{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_16981/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_16981","id":"gutenberg_16981","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16981","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Russian Literature","Fairy tales","Folklore -- Russia","Tales -- Russia"],"text":"[Illustration: They sailed away once more over the blue sea.]\n\n                              OLD PETER'S\n                             RUSSIAN TALES\n\n\n\n                                  BY\n                            ARTHUR RANSOME\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                       WITH ILLUSTRATIONS, COVER\n                        DESIGN, AND DECORATIONS\n                          BY DMITRI MITROKHIN\n\n\n\n                               NEW YORK\n                      FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY\n                              PUBLISHERS\n\n\n\n\nTO\nMISS BARBARA COLLINGWOOD\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\n\nThe stories in this book are those that Russian peasants tell their\nchildren and each other. In Russia hardly anybody is too old for\nfairy stories, and I have even heard soldiers on their way to the war\ntalking of very wise and very beautiful princesses as they drank their\ntea by the side of the road. I think there must be more fairy stories\ntold in Russia than anywhere else in the world. In this book are a few\nof those I like best. I have taken my own way with them more or less,\nwriting them mostly from memory. They, or versions like them, are to\nbe found in the coloured chap-books, in Afanasiev's great collection,\nor in solemn, serious volumes of folklorists writing for the learned.\nMy book is not for the learned, or indeed for grown-up people at all.\nNo people who really like fairy stories ever grow up altogether. This\nis a book written far away in Russia, for English children who play in\ndeep lanes with wild roses above them in the high hedges, or by the\nsmall singing becks that dance down the gray fells at home. Russian\nfairyland is quite different. Under my windows the wavelets of the\nVolkhov (which has its part in one of the stories) are beating quietly\nin the dusk. A gold light burns on a timber raft floating down the\nriver. Beyond the river in the blue midsummer twilight are the broad\nRussian plain and the distant forest. Somewhere in that forest of\ngreat trees--a forest so big that the forests of England are little\nwoods beside it--is the hut where old Peter sits at night and tells\nthese stories to his grandchildren.\n\nA.R.\n\nVERGEZHA.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nTHE HUT IN THE FOREST\n\nTHE TALE OF THE SILVER SAUCER AND THE\nTRANSPARENT APPLE\n\nSADKO\n\nFROST\n\nTHE FOOL OF THE WORLD AND THE FLYING\nSHIP\n\nBABA YAGA\n\nTHE CAT WHO BECAME HEAD-FORESTER\n\nSPRING IN THE FOREST\n\nTHE LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE SNOW\n\nPRINCE IVAN, THE WITCH BABY, AND THE LITTLE\nSISTER OF THE SUN\n\nTHE STOLEN TURNIPS, THE MAGIC TABLECLOTH,\nTHE SNEEZING GOAT, AND THE WOODEN\nWHISTLE\n\nLITTLE MASTER MISERY\n\nA CHAPTER OF FISH\n\nTHE GOLDEN FISH\n\nWHO LIVED IN THE SKULL?\n\nALENOUSHKA AND HER BROTHER\n\nTHE FIRE-BIRD, THE HORSE OF POWER, AND THE\nPRINCESS VASILISSA\n\nTHE HUNTER AND HIS WIFE\n\nTHE THREE MEN OF POWER--EVENING, MIDNIGHT,\nAND SUNRISE\n\nSALT\n\nTHE CHRISTENING IN THE VILLAGE\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF COLOUR PLATES\n\nThey sailed away once more over the blue sea.\n                                    _Frontispiece_\n\nThere she was, a good fur cloak about her\nshoulders and costly blankets round her\nfeet.\n\nThere she was, beating with the pestle and sweeping\nwith the besom.\n\nMisery seated himself firmly on his shoulders\nand pulled out handfuls of his hair.\n\n\"Head in air and tail in sea,\n   Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nHe stepped on one of its fiery wings and pressed it to the ground.\n\nIt caught up the three lovely princesses and carried them up into the\nair.\n\n\n\n\nOLD PETER'S RUSSIAN TALES.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HUT IN THE FOREST.\n\n\nOutside in the forest there was deep snow. The white snow had crusted\nthe branches of the pine trees, and piled itself up them till they\nbent under its weight. Now and then a snow-laden branch would bend too\nfar, and huge lumps of snow fell crashing to the ground under the\ntrees. Then the branch would swing up, and the snow covered it again\nwith a cold white burden. Sitting in the hut you could hear the\ncrashing again and again out in the forest, as the tired branches\nflung down their loads of snow. Yes, and now and then there was the\nhowling of wolves far away.\n\nLittle Maroosia heard them, and thought of them out there in the dark\nas they galloped over the snow. She sat closer to Vanya, her brother,\nand they were both as near as they could get to the door of the\nstove, where they could see the red fire burning busily, keeping the\nwhole hut warm. The stove filled a quarter of the hut, but that was\nbecause it was a bed as well. There were blankets on it, and in those\nblankets Vanya and Maroosia rolled up and went to sleep at night, as\nwarm as little baking cakes.\n\nThe hut was made of pine logs cut from the forest. You could see the\nmarks of the axe. Old Peter was the grandfather of Maroosia and Vanya.\nHe lived alone with them in the hut in the forest, because their\nfather and mother were both dead. Maroosia and Vanya could hardly\nremember them, and they were very happy with old Peter, who was very\nkind to them and did all he could to keep them warm and well fed. He\nlet them help him in everything, even in stuffing the windows with\nmoss to keep the cold out when winter began. The moss kept the light\nout too, but that did not matter. It would be all the jollier in the\nspring when the sun came pouring in.\n\nBesides old Peter and Maroosia and Vanya there were Vladimir and\nBayan. Vladimir was a cat, a big black cat, as stately as an emperor,\nand just now he was lying in Vanya's arms fast asleep. Bayan was a\ndog, a tall gray wolf-dog. He could jump over the table with a single\nbound. When he was in the hut he usually lay underneath the table,\nbecause that was the only place where he could lie without being in\nthe way. And, of course at meal times he was in the way even there.\nJust now he was out with old Peter.\n\n\"I wonder what story it will be to-night?\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"So do I,\" said Vanya. \"I wish they'd be quick and come back.\"\n\nVladimir stirred suddenly in Vanya's lap, and a minute later they\nheard the scrunch of boots in the snow, and the stamping of old\nPeter's feet trying to get the snow off his boots. Then the door\nopened, and Bayan pushed his way in and shook himself, and licked\nMaroosia and Vanya and startled Vladimir, and lay down under the table\nand came out again, because he was so pleased to be home. And old\nPeter came in after him, with his gun on his back and a hare in his\nhand. He shook himself just like Bayan, and the snow flew off like\nspray. He hung up his gun, flung the hare into a corner of the hut,\nand laughed.\n\n\"You are snug in here, little pigeons,\" he said.\n\nVanya and Maroosia had jumped up to welcome him, and when he opened\nhis big sheepskin coat, they tumbled into it together and clung to his\nbelt. Then he closed the big woolly coat over the top of them and they\nsquealed; and he opened it a little way and looked down at them over\nhis beard, and then closed it again for a moment before letting them\nout. He did this every night, and Bayan always barked when they were\nshut up inside.\n\nThen old Peter took his big coat off and lifted down the samovar from\nthe shelf. The samovar is like a big tea-urn, with a red-hot fire in\nthe middle of it keeping the water boiling. It hums like a bee on the\ntea-table, and the steam rises in a little jet from a tiny hole in the\ntop. The boiling water comes out of a tap at the bottom. Old Peter\nthrew in the lighted sticks and charcoal, and made a draught to draw\nthe heat, and then set the samovar on the table with the little fire\ncrackling in its inside. Then he cut some big lumps of black bread.\nThen he took a great saucepan full of soup, that was simmering on the\nstove, and emptied it into a big wooden bowl. Then he went to the wall\nwhere, on three nails, hung three wooden spoons, deep like ladles.\nThere were one big spoon, for old Peter; and two little spoons, one\nfor Vanya and one for Maroosia.\n\nAnd all the time that old Peter was getting supper ready he was\nanswering questions and making jokes--old ones, of course, that he\nmade every day--about how plump the children were, and how fat was\nbetter to eat than butter, and what the Man in the Moon said when he\nfell out, and what the wolf said who caught his own tail and ate\nhimself up before he found out his mistake.\n\nAnd Vanya and Maroosia danced about the hut and chuckled.\n\nThen they had supper, all three dipping their wooden spoons in the big\nbowl together, and eating a tremendous lot of black bread. And, of\ncourse, there were scraps for Vladimir and a bone for Bayan.\n\nAfter that they had tea with sugar but no milk, because they were\nRussians and liked it that way.\n\nThen came the stories. Old Peter made another glass of tea for\nhimself, not for the children. His throat was old, he said, and took a\nlot of keeping wet; and they were young, and would not sleep if they\ndrank tea too near bedtime. Then he threw a log of wood into the\nstove. Then he lit a short little pipe, full of very strong tobacco,\ncalled Mahorka, which has a smell like hot tin. And he puffed, and the\nsmoke got in his eyes, and he wiped them with the back of his big\nhand.\n\nAll the time he was doing this Vanya and Maroosia were snuggling\ntogether close by the stove, thinking what story they would ask for,\nand listening to the crashing of the snow as it fell from the trees\noutside. Now that old Peter was at home, the noise made them feel\ncomfortable and warm. Before, perhaps, it made them feel a little\nfrightened.\n\n\"Well, little pigeons, little hawks, little bear cubs, what is it to\nbe?\" said old Peter.\n\n\"We don't know,\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"Long hair, short sense, little she-pigeon,\" said old Peter. \"All this\ntime and not thought of a story? Would you like the tale of the little\nSnow Girl who was not loved so much as a hen?\"\n\n\"Not to-night, grandfather,\" said Vanya.\n\n\"We'd like that tale when the snow melts,\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"To-night we'd like a story we've never heard before,\" said Vanya.\n\n\"Well, well,\" said old Peter, combing his great gray beard with his\nfingers, and looking out at them with twinkling eyes from under his\nbig bushy eyebrows. \"Have I ever told you the story of 'The Silver\nSaucer and the Transparent Apple'?\"\n\n\"No, no, never,\" cried Vanya and Maroosia at once.\n\nOld Peter took a last pull at his pipe, and Vanya and Maroosia\nwriggled with excitement. Then he drank a sip of tea. Then he began.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TALE OF THE SILVER SAUCER AND THE TRANSPARENT APPLE.\n\n\nThere was once an old peasant, and he must have had more brains under\nhis hair than ever I had, for he was a merchant, and used to take\nthings every year to sell at the big fair of Nijni Novgorod. Well, I\ncould never do that. I could never be anything better than an old\nforester.\n\n\"Never mind, grandfather,\" said Maroosia.\n\nGod knows best, and He makes some merchants and some foresters, and\nsome good and some bad, all in His own way. Anyhow this one was a\nmerchant, and he had three daughters. They were none of them so bad to\nlook at, but one of them was as pretty as Maroosia. And she was the\nbest of them too. The others put all the hard work on her, while they\ndid nothing but look at themselves in the looking-glass and complain\nof what they had to eat. They called the pretty one \"Little Stupid,\"\nbecause she was so good and did all their work for them. Oh, they were\nreal bad ones, those two. We wouldn't have them in here for a minute.\n\nWell, the time came round for the merchant to pack up and go to the\nbig fair. He called his daughters, and said, \"Little pigeons,\" just as\nI say to you. \"Little pigeons,\" says he, \"what would you like me to\nbring you from the fair?\"\n\nSays the eldest, \"I'd like a necklace, but it must be a rich one.\"\n\nSays the second, \"I want a new dress with gold hems.\"\n\nBut the youngest, the good one, Little Stupid, said nothing at all.\n\n\"Now little one,\" says her father, \"what is it you want? I must bring\nsomething for you too.\"\n\nSays the little one, \"Could I have a silver saucer and a transparent\napple? But never mind if there are none.\"\n\nThe old merchant says, \"Long hair, short sense,\" just as I say to\nMaroosia; but he promised the little pretty one, who was so good that\nher sisters called her stupid, that if he could get her a silver\nsaucer and a transparent apple she should have them.\n\nThen they all kissed each other, and he cracked his whip, and off he\nwent, with the little bells jingling on the horses' harness.\n\nThe three sisters waited till he came back. The two elder ones looked\nin the looking-glass, and thought how fine they would look in the new\nnecklace and the new dress; but the little pretty one took care of her\nold mother, and scrubbed and dusted and swept and cooked, and every\nday the other two said that the soup was burnt or the bread not\nproperly baked.\n\nThen one day there were a jingling of bells and a clattering of\nhorses' hoofs, and the old merchant came driving back from the fair.\n\nThe sisters ran out.\n\n\"Where is the necklace?\" asked the first.\n\n\"You haven't forgotten the dress?\" asked the second.\n\nBut the little one, Little Stupid, helped her old father off with his\ncoat, and asked him if he was tired.\n\n\"Well, little one,\" says the old merchant, \"and don't you want your\nfairing too? I went from one end of the market to the other before I\ncould get what you wanted. I bought the silver saucer from an old Jew,\nand the transparent apple from a Finnish hag.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you, father,\" says the little one.\n\n\"And what will you do with them?\" says he.\n\n\"I shall spin the apple in the saucer,\" says the little pretty one,\nand at that the old merchant burst out laughing.\n\n\"They don't call you 'Little Stupid' for nothing,\" says he.\n\nWell, they all had their fairings, and the two elder sisters, the bad\nones, they ran off and put on the new dress and the new necklace, and\ncame out and strutted about, preening themselves like herons, now on\none leg and now on the other, to see how they looked. But Little\nStupid, she just sat herself down beside the stove, and took the\ntransparent apple and set it in the silver saucer, and she laughed\nsoftly to herself. And then she began spinning the apple in the\nsaucer.\n\nRound and round the apple spun in the saucer, faster and faster, till\nyou couldn't see the apple at all, nothing but a mist like a little\nwhirlpool in the silver saucer. And the little good one looked at it,\nand her eyes shone like yours.\n\nHer sisters laughed at her.\n\n\"Spinning an apple in a saucer and staring at it, the little stupid,\"\nthey said, as they strutted about the room, listening to the rustle of\nthe new dress and fingering the bright round stones of the necklace.\n\nBut the little pretty one did not mind them. She sat in the corner\nwatching the spinning apple. And as it spun she talked to it.\n\n\"Spin, spin, apple in the silver saucer.\" This is what she said. \"Spin\nso that I may see the world. Let me have a peep at the little father\nTzar on his high throne. Let me see the rivers and the ships and the\ngreat towns far away.\"\n\nAnd as she looked at the little glass whirlpool in the saucer, there\nwas the Tzar, the little father--God preserve him!--sitting on his\nhigh throne. Ships sailed on the seas, their white sails swelling in\nthe wind. There was Moscow with its white stone walls and painted\nchurches. Why, there were the market at Nijni Novgorod, and the Arab\nmerchants with their camels, and the Chinese with their blue trousers\nand bamboo staves. And then there was the great river Volga, with men\non the banks towing ships against the stream. Yes, and she saw a\nsturgeon asleep in a deep pool.\n\n\"Oh! oh! oh!\" says the little pretty one, as she saw all these things.\n\nAnd the bad ones, they saw how her eyes shone, and they came and\nlooked over her shoulder, and saw how all the world was there, in the\nspinning apple and the silver saucer. And the old father came and\nlooked over her shoulder too, and he saw the market at Nijni Novgorod.\n\n\"Why, there is the inn where I put up the horses,\" says he. \"You\nhaven't done so badly after all, Little Stupid.\"\n\nAnd the little pretty one, Little Stupid, went on staring into the\nglass whirlpool in the saucer, spinning the apple, and seeing all the\nworld she had never seen before, floating there before her in the\nsaucer, brighter than leaves in sunlight.\n\nThe bad ones, the elder sisters, were sick with envy.\n\n\"Little Stupid,\" says the first, \"if you will give me your silver\nsaucer and your transparent apple, I will give you my fine new\nnecklace.\"\n\n\"Little Stupid,\" says the second, \"I will give you my new dress with\ngold hems if you will give me your transparent apple and your silver\nsaucer.\"\n\n\"Oh, I couldn't do that,\" says the Little Stupid, and she goes on\nspinning the apple in the saucer and seeing what was happening all\nover the world.\n\nSo the bad ones put their wicked heads together and thought of a plan.\nAnd they took their father's axe, and went into the deep forest and\nhid it under a bush.\n\nThe next day they waited till afternoon, when work was done, and the\nlittle pretty one was spinning her apple in the saucer. Then they\nsaid,--\n\n\"Come along, Little Stupid; we are all going to gather berries in the\nforest.\"\n\n\"Do you really want me to come too?\" says the little one. She would\nrather have played with her apple and saucer.\n\nBut they said, \"Why, of course. You don't think we can carry all the\nberries ourselves!\"\n\nSo the little one jumped up, and found the baskets, and went with them\nto the forest. But before she started she ran to her father, who was\ncounting his money, and was not too pleased to be interrupted, for\nfigures go quickly out of your head when you have a lot of them to\nremember. She asked him to take care of the silver saucer and the\ntransparent apple for fear she would lose them in the forest.\n\n\"Very well, little bird,\" says the old man, and he put the things in a\nbox with a lock and key to it. He was a merchant, you know, and that\nsort are always careful about things, and go clattering about with a\nlot of keys at their belt. I've nothing to lock up, and never had, and\nperhaps it is just as well, for I could never be bothered with keys.\n\nSo the little one picks up all three baskets and runs off after the\nothers, the bad ones, with black hearts under their necklaces and new\ndresses.\n\nThey went deep into the forest, picking berries, and the little one\npicked so fast that she soon had a basket full. She was picking and\npicking, and did not see what the bad ones were doing. They were\nfetching the axe.\n\nThe little one stood up to straighten her back, which ached after so\nmuch stooping, and she saw her two sisters standing in front of her,\nlooking at her cruelly. Their baskets lay on the ground quite empty.\nThey had not picked a berry. The eldest had the axe in her hand.\n\nThe little one was frightened.\n\n\"What is it, sisters?\" says she; \"and why do you look at me with cruel\neyes? And what is the axe for? You are not going to cut berries with\nan axe.\"\n\n\"No, Little Stupid,\" says the first, \"we are not going to cut berries\nwith the axe.\"\n\n\"No, Little Stupid,\" says the second; \"the axe is here for something\nelse.\"\n\nThe little one begged them not to frighten her.\n\nSays the first, \"Give me your transparent apple.\"\n\nSays the second, \"Give me your silver saucer.\"\n\n\"If you don't give them up at once, we shall kill you.\" That is what\nthe bad ones said.\n\nThe poor little one begged them. \"O darling sisters, do not kill me! I\nhaven't got the saucer or the apple with me at all.\"\n\n\"What a lie!\" say the bad ones. \"You never would leave it behind.\"\n\nAnd one caught her by the hair, and the other swung the axe, and\nbetween them they killed the little pretty one, who was called Little\nStupid because she was so good.\n\nThen they looked for the saucer and the apple, and could not find\nthem. But it was too late now. So they made a hole in the ground, and\nburied the little one under a birch tree.\n\nWhen the sun went down the bad ones came home, and they wailed with\nfalse voices, and rubbed their eyes to make the tears come. They made\ntheir eyes red and their noses too, and they did not look any prettier\nfor that.\n\n\"What is the matter with you, little pigeons?\" said the old merchant\nand his wife. I would not say \"little pigeons\" to such bad ones.\nBlack-hearted crows is what I would call them.\n\nAnd they wail and lament aloud,--\n\n\"We are miserable for ever. Our poor little sister is lost. We looked\nfor her everywhere. We heard the wolves howling. They must have eaten\nher.\"\n\nThe old mother and father cried like rivers in springtime, because\nthey loved the little pretty one, who was called Little Stupid because\nshe was so good.\n\nBut before their tears were dry the bad ones began to ask for the\nsilver saucer and the transparent apple.\n\n\"No, no,\" says the old man; \"I shall keep them for ever, in memory of\nmy poor little daughter whom God has taken away.\"\n\nSo the bad ones did not gain by killing their little sister.\n\n\"That is one good thing,\" said Vanya.\n\n\"But is that all, grandfather?\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"Wait a bit, little pigeons. Too much haste set his shoes on fire. You\nlisten, and you will hear what happened,\" said old Peter. He took a\npinch of snuff from a little wooden box, and then he went on with his\ntale.\n\nTime did not stop with the death of the little girl. Winter came, and\nthe snow with it. Everything was all white, just as it is now. And the\nwolves came to the doors of the huts, even into the villages, and no\none stirred farther than he need. And then the snow melted, and the\nbuds broke on the trees, and the birds began singing, and the sun\nshone warmer every dry. The old people had almost forgotten the little\npretty one who lay dead in the forest. The bad ones had not forgotten,\nbecause now they had to do the work, and they did not like that at\nall.\n\nAnd then one day some lambs strayed away into the forest, and a young\nshepherd went after them to bring them safely back to their mothers.\nAnd as he wandered this way and that through the forest, following\ntheir light tracks, he came to a little birch tree, bright with new\nleaves, waving over a little mound of earth. And there was a reed\ngrowing in the mound, and that, you know as well as I, is a strange\nthing, one reed all by itself under a birch tree in the forest. But it\nwas no stranger than the flowers, for there were flowers round it,\nsome red as the sun at dawn and others blue as the summer sky.\n\nWell, the shepherd looks at the reed, and he looks at those flowers,\nand he thinks, \"I've never seen anything like that before. I'll make a\nwhistle-pipe of that reed, and keep it for a memory till I grow old.