THE RING OF HANS CARVEL
Fredric Brown

Among the classic works of humour, the books of François Rabelais, who gave his name to that exuberant kind of wit known as Rabelaisian, contain several tales of fallible heroes, which have subsequently provided inspiration for modern writers such as the next contributor. Rabelais, a French monk turned satirist, suffered the same fate as James Branch Cabell in having his work banned by the authorities, although his most popular books, The Great and Inestimable Chronicles of the Grand and Enormous Giant Gargantua (1532) and its sequel, Pantagruel, which appeared the same year—both published as by ‘Alcofri bas Nasier’ (an anagram of his real name)—are now deservedly listed as two of the finest and most influential works of satire ever written.
Fredric Brown (1906—1972), who was born in Cincinnati and was employed as an office worker and journalist before becoming a full-time writer, is today admired equally for his detective novels, works of Science Fiction and fantasy stories, although according to Brian Ash in Who’s Who in Science Fiction (1976) he is also ‘particularly cherished for the humour and satire he brought to many of his tales’. Brown’s great talent for joke climaxes was first revealed in one of his earliest pieces, ‘Placet is a Crazy Place’ (1946), which has been called the best short story ever written about a comically improbable world. This and other gems from his pen were later collected in Space on My Hands (1951), Nightmares and Geezenstacks (1961) and Daymares (1968).
Brown’s reputation as a master of humorous fantasy was, however, firmly established with two novels: What Mad Universe (1949), a satire on an alternative Earth where various Science Fiction conventions become reality, and Martians, Go Home (1955), in which the little green invaders turn out to be quite the opposite of those in H. G. Wells’ classic. Brown is also credited with having written the shortest SF story ever: “The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock at the door...” One of his great skills was undoubtedly in parodying the work of writers he liked such as Rabelais and James Branch Cabell, and this facet can be seen in the following story, first published in 1961, which contains similarities in style to both earlier authors. Indeed, underneath the title, he added the words: ‘Retold and somewhat modernised from the works of Rabelais.’

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Once upon a time there lived in France a prosperous but somewhat ageing jeweller named Hans Carvel. Besides being a studious and learned man, he was a likeable man. And a man who liked women and although he had not lived a celibate life, or missed anything, had happened to remain a bachelor until he was—well, let’s call his age as pushing sixty and not mention from which direction he was pushing it.
At that age he fell in love with a bailiff’s daughter—a young and a beautiful girl, spirited and vivacious, a dish to set before a king.
And married her.
Within a few weeks of the otherwise happy marriage Hans Carvel began to suspect that his young wife, whom he still loved deeply, might be just a little too spirited, a little too vivacious. That what he was able to offer her—aside from money, of which he had a sufficiency—might not be enough to keep her contented. Might not, did I say? Was not.
Not unnaturally he began to suspect, and then to be practically certain, that she was supplementing her love life with several—or possibly even many—other and younger men.
This preyed on his mind. It drove him, in fact, to a state of distraction in which he had bad dreams almost nightly.
In one of these dreams, one night, he found himself talking to the Devil, explaining his dilemma, and offering the traditional price for something, anything, that would assure him of his wife’s faithfulness.
In his dream, the Devil nodded readily and told Hans: ‘I will give you a magic ring. You will find it when you awaken. As long as you wear this ring it will be utterly and completely impossible for your wife to be unfaithful to you without your knowledge and consent.’
And the Devil vanished and Hans Carvel awakened.
And found that he was indeed wearing a ring, as it were, and that what the Devil had promised him was indeed true.
But his young wife had also awakened and was stirring, and she said to him: ‘Hans, darling, not your finger. That is not what goes there.’