who is there?»
Little Red Riding-Hood, hearing the rough voice of the wolf, was at first afraid. But then she remembered that her grandmother was ill and weak, and told herself that sickness must have made her voice rough. So she answered:
«Your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood. I have brought you a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine, which will do you good.»
The wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could:
«Pull the bobbin, and the latch will rise. I am weak and cannot get up.»
Little Red Riding-Hood pulled the bobbin, and the door opened. When she went inside, the cottage lay in deep shadow, its curtains drawn. She had such a strange feeling that she thought, ‹Oh, how uneasy I feel today! At other times I like being with Grandmother so much.›
But then she thought, ‹She has been ill for a long while. No wonder the house is dark, and I must not trouble her with foolish fears.›
So she called out, «Good morning, Grandmother.»
The wolf, hiding himself under the bedclothes, said to her:
«Put the wine and the bread upon the stool, and come nearer to my bed.»
Little Red Riding-Hood went to the bed, her unease growing with every step, yet still unwilling to trouble her sick grandmother with her fears. There lay her grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, looking very strange.
«Oh! Grandmother, what big ears you have!» she said when she reached the foot of the bed.
«The better to hear you with, my child,» was the reply.
«But, Grandmother, what big eyes you have!» she said and took a step closer.
«The better to see you with, my dear.»
«But, Grandmother, what large hands you have!» she said when she reached the middle of the bed.
«The better to hug you with.»
«Oh! But, Grandmother, what a terribly big mouth you have!» she said when she reached the head of the bed.
«The better to eat you with!»
Scarcely had the wolf said this when, with one bound, he was out of bed and swallowed Little Red Riding-Hood.
possible continuation
When the wolf had satisfied his appetite, he lay down again in the warm bed, stretched himself, and fell asleep. Soon he began to snore very loudly.
The huntsman was just passing the house and thought to himself, ‹How loudly the old woman snores. Something might be amiss.›
So he entered the cottage, and when he came to the bed, he saw that the wolf was lying in it.
‹So here you are, you old beast,› he thought grimly.
Just as he was about to shoot the wolf through the heart, he saw something move in its belly. He crept closer and listened. Hearing a faint sound within, he took careful aim at the wolf’s head and shot him dead.
Then he took his hunting knife and carefully cut open the stomach of the dead wolf.
When he had made two cuts, he saw the little red hood shining. Then he made two more cuts, and the little girl sprang out, crying, «Ah, how frightened I was! How dark it was inside the wolf.»
Her beautiful red riding-hood was torn and covered in dark stains. After that, the aged grandmother came out alive as well, though scarcely able to breathe. Both were relieved that they were alive and the wolf was dead.
After receiving many thanks from Little Red Riding-Hood and the grandmother, the huntsman drew off the wolf’s skin and took it home.
While the grandmother ate the bread and drank the wine to revive herself, Little Red Riding-Hood mended her hood. First, she carefully washed it. Then she stitched the tears with needle and thread. As the stains faded without quite disappearing and the tears became seams, she thought about the wolf, the path through the forest, and her grandmother’s house.
possible continuation
Some weeks later, Little Red Riding-Hood was once again carrying bread and wine to her grandmother. On the way through the forest, another wolf spoke to her.
He, too, was exceedingly polite and charming and suggested another fine gift for her grandmother. There were berries beyond the birches, he told her, sweeter than any in the village.
But when he smiled, her stomach tightened. She remembered the seams in her hood and the places where the stains had never quite come out. So she kept her distance. When he guessed at her errand and her grandmother’s dwelling, she said nothing, lest her corrections tell him what his guesses had not. His smile faded, and he looked at her as though she had wronged him. For a moment she felt impolite, but she let him think what he pleased.
As soon as he was out of sight, she ran to her grandmother’s cottage.
Nearly breathless, she told her grandmother about the wolf and how her stomach had tightened when he smiled, although they had been standing on the main path.
«Well,» said the grandmother, «we will shut the door, so that he may not come in.»
Soon afterward, the wolf knocked and cried, «Open the door, Grandmother. I am Little Red Riding-Hood and have brought you some food.»
