From that time forward the world
flees him, as the water did Thalaba. A curse is on him, and from the very
terror at seeing him accidents are most likely to follow. Keep him from
your children, or they will break their legs, arms, or necks. Look not at
him from your carriage, or it will upset. Let him not see your wife when
she is _enceinte,_ or she will miscarry, or you will have a monster for a
son. Never invite him to a ball, unless you wish to see your chandelier
smash, or the floor give way. Invite him not to dinner, or your mushrooms
will poison you, and your fish will smell. If he wishes you _buon viaggio_,
abandon the journey, if you would return alive. Nor be deceived by his good
manners and kind heart. It is of no avail that he is amiable and good in
all his intentions,--his _jettatura_ is without and beyond his will,--nay,
worse, is contrary to it; for all _jettatura_ goes like dreams, by
contraries. Therefore shudder when he wishes you well, for he can do no
worse thing.
If you do not believe what I tell you, read the wonderful story of Count
----- which is told by Dumas in his "Corriccolo," and at least you will be
amused, if not convinced. Listen, however, to this one historical incident,
and believe it or not, as you please. Ferdinand of Naples died on the night
of the 3d of January, 1825, and was found dead in the morning. The
physicians attributed his death to a stroke of apoplexy; but that was in
consequence of their pretended science and real ignorance.
Pages:
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163