The Mystery of The Marvel Oil
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A little village in the heart of France had a great curiosity; they were always curious to know about what was going on outside their village. They knew very well that there lived other villages not much larger than theirs, where all sorts of things went on that they would rather be ignorant of.
But as the old proverb says “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise,” so they kept silent and made a point of never asking questions about any of this strange news or gossip that came from the neighboring places—even though it often reached them in such an interesting form.
And when once they learned of something which might affect their village, they immediately took steps to learn more about it. When they heard that some strange personage had arrived somewhere and seemed interested in one of their young women, the whole population hurried at once to hear who she was and how she felt about him.
This sort of thing happened every few years—for the people of the country are like children, they always feel that there must be something new happening somewhere. In this way each time something unusual did occur in another place, the inhabitants of this village got an inkling of it long before it ever reached anyone else.
One day a traveling salesman passed through the village. He sold patent medicines, patent medicines for eyes, teeth, skin, digestion, nerves, lungs, liver, spleen, kidneys, and heart. He also sold patent foodstuffs which he called “the best in the world,” but which most people found no better than any of the other common foods.
The villagers thought him rather odd because whenever he stopped, instead of buying his goods, everyone would give him money and ask him to come back again soon. He was quite happy about this, as it meant that he didn’t have to travel with his goods; and besides, the people gave him a good welcome wherever he went.
On hearing this story, many people thought that their village might be visited by this same peculiar visitor. They wondered if their womenfolk would get as much attention from him as the other young woman had done.
So when they heard about a certain girl living far away, who was being given special treatment by someone who had arrived in her home village and paid a visit to her father, they began to look at their young girls differently. Some were rather pleased, for now, that they knew what might happen, they could take steps beforehand to prevent any awkwardness.
Others, however, looked at these precautions with suspicion—as they suspected that the real reason was simply that those concerned wanted to make sure of getting rid of the unwanted visitors.
As soon as they learned of this strange visitor, the people of the village discussed him over and over again. One man remarked: “It’s lucky we’ve only seen him at a distance. If we’d known him better, we probably wouldn’t have been able to control ourselves.” “He’ll be here soon,” said another.
“I’ve already noticed that our girls are looking very sweet, as though they want us to notice them. I expect he wants to pay his respects to our girls too.” “If we’re to see him properly,” another observed, “we must go into the fields early tomorrow morning. We’ll meet him as soon as he comes out of the forest.”
“And then?” asked a third. “We should wait till after he has gone to his hotel in town and dined with his friends—then we can follow him. That will allow us to find out how much of the village he has seen and where he goes afterward.”
“Well, let’s plan ahead,” decided the first speaker. “You know, I think we ought to do exactly as this young man does. Let us each send one of our daughters to see him as if it was just as natural as anything else. I’m sure it won’t cause any great surprise.
After all, what is so remarkable about this fellow coming down our roads in search of pretty girls? He must have some business to do somewhere. Perhaps he doesn’t even know that we exist or where to find us.”
Several men laughed—but others felt a little uneasy; they remembered that this was the same young man who was giving the girls who lived in the village the most extraordinary treatment. He was very friendly and seemed to understand everything they said and did—even without talking to them directly.
They also knew that the other villages around them were discussing their village and laughing behind their backs at the way that the young people behaved toward him.
“Let us plan this carefully,” proposed the first speaker. “There are two of us who live in the town nearest this place. Tomorrow night I shall send my daughter along to the inn where this strange gentleman stays. She is a fine-looking girl and can make herself appear as innocent as a maiden.
Then, having arranged for his arrival at our inn—or perhaps at one of our houses instead, depending upon how things work out—she can pretend to fall asleep on his lap while she plays with his hair. We’ll say that we couldn’t resist doing something like that with such a handsome guest.”
This idea caused general amusement among the men of the village. But several women, particularly the mothers of the girls concerned, expressed their doubts about it. They didn’t see how a girl, even if she really was attractive, could sleep on the lap of an adult male. This kind of thing would be quite improper behavior.
Besides, they felt sure that the stranger would never behave in such a manner. He was more likely to treat young ladies with courtesy and respect and not try to put himself forward in any way. They feared that their daughters’ reputations would suffer greatly if anyone realized that they had fallen victim to his seductions.
They suggested that instead of sending their girls off to the inn, they should arrange for them to accompany him in turn into the woods. There, if he chose to show interest in any of the girls, at least there would be someone present to protect them from the worst consequences.
The fathers of the girls agreed that this made sense—so they set aside one afternoon for the girls to practice walking down paths and across bridges in the forest so that they would be prepared when he came. In case anyone tried to interfere with them, the girls were instructed to keep quiet and act as though nothing unusual was happening.
When they returned, no one mentioned anything to suggest that they had been in contact with a stranger or had slept on any man’s lap.
