again assured me of my property.” In danger of losing a good, one commonly first learns to prize its worth. The beautiful Richilda had formerly often allowed years to pass without taking counsel of the mirror with regard to her beauty, now she let no day pass without doing so. She enjoyed, several times, the pleasure of bringing her figure as an offering to the idol; but one day, on drawing back the curtain,—oh! wonder upon wonder!—again there stood before her eyes in the mirror the form of the charming Blanche. At this sight, the jealous woman fell into a fainting-fit; but she quickly collected her energies, in order to investigate whether a false fancy had not deceived her; but she again received ocular demonstration.
She immediately brooded over a new wickedness. Sambul, the physician, was summoned, to whom the Countess said, in an angry tone, “Oh, thou shameful deceiver! thou rascally Jew! Dost thou despise my commands, that thou darest to mock me? Did I not command thee to prepare a pomegranate, that its enjoyment should kill, and thou hast put into it vital power and the balsam of health? Thy Jew’s beard and ears shall atone to me for this.” Sambul, the physician, terrified at this speech of his enraged mistress, answered and said, “Oh woe is me! What has happened? I know not, worshipful lady, how I have deserved your anger. What you commanded me I carefully performed; if the power has failed, I know not the reason.” The lady seemed somewhat softened, and continued, “This time I forgive thy failing, on condition that thou preparest a sweet-scented soap, which shall certainly accomplish what the pomegranate failed to do.” The physician promised to do his best, and she again put fifteen gold pieces into his pouch, and left him.
After the course of some days, the physician brought to the Countess the murderous composition; she immediately dressed her nurse, an old woman, as a pedler with hardware, gave her fine thread, needles, sweet-scented pomatums, smelling-bottles, and marble soap balls, with red and blue veins, in her box; bade her go to her daughter Blanche, put the poisoned ball into her hand; and for this she promised her great reward. This false woman came to the maiden, who suspected no deceit, allowed herself to be persuaded by the wicked talker to handle the soap, which would preserve the beauty of her skin to old age, and to make a trial of it without the knowledge of the duenna. The wicked stepmother, in the mean while, eagerly consulted the rusty mirror, and expected, from its condition, that her plot must have succeeded; the rust-spots had in one night spread themselves over the surface of the mirror, so that, at her inquiries, only an obscure shadow appeared on the surface, of which it was impossible to distinguish the form. The loss of the mirror went to her heart; still she believed what fame reported, that she was the first beauty in the land, and she did not think she had purchased it too dearly.