But they neither spoke nor opened the door, so the wolf prowled twice or thrice around the house and at last jumped onto the roof. There he meant to watch until Little Red Riding-Hood went home in the evening, and then creep after her and devour her in the darkness.
But inside, Little Red Riding-Hood and her grandmother heard the wolf walking on the roof. So the grandmother said to the child, «Make a fire beneath the large cauldron. I made some sausages yesterday, and the water in which I boiled them is still there. Then stand beside the fireplace with this iron pin and fasten the grating when I give the word.»
Once the fire was burning, Little Red Riding-Hood stood ready beside the fireplace, while her grandmother stood on the other side. Before long, the water began to steam, and the smell of sausage rose through the chimney.
When the smell reached the wolf, he sniffed and looked around. Soon he put his muzzle into the chimney and drew a deep breath. The smell made his mouth water and his stomach rumble.
When he saw the coarse throat of the chimney and the cauldron below, he grinned, thinking he had found another way into the house. Nimbly, he entered the chimney and crept down. But when the chimney grew wider, he lost his grip and fell into the cauldron with a great splash.
Quickly, the grandmother pulled a lever, and a heavy iron grating fell over the cauldron. Little Red Riding-Hood locked it with the pin. The wolf thrashed beneath the grating as the scalding water filled his lungs and boiled him alive until at last he moved no more.
When all was still, the grandmother unbarred the door, and Little Red Riding-Hood took up her basket. Thus she went home unmolested before dusk.
The Story of Grandmother
There was once a woman who was baking bread. She said to her daughter, «Take this hot loaf of bread and this bottle of milk to your grandmother.»
So the little girl set off. At a fork in the road, she met the bzou, who said to her:
«Where are you going?»
«I’m taking a hot loaf of bread and a bottle of milk to my grandmother.»
«Which path are you taking?» asked the bzou. «The path of needles or the path of pins?»
«The path of needles,» said the little girl.
«Well, then, I’ll take the path of pins.»
The little girl amused herself by picking up needles.
Meanwhile, the bzou reached Grandmother’s house, killed her, put some of her flesh in the pantry, and placed a bottle of her blood on the shelf.
The little girl arrived and knocked at the door.
«Push the door open,» said the bzou. «It’s fastened with a wet straw.»
«Good day, Grandmother. I’ve brought you a hot loaf of bread and a bottle of milk.»
«Put them in the pantry, my child. Eat some of the meat you find there, and drink some wine from the bottle on the shelf.»
As she ate and drank, a little cat kept saying:
«Phew! What a filthy slut — eating her grandmother’s flesh and drinking her blood!»
«Take off your clothes, my child,» said the bzou, «and come lie down beside me.»
«Where should I put my apron?»
«Throw it into the fire, my child. You have no need of it anymore.»
And with every piece of clothing — her bodice, her dress, her petticoat, and her stockings — she asked him where she should put it.
And the bzou always answered, «Throw it into the fire, my child. You have no need of it anymore.»
When she was in bed, the little girl said:
«Oh, Grandmother, how hairy you are!»
«The better to keep myself warm, my child!»
«Oh, Grandmother, what long nails you have!»
«The better to scratch myself with, my child!»
«Oh, Grandmother, what broad shoulders you have!»
«The better to carry my bundle of firewood with, my child!»
«Oh, Grandmother, what big ears you have!»
«The better to hear you with, my child!»
«Oh, Grandmother, what a big mouth you have!»
«The better to eat you with, my child!»
«Oh, Grandmother, I need to go outside!»
«Do it in the bed, my child!»
«Oh no, Grandmother. I want to go outside.»
«Very well, but don’t be long.»
The bzou tied a woolen thread around her foot and let her go. Once the little girl was outside, she tied the end of the thread to a plum tree in the yard.
The bzou grew impatient and called, «Are you making cord out there? Are you making cord?»
When he realized that no one was answering, he leaped out of bed and saw that the little girl had escaped. He chased after her, but he reached her house just as she was going inside.
Notes
- A «bzou» is a wolfish or werewolf-like creature in the regional tradition.
- «Making cord» is a scatological joke — the bzou is asking why she is taking so long to relieve herself.