\"\n\nSo he did. He cut the reed, and sat himself down on the mound, and\ncarved away at the reed with his knife, and got the pith out of it by\npushing a twig through it, and beating it gently till the bark\nswelled, made holes in it, and there was his whistle-pipe. And then he\nput it to his lips to see what sort of music he could make on it. But\nthat he never knew, for before his lips touched it the whistle-pipe\nbegan playing by itself and reciting in a girl's sweet voice. This is\nwhat it sang:--\n\n\"Play, play, whistle-pipe. Bring happiness to my dear father and to my\nlittle mother. I was killed--yes, my life was taken from me in the\ndeep forest for the sake of a silver saucer, for the sake of a\ntransparent apple.\"\n\nWhen he heard that the shepherd went back quickly to the village to\nshow it to the people. And all the way the whistle-pipe went on\nplaying and reciting, singing its little song. And everyone who heard\nit said, \"What a strange song! But who is it who was killed?\"\n\n\"I know nothing about it,\" says the shepherd, and he tells them about\nthe mound and the reed and the flowers, and how he cut the reed and\nmade the whistle-pipe, and how the whistle-pipe does its playing by\nitself.\n\nAnd as he was going through the village, with all the people crowding\nabout him, the old merchant, that one who was the father of the two\nbad ones and of the little pretty one, came along and listened with\nthe rest. And when he heard the words about the silver saucer and the\ntransparent apple, he snatched the whistle-pipe from the shepherd boy.\nAnd still it sang:--\n\n\"Play, play, whistle-pipe! Bring happiness to my dear father and to my\nlittle mother. I was killed--yes, my life was taken from me in the\ndeep forest for the sake of a silver saucer, for the sake of a\ntransparent apple.\"\n\nAnd the old merchant remembered the little good one, and his tears\ntrickled over his cheeks and down his old beard. Old men love little\npigeons, you know. And he said to the shepherd,--\n\n\"Take me at once to the mound, where you say you cut the reed.\"\n\nThe shepherd led the way, and the old man walked beside him, crying,\nwhile the whistle-pipe in his hand went on singing and reciting its\nlittle song over and over again.\n\nThey came to the mound under the birch tree, and there were the\nflowers, shining red and blue, and there in the middle of the mound\nwas the Stump of the reed which the shepherd had cut.\n\nThe whistle-pipe sang on and on.\n\nWell, there and then they dug up the mound, and there was the little\ngirl lying under the dark earth as if she were asleep.\n\n\"O God of mine,\" says the old merchant, \"this is my daughter, my\nlittle pretty one, whom we called Little Stupid.\" He began to weep\nloudly and wring his hands; but the whistle-pipe, playing and\nreciting, changed its song. This is what it sang:--\n\n\"My sisters took me into the forest to look for the red berries. In\nthe deep forest they killed poor me for the sake of a silver saucer,\nfor the sake of a transparent apple. Wake me, dear father, from a\nbitter dream, by fetching water from the well of the Tzar.\"\n\nHow the people scowled at the two sisters! They scowled, they cursed\nthem for the bad ones they were. And the bad ones, the two sisters,\nwept, and fell on their knees, and confessed everything. They were\ntaken, and their hands were tied, and they were shut up in prison.\n\n\"Do not kill them,\" begged the old merchant, \"for then I should have\nno daughters at all, and when there are no fish in the river we make\nshift with crays. Besides, let me go to the Tzar and beg water from\nhis well. Perhaps my little daughter will wake up, as the\nwhistle-pipe tells us.\"\n\nAnd the whistle-pipe sang again:--\n\n\"Wake me, wake me, dear father, from a bitter dream, by fetching water\nfrom the well of the Tzar. Till then, dear father, a blanket of black\nearth and the shade of the green birch tree.\"\n\nSo they covered the little girl with her blanket of earth, and the\nshepherd with his dogs watched the mound night and day. He begged for\nthe whistle-pipe to keep him company, poor lad, and all the days and\nnights he thought of the sweet face of the little pretty one he had\nseen there under the birch tree.\n\nThe old merchant harnessed his horse, as if he were going to the town;\nand he drove off through the forest, along the roads, till he came to\nthe palace of the Tzar, the little father of all good Russians. And\nthen he left his horse and cart and waited on the steps of the palace.\n\nThe Tzar, the little father, with rings on his fingers and a gold\ncrown on his head, came out on the steps in the morning sunshine; and\nas for the old merchant, he fell on his knees and kissed the feet of\nthe Tzar, and begged,--\n\n\"O little father, Tzar, give me leave to take water--just a little\ndrop of water--from your holy well.\"\n\n\"And what will you do with it?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"I will wake my daughter from a bitter dream,\" says the old merchant.\n\"She was murdered by her sisters--killed in the deep forest--for the\nsake of a silver saucer, for the sake of a transparent apple.\"\n\n\"A silver saucer?\" says the Tzar--\"a transparent apple? Tell me about\nthat.\"\n\nAnd the old merchant told the Tzar everything, just as I have told it\nto you.\n\nAnd the Tzar, the little father, he gave the old merchant a glass of\nwater from his holy well. \"But,\" says he, \"when your daughterkin\nwakes, bring her to me, and her sisters with her, and also the silver\nsaucer and the transparent apple.\"\n\nThe old man kissed the ground before the Tzar, and took the glass of\nwater and drove home with it, and I can tell you he was careful not to\nspill a drop. He carried it all the way in one hand as he drove.\n\nHe came to the forest and to the flowering mound under the little\nbirch tree, and there was the shepherd watching with his dogs. The old\nmerchant and the shepherd took away the blanket of black earth.\nTenderly, tenderly the shepherd used his fingers, until the little\ngirl, the pretty one, the good one, lay there as sweet as if she were\nnot dead.\n\nThen the merchant scattered the holy water from the glass over the\nlittle girl. And his daughterkin blushed as she lay there, and opened\nher eyes, and passed a hand across them, as if she were waking from a\ndream. And then she leapt up, crying and laughing, and clung about her\nold father's neck. And there they stood, the two of them, laughing and\ncrying with joy. And the shepherd could not take his eyes from her,\nand in his eyes, too, there were tears.\n\nBut the old father did not forget what he had promised the Tzar. He\nset the little pretty one, who had been so good that her wicked\nsisters had called her Stupid, to sit beside him on the cart. And he\nbrought something from the house in a coffer of wood, and kept it\nunder his coat. And they brought out the two sisters, the bad ones,\nfrom their dark prison, and set them in the cart. And the Little\nStupid kissed them and cried over them, and wanted to loose their\nhands, but the old merchant would not let her. And they all drove\ntogether till they came to the palace of the Tzar. The shepherd boy\ncould not take his eyes from the little pretty one, and he ran all the\nway behind the cart.\n\nWell, they came to the palace, and waited on the steps; and the Tzar\ncame out to take the morning air, and he saw the old merchant, and the\ntwo sisters with their hands tied, and the little pretty, one, as\nlovely as a spring day. And the Tzar saw her, and could not take his\neyes from her. He did not see the shepherd boy, who hid away among the\ncrowd.\n\nSays the great Tzar to his soldiers, pointing to the bad sisters,\n\"These two are to be put to death at sunset. When the sun goes down\ntheir heads must come off, for they are not fit to see another day.\"\n\nThen he turns to the little pretty one, and he says: \"Little sweet\npigeon, where is your silver saucer, and where is your transparent\napple?\"\n\nThe old merchant took the wooden box from under his coat, and opened\nit with a key at his belt, and gave it to the little one, and she took\nout the silver saucer and the transparent apple and gave them to the\nTzar.\n\n\"O lord Tzar,\" says she, \"O little father, spin the apple in the\nsaucer, and you will see whatever you wish to see--your soldiers, your\nhigh hills, your forests, your plains, your rivers, and Everything in\nall Russia.\"\n\nAnd the Tzar, the little father, spun the apple in the saucer till it\nseemed a little whirlpool of white mist, and there he saw glittering\ntowns, and regiments of soldiers marching to war, and ships, and day\nand night, and the clear stars above the trees. He looked at these\nthings and thought much of them.\n\nThen the little good one threw herself on her knees before him,\nweeping.\n\n\"O little father, Tzar,\" she says, \"take my transparent apple and my\nsilver saucer; only forgive my sisters. Do not kill them because of\nme. If their heads are cut off when the sun goes down, it would have\nbeen better for me to lie under the blanket of black earth in the\nshade of the birch tree in the forest.\"\n\nThe Tzar was pleased with the kind heart of the little pretty one, and\nhe forgave the bad ones, and their hands were untied, and the little\npretty one kissed them, and they kissed her again and said they were\nsorry.\n\nThe old merchant looked up at the sun, and saw how the time was going.\n\n\"Well, well,\" says he, \"it's time we were getting ready to go home.\"\n\nThey all fell on their knees before the Tzar and thanked him. But the\nTzar could not take his eyes from the little pretty one, and would not\nlet her go.\n\n\"Little sweet pigeon,\" says he, \"will you be my Tzaritza, and a kind\nmother to Holy Russia?\"\n\nAnd the little good one did not know what to say. She blushed and\nanswered, very rightly, \"As my father orders, and as my little mother\nwishes, so shall it be.\"\n\nThe Tzar was pleased with her answer, and he sent a messenger on a\ngalloping horse to ask leave from the little pretty one's old mother.\nAnd of course the old mother said that she was more than willing. So\nthat was all right. Then there was a wedding--such a wedding!--and\nevery city in Russia sent a silver plate of bread, and a golden\nsalt-cellar, with their good wishes to the Tzar and Tzaritza.\n\nOnly the shepherd boy, when he heard that the little pretty one was to\nmarry the Tzar, turned sadly away and went off into the forest.\n\n\"Are you happy, little sweet pigeon?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"Oh yes,\" says the Little Stupid, who was now Tzaritza and mother of\nHoly Russia; \"but there is one thing that would make me happier.\"\n\n\"And what is that?\" says the lord Tzar.\n\n\"I cannot bear to lose my old father and my little mother and my dear\nsisters. Let them be with me here in the palace, as they were in my\nfather's house.\"\n\nThe Tzar laughed at the little pretty one, but he agreed, and the\nlittle pretty one ran to tell them the good news. She said to her\nsisters, \"Let all be forgotten, and all be forgiven, and may the evil\neye fall on the one who first speaks of what has been!\"\n\nFor a long time the Tzar lived, and the little pretty one the\nTzaritza, and they had many children, and were very happy together.\nAnd ever since then the Tzars of Russia have kept the silver saucer\nand the transparent apple, so that, whenever they wish, they can see\neverything that is going on all over Russia. Perhaps even now the\nTzar, the little father--God preserve him!--is spinning the apple in\nthe saucer, and looking at us, and thinking it is time that two little\npigeons were in bed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Is that the end?\" said Vanya.\n\n\"That is the end,\" said old Peter.\n\n\"Poor shepherd boy!\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"I don't know about that,\" said old Peter. \"You see, if he had married\nthe little pretty one, and had to have all the family to live with\nhim, he would have had them in a hut like ours instead of in a great\npalace, and so he would never have had room to get away from them. And\nnow, little pigeons, who is going to be first into bed?\"\n\n\n\n\nSADKO.\n\n\nIn Novgorod in the old days there was a young man--just a boy he\nwas--the son of a rich merchant who had lost all his money and died.\nSo Sadko was very poor. He had not a kopeck in the world, except what\nthe people gave him when he played his dulcimer for their dancing. He\nhad blue eyes and curling hair, and he was strong, and would have been\nmerry; but it is dull work playing for other folk to dance, and Sadko\ndared not dance with any young girl, for he had no money to marry on,\nand he did not want to be chased away as a beggar. And the young women\nof Novgorod, they never looked at the handsome Sadko. No; they smiled\nwith their bright eyes at the young men who danced with them, and if\nthey ever spoke to Sadko, it was just to tell him sharply to keep the\nmusic going or to play faster.\n\nSo Sadko lived alone with his dulcimer, and made do with half a loaf\nwhen he could not get a whole, and with crust when he had no crumb. He\ndid not mind so very much what came to him, so long as he could play\nhis dulcimer and walk along the banks of the little[1] river Volkhov\nthat flows by Novgorod, or on the shores of the lake, making music for\nhimself, and seeing the pale mists rise over the water, and dawn or\nsunset across the shining river.\n\n\"There is no girl in all Novgorod as pretty as my little river,\" he\nused to say, and night after night he would sit by the banks of the\nriver or on the shores of the lake, playing the dulcimer and singing\nto himself.\n\nSometimes he helped the fishermen on the lake, and they would give him\na little fish for his supper in payment for his strong young arms.\n\nAnd it happened that one evening the fishermen asked him to watch\ntheir nets for them on the shore, while they went off to take their\nfish to sell them in the square at Novgorod.\n\n[Footnote 1: The Volkhov would be a big river if it were in England,\nand Sadko and old Peter called it little only because they loved it.]\n\nSadko sat on the shore, on a rock, and played his dulcimer and sang.\nVery sweetly he sang of the fair lake and the lovely river--the little\nriver that he thought prettier than all the girls of Novgorod. And\nwhile he was singing he saw a whirlpool in the lake, little waves\nflying from it across the water, and in the middle a hollow down into\nthe water. And in the hollow he saw the head of a great man with blue\nhair and a gold crown. He knew that the huge man was the Tzar of the\nSea. And the man came nearer, walking up out of the depths of the\nlake--a huge, great man, a very giant, with blue hair falling to his\nwaist over his broad shoulders. The little waves ran from him in all\ndirections as he came striding up out of the water.\n\nSadko did not know whether to run or stay; but the Tzar of the Sea\ncalled out to him in a great voice like wind and water in a storm,--\n\n\"Sadko of Novgorod, you have played and sung many days by the side of\nthis lake and on the banks of the little river Volkhov. My daughters\nlove your music, and it has pleased me too. Throw out a net into the\nwater, and draw it in, and the waters will pay you for your singing.\nAnd if you are satisfied with the payment, you must come and play to\nus down in the green palace of the sea.\"\n\nWith that the Tzar of the Sea went down again into the waters of the\nlake. The waves closed over him with a roar, and presently the lake\nwas as smooth and calm as it had ever been.\n\nSadko thought, and said to himself: \"Well, there is no harm done in\ncasting out a net.\" So he threw a net out into the lake.\n\nHe sat down again and played on his dulcimer and sang, and when he had\nfinished his singing the dusk had fallen and the moon shone over the\nlake. He put down his dulcimer and took hold of the ropes of the net,\nand began to draw it up out of the silver water. Easily the ropes\ncame, and the net, dripping and glittering in the moonlight.\n\n\"I was dreaming,\" said Sadko; \"I was asleep when I saw the Tzar of the\nSea, and there is nothing in the net at all.\"\n\nAnd then, just as the last of the net was coming ashore, he saw\nsomething in it, square and dark. He dragged it out, and found it was\na coffer. He opened the coffer, and it was full of precious\nstones--green, red, gold--gleaming in the light of the moon. Diamonds\nshone there like little bundles of sharp knives.\n\n\"There can be no harm in taking these stones,\" says Sadko, \"whether I\ndreamed or not.\"\n\nHe took the coffer on his shoulder, and bent under the weight of it,\nstrong though he was. He put it in a safe place. All night he sat and\nwatched by the nets, and played and sang, and planned what he would\ndo.\n\nIn the morning the fishermen came, laughing and merry after their\nnight in Novgorod, and they gave him a little fish for watching their\nnets; and he made a fire on the shore, and cooked it and ate it as he\nused to do.\n\n\"And that is my last meal as a poor man,\" says Sadko. \"Ah me! who\nknows if I shall be happier?\"\n\nThen he set the coffer on his shoulder and tramped away for Novgorod.\n\n\"Who is that?\" they asked at the gates.\n\n\"Only Sadko the dulcimer player,\" he replied.\n\n\"Turned porter?\" said they.\n\n\"One trade is as good as another,\" said Sadko, and he walked into the\ncity. He sold a few of the stones, two at a time, and with what he got\nfor them he set up a booth in the market. Small things led to great,\nand he was soon one of the richest traders in Novgorod.\n\nAnd now there was not a girl in the town who could look too sweetly at\nSadko. \"He has golden hair,\" says one. \"Blue eyes like the sea,\" says\nanother. \"He could lift the world on his shoulders,\" says a third. A\nlittle money, you see, opens everybody's eyes.\n\nBut Sadko was not changed by his good fortune. Still he walked and\nplayed by the little river Volkhov. When work was done and the traders\ngone, Sadko would take his dulcimer and play and sing on the banks of\nthe river. And still he said, \"There is no girl in all Novgorod as\npretty as my little river.\" Every time he came back from his long\nvoyages--for he was trading far and near, like the greatest of\nmerchants--he went at once to the banks of the river to see how his\nsweetheart fared. And always he brought some little present for her\nand threw it into the waves.\n\nFor twelve years he lived unmarried in Novgorod, and every year made\nvoyages, buying and selling, and always growing richer and richer.\nMany were the mothers in Novgorod who would have liked to see him\nmarried to their daughters. Many were the pillows that were wet with\nthe tears of the young girls, as they thought of the blue eyes of\nSadko and his golden hair.\n\nAnd then, in the twelfth year since he walked into Novgorod with the\ncoffer on his shoulder, he was sailing in a ship on the Caspian Sea,\nfar, far away. For many days the ship sailed on, and Sadko sat on deck\nand played his dulcimer and sang of Novgorod and of the little river\nVolkhov that flows under the walls of the town. Blue was the Caspian\nSea, and the waves were like furrows in a field, long lines of white\nunder the steady wind, while the sails swelled and the ship shot over\nthe water.\n\nAnd suddenly the ship stopped.\n\nIn the middle of the sea, far from land, the ship stopped and trembled\nin the waves, as if she were held by a big hand.\n\n\"We are aground!\" cry the sailors; and the captain, the great one,\ntells them to take soundings. Seventy fathoms by the bow it was, and\nseventy fathoms by the stern.\n\n\"We are not aground,\" says the captain, \"unless there is a rock\nsticking up like a needle in the middle of the Caspian Sea!\"\n\n\"There is magic in this,\" say the sailors.\n\n\"Hoist more sail,\" says the captain; and up go the white sails,\nswelling out in the wind, while the masts bend and creak. But still\nthe ship lay shivering and did not move, out there in the middle of\nthe sea.\n\n\"Hoist more sail yet,\" says the captain; and up go the white sails,\nswelling and tugging, while the masts creak and groan. But still the\nship lay there shivering and did not move.\n\n\"There is an unlucky one aboard,\" says an old sailor. \"We must draw\nlots and find him, and throw him overboard into the sea.\"\n\nThe other sailors agreed to this. And still Sadko sat, and played his\ndulcimer and sang.\n\nThe sailors cut pieces of string, all of a length, as many as there\nwere souls in the ship, and one of those strings they cut in half.\nThen they made them into a bundle, and each man plucked one string.\nAnd Sadko stopped his playing for a moment to pluck a string, and his\nwas the string that had been cut in half.\n\n\"Magician, sorcerer, unclean one!\" shouted the sailors.\n\n\"Not so,\" said Sadko. \"I remember now an old promise I made, and I\nkeep it willingly.\"\n\nHe took his dulcimer in his hand, and leapt from the ship into the\nblue Caspian Sea. The waves had scarcely closed over his head before\nthe ship shot forward again, and flew over the waves like a swan's\nfeather, and came in the end safely to her harbour.\n\n\"And what happened to Sadko?\" asked Maroosia.\n\n\"You shall hear, little pigeon,\" said old Peter, and he took a pinch\nof snuff. Then he went on.\n\nSadko dropped into the waves, and the waves closed over him. Down he\nsank, like a pebble thrown into a pool, down and down. First the water\nwas blue, then green, and strange fish with goggle eyes and golden\nfins swam round him as he sank. He came at last to the bottom of the\nsea.\n\nAnd there, on the bottom of the sea, was a palace built of green wood.\nYes, all the timbers of all the ships that have been wrecked in all\nthe seas of the world are in that palace, and they are all green, and\ncunningly fitted together, so that the palace is worth a ten days'\njourney only to see it. And in front of the palace Sadko saw two big\nkobbly sturgeons, each a hundred and fifty feet long, lashing their\ntails and guarding the gates. Now, sturgeons are the oldest of all\nfish, and these were the oldest of all sturgeons.\n\nSadko walked between the sturgeons and through the gates of the\npalace. Inside there was a great hall, and the Tzar of the Sea lay\nresting in the hall, with his gold crown on his head and his blue hair\nfloating round him in the water, and his great body covered with\nscales lying along the hall. The Tzar of the Sea filled the hall--and\nthere is room in that hall for a village. And there were fish swimming\nthis way and that in and out of the windows.\n\n\"Ah, Sadko,\" says the Tzar of the Sea, \"you took what the sea gave\nyou, but you have been a long time in coming to sing in the palaces of\nthe sea. Twelve years I have lain here waiting for you.\"\n\n\"Great Tzar, forgive,\" says Sadko.\n\n\"Sing now,\" says the Tzar of the Sea, and his voice was like the\nbeating of waves.\n\nAnd Sadko played on his dulcimer and sang.\n\nHe sang of Novgorod and of the little river Volkhov which he loved. It\nwas in his song that none of the girls of Novgorod were as pretty as\nthe little river. And there was the sound of wind over the lake in his\nsong, the sound of ripples under the prow of a boat, the sound of\nripples on the shore, the sound of the river flowing past the tall\nreeds, the whispering sound of the river at night. And all the time he\nplayed cunningly on the dulcimer. The girls of Novgorod had never\ndanced to so sweet a tune when in the old days Sadko played his\ndulcimer to earn kopecks and crusts of bread.\n\nNever had the Tzar of the Sea heard such music.\n\n\"I would dance,\" said the Tzar of the Sea, and he stood up like a tall\ntree in the hall.\n\n\"Play on,\" said the Tzar of the Sea, and he strode through the gates.\nThe sturgeons guarding the gates stirred the water with their tails.\n\nAnd if the Tzar of the Sea was huge in the hall, he was huger still\nwhen he stood outside on the bottom of the sea. He grew taller and\ntaller, towering like a mountain. His feet were like small hills. His\nblue hair hung down to his waist, and he was covered with green\nscales. And he began to dance on the bottom of the sea.