After this, the young man arrived in the village. The men met him outside the forest and escorted him to their inn. As he entered, the men stood back. His appearance startled everyone. For a moment, no one knew what to say or do. No one expected to meet a young person dressed like that in their ordinary streets.
Even the women, who knew better than to laugh at their daughters, found themselves staring. It was the first time many of them had ever laid eyes on anything resembling a gentleman. Their daughters appeared to understand his intentions immediately because he looked straight at them and spoke to them first before he went to the men.
“Good evening!” said the young man politely. “I am glad you are here! Please excuse my abrupt entry into your village but I was told that this was the best inn.”
The men exchanged glances. This young fellow was far too polite. It sounded as though he was speaking in an official capacity rather than simply greeting a group of strangers. They decided to let it pass—they had no time to waste on questions.
“Thank you for your kindness,” replied one man. “We have heard rumors about your arrival—how did you come by those wonderful garments? Where did you get the horses?”
“It is a long story,” answered the young man. “Perhaps later you will be able to tell me how it happened that you have all these lovely daughters?”
All of the girls smiled and blushed; they were thrilled that a gentleman should take an interest in them.
“I suppose we shall hear about them another time,” said another of the men. “Now, please, allow us to give you a comfortable room for tonight. And tomorrow morning I promise to introduce you properly to every resident of the village.”
“Your hospitality is much appreciated,” responded the young man. “I thank you all.” He turned to go inside when a voice stopped him.
“Wait!” A mother stepped forward. “Please forgive us for intruding. But you are welcome to our house—our daughter has not yet seen you.”
She was quite pretty, her hair cut short in a bob and tied with ribbons. Her face wore a gentle expression and her eyes sparkled; she was obviously nervous at being the first of the young women to offer herself so openly but she did manage a smile.
She led the way into a large room where several of the girls waited expectantly, each wearing something that indicated they had gone down into the cellar that day to select whatever fruit was left on the vine. Most of these things were in baskets. One girl, however, was wearing a hat decorated with a cluster of grapes. Another girl’s garment showed a small bunch of apples on her breast.
“I’ve made myself ready,” said this one shyly. “My parents don’t mind. If I’m going to be married, they want me to look my best.”
Her name was Marie. She was fifteen years old and had lived most of her life in the village. Although her family had been wealthy, her father died when she was very young. Since then, she and her mother had supported themselves by selling fruit.
They had worked hard all year round so that Marie could attend school for two mornings a week. Now she intended to study further but couldn’t afford the expense until she reached eighteen.
Marie had always loved to read—her favorite books included novels and plays written by the greatest writers of the nineteenth century. These were the only things that had given her any escape from the reality of the village. Now she would see the man who inspired their stories—the hero who rescued the maiden from the dragon’s castle.
She had hoped that he might visit her village someday but she had never imagined that it would happen so quickly and under such strange circumstances.
“Hello, Marie,” said the young man. “What can we offer you today?”
He was handsome, with dark eyes and curly brown hair. He wore his clothing as casually as possible; his trousers had a frayed hem, his shirt was wrinkled and his vest hung untucked over his waistcoat. He was barefoot and carried a heavy walking staff. His manners impressed Marie and she felt a sudden desire to know more about him.
“You may have anything!” she said quickly. “But I must warn you—” She hesitated briefly, then added, “If there is anything too exotic, my mother will make certain I donned gloves. She says she doesn’t want her hands to suffer.”
As Marie explained, her mother came into the room with several other mothers. The group seemed quite amused but none of the fathers appeared to notice. Marie and her mother both looked around and noticed that the young man was alone except for two of the younger children. “Are those your nieces or nephews?” asked Marie curiously.
“Yes, they are,” said the young man.
“Do they play together nicely?” inquired the mother. “They are both boys and so cute!”
The boy nearest to the young man was a little taller than the rest of the youngsters, maybe nine years old. He was dressed in a fine suit—the finest clothes anyone had ever owned in the village. His head was freshly shaven and his eyes were bright but tired looking.
“This is John,” said Marie’s mother, gesturing toward the oldest child. “And this is William. Their names mean ‘blessing’ and ‘wisdom.'”
Marie and her mother glanced at each other in surprise; they knew this could not be so since all of the names of these children had been chosen months before. In fact, all of the children’s names were unusual but there had been no need for explanations.
Everyone accepted this because their parents had decided. As far as anybody remembered, they had always agreed on naming the children. They were all happy with the outcome of their decision, so why should anything have changed?
John spoke up: “Well, you’ve blessed yourself,” he said cheerfully. He held out a hand which the young man shook with pleasure. “I hope you’ll stay here awhile so we can get to know you better.”
William stood quietly next to his older brother while they chatted. After several moments, he began to speak: “I am honored to meet you,” he said politely. “Although I’m afraid my education isn’t really adequate to allow me to discuss your accomplishments. However, I believe that we shall find much to talk about during the winter.”
