The Fisherman and His Wife

Once upon a time there was a fisherman who lived with his wife in a poor little shack close by the sea. Every day he went out fishing, and he fished and he fished.

One day he sat with his line, gazing down into the clear water, and he sat and he sat. All at once the line went down, deep down below, and when he pulled it up again he had hooked a great flounder. And the flounder spoke to him. "Listen, fisherman," it said, "please let me live. I am no ordinary fish — I am an enchanted prince. What good would it do you to keep me? I would not even taste right. Put me back in the water and let me swim away." "Well," said the man, "there's no need to say so much about it. A fish that can talk — I would have let you go anyway." And he put the flounder back into the clear water, and it sank down, leaving a thin trail behind it. Then the fisherman got up and went home to his wife.

"Husband," said the wife, "did you catch nothing today?" "No," said the man. "I did catch a flounder, but he told me he was an enchanted prince, so I let him go again." "Didn't you wish for anything first?" said the wife. "No," said the man. "What should I have wished for?" "Ah," said the wife, "it's a hard thing, always living in this dirty little shack — it stinks and it's miserable. You could have wished us a cottage. Go back and call him. Tell him we'd like a little cottage. He's sure to give us one." The man didn't much want to go, but he didn't want to argue with his wife either, so he went down to the sea.

When he got there the water was green and yellow, no longer clear. He stood and called:

*Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I pray you, up to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wants what is against my will.*

The flounder came swimming up. "Well, what does she want?" "Ah," said the man, "I did catch you, and now my wife says I ought to have wished for something. She doesn't want to live in the shack anymore. She'd like a cottage." "Go home," said the flounder. "She already has it."

So the man went home, and the shack was gone. In its place stood a little cottage, with his wife sitting on a bench by the door. "Come and see," she said, taking his hand. Inside was a cosy sitting room, a bedroom, a kitchen with pots and pans, and outside a yard with hens and ducks, and a small garden. "Isn't this lovely?" said the wife. "Yes," said the man, "now we'll be quite content." "We'll see about that," said the wife. And they ate their supper and went to bed.

For a week or two all went well. Then the wife said, "Husband, this cottage is too cramped, and the garden's too small. The flounder could easily have given us more. I'd like to live in a big stone castle. Go and ask him." "Ah, wife," said the man, "the cottage is good enough. Why would we need a castle?" But she would not let it rest, and at last, with a heavy heart, he went.

The sea now was purple and dark blue and grey, though still calm. He called:

*Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I pray you, up to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wants what is against my will.*

"Well, what does she want?" "She wants a great stone castle." "Go home; she's standing at the door already."

And there she was, on the steps of a splendid stone castle, with servants throwing open the doors, golden furniture, crystal chandeliers, tables laden with the finest food, and behind the house stables and gardens and a park full of deer. "Isn't it beautiful?" said the wife. "Yes," said the man, "now surely we'll be content." "We'll see," said she.

The next morning, waking early, she looked out at all the land and poked her husband awake. "Couldn't we be king over all this? Go to the flounder — I want to be king." "Ah, wife, why would you want that?" But she insisted, and grieved, he went.

The sea was dark grey now, and the water heaved and smelled foul. He called the rhyme again, and the flounder answered, "Go home; she's king already."

At the palace, soldiers stood with trumpets and drums, and inside, his wife sat on a golden throne wearing a crown, a jeweled sceptre in her hand. "Now I am king," she said. "How fine," said the man. But soon she grew restless. "I can't bear sitting still. Go tell the flounder I must be emperor now." "Wife, there's only one emperor in the land — he cannot make that so." But she would not be refused, and off he went, uneasy, thinking, *this will not end well.*

The sea was black now, and churning, with a sharp wind whipping the waves. He called out, and the flounder said, "Go home; she's emperor already."

The whole palace gleamed with marble and gold; dukes and counts stood about as servants; his wife sat upon a towering golden throne, a great crown on her head, ranks of guards on either side. "Now I am emperor," she said. "How fine," said the man. But that same day she said, "Now I want to be pope. Go to the flounder." "Wife, there is only one pope in all the world!" But she would not hear him, and afraid, he went.

That evening the wind tore at the land, ships fired distress guns on a boiling sea, and only a small patch of blue sky remained amid the red and storm. He called the flounder once more, and it said, "Go home; she's pope already."

There she sat in golden robes, three crowns upon her head, candles burning by the thousand, kings and emperors kneeling to kiss her slipper. "Now I am pope," she said, stiff and unmoving, as though she looked straight into the sun. "Now surely you'll be content," said the man. "I'll think about it," said she — and that night, though he slept soundly from all his running about, she lay awake, restless, wondering what more there could possibly be.

At dawn she saw the sun rising through the window, and a terrible thought came to her. "Husband," she said, shaking him awake, "I want to make the sun and moon rise myself. I want to be like God." The man was so frightened he fell out of bed. "Wife, be reasonable — the flounder cannot do that. He gave you king, emperor, pope — stay as you are, I beg you." But she flew into a fury, and screamed at him until, trembling, he pulled on his clothes and ran out into a storm such as he had never seen — trees torn up, boulders rolling into the sea, the sky black, the waves rising like mountains crowned with white foam. Barely able to stand, he cried out:

*Flounder, flounder in the sea, come, I pray you, up to me; for my wife, good Ilsabil, wants what is against my will.*

"Well, what does she want now?" asked the flounder. "She wants to be like God," said the man, hardly able to speak. "Go home," said the flounder. "She's sitting in the dirty old shack again."

And there they are sitting, to this very day.