\n\nGreat was that dancing. The sea boiled, and ships went down. The waves\nrolled as big as houses. The sea overflowed its shores, and whole\ntowns were under water as the Tzar danced mightily on the bottom of\nthe sea. Hither and thither rushed the waves, and the very earth shook\nat the dancing of that tremendous Tzar.\n\nHe danced till he was tired, and then he came back to the palace of\ngreen wood, and passed the sturgeons, and shrank into himself and\ncame through the gates into the hall, where Sadko still played on his\ndulcimer and sang.\n\n\"You have played well and given me pleasure,\" says the Tzar of the\nSea. \"I have thirty daughters, and you shall choose one and marry her,\nand be a Prince of the Sea.\"\n\n\"Better than all maidens I love my little river,\" says Sadko; and the\nTzar of the Sea laughed and threw his head back, with his blue hair\nfloating all over the hall.\n\nAnd then there came in the thirty daughters of the Tzar of the Sea.\nBeautiful they were, lovely, and graceful; but twenty-nine of them\npassed by, and Sadko fingered his dulcimer and thought of his little\nriver.\n\nThere came in the thirtieth, and Sadko cried out aloud. \"Here is the\nonly maiden in the world as pretty as my little river!\" says he. And\nshe looked at him with eyes that shone like stars reflected in the\nriver. Her hair was dark, like the river at night. She laughed, and\nher voice was like the flowing of the river.\n\n\"And what is the name of your little river?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"It is the little river Volkhov that flows by Novgorod,\" says Sadko;\n\"but your daughter is as fair as the little river, and I would gladly\nmarry her if she will have me.\"\n\n\"It is a strange thing,\" says the Tzar, \"but Volkhov is the name of my\nyoungest daughter.\"\n\nHe put Sadko's hand in the hand of his youngest daughter, and they\nkissed each other. And as they kissed, Sadko saw a necklace round her\nneck, and knew it for one he had thrown into the river as a present\nfor his sweetheart.\n\nShe smiled, and \"Come!\" says she, and took him away to a palace of her\nown, and showed him a coffer; and in that coffer were bracelets and\nrings and earrings--all the gifts that he had thrown into the river.\n\nAnd Sadko laughed for joy, and kissed the youngest daughter of the\nTzar of the Sea, and she kissed him back.\n\n\"O my little river!\" says he; \"there is no girl in all the world but\nthou as pretty as my little river.\"\n\nWell, they were married, and the Tzar of the Sea laughed at the\nwedding feast till the palace shook and the fish swam off in all\ndirections.\n\nAnd after the feast Sadko and his bride went off together to her\npalace. And before they slept she kissed him very tenderly, and she\nsaid,--\n\n\"O Sadko, you will not forget me? You will play to me sometimes, and\nsing?\"\n\n\"I shall never lose sight of you, my pretty one,\" says he; \"and as for\nmusic, I will sing and play all the day long.\"\n\n\"That's as may be,\" says she, and they fell asleep.\n\nAnd in the middle of the night Sadko happened to turn in bed, and he\ntouched the Princess with his left foot, and she was cold, cold, cold\nas ice in January. And with that touch of cold he woke, and he was\nlying under the walls of Novgorod, with his dulcimer in his hand, and\none of his feet was in the little river Volkhov, and the moon was\nshining.\n\n\"O grandfather! And what happened to him after that?\" asked Maroosia.\n\n\"There are many tales,\" said old Peter. \"Some say he went into the\ntown, and lived on alone until he died. But I think with those who say\nthat he took his dulcimer and swam out into the middle of the river,\nand sank under water again, looking for his little Princess. They say\nhe found her, and lives still in the green palaces of the bottom of\nthe sea; and when there is a big storm, you may know that Sadko is\nplaying on his dulcimer and singing, and that the Tzar of the Sea is\ndancing his tremendous dance down there, on the bottom, under the\nwaves.\"\n\n\"Yes, I expect that's what happened,\" said Ivan. \"He'd have found it\nvery dull in Novgorod, even though it is a big town.\"\n\n\n\n\nFROST.\n\n\nThe children, in their little sheepskin coats and high felt boots and\nfur hats, trudged along the forest path in the snow. Vanya went first,\nthen Maroosia, and then old Peter. The ground was white and the snow\nwas hard and crisp, and all over the forest could be heard the\ncrackling of the frost. And as they walked, old Peter told them the\nstory of the old woman who wanted Frost to marry her daughters.\n\nOnce upon a time there were an old man and an old woman. Now the old\nwoman was the old man's second wife. His first wife had died, and had\nleft him with a little daughter: Martha she was called. Then he\nmarried again, and God gave him a cross wife, and with her two more\ndaughters, and they were very different from the first.\n\nThe old woman loved her own daughters, and gave them red kisel jelly\nevery day, and honey too, as much as they could put into their greedy\nlittle mouths. But poor little Martha, the eldest, she got only what\nthe others left. When they were cross they threw away what they left,\nand then she got nothing at all.\n\nThe children grew older, and the stepmother made Martha do all the\nwork of the house. She had to fetch the wood for the stove, and light\nit and keep it burning. She had to draw the water for her sisters to\nwash their hands in. She had to make the clothes, and wash them and\nmend them. She had to cook the dinner, and clean the dishes after the\nothers had done before having a bite for herself.\n\nFor all that the stepmother was never satisfied, and was for ever\nshouting at her: \"Look, the kettle is in the wrong place;\" \"There is\ndust on the floor;\" \"There is a spot on the tablecloth;\" or, \"The\nspoons are not clean, you stupid, ugly, idle hussy.\" But Martha was\nnot idle. She worked all day long, and got up before the sun, while\nher sisters never stirred from their beds till it was time for dinner.\nAnd she was not stupid. She always had a song on her lips, except when\nher stepmother had beaten her. And as for being ugly, she was the\nprettiest little girl in the village.\n\nHer father saw all this, but he could not do anything, for the old\nwoman was mistress at home, and he was terribly afraid of her. And as\nfor the daughters, they saw how their mother treated Martha, and they\ndid the same. They were always complaining and getting her into\ntrouble. It was a pleasure to them to see the tears on her pretty\ncheeks.\n\nWell, time went on, and the little girl grew up, and the daughters of\nthe stepmother were as ugly as could be. Their eyes were always cross,\nand their mouths were always complaining. Their mother saw that no one\nwould want to marry either of them while there was Martha about the\nhouse, with her bright eyes and her songs and her kindness to\neverybody.\n\nSo she thought of a way to get rid of her stepdaughter, and a cruel\nway it was.\n\n\"See here, old man,\" says she, \"it is high time Martha was married,\nand I have a bridegroom in mind for her. To-morrow morning you must\nharness the old mare to the sledge, and put a bit of food together and\nbe ready to start early, as I'd like to see you back before night.\"\n\nTo Martha she said: \"To-morrow you must pack your things in a box, and\nput on your best dress to show yourself to your betrothed.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\" asked Martha with red cheeks.\n\n\"You will know when you see him,\" said the stepmother.\n\nAll that night Martha hardly slept. She could hardly believe that she\nwas really going to escape from the old woman at last, and have a hut\nof her own, where there would be no one to scold her. She wondered who\nthe young man was. She hoped he was Fedor Ivanovitch, who had such\nkind eyes, and such nimble fingers on the balalaika, and such a merry\nway of flinging out his heels when he danced the Russian dance. But\nalthough he always smiled at her when they met, she felt she hardly\ndared to hope that it was he. Early in the morning she got up and said\nher prayers to God, put the whole hut in order, and packed her things\ninto a little box. That was easy, because she had such few things. It\nwas the other daughters who had new dresses. Any old thing was good\nenough for Martha. But she put on her best blue dress, and there she\nwas, as pretty a little maid as ever walked under the birch trees in\nspring.\n\nThe old man harnessed the mare to the sledge and brought it to the\ndoor. The snow was very deep and frozen hard, and the wind peeled the\nskin from his ears before he covered them with the flaps of his fur\nhat.\n\n\"Sit down at the table and have a bite before you go,\" says the old\nwoman.\n\nThe old man sat down, and his daughter with him, and drank a glass of\ntea and ate some black bread. And the old woman put some cabbage soup,\nleft from the day before, in a saucer, and said to Martha, \"Eat this,\nmy little pigeon, and get ready for the road.\" But when she said \"my\nlittle pigeon,\" she did not smile with her eyes, but only with her\ncruel mouth, and Martha was afraid. The old woman whispered to the old\nman: \"I have a word for you, old fellow. You will take Martha to her\nbetrothed, and I'll tell you the way. You go straight along, and then\ntake the road to the right into the forest ... you know ... straight\nto the big fir tree that stands on a hillock, and there you will give\nMartha to her betrothed and leave her. He will be waiting for her, and\nhis name is Frost.\"\n\nThe old man stared, opened his mouth, and stopped eating. The little\nmaid, who had heard the last words, began to cry,\n\n\"Now, what are you whimpering about?\" screamed the old woman. \"Frost\nis a rich bridegroom and a handsome one. See how much he owns. All the\npines and firs are his, and the birch trees. Any one would envy his\npossessions, and he himself is a very bogatir,[2] a man of strength\nand power.\"\n\nThe old man trembled, and said nothing in reply. And Martha went on\ncrying quietly, though she tried to stop her tears. The old man\npacked up what was left of the black bread, told Martha to put on her\nsheepskin coat, set her in the sledge and climbed in, and drove off\nalong the white, frozen road.\n\nThe road was long and the country open, and the wind grew colder and\ncolder, while the frozen snow blew up from under the hoofs of the mare\nand spattered the sledge with white patches. The tale is soon told,\nbut it takes time to happen, and the sledge was white all over long\nbefore they turned off into the forest.\n\nThey came in the end deep into the forest, and left the road, and over\nthe deep snow through the trees to the great fir. There the old man\nstopped, told his daughter to get out of the sledge, set her little\nbox under the fir, and said, \"Wait here for your bridegroom, and when\nhe comes be sure to receive him with kind words.\" Then he turned the\nmare round and drove home, with the tears running from his eyes and\nfreezing on his cheeks before they had had time to reach his beard.\n\n[Footnote 2: The bogatirs were strong men, heroes of old Russia.]\n\nThe little maid sat and trembled. Her sheepskin coat was worn through,\nand in her blue bridal dress she sat, while fits of shivering shook\nher whole body. She wanted to run away; but she had not strength to\nmove, or even to keep her little white teeth from chattering between\nher frozen lips.\n\nSuddenly, not far away, she heard Frost crackling among the fir trees,\njust as he is crackling now. He was leaping from tree to tree,\ncrackling as he came.\n\nHe leapt at last into the great fir tree, under which the little maid\nwas sitting. He crackled in the top of the tree, and then called; down\nout of the topmost branches,--\n\n\"Are you warm, little maid?\"\n\n\"Warm, warm, little Father Frost.\"\n\nFrost laughed, and came a little lower in the tree and crackled and\ncrackled louder than before. Then he asked,--\n\n\"Are you still warm, little maid? Are you warm, little red cheeks?\"\n\nThe little maid could hardly speak. She was nearly dead, but she\nanswered,--\n\n\"Warm, dear Frost; warm, little father.\"\n\nFrost climbed lower in the tree, and crackled louder than ever, and\nasked,--\n\n\"Are you still warm, little maid? Are you warm, little red cheeks?\nAre you warm, little paws?\"\n\nThe little maid was benumbed all over, but she whispered so that Frost\ncould just hear her,--\n\n\"Warm, little pigeon, warm, dear Frost,\"\n\nAnd Frost was sorry for her, leapt down with a tremendous crackle and\na scattering of frozen snow, wrapped the little maid up in rich furs,\nand covered her with warm blankets.\n\nIn the morning the old woman said to her husband, \"Drive off now to\nthe forest, and wake the young couple.\"\n\nThe old man wept when he thought of his little daughter, for he was\nsure that he would find her dead. He harnessed the mare, and drove off\nthrough the snow. He came to the tree, and heard his little daughter\nsinging merrily, while Frost crackled and laughed. There she was,\nalive and warm, with a good fur cloak about her shoulders, a rich\nveil, costly blankets round her feet, and a box full of splendid\npresents.\n\nThe old man did not say a word. He was too surprised. He just sat in\nthe sledge staring, while the little maid lifted her box and the box\nof presents, set them in the sledge, climbed in, and sat down beside\nhim.\n\nThey came home, and the little maid, Martha, fell at the feet of her\nstepmother. The old woman nearly went off her head with rage when she\nsaw her alive, with her fur cloak and rich veil, and the box of\nsplendid presents fit for the daughter of a prince.\n\n\"Ah, you slut,\" she cried, \"you won't get round me like that!\"\n\nAnd she would not say another word to the little maid, but went about\nall day long biting her nails and thinking what to do.\n\nAt night she said to the old man,--\n\n\"You must take my daughters, too, to that bridegroom in the forest. He\nwill give them better gifts than these.\"\n\nThings take time to happen, but the tale is quickly told. Early next\nmorning the old woman woke her daughters, fed them with good food,\ndressed them like brides, hustled the old man, made him put clean hay\nin the sledge and warm blankets, and sent them off to the forest.\n\nThe old man did as he was bid--drove to the big fir tree, set the\nboxes under the tree, lifted out the stepdaughters and set them on the\nboxes side by side, and drove back home.\n\nThey were warmly dressed, these two, and well fed, and at first, as\nthey sat there, they did not think about the cold.\n\n\"I can't think what put it into mother's head to marry us both at\nonce,\" said the first, \"and to send us here to be married. As if there\nwere not enough young men in the village. Who can tell what sort of\nfellows we shall meet here!\"\n\nThen they began to quarrel.\n\n\"Well,\" says one of them, \"I'm beginning to get the cold shivers. If\nour fated ones do not come soon, we shall perish of cold.\"\n\n\"It's a flat lie to say that bridegrooms get ready early. It's already\ndinner-time.\"\n\n\"What if only one comes?\"\n\n\"You'll have to come another time.\"\n\n\"You think he'll look at you?\"\n\n\"Well, he won't take you, anyhow.\"\n\n\"Of course he'll take me.\"\n\n\"Take you first! It's enough to make any one laugh!\"\n\nThey began to fight and scratch each other, so that their cloaks fell\nopen and the cold entered their bosoms.\n\n[Illustration: There she was, a good fur cloak about her shoulders and\ncostly blankets Round her feet.]\n\nFrost, crackling among the trees, laughing to himself, froze the hands\nof the two quarrelling girls, and they hid their hands in the sleeves\nof their fur coats and shivered, and went on scolding and jeering at\neach other.\n\n\"Oh, you ugly mug, dirty nose! What sort of a housekeeper will you\nmake?\"\n\n\"And what about you, boasting one? You know nothing but how to gad\nabout and lick your own face. We'll soon see which of us he'll take.\"\n\nAnd the two girls went on wrangling and wrangling till they began to\nfreeze in good earnest.\n\nSuddenly they cried out together,--\n\n\"Devil take these bridegrooms for being so long in coming! You have\nturned blue all over.\"\n\nAnd together they replied, shivering,--\n\n\"No bluer than yourself, tooth-chatterer.\"\n\nAnd Frost, not so far away, crackled and laughed, and leapt from fir\ntree to fir tree, crackling as he came.\n\nThe girls heard that some one was coming through the forest.\n\n\"Listen! there's some one coming. Yes, and with bells on his sledge!\"\n\n\"Shut up, you slut! I can't hear, and the frost is taking the skin off\nme.\"\n\nThey began blowing on their fingers.\n\nAnd Frost came nearer and nearer, crackling, laughing, talking to\nhimself, just as he is doing to-day. Nearer and nearer he came,\nleaping from tree-top to tree-top, till at last he leapt into the\ngreat fir under which the two girls were sitting and quarrelling.\n\nHe leant down, looking through the branches, and asked,--\n\n\"Are you warm, maidens? Are you warm, little red cheeks? Are you warm,\nlittle pigeons?\"\n\n\"Ugh, Frost, the cold is hurting us. We are frozen. We are waiting for\nour bridegrooms, but the cursed fellows have not turned up.\"\n\nFrost came a little lower in the tree, and crackled louder and\nswifter.\n\n\"Are you warm, maidens? Are you warm, my little red cheeks?\"\n\n\"Go to the devil!\" they cried out. \"Are you blind? Our hands and feet\nare frozen!\"\n\nFrost came still lower in the branches, and cracked and crackled\nlouder than ever.\n\n\"Are you warm, maidens?\" he asked.\n\n\"Into the pit with you, with all the fiends,\" the girls screamed at\nhim, \"you ugly, wretched fellow!\"... And as they were cursing at him\ntheir bad words died on their lips, for the two girls, the cross\nchildren of the cruel stepmother, were frozen stiff where they sat.\n\nFrost hung from the lowest branches of the tree, swaying and crackling\nwhile he looked at the anger frozen on their faces. Then he climbed\nswiftly up again, and crackling and cracking, chuckling to himself, he\nwent off, leaping from fir tree to fir tree, this way and that through\nthe white, frozen forest.\n\nIn the morning the old woman says to her husband,--\n\n\"Now then, old man, harness the mare to the sledge, and put new hay in\nthe sledge to be warm for my little ones, and lay fresh rushes on the\nhay to be soft for them; and take warm rugs with you, for maybe they\nwill be cold, even in their furs. And look sharp about it, and don't\nkeep them waiting. The frost is hard this morning, and it was harder\nin the night.\"\n\nThe old man had not time to eat even a mouthful of black bread before\nshe had driven him out into the snow. He put hay and rushes and soft\nblankets in the sledge, and harnessed the mare, and went off to the\nforest. He came to the great fir, and found the two girls sitting\nunder it dead, with their anger still to be seen on their frozen, ugly\nfaces.\n\nHe picked them up, first one and then the other, and put them in the\nrushes and the warm hay, covered them with the blankets, and drove\nhome.\n\nThe old woman saw him coming, far away, over the shining snow. She ran\nto meet him, and shouted out,--\n\n\"Where are the little ones?\"\n\n\"In the sledge.\"\n\nShe snatched off the blankets and pulled aside the rushes, and found\nthe bodies of her two cross daughters.\n\nInstantly she flew at the old man in a storm of rage. \"What have you\ndone to my children, my little red cherries, my little pigeons? I will\nkill you with the oven fork! I will break your head with the poker!\"\n\nThe old man listened till she was out of breath and could not say\nanother word. That, my dears, is the only wise thing to do when a\nwoman is in a scolding rage. And as soon as she had no breath left\nwith which to answer him, he said,--\n\n\"My little daughter got riches for soft words, but yours were always\nrough of the tongue. And it's not my fault, anyhow, for you yourself\nsent them into the forest.\"\n\nWell, at last the old woman got her breath again, and scolded away\ntill she was tired out. But in the end she made her peace with the old\nman, and they lived together as quietly as could be expected.\n\nAs for Martha, Fedor Ivanovitch sought her in marriage, as he had\nmeant to do all along--yes, and married her; and pretty she looked in\nthe furs that Frost had given her. I was at the feast, and drank beer\nand mead with the rest. And she had the prettiest children that ever\nwere seen--yes, and the best behaved. For if ever they thought of\nbeing naughty, the old grandfather told them the story of crackling\nFrost, and how kind words won kindness, and cross words cold\ntreatment. And now, listen to Frost. Hear how he crackles away! And\nmind, if ever he asks you if you are warm, be as polite to him as you\ncan. And to do that, the best way is to be good always, like little\nMartha. Then it comes easy.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe children listened, and laughed quietly, because they knew they\nwere good. Away in the forest they heard Frost, and thought of him\ncrackling and leaping from one tree to another. And just then they\ncame home. It was dusk, for dusk comes early in winter, and a little\nway through the trees before them they saw the lamp of their hut\nglittering on the snow. The big dog barked and ran forward, and the\nchildren with him. The soup was warm on the stove, and in a few\nminutes they were sitting at the table, Vanya, Maroosia, and old\nPeter, blowing at their steaming spoons.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOOL OF THE WORLD AND THE FLYING SHIP.\n\n\nThere were once upon a time an old peasant and his wife, and they had\nthree sons. Two of them were clever young men who could borrow money\nwithout being cheated, but the third was the Fool of the World. He was\nas simple as a child, simpler than some children, and he never did any\none a harm in his life.\n\nWell, it always happens like that. The father and mother thought a lot\nof the two smart young men; but the Fool of the World was lucky if he\ngot enough to eat, because they always forgot him unless they happened\nto be looking at him, and sometimes even then.\n\nBut however it was with his father and mother, this is a story that\nshows that God loves simple folk, and turns things to their advantage\nin the end.\n\nFor it happened that the Tzar of that country sent out messengers\nalong the highroads and the rivers, even to huts in the forest like\nours, to say that he would give his daughter, the Princess, in\nmarriage to any one who could bring him a flying ship--ay, a ship with\nwings, that should sail this way and that through the blue sky, like a\nship sailing on the sea.\n\n\"This is a chance for us,\" said the two clever brothers; and that\nsame day they set off together, to see if one of them could not build\nthe flying ship and marry the Tzar's daughter, and so be a great man\nindeed.\n\nAnd their father blessed them, and gave them finer clothes than ever\nhe wore himself. And their mother made them up hampers of food for the\nroad, soft white rolls, and several kinds of cooked meats, and bottles\nof corn brandy. She went with them as far as the highroad, and waved\nher hand to them till they were out of sight. And so the two clever\nbrothers set merrily off on their adventure, to see what could be done\nwith their cleverness. And what happened to them I do not know, for\nthey were never heard of again.\n\nThe Fool of the World saw them set off, with their fine parcels of\nfood, and their fine clothes, and their bottles of corn brandy.\n\n\"I'd like to go too,\" says he, \"and eat good meat, with soft white\nrolls, and drink corn brandy, and marry the Tzar's daughter.