He smiled at the young man with an open-mouthed grin. Then he turned away without saying another word.
Marie’s mother laughed. “Don’t worry about that young man,” she assured him. “His mother won’t let him forget you—he may think differently later in life.”
At that moment, Marie noticed a second boy standing in the corner. She hadn’t noticed him before and wondered what he was doing there. The boy had dirty fingernails and long tangled hair that fell across his shoulders. He wore a torn and stained jacket and his trousers were tucked into his boots.
She realized immediately that the boy was deaf and dumb, like many of the adults in the village. But this was the first time she had ever seen someone from the outside with a sign language interpreter. It made her wonder if the whole village was deaf and mute—or perhaps this boy was an exception. She decided to find out.
“Is he your son?” she asked. “Or do you have some relation to him?”
Both the young man and the boy looked at her questioningly. “We’ve known him all our lives,” said the boy. He nodded toward the young man. “That’s James, and I am William,” he finished, pointing to himself and his brother.
Marie smiled at them but neither boy responded.
“I don’t understand,” she told her mother. “Why are they both silent?”
The woman shrugged and shook her head. “Maybe they’re deaf,” she suggested. “In fact, I’d be surprised if they weren’t.”
Marie’s father stepped forward. “What is it that you wish to purchase today, Mr. James?”
James took off his hat, scratched his head, and mumbled something.
The boy with long curly hair spoke again. “My grandfather was named James, but we call him Jim.” At last, he said, “Please excuse us.” They walked away, leaving behind a confused Marie and her parents.
After everyone had gone, Marie went back to the sitting area with her mother but was unable to relax. She thought about the two brothers who had spoken to her; they had been different but had also seemed like brothers, even though one was deaf and the other mute.
She also wondered how the young man could possibly live alone in such a remote area when he didn’t appear to know sign language. She felt certain that she would have learned this skill by now if she lived here. And then there was the little deaf-dumb boy.
She wanted to make sure that nobody else saw him—they might think he was weird like his mother had described. So she moved quietly through the house and out onto the porch where she found herself staring at the snow-covered landscape beyond.
She could hear the faint sound of a baby crying, so she turned to look inside the house. Her mother was holding the infant against her shoulder. She was smiling at the sight of the baby but Marie couldn’t help but notice how thin she looked.
When they met, Marie’s mother had been plump, although her husband was quite short and not particularly big; now she had lost all of that weight—and more. Her face seemed gaunt, her cheeks sunken.
Marie knew that the stress of having a child in the hospital had caused her mother to lose control of her appetite. It had taken a toll on her health. But the baby looked beautiful in spite of the circumstances.
Marie sighed heavily and tried to think about something else. But after a moment, the image of the young man with long hair came to mind. Suddenly she became aware that her heart was pounding in fear, so she sat down and buried her face in her hands. What had frightened her so much?
Then she remembered the boys’ words.
Deaf, dumb and blind…
***
Marie and her family had never heard of Helen Keller, but they understood instantly what that sign language meant: the boys had been born without any sense of hearing or speech and were now considered to be deaf and dumb. She wondered if their mother was deaf as well.
That was why she hadn’t answered Marie when she asked her about it. But there was something strange about the way the boys had signed. Why did the deaf-dumb boy say, My grandfather was named James, but we call him Jim? Why were they talking about a grandfather instead of their father?
Or maybe it wasn’t a grandfather at all. Perhaps it was some other relative. But then, who would name a baby James—especially if that baby had no eyesight? No matter who this person was, the boy obviously knew him or had some kind of relationship with him.
Marie looked back up at the sky, hoping for some answers. It was too cold to go outside but she could still see the stars; she closed her eyes and focused on one in particular, the brightest. Suddenly an image flashed before her eyes—a large tree with thick branches reaching toward the heavens—it was as if she was seeing the night sky through a huge tree.
The tree was alive with birds flying from branch to branch; its bark glittered in the light of the full moon and a soft breeze caressed its leaves.
Marie gasped and opened her eyes to find her mother leaning over her with concern evident in her expression. “What is it, honey? Are you feeling sick?”
Marie shook her head and pointed silently to the stars. Then she closed her eyes again and listened closely for the sounds of the forest, searching for one in particular. The wind blew gently, sending wisps of snow across the frozen ground.
Soon she heard it and followed the path of the wind until she found the source—an enormous oak tree, its trunk so wide that her eyes couldn’t capture its entire length. She had seen plenty of pictures of oaks; they were often depicted in children’s stories and poems. In fact, she had always wanted to climb one someday.
But what she was witnessing right now seemed impossible. She was looking at a real-life giant. A tree that could only be described as gigantic. The massive trunk stretched upward into the darkness of night. The upper part of the tree was dark green while the lower portion appeared pale.