\"\n\n\"Stupid fellow,\" says his mother, \"what's the good of your going? Why,\nif you were to stir from the house you would walk into the arms of a\nbear; and if not that, then the wolves would eat you before you had\nfinished staring at them.\"\n\nBut the Fool of the World would not be held back by words.\n\n\"I am going,\" says he. \"I am going. I am going. I am going.\"\n\nHe went on saying this over and over again, till the old woman his\nmother saw there was nothing to be done, and was glad to get him out\nof the house so as to be quit of the sound of his voice. So she put\nsome food in a bag for him to eat by the way. She put in the bag some\ncrusts of dry black bread and a flask of water. She did not even\nbother to go as far as the footpath to see him on his way. She saw the\nlast of him at the door of the hut, and he had not taken two steps\nbefore she had gone back into the hut to see to more important\nbusiness.\n\nNo matter. The Fool of the World set off with his bag over his\nshoulder, singing as he went, for he was off to seek his fortune and\nmarry the Tzar's daughter. He was sorry his mother had not given him\nany corn brandy; but he sang merrily for all that. He would have liked\nwhite rolls instead of the dry black crusts; but, after all, the main\nthing on a journey is to have something to eat. So he trudged merrily\nalong the road, and sang because the trees were green and there was a\nblue sky overhead.\n\nHe had not gone very far when he met an ancient old man with a bent\nback, and a long beard, and eyes hidden under his bushy eyebrows.\n\n\"Good-day, young fellow,\" says the ancient old man.\n\n\"Good-day, grandfather,\" says the Fool of the World.\n\n\"And where are you off to?\" says the ancient old man.\n\n\"What!\" says the Fool; \"haven't you heard? The Tzar is going to give\nhis daughter to any one who can bring him a flying ship.\"\n\n\"And you can really make a flying ship?\" says the ancient old man.\n\n\"No, I do not know how.\"\n\n\"Then what are you going to do?\"\n\n\"God knows,\" says the Fool of the World.\n\n\"Well,\" says the ancient, \"if things are like that, sit you down here.\nWe will rest together and have a bite of food. Bring out what you have\nin your bag.\"\n\n\"I am ashamed to offer you what I have here. It is good enough for me,\nbut it is not the sort of meal to which one can ask guests.\"\n\n\"Never mind that. Out with it. Let us eat what God has given.\"\n\nThe Fool of the World opened his bag, and could hardly believe his\neyes. Instead of black crusts he saw fresh white rolls and cooked\nmeats. He handed them out to the ancient, who said, \"You see how God\nloves simple folk. Although your own mother does not love you, you\nhave not been done out of your share of the good things. Let's have a\nsip at the corn brandy....\"\n\nThe Fool of the World opened his flask, and instead of water there\ncame out corn brandy, and that of the best. So the Fool and the\nancient made merry, eating and drinking; and when they had done, and\nsung a song or two together, the ancient says to the Fool,--\n\n\"Listen to me. Off with you into the forest. Go up to the first big\ntree you see. Make the sacred sign of the cross three times before it.\nStrike it a blow with your little hatchet. Fall backwards on the\nground, and lie there, full length on your back, until somebody wakes\nyou up. Then you will find the ship made, all ready to fly. Sit you\ndown in it, and fly off whither you want to go. But be sure on the way\nto give a lift to everyone you meet.\"\n\nThe Fool of the World thanked the ancient old man, said good-bye to\nhim, and went off to the forest. He walked up to a tree, the first big\ntree he saw, made the sign of the cross three times before it, swung\nhis hatchet round his head, struck a mighty blow on the trunk of the\ntree, instantly fell backwards flat on the ground, closed his eyes,\nand went to sleep.\n\nA little time went by, and it seemed to the Fool as he slept that\nsomebody was jogging his elbow. He woke up and opened his eyes. His\nhatchet, worn out, lay beside him. The big tree was gone, and in its\nplace there stood a little ship, ready and finished. The Fool did not\nstop to think. He jumped into the ship, seized the tiller, and sat\ndown. Instantly the ship leapt up into the air, and sailed away over\nthe tops of the trees.\n\nThe little ship answered the tiller as readily as if she were sailing\nin water, and the Fool steered for the highroad, and sailed along\nabove it, for he was afraid of losing his way if he tried to steer a\ncourse across the open country.\n\nHe flew on and on, and looked down, and saw a man lying in the road\nbelow him with his ear on the damp ground.\n\n\"Good-day to you, uncle,\" cried the Fool.\n\n\"Good-day to you, Sky-fellow,\" cried the man.\n\n\"What are you doing down there?\" says the Fool.\n\n\"I am listening to all that is being done in the world.\"\n\n\"Take your place in the ship with me.\"\n\nThe man was willing enough, and sat down in the ship with the Fool,\nand they flew on together singing songs.\n\nThey flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man on one leg,\nwith the other tied up to his head.\n\n\"Good-day, uncle,\" says the Fool, bringing the ship to the ground.\n\"Why are you hopping along on one foot?\"\n\n\"If I were to untie the other I should move too fast. I should be\nstepping across the world in a single stride.\"\n\n\"Sit down with us,\" says the Fool.\n\nThe man sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together\nsinging songs.\n\nThey flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man with a gun,\nand he was taking aim, but what he was aiming at they could not see.\n\n\"Good health to you, uncle,\" says the Fool. \"But what are you shooting\nat? There isn't a bird to be seen.\"\n\n\"What!\" says the man. \"If there were a bird that you could see, I\nshould not shoot at it. A bird or a beast a thousand versts away,\nthat's the sort of mark for me.\"\n\n\"Take your seat with us,\" says the Fool.\n\nThe man sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together.\nLouder and louder rose their songs.\n\nThey flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man carrying a\nsack full of bread on his back.\n\n\"Good health to you, uncle,\" says the Fool, sailing down. \"And where\nare you off to?\"\n\n\"I am going to get bread for my dinner.\"\n\n\"But you've got a full sack on your back.\"\n\n\"That--that little scrap! Why, that's not enough for a single\nmouthful.\"\n\n\"Take your seat with us,\" says the Fool.\n\nThe Eater sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together,\nsinging louder than ever.\n\nThey flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man walking\nround and round a lake.\n\n\"Good health to you, uncle,\" says the Fool. \"What are you looking\nfor?\"\n\n\"I want a drink, and I can't find any water.\"\n\n\"But there's a whole lake in front of your eyes. Why can't you take a\ndrink from that?\"\n\n\"That little drop!\" says the man. \"Why, there's not enough water there\nto wet the back of my throat if I were to drink it at one gulp.\"\n\n\"Take your seat with us,\" says the Fool.\n\nThe Drinker sat down with them, and again they flew on, singing in\nchorus.\n\nThey flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man walking\ntowards the forest, with a fagot of wood on his shoulders.\n\n\"Good-day to you, uncle,\" says the Fool. \"Why are you taking wood to\nthe forest?\"\n\n\"This isn't simple wood,\" says the man.\n\n\"What is it, then?\" says the Fool.\n\n\"If it is scattered about, a whole army of soldiers leaps up out of\nthe ground.\"\n\n\"There's a place for you with us,\" says the Fool.\n\nThe man sat down with them, and the ship rose up into the air, and\nflew on, carrying its singing crew.\n\nThey flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man carrying a\nsack of straw.\n\n\"Good health to you, uncle,\" says the Fool; \"and where are you taking\nyour straw?\"\n\n\"To the village.\"\n\n\"Why, are they short of straw in your village?\"\n\n\"No; but this is such straw that if you scatter it abroad in the very\nhottest of the summer, instantly the weather turns cold, and there is\nsnow and frost.\"\n\n\"There's a place here for you too,\" says the Fool.\n\n\"Very kind of you,\" says the man, and steps in and sits down, and away\nthey all sail together, singing like to burst their lungs.\n\nThey did not meet any one else, and presently came flying up to the\npalace of the Tzar. They flew down and cast anchor in the courtyard.\n\nJust then the Tzar was eating his dinner. He heard their loud singing,\nand looked out of the window and saw the ship come sailing down into\nhis courtyard. He sent his servant out to ask who was the great prince\nwho had brought him the flying ship, and had come sailing down with\nsuch a merry noise of singing.\n\nThe servant came up to the ship, and saw the Fool of the World and his\ncompanions sitting there cracking jokes. He saw they were all moujiks,\nsimple peasants, sitting in the ship; so he did not stop to ask\nquestions, but came back quietly and told the Tzar that there were no\ngentlemen in the ship at all, but only a lot of dirty peasants.\n\nNow the Tzar was not at all pleased with the idea of giving his only\ndaughter in marriage to a simple peasant, and he began to think how he\ncould get out of his bargain. Thinks he to himself, \"I'll set them\nsuch tasks that they will not be able to perform, and they'll be glad\nto get off with their lives, and I shall get the ship for nothing.\"\n\nSo he told his servant to go to the Fool and tell him that before the\nTzar had finished his dinner the Fool was to bring him some of the\nmagical water of life.\n\nNow, while the Tzar was giving this order to his servant, the\nListener, the first of the Fool's companions, was listening, and heard\nthe words of the Tzar and repeated them to the Fool.\n\n\"What am I to do now?\" says the Fool, stopping short in his jokes. \"In\na year, in a whole century, I never could find that water. And he\nwants it before he has finished his dinner.\"\n\n\"Don't you worry about that,\" says the Swift-goer, \"I'll deal with\nthat for you.\"\n\nThe servant came and announced the Tzar's command.\n\n\"Tell him he shall have it,\" says the Fool.\n\nHis companion, the Swift-goer, untied his foot from beside his head,\nput it to the ground, wriggled it a little to get the stiffness out of\nit, ran off, and was out of sight almost before he had stepped from\nthe ship. Quicker than I can tell it you in words he had come to the\nwater of life, and put some of it in a bottle.\n\n\"I shall have plenty of time to get back,\" thinks he, and down he sits\nunder a windmill and goes off to sleep.\n\nThe royal dinner was coming to an end, and there wasn't a sign of him.\nThere were no songs and no jokes in the flying ship. Everybody was\nwatching for the Swift-goer, and thinking he would not be in time.\n\nThe Listener jumped out and laid his right ear to the damp ground,\nlistened a moment, and said, \"What a fellow! He has gone to sleep\nunder the windmill. I can hear him snoring. And there is a fly buzzing\nwith its wings, perched on the windmill close above his head.\"\n\n\"This is my affair,\" says the Far-shooter, and he picked up his gun\nfrom between his knees, aimed at the fly on the windmill, and woke the\nSwift-goer with the thud of the bullet on the wood of the mill close\nby his head. The Swift-goer leapt up and ran, and in less than a\nsecond had brought the magic water of life and given it to the Fool.\nThe Fool gave it to the servant, who took it to the Tzar. The Tzar had\nnot yet left the table, so that his command had been fulfilled as\nexactly as ever could be.\n\n\"What fellows these peasants are,\" thought the Tzar. \"There is nothing\nfor it but to set them another task.\" So the Tzar said to his servant,\n\"Go to the captain of the flying ship and give him this message: 'If\nyou are such a cunning fellow, you must have a good appetite. Let you\nand your companions eat at a single meal twelve oxen roasted whole,\nand as much bread as can be baked in forty ovens!'\"\n\nThe Listener heard the message, and told the Fool what was coming. The\nFool was terrified, and said, \"I can't get through even a single loaf\nat a sitting.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about that,\" said the Eater. \"It won't be more than a\nmouthful for me, and I shall be glad to have a little snack in place\nof my dinner.\"\n\nThe servant came, and announced the Tzar's command.\n\n\"Good,\" says the Fool. \"Send the food along, and we'll know what to do\nwith it.\"\n\nSo they brought twelve oxen roasted whole, and as much bread as could\nbe baked in forty ovens, and the companions had scarcely sat down to\nthe meal before the Eater had finished the lot.\n\n\"Why,\" said the Eater, \"what a little! They might have given us a\ndecent meal while they were about it.\"\n\nThe Tzar told his servant to tell the Fool that he and his companions\nwere to drink forty barrels of wine, with forty bucketfuls in every\nbarrel.\n\nThe Listener told the Fool what message was coming.\n\n\"Why,\" says the Fool, \"I never in my life drank more than one bucket\nat a time.\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" says the Drinker. \"You forget that I am thirsty. It'll\nbe nothing of a drink for me.\"\n\nThey brought the forty barrels of wine, and tapped them, and the\nDrinker tossed them down one after another, one gulp for each barrel.\n\"Little enough,\" says he, \"Why, I am thirsty still.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" says the Tzar to his servant, when he heard that they had\neaten all the food and drunk all the wine. \"Tell the fellow to get\nready for the wedding, and let him go and bathe himself in the\nbath-house. But let the bath-house be made so hot that the man will\nstifle and frizzle as soon as he sets foot inside. It is an iron\nbath-house. Let it be made red hot.\"\n\nThe Listener heard all this and told the Fool, who stopped short with\nhis mouth open in the middle of a joke.\n\n\"Don't you worry,\" says the moujik with the straw.\n\nWell, they made the bath-house red hot, and called the Fool, and the\nFool went along to the bath-house to wash himself, and with him went\nthe moujik with the straw.\n\nThey shut them both into the bath-house, and thought that that was the\nend of them. But the moujik scattered his straw before them as they\nwent in, and it became so cold in there that the Fool of the World had\nscarcely time to wash himself before the water in the cauldrons froze\nto solid ice. They lay down on the very stove itself, and spent the\nnight there, shivering.\n\nIn the morning the servants opened the bath-house, and there were the\nFool of the World and the moujik, alive and well, lying on the stove\nand singing songs.\n\nThey told the Tzar, and the Tzar raged with anger. \"There is no\ngetting rid of this fellow,\" says he. \"But go and tell him that I send\nhim this message: 'If you are to marry my daughter, you must show that\nyou are able to defend her. Let me see that you have at least a\nregiment of soldiers,'\" Thinks he to himself, \"How can a simple\npeasant raise a troop? He will find it hard enough to raise a single\nsoldier.\"\n\nThe Listener told the Fool of the World, and the Fool began to lament.\n\"This time,\" says he, \"I am done indeed. You, my brothers, have saved\nme from misfortune more than once, but this time, alas, there is\nnothing to be done.\"\n\n\"Oh, what a fellow you are!\" says the peasant with the fagot of wood.\n\"I suppose you've forgotten about me. Remember that I am the man for\nthis little affair, and don't you worry about it at all.\"\n\nThe Tzar's servant came along and gave his message.\n\n\"Very good,\" says the Fool; \"but tell the Tzar that if after this he\nputs me off again, I'll make war on his country, and take the Princess\nby force.\"\n\nAnd then, as the servant went back with the message, the whole crew on\nthe flying ship set to their singing again, and sang and laughed and\nmade jokes as if they had not a care in the world.\n\nDuring the night, while the others slept, the peasant with the fagot\nof wood went hither and thither, scattering his sticks. Instantly\nwhere they fell there appeared a gigantic army. Nobody could count\nthe number of soldiers in it--cavalry, foot soldiers, yes, and guns,\nand all the guns new and bright, and the men in the finest uniforms\nthat ever were seen.\n\nIn the morning, as the Tzar woke and looked from the windows of the\npalace, he found himself surrounded by troops upon troops of soldiers,\nand generals in cocked hats bowing in the courtyard and taking orders\nfrom the Fool of the World, who sat there joking with his companions\nin the flying ship. Now it was the Tzar's turn to be afraid. As\nquickly as he could he sent his servants to the Fool with presents of\nrich jewels and fine clothes, invited him to come to the palace, and\nbegged him to marry the Princess.\n\nThe Fool of the World put on the fine clothes, and stood there as\nhandsome a young man as a princess could wish for a husband. He\npresented himself before the Tzar, fell in love with the Princess and\nshe with him, married her the same day, received with her a rich\ndowry, and became so clever that all the court repeated everything he\nsaid. The Tzar and the Tzaritza liked him very much, and as for the\nPrincess, she loved him to distraction.\n\n\n\n\nBABA YAGA.\n\n\n\"Tell us about Baba Yaga,\" begged Maroosia.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Vanya, \"please, grandfather, and about the little hut on\nhen's legs.\"\n\n\"Baba Yaga is a witch,\" said old Peter; \"a terrible old woman she is,\nbut sometimes kind enough. You know it was she who told Prince Ivan\nhow to win one of the daughters of the Tzar of the Sea, and that was\nthe best daughter of the bunch, Vasilissa the Very Wise. But then Baba\nYaga is usually bad, as in the case of Vasilissa the Very Beautiful,\nwho was only saved from her iron teeth by the cleverness of her Magic\nDoll.\"\n\n\"Tell us the story of the Magic Doll,\" begged Maroosia.\n\n\"I will some day,\" said old Peter.\n\n\"And has Baba Yaga really got iron teeth?\" asked Vanya.\n\n\"Iron, like the poker and tongs,\" said old Peter.\n\n\"What for?\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"To eat up little Russian children,\" said old Peter, \"when she can get\nthem. She usually only eats bad ones, because the good ones get away.\nShe is bony all over, and her eyes flash, and she drives about in a\nmortar, beating it with a pestle, and sweeping up her tracks with a\nbesom, so that you cannot tell which way she has gone.\"\n\n\"And her hut?\" said Vanya. He had often heard about it before, but he\nwanted to hear about it again.\n\n\"She lives in a little hut which stands on hen's legs. Sometimes it\nfaces the forest, sometimes it faces the path, and sometimes it walks\nsolemnly about. But in some of the stories she lives in another kind\nof hut, with a railing of tall sticks, and a skull on each stick. And\nall night long fire glows in the skulls and fades as the dawn rises.\"\n\n\"Now tell us one of the Baba Yaga stories,\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"Please,\" said Vanya.\n\n\"I will tell you how one little girl got away from her, and then, if\never she catches you, you will know exactly what to do.\"\n\nAnd old Peter put down his pipe and began:--\n\n\n\n\nBABA YAGA AND THE LITTLE GIRL WITH THE KIND HEART.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a widowed old man who lived alone in a hut\nwith his little daughter. Very merry they were together, and they used\nto smile at each other over a table just piled with bread and jam.\nEverything went well, until the old man took it into his head to marry\nagain.\n\nYes, the old man became foolish in the years of his old age, and he\ntook another wife. And so the poor little girl had a stepmother. And\nafter that everything changed. There was no more bread and jam on the\ntable, and no more playing bo-peep, first this side of the samovar and\nthen that, as she sat with her father at tea. It was worse than that,\nfor she never did sit at tea. The stepmother said that everything that\nwent wrong was the little girl's fault. And the old man believed his\nnew wife, and so there were no more kind words for his little\ndaughter. Day after day the stepmother used to say that the little\ngirl was too naughty to sit at table. And then she would throw her a\ncrust and tell her to get out of the hut and go and eat it somewhere\nelse.\n\nAnd the poor little girl used to go away by herself into the shed in\nthe yard, and wet the dry crust with her tears, and eat it all alone.\nAh me! she often wept for the old days, and she often wept at the\nthought of the days that were to come.\n\nMostly she wept because she was all alone, until one day she found a\nlittle friend in the shed. She was hunched up in a corner of the shed,\neating her crust and crying bitterly, when she heard a little noise.\nIt was like this: scratch--scratch. It was just that, a little gray\nmouse who lived in a hole.\n\nOut he came, his little pointed nose and his long whiskers, his little\nround ears and his bright eyes. Out came his little humpy body and his\nlong tail. And then he sat up on his hind legs, and curled his tail\ntwice round himself and looked at the little girl.\n\nThe little girl, who had a kind heart, forgot all her sorrows, and\ntook a scrap of her crust and threw it to the little mouse. The\nmouseykin nibbled and nibbled, and there, it was gone, and he was\nlooking for another. She gave him another bit, and presently that was\ngone, and another and another, until there was no crust left for the\nlittle girl. Well, she didn't mind that. You see, she was so happy\nseeing the little mouse nibbling and nibbling.\n\nWhen the crust was done the mouseykin looks up at her with his little\nbright eyes, and \"Thank you,\" he says, in a little squeaky voice.\n\"Thank you,\" he says; \"you are a kind little girl, and I am only a\nmouse, and I've eaten all your crust. But there is one thing I can do\nfor you, and that is to tell you to take care. The old woman in the\nhut (and that was the cruel stepmother) is own sister to Baba Yaga,\nthe bony-legged, the witch. So if ever she sends you on a message to\nyour aunt, you come and tell me. For Baba Yaga would eat you soon\nenough with her iron teeth if you did not know what to do.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you,\" said the little girl; and just then she heard the\nstepmother calling to her to come in and clean up the tea things, and\ntidy the house, and brush out the floor, and clean everybody's boots.\n\nSo off she had to go.\n\nWhen she went in she had a good look at her stepmother, and sure\nenough she had a long nose, and she was as bony as a fish with all the\nflesh picked off, and the little girl thought of Baba Yaga and\nshivered, though she did not feel so bad when she remembered the\nmouseykin out there in the shed in the yard.\n\nThe very next morning it happened. The old man went off to pay a visit\nto some friends of his in the next village, just as I go off sometimes\nto see old Fedor, God be with him. And as soon as the old man was out\nof sight the wicked stepmother called the little girl.\n\n\"You are to go to-day to your dear little aunt in the forest,\" says\nshe, \"and ask her for a needle and thread to mend a shirt.\"\n\n\"But here is a needle and thread,\" says the little girl.\n\n\"Hold your tongue,\" says the stepmother, and she gnashes her teeth,\nand they make a noise like clattering tongs. \"Hold your tongue,\" she\nsays. \"Didn't I tell you you are to go to-day to your dear little aunt\nto ask for a needle and thread to mend a shirt?\"\n\n\"How shall I find her?\" says the little girl, nearly ready to cry, for\nshe knew that her aunt was Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch.\n\nThe stepmother took hold of the little girl's nose and pinched it.\n\n\"That is your nose,\" she says. \"Can you feel it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" says the poor little girl.\n\n\"You must go along the road into the forest till you come to a fallen\ntree; then you must turn to your left, and then follow your nose and\nyou will find her,\" says the stepmother. \"Now, be off with you, lazy\none. Here is some food for you to eat by the way.\" She gave the little\ngirl a bundle wrapped up in a towel.\n\nThe little girl wanted to go into the shed to tell the mouseykin she\nwas going to Baba Yaga, and to ask what she should do. But she looked\nback, and there was the stepmother at the door watching her. So she\nhad to go straight on.\n\nShe walked along the road through the forest till she came to the\nfallen tree. Then she turned to the left. Her nose was still hurting\nwhere the stepmother had pinched it, so she knew she had to go\nstraight ahead. She was just setting out when she heard a little noise\nunder the fallen tree. \"Scratch--scratch.\"\n\nAnd out jumped the little mouse, and sat up in the road in front of\nher.\n\n\"O mouseykin, mouseykin,\" says the little girl, \"my stepmother has\nsent me to her sister. And that is Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the\nwitch, and I do not know what to do.\"\n\n\"It will not be difficult,\" says the little mouse, \"because of your\nkind heart. Take all the things you find in the road, and do with them\nwhat you like. Then you will escape from Baba Yaga, and everything\nwill be well.\"\n\n\"Are you hungry, mouseykin?\" said the little girl\n\n\"I could nibble, I think,\" says the little mouse.\n\nThe little girl unfastened the towel, and there was nothing in it but\nstones. That was what the stepmother had given the little girl to eat\nby the way.\n\n\"Oh, I'm so sorry,\" says the little girl. \"There's nothing for you to\neat.\"\n\n\"Isn't there?\" said mouseykin, and as she looked at them the little\ngirl saw the stones turn to bread and jam. The little girl sat down on\nthe fallen tree, and the little mouse sat beside her, and they ate\nbread and jam until they were not hungry any more.\n\n\"Keep the towel,\" says the little mouse; \"I think it will be useful.\nAnd remember what I said about the things you find on the way. And now\ngood-bye,\" says he.\n\n\"Good-bye,\" says the little girl, and runs along.\n\nAs she was running along she found a nice new handkerchief lying in\nthe road. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she found a\nlittle bottle of oil. She picked it up and took it with her. Then she\nfound some scraps of meat.\n\n[Illustration: There she was, beating with the pestle and sweeping\nWith the besom.]\n\n\"Perhaps I'd better take them too,\" she said; and she took them.\n\nThen she found a gay blue ribbon, and she took that. Then she found a\nlittle loaf of good bread, and she took that too.\n\n\"I daresay somebody will like it,\" she said.\n\nAnd then she came to the hut of Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the witch.\nThere was a high fence round it with big gates. When she pushed them\nopen they squeaked miserably, as if it hurt them to move. The little\ngirl was sorry for them.\n\n\"How lucky,\" she says, \"that I picked up the bottle of oil!\" and she\npoured the oil into the hinges of the gates.\n\nInside the railing was Baba Yaga's hut, and it stood on hen's legs and\nwalked about the yard. And in the yard there was standing Baba Yaga's\nservant, and she was crying bitterly because of the tasks Baba Yaga\nset her to do. She was crying bitterly and wiping her eyes on her\npetticoat.\n\n\"How lucky,\" says the little girl, \"that I picked up a handkerchief!\"\nAnd she gave the handkerchief to Baba Yaga's servant, who wiped her\neyes on it and smiled through her tears.\n\nClose by the hut was a huge dog, very thin, gnawing a dry crust.\n\n\"How lucky,\" says the little girl, \"that I picked up a loaf!\" And she\ngave the loaf to the dog, and he gobbled it up and licked his lips.\n\nThe little girl went bravely up to the hut and knocked on the door.\n\n\"Come in,\" says Baba Yaga.\n\nThe little girl went in, and there was Baba Yaga, the bony-legged, the\nwitch, sitting weaving at a loom. In a corner of the hut was a thin\nblack cat watching a mouse-hole.\n\n\"Good-day to you, auntie,\" says the little girl, trying not to\ntremble.\n\n\"Good-day to you, niece,\" says Baba Yaga.\n\n\"My stepmother has sent me to you to ask for a needle and thread to\nmend a shirt.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" says Baba Yaga, smiling, and showing her iron teeth. \"You\nsit down here at the loom, and go on with my weaving, while I go and\nget you the needle and thread.\"\n\nThe little girl sat down at the loom and began to weave.\n\nBaba Yaga went out and called to her servant, \"Go, make the bath hot\nand scrub my niece. Scrub her clean. I'll make a dainty meal of her.\"\n\nThe servant came in for the jug. The little girl begged her, \"Be not\ntoo quick in making the fire, and carry the water in a sieve.\" The\nservant smiled, but said nothing, because she was afraid of Baba Yaga.\nBut she took a very long time about getting the bath ready.\n\nBaba Yaga came to the window and asked,--\n\n\"Are you weaving, little niece? Are you weaving, my pretty?\"\n\n\"I am weaving, auntie,\" says the little girl.\n\nWhen Baba Yaga went away from the window, the little girl spoke to the\nthin black cat who was watching the mouse-hole.\n\n\"What are you doing, thin black cat?\"\n\n\"Watching for a mouse,\" says the thin black cat. \"I haven't had any\ndinner for three days.\"\n\n\"How lucky,\" says the little girl, \"that I picked up the scraps of\nmeat!\" And she gave them to the thin black cat. The thin black cat\ngobbled them up, and said to the little girl,--\n\n\"Little girl, do you want to get out of this?\"\n\n\"Catkin dear,\" says the little girl, \"I do want to get out of this,\nfor Baba Yaga is going to eat me with her iron teeth.\"\n\n\"Well,\" says the cat, \"I will help you.\"\n\nJust then Baba Yaga came to the window.\n\n\"Are you weaving, little niece?\" she asked. \"Are you weaving, my\npretty?\"\n\n\"I am weaving, auntie,\" says the little girl, working away, while the\nloom went clickety clack, clickety clack.\n\nBaba Yaga went away.\n\nSays the thin black cat to the little girl: \"You have a comb in your\nhair, and you have a towel. Take them and run for it while Baba Yaga\nis in the bath-house. When Baba Yaga chases after you, you must\nlisten; and when she is close to you, throw away the towel, and it\nwill turn into a big, wide river. It will take her a little time to\nget over that. But when she does, you must listen; and as soon as she\nis close to you throw away the comb, and it will sprout up into such a\nforest that she will never get through it at all.\"\n\n\"But she'll hear the loom stop,\" says the little girl.\n\n\"I'll see to that,\" says the thin black cat.\n\nThe cat took the little girl's place at the loom.\n\nClickety clack, clickety clack; the loom never stopped for a moment.\n\nThe little girl looked to see that Baba Yaga was in the bath-house,\nand then she jumped down from the little hut on hen's legs, and ran to\nthe gates as fast as her legs could flicker.\n\nThe big dog leapt up to tear her to pieces. Just as he was going to\nspring on her he saw who she was.\n\n\"Why, this is the little girl who gave me the loaf,\" says he. \"A good\njourney to you, little girl;\" and he lay down again with his head\nbetween his paws.\n\nWhen she came to the gates they opened quietly, quietly, without\nmaking any noise at all, because of the oil she had poured into their\nhinges.\n\nOutside the gates there was a little birch tree that beat her in the\neyes so that she could not go by.\n\n\"How lucky,\" says the little girl, \"that I picked up the ribbon!\" And\nshe tied up the birch tree with the pretty blue ribbon. And the birch\ntree was so pleased with the ribbon that it stood still, admiring\nitself, and let the little girl go by.\n\nHow she did run!\n\nMeanwhile the thin black cat sat at the loom. Clickety clack, clickety\nclack, sang the loom; but you never saw such a tangle as the tangle\nmade by the thin black cat.\n\nAnd presently Baba Yaga came to the window.\n\n\"Are you weaving, little niece?\" she asked. \"Are you weaving, my\npretty?\"\n\n\"I am weaving, auntie,\" says the thin black cat, tangling and\ntangling, while the loom went clickety clack, clickety clack.\n\n\"That's not the voice of my little dinner,\" says Baba Yaga, and she\njumped into the hut, gnashing her iron teeth; and there was no little\ngirl, but only the thin black cat, sitting at the loom, tangling and\ntangling the threads.\n\n\"Grr,\" says Baba Yaga, and jumps for the cat, and begins banging it\nabout. \"Why didn't you tear the little girl's eyes out?\"\n\n\"In all the years I have served you,\" says the cat, \"you have only\ngiven me one little bone; but the kind little girl gave me scraps of\nmeat.\"\n\nBaba Yaga threw the cat into a corner, and went out into the yard.\n\n\"Why didn't you squeak when she opened you?\" she asked the gates.\n\n\"Why didn't you tear her to pieces?\" she asked the dog.\n\n\"Why didn't you beat her in the face, and not let her go by?\" she\nasked the birch tree.\n\n\"Why were you so long in getting the bath ready? If you had been\nquicker, she never would have got away,\" said Baba Yaga to the\nservant.\n\nAnd she rushed about the yard, beating them all, and scolding at the\ntop of her voice.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the gates, \"in all the years we have served you, you never\neven eased us with water; but the kind little girl poured good oil\ninto our hinges.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the dog, \"in all the years I've served you, you never threw\nme anything but burnt crusts; but the kind little girl gave me a good\nloaf.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the little birch tree, \"in all the years I've served you,\nyou never tied me up, even with thread; but the kind little girl tied\nme up with a gay blue ribbon.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the servant, \"in all the years I've served you, you have\nnever given me even a rag; but the kind little girl gave me a pretty\nhandkerchief.\"\n\nBaba Yaga gnashed at them with her iron teeth. Then she jumped into\nthe mortar and sat down. She drove it along with the pestle, and swept\nup her tracks with a besom, and flew off in pursuit of the little\ngirl.\n\nThe little girl ran and ran. She put her ear to the ground and\nlistened. Bang, bang, bangety bang! she could hear Baba Yaga beating\nthe mortar with the pestle. Baba Yaga was quite close. There she was,\nbeating with the pestle and sweeping with the besom, coming along the\nroad.\n\nAs quickly as she could, the little girl took out the towel and threw\nit on the ground. And the towel grew bigger and bigger, and wetter and\nwetter, and there was a deep, broad river between Baba Yaga and the\nlittle girl.\n\nThe little girl turned and ran on. How she ran!\n\nBaba Yaga came flying up in the mortar. But the mortar could not float\nin the river with Baba Yaga inside. She drove it in, but only got wet\nfor her trouble. Tongs and pokers tumbling down a chimney are nothing\nto the noise she made as she gnashed her iron teeth. She turned home,\nand went flying back to the little hut on hen's legs. Then she got\ntogether all her cattle and drove them to the river.\n\n\"Drink, drink!\" she screamed at them; and the cattle drank up all the\nriver to the last drop. And Baba Yaga, sitting in the mortar, drove it\nwith the pestle, and swept up her tracks with the besom, and flew over\nthe dry bed of the river and on in pursuit of the little girl.\n\nThe little girl put her ear to the ground and listened. Bang, bang,\nbangety bang! She could hear Baba Yaga beating the mortar with the\npestle. Nearer and nearer came the noise, and there was Baba Yaga,\nbeating with the pestle and sweeping with the besom, coming along the\nroad close behind.\n\nThe little girl threw down the comb, and grew bigger and bigger, and\nits teeth sprouted up into a thick forest, thicker than this forest\nwhere we live--so thick that not even Baba Yaga could force her way\nthrough. And Baba Yaga, gnashing her teeth and screaming with rage and\ndisappointment, turned round and drove away home to her little hut on\nhen's legs.\n\nThe little girl ran on home. She was afraid to go in and see her\nstepmother, so she ran into the shed.\n\nScratch, scratch! Out came the little mouse.\n\n\"So you got away all right, my dear,\" says the little mouse. \"Now run\nin. Don't be afraid. Your father is back, and you must tell him all\nabout it.\"\n\nThe little girl went into the house.\n\n\"Where have you been?\" says her father; \"and why are you so out of\nbreath?\"\n\nThe stepmother turned yellow when she saw her, and her eyes glowed,\nand her teeth ground together until they broke.\n\nBut the little girl was not afraid, and she went to her father and\nclimbed on his knee, and told him everything just as it had happened.\nAnd when the old man knew that the stepmother had sent his little\ndaughter to be eaten by Baba Yaga, he was so angry that he drove her\nout of the hut, and ever afterwards lived alone with the little girl.\nMuch better it was for both of them.\n\n\"And the little mouse?\" said Ivan.\n\n\"The little mouse,\" said old Peter, \"came and lived in the hut, and\nevery day it used to sit up on the table and eat crumbs, and warm its\npaws on the little girl's glass of tea.\"\n\n\"Tell us a story about a cat, please, grandfather,\" said Vanya, who\nwas sitting with Vladimir curled up in his arms.\n\n\"The story of a very happy cat,\" said Maroosia; and then, scratching\nBayan's nose, she added, \"and afterwards a story about a dog.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you the story of a very unhappy cat who became very happy,\"\nsaid old Peter. \"I'll tell you the story of the Cat who became\nHead-forester.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAT WHO BECAME HEAD-FORESTER.\n\n\nIf you drop Vladimir by mistake, you know he always falls on his feet.\nAnd if Vladimir tumbles off the roof of the hut, he always falls on\nhis feet. Cats always fall on their feet, on their four paws, and\nnever hurt themselves. And as in tumbling, so it is in life. No cat is\never unfortunate for very long. The worse things look for a cat, the\nbetter they are going to be.\n\nWell, once upon a time, not so very long ago, an old peasant had a cat\nand did not like him. He was a tom-cat, always fighting; and he had\nlost one ear, and was not very pretty to look at. The peasant thought\nhe would get rid of his old cat, and buy a new one from a neighbour.\nHe did not care what became of the old tom-cat with one ear, so long\nas he never saw him again. It was no use thinking of killing him, for\nit is a life's work to kill a cat, and it's likely enough that the cat\nwould come alive at the end.\n\nSo the old peasant he took a sack, and he bundled the tom-cat into the\nsack, and he sewed up the sack and slung it over his back, and walked\noff into the forest. Off he went, trudging along in the summer\nsunshine, deep into the forest. And when he had gone very many versts\ninto the forest, he took the sack with the cat in it and threw it away\namong the trees.\n\n\"You stay there,\" says he, \"and if you do get out in this desolate\nplace, much good may it do you, old quarrelsome bundle of bones and\nfur!\"\n\nAnd with that he turned round and trudged home again, and bought a\nnice-looking, quiet cat from a neighbour in exchange for a little\ntobacco, and settled down comfortably at home with the new cat in\nfront of the stove; and there he may be to this day, so far as I know.\nMy story does not bother with him, but only with the old tom-cat tied\nup in the sack away there out in the forest.\n\nThe bag flew through the air, and plumped down through a bush to the\nground. And the old tom-cat landed on his feet inside it, very much\nfrightened but not hurt. Thinks he, this bag, this flight through the\nair, this bump, mean that my life is going to change. Very well; there\nis nothing like something new now and again.\n\nAnd presently he began tearing at the bag with his sharp claws. Soon\nthere was a hole he could put a paw through. He went on, tearing and\nscratching, and there was a hole he could put two paws through. He\nwent on with his work, and soon he could put his head through, all the\neasier because he had only one ear. A minute or two after that he had\nwriggled out of the bag, and stood up on his four paws and stretched\nhimself in the forest.\n\n\"The world seems to be larger than the village,\" he said. \"I will walk\non and see what there is in it.\"\n\nHe washed himself all over, curled his tail proudly up in the air,\ncocked the only ear he had left, and set off walking under the forest\ntrees.\n\n\"I was the head-cat in the village,\" says he to himself. \"If all goes\nwell, I shall be head here too.\" And he walked along as if he were the\nTzar himself.\n\nWell, he walked on and on, and he came to an old hut that had belonged\nto a forester. There was nobody there, nor had been for many years,\nand the old tom-cat made himself quite at home. He climbed up into\nthe loft under the roof, and found a little rotten hay.\n\n\"A very good bed,\" says he, and curls up and falls asleep.\n\nWhen he woke he felt hungry, so he climbed down and went off in the\nforest to catch little birds and mice. There were plenty of them in\nthe forest, and when he had eaten enough he came back to the hut,\nclimbed into the loft, and spent the night there very comfortably.\n\nYou would have thought he would be content. Not he. He was a cat. He\nsaid, \"This is a good enough lodging. But I have to catch all my own\nfood. In the village they fed me every day, and I only caught mice for\nfun. I ought to be able to live like that here. A person of my dignity\nought not to have to do all the work for himself.\"\n\nNext day he went walking in the forest. And as he was walking he met a\nfox, a vixen, a very pretty young thing, gay and giddy like all girls.\nAnd the fox saw the cat, and was very much astonished.\n\n\"All these years,\" she said--for though she was young she thought she\nhad lived a long time--\"all these years,\" she said, \"I've lived in\nthe forest, but I've never seen a wild beast like that before. What a\nstrange-looking animal! And with only one ear. How handsome!\"\n\nAnd she came up and made her bows to the cat, and said,--\n\n\"Tell me, great lord, who you are. What fortunate chance has brought\nyou to this forest? And by what name am I to call your Excellency?\"\n\nOh! the fox was very polite. It is not every day that you meet a\nhandsome stranger walking in the forest.\n\nThe cat arched his back, and set all his fur on end, and said, very\nslowly and quietly,--\n\n\"I have been sent from the far forests of Siberia to be Head-forester\nover you. And my name is Cat Ivanovitch.\"\n\n\"O Cat Ivanovitch!\" says the pretty young fox, and she makes more\nbows. \"I did not know. I beg your Excellency's pardon. Will your\nExcellency honour my humble house by visiting it as a guest?\"\n\n\"I will,\" says the cat. \"And what do they call you?\"\n\n\"My name, your Excellency, is Lisabeta Ivanovna.\"\n\n\"I will come with you, Lisabeta,\" says the cat.\n\nAnd they went together to the fox's earth. Very snug, very neat it was\ninside; and the cat curled himself up in the best place, while\nLisabeta Ivanovna, the pretty young fox, made ready a tasty dish of\ngame. And while she was making the meal ready, and dusting the\nfurniture with her tail, she looked at the cat. At last she said,\nshyly,--\n\n\"Tell me, Cat Ivanovitch, are you married or single?\"\n\n\"Single,\" says the cat.\n\n\"And I too am unmarried,\" says the pretty young fox, and goes busily\non with her dusting and cooking.\n\nPresently she looks at the cat again.\n\n\"What if we were to marry, Cat Ivanovitch? I would try to be a good\nwife to you.\"\n\n\"Very well, Lisabeta,\" says the cat; \"I will marry you.\"\n\nThe fox went to her store and took out all the dainties that she had,\nand made a wedding feast to celebrate her marriage to the great Cat\nIvanovitch, who had only one ear, and had come from the far Siberian\nforests to be Head-forester.\n\nThey ate up everything there was in the place.\n\nNext morning the pretty young fox went off busily into the forest to\nget food for her grand husband. But the old tom-cat stayed at home,\nand cleaned his whiskers and slept. He was a lazy one, was that cat,\nand proud.\n\nThe fox was running through the forest, looking for game, when she met\nan old friend, the handsome young wolf, and he began making polite\nspeeches to her.\n\n\"What had become of you, gossip?\" says he. \"I've been to all the best\nearths and not found you at all.\"\n\n\"Let be, fool,\" says the fox very shortly. \"Don't talk to me like\nthat. What are you jesting about? Formerly I was a young, unmarried\nfox; now I am a wedded wife.\"\n\n\"Whom have you married, Lisabeta Ivanovna?\"\n\n\"What!\" says the fox, \"you have not heard that the great Cat\nIvanovitch, who has only one ear, has been sent from the far Siberian\nforests to be Head-forester over all of us? Well, I am now the\nHead-forester's wife.\"\n\n\"No, I had not heard, Lisabeta Ivanovna. And when can I pay my\nrespects to his Excellency?\"\n\n\"Not now, not now,\" says the fox. \"Cat Ivanovitch will be raging angry\nwith me if I let any one come near him. Presently he will be taking\nhis food. Look you. Get a sheep, and make it ready, and bring it as a\ngreeting to him, to show him that he is welcome and that you know how\nto treat him with respect. Leave the sheep near by, and hide yourself\nso that he shall not see you; for, if he did, things might be\nawkward.\"\n\n\"Thank you, thank you, Lisabeta Ivanovna,\" says the wolf, and off he\ngoes to look for a sheep.\n\nThe pretty young fox went idly on, taking the air, for she knew that\nthe wolf would save her the trouble of looking for food.\n\nPresently she met the bear.\n\n\"Good-day to you, Lisabeta Ivanovna,\" says the bear; \"as pretty as\never, I see you are.\"\n\n\"Bandy-legged one,\" says the fox; \"fool, don't come worrying me.\nFormerly I was a young, unmarried fox; now I am a wedded wife.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" says the bear, \"whom have you married, Lisabeta\nIvanovna?\"\n\n\"The great Cat Ivanovitch has been sent from the far Siberian forests\nto be Head-forester over us all. And Cat Ivanovitch is now my\nhusband,\" says the fox.\n\n\"Is it forbidden to have a look at his Excellency?\"\n\n\"It is forbidden,\" says the fox. \"Cat Ivanovitch will be raging angry\nwith me if I let any one come near him. Presently he will be taking\nhis food. Get along with you quickly; make ready an ox, and bring it\nby way of welcome to him. The wolf is bringing a sheep. And look you.\nLeave the ox near by, and hide yourself so that the great Cat\nIvanovitch shall not see you; or else, brother, things may be\nawkward.\"\n\nThe bear shambled off as fast as he could go to get an ox.\n\nThe pretty young fox, enjoying the fresh air of the forest, went\nslowly home to her earth, and crept in very quietly, so as not to\nawake the great Head-forester, Cat Ivanovitch, who had only one ear\nand was sleeping in the best place.\n\nPresently the wolf came through the forest, dragging a sheep he had\nkilled. He did not dare to go too near the fox's earth, because of Cat\nIvanovitch, the new Head-forester. So he stopped, well out of sight,\nand stripped off the skin of the sheep, and arranged the sheep so as\nto seem a nice tasty morsel. Then he stood still, thinking what to do\nnext. He heard a noise, and looked up. There was the bear, struggling\nalong with a dead ox.