There were dozens of birds perched in this section of the tree—all different kinds of species with colorful feathers that glowed in the moonlight. As Marie watched them, they began to sing, filling the air with a chorus-like music. Their voices sounded like chimes tinkling in the breeze; they made the hairs on Marie’s neck stand straight up.
It was then that she realized she was standing beside a small clearing. The ground underfoot was hard and frozen. The trees stood around the edges of the area, casting shade on the land but providing shelter from the bitter winter winds.
Marie stepped forward, her hand extended towards the tree and her fingertips touching its surface; she could feel the coolness emanating from its bark.
It was beautiful—so beautiful that she forgot she was supposed to be afraid. This was a magical place—a special place where everything seemed right. And there was someone here with her, someone she loved very much.
“Grandpa!” she called out to him.
For a moment nothing happened; but then Marie could feel his presence nearby, close by but hidden within the darkness. He was watching her; he saw her reach for him. Her fingers grazed the wood, but she felt nothing—no sensation whatsoever. She took another step closer and placed her hand directly on the tree’s bark.
It was soft and warm beneath her palm and almost like a living thing. But there was no response to her touch. Then Marie turned and looked down at her feet and noticed the dirt was not smooth underneath her, rather it had a rough texture and was covered in frost. The soil must have been frozen since morning. But it was only now that Marie realized it was snowing.
Marie looked back up to the tree once more, but Grandpa didn’t respond. For the first time, she was beginning to worry about him. Was he hurt somewhere in the darkness, unable to hear her calls? Maybe his body had given out and he lay dying somewhere in this vast forest…
She reached out again, this time placing both hands against the tree’s bark and using it for support. It seemed very sturdy, but still, nothing happened; no response came from either Grandpa or his tree.
“Grandpa,” she said aloud.
Still no response.
Marie continued talking, trying desperately to call his attention—to make him pay attention. “Grandpa, I know you can hear me! Please wake up!”
Suddenly something moved near her feet, and she felt its warmth brush against hers. It wasn’t Grandpa; instead, she saw several creatures emerging from the woods, coming towards her. They looked like mice, but their fur was brown like that of a rabbit. Each one wore an old cloak, which hung loosely around their bodies. All were holding a large branch of the tree in one hand.
Marie gasped and took another step backward. What did these little animals want with her? How could they even walk across the frozen ground without falling? These were not just any rodents; they were gnomes and they had come to rescue her grandfather.
“Oh Grandpa,” cried Marie, “you silly man, you should never have fallen asleep out here in the cold! You are going to catch your death if you don’t wake up soon.”
The gnome nearest to Marie held the branch above his head, as though he were about to use it as a weapon. His face was twisted into a snarl. But all she wanted to do was hold him tight, comfort him and tell him everything would be okay.
But when he spoke, Marie was stunned.
“Who dares disturb our sleep?” he demanded. “You are trespassing on the lands of the gnomes! Leave here immediately before—”
But then she remembered her grandpa was in danger and couldn’t speak; she needed to act quickly.
“Grandpa is in trouble,” she told the gnome. “Please help us save him.”
The gnome glanced over to where Grandpa lay motionless on the ground, his head slumped forwards, and his arms stretched out, reaching for her, calling out to her. “Yes, we will help!” he agreed. He took the branch from his friend and handed it to her. “Here, take this and return it to the tree once you have freed my grandpa’s spirit so that he may continue his journey home.”
Marie took the branch and nodded to the gnomes. They began climbing up the trunk of the tree, using their hands to grip the branches as they worked their way up. Once Marie reached the top, she found herself in a small clearing, sheltered from the wind, with three other gnomes standing beside her, also holding branches.
They helped her pull Grandpa’s lifeless body free of the snow; his skin was blue-grey and icy cold to the touch. His eyes were closed, and the breath was leaving him in puffs of vapor—like steam rising from a hot pot. He hadn’t stirred. But Marie knew she must keep going until all traces of his life left her, or else Grandpa would never move on to his next adventure.
Marie took a deep breath and pulled Grandpa’s hand from behind her back.
“Don’t be afraid,” she whispered to him. “Just breathe slowly, and soon you will wake up with your friends. You will remember nothing of today. Just go back to sleep and forget about the forest—and leave me alone.”
Then Marie returned Grandpa’s hand to his side and lifted his arm over her shoulder and began walking towards the nearest gnome. She was determined to give Grandpa a proper burial, but what she didn’t realize was that the gnomes had already laid a blanket of fresh earth over him.
When she looked back once more to make sure Grandpa was gone, Marie saw his ghostly apparition lying there in the grass. He was looking at her with such sadness…
“I’m sorry, Marie, I couldn’t protect you,” he told her, “but you need to let me go now.”
Marie shook her head and tried to speak, but her voice was choked by tears. She turned away and hurried after the gnomes.
The End