\n\n\"Good-day, brother Michael Ivanovitch,\" says the wolf.\n\n\"Good-day, brother Levon Ivanovitch,\" says the bear. \"Have you seen\nthe fox, Lisabeta Ivanovna, with her husband, the Head-forester?\"\n\n\"No, brother,\" says the wolf. \"For a long time I have been waiting to\nsee them.\"\n\n\"Go on and call out to them,\" says the bear.\n\n\"No, Michael Ivanovitch,\" says the wolf, \"I will not go. Do you go;\nyou are bigger and bolder than I.\"\n\n\"No, no, Levon Ivanovitch, I will not go. There is no use in risking\none's life without need.\"\n\nSuddenly, as they were talking, a little hare came running by. The\nbear saw him first, and roared out,--\n\n\"Hi, Squinteye! trot along here.\"\n\nThe hare came up, slowly, two steps at a time, trembling with fright.\n\n\"Now then, you squinting rascal,\" says the bear, \"do you know where\nthe fox lives, over there?\"\n\n\"I know, Michael Ivanovitch.\"\n\n\"Get along there quickly, and tell her that Michael Ivanovitch the\nbear and his brother Levon Ivanovitch the wolf have been ready for a\nlong time, and have brought presents of a sheep and an ox, as\ngreetings to his Excellency ...\"\n\n\"His Excellency, mind,\" says the wolf; \"don't forget.\"\n\nThe hare ran off as hard as he could go, glad to have escaped so\neasily. Meanwhile the wolf and the bear looked about for good places\nin which to hide.\n\n\"It will be best to climb trees,\" says the bear. \"I shall go up to the\ntop of this fir.\"\n\n\"But what am I to do?\" says the wolf. \"I can't climb a tree for the\nlife of me. Brother Michael, Brother Michael, hide me somewhere or\nother before you climb up. I beg you, hide me, or I shall certainly be\nkilled.\"\n\n\"Crouch down under these bushes,\" says the bear, \"and I will cover you\nwith the dead leaves.\"\n\n\"May you be rewarded,\" says the wolf; and he crouched down under the\nbushes, and the bear covered him up with dead leaves, so that only the\ntip of his nose could be seen.\n\nThen the bear climbed slowly up into the fir tree, into the very top,\nand looked out to see if the fox and Cat Ivanovitch were coming.\n\nThey were coming; oh yes, they were coming! The hare ran up and\nknocked on the door, and said to the fox,--\n\n\"Michael Ivanovitch the bear and his brother Levon Ivanovitch the\nwolf have been ready for a long time, and have brought presents of a\nsheep and an ox as greetings to his Excellency.\"\n\n\"Get along, Squinteye,\" says the fox; \"we are just coming.\"\n\nAnd so the fox and the cat set out together.\n\nThe bear, up in the top of the tree, saw them, and called down to the\nwolf,--\n\n\"They are coming, Brother Levon; they are coming, the fox and her\nhusband. But what a little one he is, to be sure!\"\n\n\"Quiet, quiet,\" whispers the wolf. \"He'll hear you, and then we are\ndone for.\"\n\nThe cat came up, and arched his back and set all his furs on end, and\nthrew himself on the ox, and began tearing the meat with his teeth and\nclaws. And as he tore he purred. And the bear listened, and heard the\npurring of the cat, and it seemed to him that the cat was angrily\nmuttering, \"Small, small, small....\"\n\nAnd the bear whispers: \"He's no giant, but what a glutton! Why, we\ncouldn't get through a quarter of that, and he finds it not enough.\nHeaven help us if he comes after us!\"\n\nThe wolf tried to see, but could not, because his head, all but his\nnose, was covered with the dry leaves. Little by little he moved his\nhead, so as to clear the leaves away from in front of his eyes. Try as\nhe would to be quiet, the leaves rustled, so little, ever so little,\nbut enough to be heard by the one ear of the cat.\n\nThe cat stopped tearing the meat and listened.\n\n\"I haven't caught a mouse to-day,\" he thought.\n\nOnce more the leaves rustled.\n\nThe cat leapt through the air and dropped with all four paws, and his\nclaws out, on the nose of the wolf. How the wolf yelped! The leaves\nflew like dust, and the wolf leapt up and ran off as fast as his legs\ncould carry him.\n\nWell, the wolf was frightened, I can tell you, but he was not so\nfrightened as the cat.\n\nWhen the great wolf leapt up out of the leaves, the cat screamed and\nran up the nearest tree, and that was the tree where Michael\nIvanovitch the bear was hiding in the topmost branches.\n\n\"Oh, he has seen me. Cat Ivanovitch has seen me,\" thought the bear. He\nhad no time to climb down, and the cat was coming up in long leaps.\n\nThe bear trusted to Providence, and jumped from the top of the tree.\nMany were the branches he broke as he fell; many were the bones he\nbroke when he crashed to the ground. He picked himself up and stumbled\noff, groaning.\n\nThe pretty young fox sat still, and cried out, \"Run, run, Brother\nLevon!... Quicker on your pins, Brother Michael! His Excellency is\nbehind you; his Excellency is close behind!\"\n\nEver since then all the wild beasts have been afraid of the cat, and\nthe cat and the fox live merrily together, and eat fresh meat all the\nyear round, which the other animals kill for them and leave a little\nway off.\n\nAnd that is what happened to the old tom-cat with one eye, who was\nsewn up in a bag and thrown away in the forest.\n\n\"Just think what would happen to our handsome Vladimir if we were to\nthrow him away!\" said Vanya.\n\n\n\n\nSPRING IN THE FOREST.\n\n\nWarmer the sun shone, and warmer yet. The pines were green now. All\nthe snow had melted off them, drip, drip, the falling drops of water\nmaking tiny wells in the snow under the trees. And the snow under the\ntrees was melting too. Much had gone, and now there were only patches\nof snow in the forest--like scraps of a big white blanket, shrinking\nevery day.\n\n\"Isn't it lucky our blankets don't shrink like that?\" said Maroosia.\n\nOld Peter laughed.\n\n\"What do you do when the warm weather comes?\" he asked. \"Do you still\nwear sheepskin coats? Do you still roll up at night under the rugs?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Maroosia; \"I throw the rugs off, and put my fluffy coat\naway till next winter.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said old Peter, \"and God, the Father of us all, He does for\nthe earth just what you do for yourself; but He does it better. For\nthe blankets He gives the earth in winter get smaller and smaller as\nthe warm weather comes, little by little, day by day.\"\n\n\"And then a hard frost comes, grandfather,\" said Ivan.\n\n\"God knows all about that, little one,\" said old Peter, \"and it's for\nthe best. It's good to have a nip or two in the spring, to make you\nfeel alive. Perhaps it's His way of telling the earth to wake up. For\nthe whole earth is only His little one after all.\"\n\nThat night, when it was story-time, Ivan and Maroosia consulted\ntogether; and when old Peter asked what the story was to be, they were\nready with an answer.\n\n\"The snow is all melting away,\" said Ivan.\n\n\"The summer is coming,\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"We'd like the tale of the little snow girl,\" said Ivan.\n\n\"'The Little Daughter of the Snow,'\" said Maroosia.\n\nOld Peter shook out his pipe, and closed his eyes under his bushy\neyebrows, thinking for a minute. Then he began.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE DAUGHTER OF THE SNOW.\n\n\nThere were once an old man, as old as I am, perhaps, and an old woman,\nhis wife, and they lived together in a hut, in a village on the edge\nof the forest. There were many people in the village; quite a town it\nwas--eight huts at least, thirty or forty souls, good company to be\nhad for crossing the road. But the old man and the old woman were\nunhappy, in spite of living like that in the very middle of the world.\nAnd why do you think they were unhappy? They were unhappy because they\nhad no little Vanya and no little Maroosia. Think of that. Some would\nsay they were better off without them.\n\n\"Would you say that, grandfather?\" asked Maroosia.\n\n\"You are a stupid little pigeon,\" said old Peter, and he went on.\n\nWell, these two were very unhappy. All the other huts had babies in\nthem--yes, and little ones playing about in the road outside, and\nhaving to be shouted at when any one came driving by. But there were\nno babies in their hut, and the old woman never had to go to the door\nto see where her little one had strayed to, because she had no little\none.\n\nAnd these two, the old man and the old woman, used to stand whole\nhours, just peeping through their window to watch the children playing\noutside. They had dogs and a cat, and cocks and hens, but none of\nthese made up for having no children. These two would just stand and\nwatch the children of the other huts. The dogs would bark, but they\ntook no notice; and the cat would curl up against them, but they never\nfelt her; and as for the cocks and hens, well, they were fed, but that\nwas all. The old people did not care for them, and spent all their\ntime in watching the Vanyas and Maroosias who belonged to the other\nhuts.\n\nIn the winter the children in their little sheepskin coats....\n\n\"Like ours?\" said Vanya and Maroosia together.\n\n\"Like yours,\" said old Peter.\n\nIn their little sheepskin coats, he went on, played in the crisp snow.\nThey pelted each other with snowballs, and shouted and laughed, and\nthen they rolled the snow together and made a snow woman--a regular\nsnow Baba Yaga, a snow witch; such an old fright!\n\nAnd the old man, watching from the window, saw this, and he says to\nthe old woman,--\n\n\"Wife, let us go into the yard behind and make a little snow girl; and\nperhaps she will come alive, and be a little daughter to us.\"\n\n\"Husband,\" says the old woman, \"there's no knowing what may be. Let us\ngo into the yard and make a little snow girl.\"\n\nSo the two old people put on their big coats and their fur hats, and\nwent out into the yard, where nobody could see them.\n\nAnd they rolled up the snow, and began to make a little snow girl.\nVery, very tenderly they rolled up the snow to make her little arms\nand legs. The good God helped the old people, and their little snow\ngirl was more beautiful than ever you could imagine. She was lovelier\nthan a birch tree in spring.\n\nWell, towards evening she was finished--a little girl, all snow, with\nblind white eyes, and a little mouth, with snow lips tightly closed.\n\n\"Oh, speak to us,\" says the old man.\n\n\"Won't you run about like the others, little white pigeon?\" says the\nold woman.\n\nAnd she did, you know, she really did.\n\nSuddenly, in the twilight, they saw her eyes shining blue like the sky\non a clear day. And her lips flushed and opened, and she smiled. And\nthere were her little white teeth. And look, she had black hair, and\nit stirred in the wind.\n\nShe began dancing in the snow, like a little white spirit, tossing her\nlong hair, and laughing softly to herself.\n\nWildly she danced, like snowflakes whirled in the wind. Her eyes\nshone, and her hair flew round her, and she sang, while the old people\nwatched and wondered, and thanked God.\n\nThis is what she sang:--\n\n    \"No warm blood in me doth glow,\n    Water in my veins doth flow;\n    Yet I'll laugh and sing and play\n    By frosty night and frosty day--\n    Little daughter of the Snow.\n\n    \"But whenever I do know\n    That you love me little, then\n    I shall melt away again.\n    Back into the sky I'll go--\n    Little daughter of the Snow.\"\n\n\"God of mine, isn't she beautiful!\" said the old man. \"Run, wife, and\nfetch a blanket to wrap her in while you make clothes for her.\"\n\nThe old woman fetched a blanket, and put it round the shoulders of\nthe little snow girl. And the old man picked her up, and she put her\nlittle cold arms round his neck.\n\n\"You must not keep me too warm,\" she said.\n\nWell, they took her into the hut, and she lay on a bench in the corner\nfarthest from the stove, while the old woman made her a little coat.\n\nThe old man went out to buy a fur hat and boots from a neighbour for\nthe little girl. The neighbour laughed at the old man; but a rouble is\na rouble everywhere, and no one turns it from the door, and so he sold\nthe old man a little fur hat, and a pair of little red boots with fur\nround the tops.\n\nThen they dressed the little snow girl.\n\n\"Too hot, too hot,\" said the little snow girl. \"I must go out into the\ncool night.\"\n\n\"But you must go to sleep now,\" said the old woman.\n\n\"By frosty night and frosty day,\" sang the little girl. \"No; I will\nplay by myself in the yard all night, and in the morning I'll play in\nthe road with the children.\"\n\nNothing the old people said could change her mind.\n\n\"I am the little daughter of the Snow,\" she replied to everything, and\nshe ran out into the yard into the snow.\n\nHow she danced and ran about in the moonlight on the white frozen\nsnow!\n\nThe old people watched her and watched her. At last they went to bed;\nbut more than once the old man got up in the night to make sure she\nwas still there. And there she was, running about in the yard, chasing\nher shadow in the moonlight and throwing snowballs at the stars.\n\nIn the morning she came in, laughing, to have breakfast with the old\npeople. She showed them how to make porridge for her, and that was\nvery simple. They had only to take a piece of ice and crush it up in a\nlittle wooden bowl.\n\nThen after breakfast she ran out in the road, to join the other\nchildren. And the old people watched her. Oh, proud they were, I can\ntell you, to see a little girl of their own out there playing in the\nroad! They fairly longed for a sledge to come driving by, so that they\ncould run out into the road and call to the little snow girl to be\ncareful.\n\nAnd the little snow girl played in the snow with the other children.\nHow she played! She could run faster than any of them. Her little red\nboots flashed as she ran about. Not one of the other children was a\nmatch for her at snowballing. And when the children began making a\nsnow woman, a Baba Yaga, you would have thought the little daughter of\nthe Snow would have died of laughing. She laughed and laughed, like\nringing peals on little glass bells. But she helped in the making of\nthe snow woman, only laughing all the time.\n\nWhen it was done, all the children threw snowballs at it, till it fell\nto pieces. And the little snow girl laughed and laughed, and was so\nquick she threw more snowballs than any of them.\n\nThe old man and the old woman watched her, and were very proud.\n\n\"She is all our own,\" said the old woman.\n\n\"Our little white pigeon,\" said the old man.\n\nIn the evening she had another bowl of ice-porridge, and then she went\noff again to play by herself in the yard.\n\n\"You'll be tired, my dear,\" says the old man.\n\n\"You'll sleep in the hut to-night, won't you, my love,\" says the old\nwoman, \"after running about all day long?\"\n\nBut the little daughter of the Snow only laughed. \"By frosty night and\nfrosty day,\" she sang, and ran out of the door, laughing back at them\nwith shining eyes.\n\nAnd so it went on all through the winter. The little daughter of the\nSnow was singing and laughing and dancing all the time. She always ran\nout into the night and played by herself till dawn. Then she'd come\nin and have her ice-porridge. Then she'd play with the children. Then\nshe'd have ice-porridge again, and off she would go, out into the\nnight.\n\nShe was very good. She did everything the old woman told her. Only she\nwould never sleep indoors. All the children of the village loved her.\nThey did not know how they had ever played without her.\n\nIt went on so till just about this time of year. Perhaps it was a\nlittle earlier. Anyhow the snow was melting, and you could get about\nthe paths. Often the children went together a little way into the\nforest in the sunny part of the day. The little snow girl went with\nthem. It would have been no fun without her.\n\nAnd then one day they went too far into the wood, and when they said\nthey were going to turn back, little snow girl tossed her head under\nher little fur hat, and ran on laughing among the trees. The other\nchildren were afraid to follow her. It was getting dark. They waited\nas long as they dared, and then they ran home, holding each other's\nhands.\n\nAnd there was the little daughter of the Snow out in the forest alone.\n\nShe looked back for the others, and could not see them. She climbed up\ninto a tree; but the other trees were thick round her, and she could\nnot see farther than when she was on the ground.\n\nShe called out from the tree,--\n\n\"Ai, ai, little friends, have pity on the little snow girl.\"\n\nAn old brown bear heard her, and came shambling up on his heavy paws.\n\n\"What are you crying about, little daughter of the Snow?\"\n\n\"O big bear,\" says the little snow girl, \"how can I help crying? I\nhave lost my way, and dusk is falling, and all my little friends are\ngone.\"\n\n\"I will take you home,\" says the old brown bear.\n\n\"O big bear,\" says the little snow girl, \"I am afraid of you. I think\nyou would eat me. I would rather go home with some one else.\"\n\nSo the bear shambled away and left her.\n\nAn old gray wolf heard her, and came galloping up on his swift feet.\nHe stood under the tree and asked,--\n\n\"What are you crying about, little daughter of the Snow?\"\n\n\"O gray wolf,\" says the little snow girl, \"how can I help crying? I\nhave lost my way, and it is getting dark, and all my little friends\nare gone.\"\n\n\"I will take you home,\" says the old gray wolf.\n\n\"O gray wolf,\" says the little snow girl, \"I am afraid of you. I think\nyou would eat me. I would rather go home with some one else.\"\n\nSo the wolf galloped away and left her.\n\nAn old red fox heard her, and came running up to the tree on his\nlittle pads. He called out cheerfully,--\n\n\"What are you crying about, little daughter of the Snow?\"\n\n\"O red fox,\" says the little snow girl, \"how can I help crying? I have\nlost my way, and it is quite dark, and all my little friends are\ngone.\"\n\n\"I will take you home,\" says the old red fox.\n\n\"O red fox,\" says the little snow girl, \"I am not afraid of you. I do\nnot think you will eat me. I will go home with you, if you will take\nme.\"\n\nSo she scrambled down from the tree, and she held the fox by the hair\nof his back, and they ran together through the dark forest. Presently\nthey saw the lights in the windows of the huts, and in a few minutes\nthey were at the door of the hut that belonged to the old man and the\nold woman.\n\nAnd there were the old man and the old woman, crying and lamenting.\n\n\"Oh, what has become of our little snow girl?\"\n\n\"Oh, where is our little white pigeon?\"\n\n\"Here I am,\" says the little snow girl. \"The kind red fox has brought\nme home. You must shut up the dogs.\"\n\nThe old man shut up the dogs.\n\n\"We are very grateful to you,\" says he to the fox.\n\n\"Are you really?\" says the old red fox; \"for I am very hungry.\"\n\n\"Here is a nice crust for you,\" says the old woman.\n\n\"Oh,\" says the fox, \"but what I would like would be a nice plump hen.\nAfter all, your little snow girl is worth a nice plump hen.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" says the old woman, but she grumbles to her husband.\n\n\"Husband,\" says she, \"we have our little girl again.\"\n\n\"We have,\" says he; \"thanks be for that.\"\n\n\"It seems waste to give away a good plump hen.\"\n\n\"It does,\" says he.\n\n\"Well, I was thinking,\" says the old woman, and then she tells him\nwhat she meant to do. And he went off and got two sacks.\n\nIn one sack they put a fine plump hen, and in the other they put the\nfiercest of the dogs. They took the bags outside and called to the\nfox. The old red fox came up to them, licking his lips, because he was\nso hungry.\n\nThey opened one sack, and out the hen fluttered. The old red fox was\njust going to seize her, when they opened the other sack, and out\njumped the fierce dog. The poor fox saw his eyes flashing in the dark,\nand was so frightened that he ran all the way back into the deep\nforest, and never had the hen at all.\n\n\"That was well done,\" said the old man and the old woman. \"We have got\nour little snow girl, and not had to give away our plump hen.\"\n\nThen they heard the little snow girl singing in the hut. This is what\nshe sang:--\n\n    \"Old ones, old ones, now I know\n    Less you love me than a hen,\n    I shall go away again.\n    Good-bye, ancient ones, good-bye,\n    Back I go across the sky;\n    To my motherkin I go--\n    Little daughter of the Snow.\"\n\nThey ran into the house. There were a little pool of water in front of\nthe stove, and a fur hat, and a little coat, and little red boots were\nlying in it. And yet it seemed to the old man and the old woman that\nthey saw the little snow girl, with her bright eyes and her long hair,\ndancing in the room.\n\n\"Do not go! do not go!\" they begged, and already they could hardly see\nthe little dancing girl.\n\nBut they heard her laughing, and they heard her song:--\n\n    \"Old ones, old ones, now I know\n    Less you love me than a hen,\n    I shall melt away again.\n    To my motherkin I go--\n    Little daughter of the Snow.\"\n\nAnd just then the door blew open from the yard, and a cold wind filled\nthe room, and the little daughter of the Snow was gone.\n\n\"You always used to say something else, grandfather,\" said Maroosia.\n\nOld Peter patted her head, and went on.\n\n\"I haven't forgotten. The little snow girl leapt into the arms of\nFrost her father and Snow her mother, and they carried her away over\nthe stars to the far north, and there she plays all through the summer\non the frozen seas. In winter she comes back to Russia, and some day,\nyou know, when you are making a snow woman, you may find the little\ndaughter of the Snow standing there instead.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't that be lovely!\" said Maroosia.\n\nVanya thought for a minute, and then he said,--\n\n\"I'd love her much more than a hen.\"\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE IVAN, THE WITCH BABY, AND THE LITTLE SISTER OF THE SUN.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, very long ago, there was a little Prince Ivan who\nwas dumb. Never a word had he spoken from the day that he was\nborn--not so much as a \"Yes\" or a \"No,\" or a \"Please\" or a \"Thank\nyou.\" A great sorrow he was to his father because he could not speak.\nIndeed, neither his father nor his mother could bear the sight of him,\nfor they thought, \"A poor sort of Tzar will a dumb boy make!\" They\neven prayed, and said, \"If only we could have another child, whatever\nit is like, it could be no worse than this tongue-tied brat who cannot\nsay a word.\" And for that wish they were punished, as you shall hear.\nAnd they took no sort of care of the little Prince Ivan, and he spent\nall his time in the stables, listening to the tales of an old groom.\n\nHe was a wise man was the old groom, and he knew the past and the\nfuture, and what was happening under the earth. Maybe he had learnt\nhis wisdom from the horses. Anyway, he knew more than other folk, and\nthere came a day when he said to Prince Ivan,--\n\n\"Little Prince,\" says he, \"to-day you have a sister, and a bad one at\nthat. She has come because of your father's prayers and your mother's\nwishes. A witch she is, and she will grow like a seed of corn. In six\nweeks she'll be a grown witch, and with her iron teeth she will eat up\nyour father, and eat up your mother, and eat up you too, if she gets\nthe chance. There's no saving the old people; but if you are quick,\nand do what I tell you, you may escape, and keep your soul in your\nbody. And I love you, my little dumb Prince, and do not wish to think\nof your little body between her iron teeth. You must go to your father\nand ask him for the best horse he has, and then gallop like the wind,\nand away to the end of the world.\"\n\nThe little Prince ran off and found his father. There was his father,\nand there was his mother, and a little baby girl was in his mother's\narms, screaming like a little fury.\n\n\"Well, she's not dumb,\" said his father, as if he were well pleased.\n\n\"Father,\" says the little Prince, \"may I have the fastest horse in the\nstable?\" And those were the first words that ever left his mouth.\n\n\"What!\" says his father, \"have you got a voice at last? Yes, take\nwhatever horse you want. And see, you have a little sister; a fine\nlittle girl she is too. She has teeth already. It's a pity they are\nblack, but time will put that right, and it's better to have black\nteeth than to be born dumb.\"\n\nLittle Prince Ivan shook in his shoes when he heard of the black teeth\nof his little sister, for he knew that they were iron. He thanked his\nfather and ran off to the stable. The old groom saddled the finest\nhorse there was. Such a horse you never saw. Black it was, and its\nsaddle and bridle were trimmed with shining silver. And little Prince\nIvan climbed up and sat on the great black horse, and waved his hand\nto the old groom, and galloped away, on and on over the wide world.\n\n\"It's a big place, this world,\" thought the little Prince. \"I wonder\nwhen I shall come to the end of it.\" You see, he had never been\noutside the palace grounds. And he had only ridden a little Finnish\npony. And now he sat high up, perched on the back of the great black\nhorse, who galloped with hoofs that thundered beneath him, and leapt\nover rivers and streams and hillocks, and anything else that came in\nhis way.\n\nOn and on galloped the little Prince on the great black horse. There\nwere no houses anywhere to be seen. It was a long time since they had\npassed any people, and little Prince Ivan began to feel very lonely,\nand to wonder if indeed he had come to the end of the world, and could\nbring his journey to an end.\n\nSuddenly, on a wide, sandy plain, he saw two old, old women sitting in\nthe road.\n\nThey were bent double over their work, sewing and sewing, and now one\nand now the other broke a needle, and took a new one out of a box\nbetween them, and threaded the needle with thread from another box,\nand went on sewing and sewing. Their old noses nearly touched their\nknees as they bent over their work.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan pulled up the great black horse in a cloud of dust,\nand spoke to the old women.\n\n\"Grandmothers,\" said he, \"is this the end of the world? Let me stay\nhere and live with you, and be safe from my baby sister, who is a\nwitch and has iron teeth. Please let me stay with you, and I'll be\nvery little trouble, and thread your needles for you when you break\nthem.\"\n\n\"Prince Ivan, my dear,\" said one of the old women, \"this is not the\nend of the world, and little good would it be to you to stay with us.\nFor as soon as we have broken all our needles and used up all our\nthread we shall die, and then where would you be? Your sister with the\niron teeth would have you in a minute.\"\n\nThe little Prince cried bitterly, for he was very little and all\nalone. He rode on further over the wide world, the black horse\ngalloping and galloping, and throwing the dust from his thundering\nhoofs.\n\nHe came into a forest of great oaks, the biggest oak trees in the\nwhole world. And in that forest was a dreadful noise--the crashing of\ntrees falling, the breaking of branches, and the whistling of things\nhurled through the air. The Prince rode on, and there before him was\nthe huge giant, Tree-rooter, hauling the great oaks out of the ground\nand flinging them aside like weeds.\n\n\"I should be safe with him,\" thought little Prince Ivan, \"and this,\nsurely, must be the end of the world.\"\n\nHe rode close up under the giant, and stopped the black horse, and\nshouted up into the air.\n\n\"Please, great giant,\" says he, \"is this the end of the world? And may\nI live with you and be safe from my sister, who is a witch, and grows\nlike a seed of corn, and has iron teeth?\"\n\n\"Prince Ivan, my dear,\" says Tree-rooter, \"this is not the end of the\nworld, and little good would it be to you to stay with me. For as soon\nas I have rooted up all these trees I shall die, and then where would\nyou be? Your sister would have you in a minute. And already there are\nnot many big trees left.\"\n\nAnd the giant set to work again, pulling up the great trees and\nthrowing them aside. The sky was full of flying trees.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan cried bitterly, for he was very little and was all\nalone. He rode on further over the wide world, the black horse\ngalloping and galloping under the tall trees, and throwing clods of\nearth from his thundering hoofs.\n\nHe came among the mountains. And there was a roaring and a crashing in\nthe mountains as if the earth was falling to pieces. One after another\nwhole mountains were lifted up into the sky and flung down to earth,\nso that they broke and scattered into dust. And the big black horse\ngalloped through the mountains, and little Prince Ivan sat bravely on\nhis back. And there, close before him, was the huge giant\nMountain-tosser, picking up the mountains like pebbles and hurling\nthem to little pieces and dust upon the ground.\n\n\"This must be the end of the world,\" thought the little Prince; \"and\nat any rate I should be safe with him.\"\n\n\"Please, great giant,\" says he, \"is this the end of the world? And may\nI live with you and be safe from my sister, who is a witch, and has\niron teeth, and grows like a seed of corn?\"\n\n\"Prince Ivan, my dear,\" says Mountain-tosser, resting for a moment and\ndusting the rocks off his great hands, \"this is not the end of the\nworld, and little good would it be to you to stay with me. For as soon\nas I have picked up all these mountains and thrown them down again I\nshall die, and then where would you be? Your sister would have you in\na minute. And there are not very many mountains left.\"\n\nAnd the giant set to work again, lifting up the great mountains and\nhurling them away. The sky was full of flying mountains.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan wept bitterly, for he was very little and was all\nalone. He rode on further over the wide world, the black horse\ngalloping and galloping along the mountain paths, and throwing the\nstones from his thundering hoofs.\n\nAt last he came to the end of the world, and there, hanging in the sky\nabove him, was the castle of the little sister of the Sun. Beautiful\nit was, made of cloud, and hanging in the sky, as if it were built of\nred roses.\n\n\"I should be safe up there,\" thought little Prince Ivan, and just then\nthe Sun's little sister opened the window and beckoned to him.\n\nPrince Ivan patted the big black horse and whispered to it, and it\nleapt up high into the air and through the window, into the very\ncourtyard of the castle.\n\n\"Stay here and play with me,\" said the little sister of the Sun; and\nPrince Ivan tumbled off the big black horse into her arms, and laughed\nbecause he was so happy.\n\nMerry and pretty was the Sun's little sister, and she was very kind to\nlittle Prince Ivan. They played games together, and when she was tired\nshe let him do whatever he liked and run about her castle. This way\nand that he ran about the battlements of rosy cloud, hanging in the\nsky over the end of the world.\n\nBut one day he climbed up and up to the topmost turret of the castle.\nFrom there he could see the whole world. And far, far away, beyond the\nmountains, beyond the forests, beyond the wide plains, he saw his\nfather's palace where he had been born. The roof of the palace was\ngone, and the walls were broken and crumbling. And little Prince Ivan\ncame slowly down from the turret, and his eyes were red with weeping.\n\n\"My dear,\" says the Sun's little sister, \"why are your eyes so red?\"\n\n\"It is the wind up there,\" says little Prince Ivan.\n\nAnd the Sun's little sister put her head out of the window of the\ncastle of cloud and whispered to the winds not to blow so hard.\n\nBut next day little Prince Ivan went up again to that topmost turret,\nand looked far away over the wide world to the ruined palace. \"She has\neaten them all with her iron teeth,\" he said to himself. And his eyes\nwere red when he came down.\n\n\"My dear,\" says the Sun's little sister, \"your eyes are red again.\"\n\n\"It is the wind,\" says little Prince Ivan.\n\nAnd the Sun's little sister put her head out of the window and scolded\nthe wind.\n\nBut the third day again little Prince Ivan climbed up the stairs of\ncloud to that topmost turret, and looked far away to the broken palace\nwhere his father and mother had lived. And he came down from the\nturret with the tears running down his face.\n\n\"Why, you are crying, my dear!\" says the Sun's little sister. \"Tell me\nwhat it is all about.\"\n\nSo little Prince Ivan told the little sister of the Sun how his sister\nwas a witch, and how he wept to think of his father and mother, and\nhow he had seen the ruins of his father's palace far away, and how he\ncould not stay with her happily until he knew how it was with his\nparents.\n\n\"Perhaps it is not yet too late to save them from her iron teeth,\nthough the old groom said that she would certainly eat them, and that\nit was the will of God. But let me ride back on my big black horse.\"\n\n\"Do not leave me, my dear,\" says the Sun's little sister. \"I am lonely\nhere by myself.\"\n\n\"I will ride back on my big black horse, and then I will come to you\nagain.\"\n\n\"What must be, must,\" says the Sun's little sister; \"though she is\nmore likely to eat you than you are to save them. You shall go. But\nyou must take with you a magic comb, a magic brush, and two apples of\nyouth. These apples would make young once more the oldest things on\nearth.\"\n\nThen she kissed little Prince Ivan, and he climbed up on his big\nblack horse, and leapt out of the window of the castle down on the end\nof the world, and galloped off on his way back over the wide world.\n\nHe came to Mountain-tosser, the giant. There was only one mountain\nleft, and the giant was just picking it up. Sadly he was picking it\nup, for he knew that when he had thrown it away his work would be done\nand he would have to die.\n\n\"Well, little Prince Ivan,\" says Mountain-tosser, \"this is the end;\"\nand he heaves up the mountain. But before he could toss it away the\nlittle Prince threw his magic brush on the plain, and the brush\nswelled and burst, and there were range upon range of high mountains,\ntouching the sky itself.\n\n\"Why,\" says Mountain-tosser, \"I have enough mountains now to last me\nfor another thousand years. Thank you kindly, little Prince.\"\n\nAnd he set to work again, heaving up mountains and tossing them down,\nwhile little Prince Ivan galloped on across the wide world.\n\nHe came to Tree-rooter, the giant. There were only two of the great\noaks left, and the giant had one in each hand.\n\n\"Ah me, little Prince Ivan,\" says Tree-rooter, \"my life is come to\nits end; for I have only to pluck up these two trees and throw them\ndown, and then I shall die.\"\n\n\"Pluck them up,\" says little Prince Ivan. \"Here are plenty more for\nyou.\" And he threw down his comb. There was a noise of spreading\nbranches, of swishing leaves, of opening buds, all together, and there\nbefore them was a forest of great oaks stretching farther than the\ngiant could see, tall though he was.\n\n\"Why,\" says Tree-rooter, \"here are enough trees to last me for another\nthousand years. Thank you kindly, little Prince.\"\n\nAnd he set to work again, pulling up the big trees, laughing joyfully\nand hurling them over his head, while little Prince Ivan galloped on\nacross the wide world.\n\nHe came to the two old women. They were crying their eyes out.\n\n\"There is only one needle left!\" says the first.\n\n\"There is only one bit of thread in the box!\" sobs the second.\n\n\"And then we shall die!\" they say both together, mumbling with their\nold mouths.\n\n\"Before you use the needle and thread, just eat these apples,\" says\nlittle Prince Ivan, and he gives them the two apples of youth.\n\nThe two old women took the apples in their old shaking fingers and ate\nthem, bent double, mumbling with their old lips. They had hardly\nfinished their last mouthfuls when they sat up straight, smiled with\nsweet red lips, and looked at the little Prince with shining eyes.\nThey had become young girls again, and their gray hair was black as\nthe raven.\n\n\"Thank you kindly, little Prince,\" say the two young girls. \"You must\ntake with you the handkerchief we have been sewing all these years.\nThrow it to the ground, and it will turn into a lake of water. Perhaps\nsome day it will be useful to you.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" says the little Prince, and off he gallops, on and on\nover the wide world.\n\nHe came at last to his father's palace. The roof was gone, and there\nwere holes in the walls. He left his horse at the edge of the garden,\nand crept up to the ruined palace and peeped through a hole. Inside,\nin the great hall, was sitting a huge baby girl, filling the whole\nhall. There was no room for her to move. She had knocked off the roof\nwith a shake of her head. And she sat there in the ruined hall,\nsucking her thumb.\n\nAnd while Prince Ivan was watching through the hole he heard her\nmutter to herself,--\n\n    \"_Eaten the father, eaten the mother,\n    And now to eat the little brother_\"\n\nAnd she began shrinking, getting smaller and smaller every minute.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan had only just time to get away from the hole in the\nwall when a pretty little baby girl came running out of the ruined\npalace.\n\n\"You must be my little brother Ivan,\" she called out to him, and came\nup to him smiling. But as she smiled the little Prince saw that her\nteeth were black; and as she shut her mouth he heard them clink\ntogether like pokers.\n\n\"Come in,\" says she, and she took little Prince Ivan with her to a\nroom in the palace, all broken down and cobwebbed. There was a\ndulcimer lying in the dust on the floor.\n\n\"Well, little brother,\" says the witch baby, \"you play on the dulcimer\nand amuse yourself while I get supper ready. But don't stop playing,\nor I shall feel lonely.\" And she ran off and left him.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan sat down and played tunes on the dulcimer--sad\nenough tunes. You would not play dance music if you thought you were\ngoing to be eaten by a witch.\n\nBut while he was playing a little gray mouse came out of a crack in\nthe floor. Some people think that this was the wise old groom, who had\nturned into a little gray mouse to save Ivan from the witch baby.\n\n\"Ivan, Ivan,\" says the little gray mouse, \"run while you may. Your\nfather and mother were eaten long ago, and well they deserved it. But\nbe quick, or you will be eaten too. Your pretty little sister is\nputting an edge on her teeth!\"\n\nLittle Prince Ivan thanked the mouse, and ran out from the ruined\npalace, and climbed up on the back of his big black horse, with its\nsaddle and bridle trimmed with silver. Away he galloped over the wide\nworld. The witch baby stopped her work and listened. She heard the\nmusic of the dulcimer, so she made sure he was still there. She went\non sharpening her teeth with a file, and growing bigger and bigger\nevery minute. And all the time the music of the dulcimer sounded among\nthe ruins.\n\nAs soon as her teeth were quite sharp she rushed off to eat little\nPrince Ivan. She tore aside the walls of the room. There was nobody\nthere--only a little gray mouse running and jumping this way and that\non the strings of the dulcimer.\n\nWhen it saw the witch baby the little mouse ran across the floor and\ninto the crack and away, so that she never caught it. How the witch\nbaby gnashed her teeth! Poker and tongs, poker and tongs--what a noise\nthey made! She swelled up, bigger and bigger, till she was a baby as\nhigh as the palace. And then she jumped up so that the palace fell to\npieces about her. Then off she ran after little Prince Ivan.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan, on the big black horse, heard a noise behind him.\nHe looked back, and there was the huge witch, towering over the trees.\nShe was dressed like a little baby, and her eyes flashed and her teeth\nclanged as she shut her mouth. She was running with long strides,\nfaster even than the black horse could gallop--and he was the best\nhorse in all the world.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan threw down the handkerchief that had been sewn by\nthe two old women who had eaten the apples of youth. It turned into a\ndeep, broad lake, so that the witch baby had to swim--and swimming is\nslower than running. It took her a long time to get across, and all\nthat time Prince Ivan was galloping on, never stopping for a moment.\n\nThe witch baby crossed the lake and came thundering after him. Close\nbehind she was, and would have caught him; but the giant Tree-rooter\nsaw the little Prince galloping on the big black horse, and the witch\nbaby tearing after him. He pulled up the great oaks in armfuls, and\nthrew them down just in front of the witch baby. He made a huge pile\nof the big trees, and the witch baby had to stop and gnaw her way\nthrough them with her iron teeth.\n\nIt took her a long time to gnaw through the trees, and the black horse\ngalloped and galloped ahead. But presently Prince Ivan heard a noise\nbehind him. He looked back, and there was the witch baby, thirty feet\nhigh, racing after him, clanging with her teeth. Close behind she\nwas, and the little Prince sat firm on the big black horse, and\ngalloped and galloped. But she would have caught him if the giant\nMountain-tosser had not seen the little Prince on the big black horse,\nand the great witch baby running after him. The giant tore up the\nbiggest mountain in the world and flung it down in front of her, and\nanother on the top of that. She had to bite her way through them,\nwhile the little Prince galloped and galloped.\n\nAt last little Prince Ivan saw the cloud castle of the little sister\nof the Sun, hanging over the end of the world and gleaming in the sky\nas if it were made of roses. He shouted with hope, and the black horse\nshook his head proudly and galloped on. The witch baby thundered after\nhim. Nearer she came and nearer.\n\n\"Ah, little one,\" screams the witch baby, \"you shan't get away this\ntime!\"\n\nThe Sun's little sister was looking from a window of the castle in the\nsky, and she saw the witch baby stretching out to grab little Prince\nIvan. She flung the window open, and just in time the big black horse\nleapt up, and through the window and into the courtyard, with little\nPrince Ivan safe on its back.\n\nHow the witch baby gnashed her iron teeth!\n\n\"Give him up!\" she screams.\n\n\"I will not,\" says the Sun's little sister.\n\n\"See you here,\" says the witch baby, and she makes herself smaller and\nsmaller and smaller, till she was just like a real little girl. \"Let\nus be weighed in the great scales, and if I am heavier than Prince\nIvan, I can take him; and if he is heavier than I am, I'll say no more\nabout it.\"\n\nThe Sun's little sister laughed at the witch baby and teased her, and\nshe hung the great scales out of the cloud castle so that they swung\nabove the end of the world.\n\nLittle Prince Ivan got into one scale, and down it went.\n\n\"Now,\" says the witch baby, \"we shall see.\"\n\nAnd she made herself bigger and bigger and bigger, till she was as big\nas she had been when she sat and sucked her thumb in the hall of the\nruined palace. \"I am the heavier,\" she shouted, and gnashed her iron\nteeth. Then she jumped into the other scale.\n\nShe was so heavy that the scale with the little Prince in it shot up\ninto the air. It shot up so fast that little Prince Ivan flew up into\nthe sky, up and up and up, and came down on the topmost turret of the\ncloud castle of the little sister of the Sun.\n\nThe Sun's little sister laughed, and closed the window, and went up to\nthe turret to meet the little Prince. But the witch baby turned back\nthe way she had come, and went off, gnashing her iron teeth until\nthey broke. And ever since then little Prince Ivan and the little\nsister of the Sun play together in the castle of cloud that hangs over\nthe end of the world. They borrow the stars to play at ball, and put\nthem back at night whenever they remember.\n\n\"So when there are no stars?\" asked Maroosia.\n\n\"It means that Prince Ivan and the Sun's little sister have gone to\nsleep over their games and forgotten to put their toys away.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE STOLEN TURNIPS, THE MAGIC TABLECLOTH, THE SNEEZING GOAT, AND THE\nWOODEN WHISTLE.\n\n\nThis is the story which old Peter used to tell whenever either Vanya\nor Maroosia was cross. This did not often happen; but it would be no\nuse to pretend that it never happened at all. Sometimes it was Vanya\nwho scolded Maroosia, and sometimes it was Maroosia who scolded\nVanya. Sometimes there were two scoldings going on at once. And old\nPeter did not like crossness in the hut, whoever did the scolding. He\nsaid it spoilt his tobacco and put a sour taste in the tea. And, of\ncourse, when the children remembered that they were spoiling their\ngrandfather's tea and tobacco they stopped just as quickly as they\ncould, unless their tongues had run right away with them--which\nhappens sometimes, you know, even to grown-up people. This story used\nto be told in two ways. It was either the tale of an old man who was\nbothered by a cross old woman, or the tale of an old woman who was\nbothered by a cross old man. And the moment old Peter began the story\nboth children would ask at once, \"Which is the cross one?\"--for then\nthey would know which of them old Peter thought was in the wrong.\n\n\"This time it's the old woman,\" said their grandfather; \"but, as like\nas not, it will be the old man next.\"\n\nAnd then any quarrelling there was came to an end, and was forgotten\nbefore the end of the story. This is the story.\n\nAn old man and an old woman lived in a little wooden house. All round\nthe house there was a garden, crammed with flowers, and potatoes, and\nbeetroots, and cabbages. And in one corner of the house there was a\nnarrow wooden stairway which went up and up, twisting and twisting,\ninto a high tower. In the top of the tower was a dovecot, and on the\ntop of the dovecot was a flat roof.\n\nNow, the old woman was never content with the doings of the old man.\nShe scolded all day, and she scolded all night. If there was too much\nrain, it was the old man's fault; and if there was a drought, and all\ngreen things were parched for lack of water, well, the old man was to\nblame for not altering the weather. And though he was old and tired,\nit was all the same to her how much work she put on his shoulders. The\ngarden was full. There was no room in it at all, not even for a single\npea. And all of a sudden the old woman sets her heart on growing\nturnips.\n\n\"But there is no room in the garden,\" says the old man.\n\n\"Sow them on the top of the dovecot,\" says the old woman.\n\n\"But there is no earth there.\"\n\n\"Carry earth up and put it there,\" says she.\n\nSo the old man laboured up and down with his tired old bones, and\ncovered the top of the dovecot with good black earth. He could only\ntake up a very little at a time, because he was old and weak, and\nbecause the stairs were so narrow and dangerous that he had to hold on\nwith both hands and carry the earth in a bag which he held in his\nteeth. His teeth were strong enough, because he had been biting crusts\nall his life. The old woman left him nothing else, for she took all\nthe crumb for herself. The old man did his best, and by evening the\ntop of the dovecot was covered with earth, and he had sown it with\nturnip seed.\n\nNext day, and the day after that and every day, the old woman scolded\nthe old man till he went up to the dovecot to see how those turnip\nseeds were getting on.\n\n\"Are they ready to eat yet?\"\n\n\"They are not ready to eat.\"\n\n\"Is the green sprouting?\"\n\n\"The green is sprouting.\"\n\nAnd at last there came a day when the old man came down from the\ndovecot and said: \"The turnips are doing finely--quite big they are\ngetting; but all the best ones have been stolen away.\"\n\n\"Stolen away?\" cried the old woman, shaking with rage. \"And have you\nlived all these years and not learned how to keep thieves from a\nturnip bed, on the top of a dovecot, on the top of a tower, on the top\nof a house? Out with you, and don't you dare to come back till you\nhave caught the thieves.\"\n\nThe old man did not dare to tell her that the door had been bolted,\nalthough he knew it had, because he had bolted it himself. He hurried\naway out of the house, more because he wanted to get out of earshot of\nher scolding than because he had any hope of finding the thieves.\n\"They may be birds,\" thinks he, \"or the little brown squirrels. Who\nelse could climb so high without using the stairs? And how is an old\nman like me to get hold of them, flying through the tops of the high\ntrees and running up and down the branches?\"\n\nAnd so he wandered away without his dinner into the deep forest.\n\nBut God is good to old men. Hasn't He given me two little pigeons, who\nnearly always are as merry as all little pigeons should be? And God\nled the old man through the forest, though the old man thought he was\njust wandering on, trying to lose himself and forget the scolding\nvoice of the old woman.\n\nAnd after he had walked a long way through the dark green forest, he\nsaw a little hut standing under the pine trees. There was no smoke\ncoming from the chimney, but there was such a chattering in the hut\nyou could hear it far away. It was like coming near a rookery at\nevening, or disturbing a lot of starlings. And as the old man came\nslowly nearer to the hut, he thought he saw little faces looking at\nhim through the window and peeping through the door. He could not be\nsure, because they were gone so quickly. And all the time the\nchattering went on louder and louder, till the old man nearly put his\nhands to his ears.\n\nAnd then suddenly the chattering stopped. There was not a sound--no\nnoise at all. The old man stood still. A squirrel dropped a fir cone\nclose by, and the old man was startled by the fall of it, because\neverything else was so quiet.\n\n\"Whatever there is in the hut, it won't be worse than the old woman,\"\nsays the old man to himself. So he makes the sign of the holy Cross,\nand steps up to the little hut and takes a look through the door.\n\nThere was no one to be seen. You would have thought the hut was empty.\n\nThe old man took a step inside, bending under the little low door.\nStill he could see nobody, only a great heap of rags and blankets on\nthe sleeping-place on the top of the stove. The hut was as clean as if\nit had only that minute been swept by Maroosia herself. But in the\nmiddle of the floor there was a scrap of green leaf lying, and the old\nman knew in a moment that it was a scrap of green leaf from the top of\na young turnip.\n\nAnd while the old man looked at it, the heap of blankets and rugs on\nthe stove moved, first in one place and then in another. Then there\nwas a little laugh. Then another. And suddenly there was a great stir\nin the blankets, and they were all thrown back helter-skelter, and\nthere were dozens and dozens of little queer children, laughing and\nlaughing and laughing, and looking at the old man. And every child had\na little turnip, and showed it to the old man and laughed.\n\nJust then the door of the stove flew open, and out tumbled more of the\nlittle queer children, dozens and dozens of them. The more they came\ntumbling out into the hut, the more there seemed to be chattering in\nthe stove and squeezing to get out one over the top of another. The\nnoise of chattering and laughing would have made your head spin. And\nevery one of the children out of the stove had a little turnip like\nthe others, and waved it about and showed it to the old man, and\nlaughed like anything.\n\n\"Ho,\" says the old man, \"so you are the thieves who have stolen the\nturnips from the top of the dovecot?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" cried the children, and the chatter rattled as fast as\nhailstones on the roof. \"Yes! yes! yes! _We_ stole the turnips.\"\n\n\"How did you get on to the top of the dovecot when the door into the\nhouse was bolted and fast?\"\n\nAt that the children all burst out laughing, and did not answer a\nword.\n\n\"Laugh you may,\" said the old man; \"but it is I who get the scolding\nwhen the turnips fly away in the night.\"\n\n\"Never mind! never mind!\" cried the children. \"We'll pay for the\nturnips.\"\n\n\"How can you pay for them?\" asks the old man. \"You have got nothing to\npay with.\"\n\nAll the children chattered together, and looked at the old man and\nsmiled. Then one of them said to the old man, \"Are you hungry,\ngrandfather?\"\n\n\"Hungry!\" says the old man. \"Why, yes, of course I am, my dear. I've\nbeen looking for you all day, and I had to start without my dinner.\"\n\n\"If you are hungry, open the cupboard behind you.\"\n\nThe old man opened the cupboard.\n\n\"Take out the tablecloth.\"\n\nThe old man took out the tablecloth.\n\n\"Spread it on the table.\"\n\nThe old man spread the tablecloth on the table.\n\n\"Now!\" shouted the children, chattering like a thousand nests full of\nyoung birds, \"we'll all sit down and have dinner.\"\n\nThey pulled out the benches and gave the old man a chair at one end,\nand all crowded round the table ready to begin.\n\n\"But there's no food,\" said the old man.\n\nHow they laughed!\n\n\"Grandfather,\" one of them sings out from the other end of the table,\n\"you just tell the tablecloth to turn inside out,\"\n\n\"How?\" says he.\n\n\"Tell the tablecloth to turn inside out. That's easy enough.\"\n\n\"There's no harm in doing that,\" thinks the old man; so he says to the\ntablecloth as firmly as he could, \"Now then you, tablecloth, turn\ninside out!\"\n\nThe tablecloth hove itself up into the air, and rolled itself this\nway and that as if it were in a whirlwind, and then suddenly laid\nitself flat on the table again. And somehow or other it had covered\nitself with dishes and plates and wooden spoons with pictures on them,\nand bowls of soup and mushrooms and kasha, and meat and cakes and fish\nand ducks, and everything else you could think of, ready for the best\ndinner in the world.\n\nThe chattering and laughing stopped, and the old man and those dozens\nand dozens of little queer children set to work and ate everything on\nthe table.\n\n\"Which of you washes the dishes?\" asked the old man, when they had all\ndone.\n\nThe children laughed.\n\n\"Tell the tablecloth to turn outside in.\"\n\n\"Tablecloth,\" says the old man, \"turn outside in.\"\n\nUp jumped the tablecloth with all the empty dishes and dirty plates\nand spoons, whirled itself this way and that in the air, and suddenly\nspread itself out flat again on the table, as clean and white as when\nit was taken out of the cupboard. There was not a dish or a bowl, or a\nspoon or a plate, or a knife to be seen; no, not even a crumb.\n\n\"That's a good tablecloth,\" says the old man.\n\n\"See here, grandfather,\" shouted the children: \"you take the\ntablecloth along with you, and say no more about those turnips.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm content with that,\" says the old man. And he folded up the\ntablecloth very carefully and put it away inside his shirt, and said\nhe must be going.\n\n\"Good-bye,\" says he, \"and thank you for the dinner and the\ntablecloth.\"\n\n\"Good-bye,\" say they, \"and thank you for the turnips.\"\n\nThe old man made his way home, singing through the forest in his\ncreaky old voice until he came near the little wooden house where he\nlived with the old woman. As soon as he came near there he slipped\nalong like any mouse. And as soon as he put his head inside the door\nthe old woman began,--\n\n\"Have you found the thieves, you old fool?\"\n\n\"I found the thieves.\"\n\n\"Who were they?\"\n\n\"They were a whole crowd of little queer children.\"\n\n\"Have you given them a beating they'll remember?\"\n\n\"No, I have not.\"\n\n\"What? Bring them to me, and I'll teach them to steal my turnips!\"\n\n\"I haven't got them.\"\n\n\"What have you done with them?\"\n\n\"I had dinner with them.\"\n\nWell, at that the old woman flew into such a rage she could hardly\nspeak. But speak she did--yes, and shout too and scream--and it was\nall the old man could do not to run away out of the cottage. But he\nstood still and listened, and thought of something else; and when she\nhad done he said, \"They paid for the turnips.\"\n\n\"Paid for the turnips!\" scolded the old woman. \"A lot of children!\nWhat did they give you? Mushrooms? We can get them without losing our\nturnips.\"\n\n\"They gave me a tablecloth,\" said the old man; \"it's a very good\ntablecloth.\"\n\nHe pulled it out of his shirt and spread it on the table; and as\nquickly as he could, before she began again, he said, \"Tablecloth,\nturn inside out!\"\n\nThe old woman stopped short, just when she was taking breath to scold\nwith, when the tablecloth jumped up and danced in the air and settled\non the table again, covered with things to eat and to drink. She smelt\nthe meat, took a spoonful of the soup, and tried all the other dishes.\n\n\"Look at all the washing up it will mean,\" says she.\n\n\"Tablecloth, turn outside in!\" says the old man; and there was a whirl\nof white cloth and dishes and everything else, and then the tablecloth\nspread itself out on the table as clean as ever you could wish.\n\n\"That's not a bad tablecloth,\" says the old woman; \"but, of course,\nthey owed me something for stealing all those turnips.\"\n\nThe old man said nothing. He was very tired, and he just laid down and\nwent to sleep.\n\nAs soon as he was asleep the old woman took the tablecloth and hid it\naway in an iron chest, and put a tablecloth of her own in its place.\n\"They were my turnips,\" says she, \"and I don't see why he should have\na share in the tablecloth. He's had a meal from it once at my expense,\nand once is enough.\" Then she lay down and went to sleep, grumbling to\nherself even in her dreams.\n\nEarly in the morning the old woman woke the old man and told him to go\nup to the dovecot and see how those turnips were getting on.\n\nHe got up and rubbed his eyes. When he saw the tablecloth on the\ntable, the wish came to him to have a bite of food to begin the day\nwith. So he stopped in the middle of putting on his shirt, and called\nto the tablecloth, \"Tablecloth, turn inside out!\"\n\nNothing happened. Why should anything happen? It was not the same\ntablecloth.\n\nThe old man told the old woman. \"You should have made a good feast\nyesterday,\" says he, \"for the tablecloth is no good any more. That is,\nit's no good that way; it's like any ordinary tablecloth.\"\n\n\"Most tablecloths are,\" says the old woman. \"But what are you dawdling\nabout? Up you go and have a look at those turnips.\"\n\nThe old man went climbing up the narrow twisting stairs. He held on\nwith both hands for fear of falling, because they were so steep. He\nclimbed to the top of the house, to the top of the tower, to the top\nof the dovecot, and looked at the turnips. He looked at the turnips,\nand he counted the turnips, and then he came slowly down the stairs\nagain wondering what the old woman would say to him.\n\n\"Well,\" says the old woman in her sharp voice, \"are they doing nicely?\nBecause if not, I know whose fault it is.\"\n\n\"They are doing finely,\" said the old man; \"but some of them have\ngone. Indeed, quite a lot of them have been stolen away.\"\n\n\"Stolen away!\" screamed the old woman. \"How dare you stand there and\ntell me that? Didn't you find the thieves yesterday? Go and find\nthose children again, and take a stick with you, and don't show\nyourself here till you can tell me that they won't steal again in a\nhurry.\"\n\n\"Let me have a bite to eat,\" begs the old man. \"It's a long way to go\non an empty stomach.\"\n\n\"Not a mouthful!\" yells the old woman. \"Off with you. Letting my\nturnips be stolen every night, and then talking to me about bites of\nfood!\"\n\nSo the old man went off again without his dinner, and hobbled away\ninto the forest as quickly as he could to get out of earshot of the\nold woman's scolding tongue.\n\nAs soon as he was out of sight the old woman stopped screaming after\nhim, and went into the house and opened the iron chest and took out\nthe tablecloth the children had given the old man, and laid it on the\ntable instead of her own. She told it to turn inside out, and up it\nflew and whirled about and flopped down flat again, all covered with\ngood things. She ate as much as she could hold. Then she told the\ntablecloth to turn outside in, and folded it up and hid it away again\nin the iron chest.\n\nMeanwhile the old man tightened his belt, because he was so hungry. He\nhobbled along through the green forest till he came to the little hut\nstanding under the pine trees. There was no smoke coming from the\nchimney, but there was such a chattering you would have thought that\nall the Vanyas and Maroosias in Holy Russia were talking to each other\ninside.\n\nHe had no sooner come in sight of the hut than the dozens and dozens\nof little queer children came pouring out of the door to meet him. And\nevery single one of them had a turnip, and showed it to the old man,\nand laughed and laughed as if it were the best joke in the world.\n\n\"I knew it was you,\" said the old man.\n\n\"Of course it was us,\" cried the children. \"_We_ stole the turnips.\"\n\n\"But how did you get to the top of the dovecot when the door into the\nhouse was bolted and fast?\"\n\nThe children laughed and laughed and did not answer a word.\n\n\"Laugh you may,\" says the old man; \"but it is I who get the scolding\nwhen the turnips fly away in the night.\"\n\n\"Never mind! never mind!\" cried the children. \"We'll pay for the\nturnips.\"\n\n\"All very well,\" says the old man; \"but that tablecloth of yours--it\nwas fine yesterday, but this morning it would not give me even a glass\nof tea and a hunk of black bread.\"\n\nAt that the faces of the little queer children were troubled and\ngrave. For a moment or two they all chattered together, and took no\nnotice of the old man. Then one of them said,--\n\n\"Well, this time we'll give you something better. We'll give you a\ngoat.\"\n\n\"A goat?\" says the old man.\n\n\"A goat with a cold in its head,\" said the children; and they crowded\nround him and took him behind the hut where there was a gray goat with\na long beard cropping the short grass.\n\n\"It's a good enough goat,\" says the old man; \"I don't see anything\nwrong with him.\"\n\n\"It's better than that,\" cried the children. \"You tell it to sneeze.\"\n\nThe old man thought the children might be laughing at him, but he did\nnot care, and he remembered the tablecloth. So he took off his hat and\nbowed to the goat. \"Sneeze, goat,\" says he.\n\nAnd instantly the goat started sneezing as if it would shake itself to\npieces. And as it sneezed, good gold pieces flew from it in all\ndirections, till the ground was thick with them.\n\n\"That's enough,\" said the children hurriedly; \"tell him to stop, for\nall this gold is no use to us, and it's such a bother having to sweep\nit away.\"\n\n\"Stop sneezing, goat,\" says the old man; and the goat stopped\nsneezing, and stood there panting and out of breath in the middle of\nthe sea of gold pieces.\n\nThe children began kicking the gold pieces about, spreading them by\nwalking through them as if they were dead leaves. My old father used\nto say that those gold pieces are lying about still for anybody to\npick up; but I doubt if he knew just where to look for them, or he\nwould have had better clothes on his back and a little more food on\nthe table. But who knows? Some day we may come upon that little hut\nsomewhere in the forest, and then we shall know what to look for.\n\nThe children laughed and chattered and kicked the gold pieces this way\nand that into the green bushes. Then they brought the old man into the\nhut and gave him a bowl of kasha to eat, because he had had no dinner.\nThere was no magic about the kasha; but it was good enough kasha for\nall that, and hunger made it better. When the old man had finished the\nkasha and drunk a glass of tea and smoked a little pipe, he got up and\nmade a low bow and thanked the children. And the children tied a rope\nto the goat and sent the old man home with it. He hobbled away through\nthe forest, and as he went he looked back, and there were the little\nqueer children all dancing together, and he heard them chattering and\nshouting: \"Who stole the turnips? _We_ stole the turnips. Who paid for\nthe turnips? _We_ paid for the turnips. Who stole the tablecloth? Who\nwill pay for the tablecloth? Who will steal turnips again? _We_ will\nsteal turnips again.\"\n\nBut the old man was too pleased with the goat to give much heed to\nwhat they said; and he hobbled home through the green forest as fast\nas he could, with the goat trotting and walking behind him, pulling\nleaves off the bushes to chew as they hurried along.\n\nThe old woman was waiting in the doorway of the house. She was still\nas angry as ever.\n\n\"Have you beaten the children?\" she screamed. \"Have you beaten the\nchildren for stealing my good turnips?\"\n\n\"No,\" said the old man; \"they paid for the turnips.\"\n\n\"What did they pay?\"\n\n\"They gave me this goat.\"\n\n\"That skinny old goat! I have three already, and the worst of them is\nbetter than that.\"\n\n\"It has a cold in the head,\" says the old man.\n\n\"Worse than ever!\" screams the old woman.\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" says the old man as quickly as he could, to stop her\nscolding.--\"Sneeze, goat.\"\n\nAnd the goat began to shake itself almost to bits, sneezing and\nsneezing and sneezing. The good gold pieces flew all ways at once. And\nthe old woman threw herself after the gold pieces, picking them up\nlike an old hen picking up corn. As fast as she picked them up more\ngold pieces came showering down on her like heavy gold hail, beating\nher on her head and her hands as she grubbed after those that had\nfallen already.\n\n\"Stop sneezing, goat,\" says the old man; and the goat stood there\ntired and panting, trying to get its breath. But the old woman did not\nlook up till she had gathered everyone of the gold pieces. When she\ndid look up, she said,--\n\n\"There's no supper for you. I've had supper already.\"\n\nThe old man said nothing. He tied up the goat to the doorpost of the\nhouse, where it could eat the green grass. Then he went into the house\nand lay down, and fell asleep at once, because he was an old man and\nhad done a lot of walking.\n\nAs soon as he was asleep the old woman untied the goat and took it\naway and hid it in the bushes, and tied up one of her own goats\ninstead. \"They were my turnips,\" says she to herself, \"and I don't see\nwhy he should have a share in the gold.\" Then she went in, and lay\ndown grumbling to herself.\n\nEarly in the morning she woke the old man.\n\n\"Get up, you lazy fellow,\" says she; \"you would lie all day and let\nall the thieves in the world come in and steal my turnips. Up with\nyou to the dovecot and see how my turnips are getting on.\"\n\nThe old man got up and rubbed his eyes, and climbed up the rickety\nstairs, creak, creak, creak, holding on with both hands, till he came\nto the top of the house, to the top of the tower, to the top of the\ndovecot, and looked at the turnips.\n\nHe was afraid to come down, for there were hardly any turnips left at\nall.\n\nAnd when he did come down, the scolding the old woman gave him was\nworse than the other two scoldings rolled into one. She was so angry\nthat she shook like a rag in the high wind, and the old man put both\nhands to his ears and hobbled away into the forest.\n\nHe hobbled along as fast as he could hobble, until he came to the hut\nunder the pine trees. This time the little queer children were not\nhiding under the blankets or in the stove, or chattering in the hut.\nThey were all over the roof of the hut, dancing and crawling about.\nSome of them were even sitting on the chimney. And everyone of the\nlittle queer children was playing with a turnip. As soon as they saw\nthe old man they all came tumbling off the roof, one after another,\nhead over heels, like a lot of peas rolling off a shovel.\n\n\"_We_ stole the turnips!\" they shouted, before the old man could say\nanything at all.\n\n\"I know you did,\" says the old man; \"but that does not make it any\nbetter for me. And it is I who get the scolding when the turnips fly\naway in the night.\"\n\n\"Never again!\" shouted the children.\n\n\"I'm glad to hear that,\" says the old man.\n\n\"And we'll pay for the turnips.\"\n\n\"Thank you kindly,\" says the old man. He hadn't the heart to be angry\nwith those little queer children.\n\nThree or four of them ran into the hut and came out again with a\nwooden whistle, a regular whistle-pipe, such as shepherds use. They\ngave it to the old man.\n\n\"I can never play that,\" says the old man. \"I don't know one tune from\nanother; and if I did, my old fingers are as stiff as oak twigs.\"\n\n\"Blow in it,\" cried the children; and all the others came crowding\nround, laughing and chattering and whispering to each other. \"Is he\ngoing to blow in it?\" they asked. \"He _is_ going to blow in it.\" How\nthey laughed!\n\nThe old man took the whistle, and gathered his breath and puffed out\nhis cheeks, and blew in the whistle-pipe as hard as he could. And\nbefore he could take the whistle from his lips, three lively whips had\nslipped out of it, and were beating him as hard as they could go,\nalthough there was nobody to hold them. Phew! phew! phew! The three\nwhips came down on him one after the other.\n\n\"Blow again!\" the children shouted, laughing as if they were mad.\n\"Blow again--quick, quick, quick!--and tell the whips to get into the\nwhistle.\"\n\nThe old man did not wait to be told twice. He blew for all he was\nworth, and instantly the three whips stopped beating him. \"Into the\nwhistle!\" he cried; and the three lively whips shot up into the\nwhistle, like three snakes going into a hole. He could hardly have\nbelieved they had been out at all if it had not been for the soreness\nof his back.\n\n\"You take that home,\" cried the children. \"That'll pay for the\nturnips, and put everything right.\"\n\n\"Who knows?\" said the old man; and he thanked the children, and set\noff home through the green forest.\n\n\"Good-bye,\" cried the little queer children. But as soon as he had\nstarted they forgot all about him. When he looked round to wave his\nhand to them, not one of them was thinking of him. They were up again\non the roof of the hut, jumping over each other and dancing and\ncrawling about, and rolling each other down the roof and climbing up\nagain, as if they had been doing nothing else all day, and were going\nto do nothing else till the end of the world.\n\nThe old man hobbled home through the green forest with the whistle\nstuck safely away into his shirt. As soon as he came to the door of\nthe hut, the old woman, who was sitting inside counting the gold\npieces, jumped up and started her scolding.\n\n\"What have the children tricked you with this time?\" she screamed at\nhim.\n\n\"They gave me a whistle-pipe,\" says the old man, \"and they are not\ngoing to steal the turnips any more.\"\n\n\"A whistle-pipe!\" she screamed. \"What's the good of that? It's worse\nthan the tablecloth and the skinny old goat.\"\n\nThe old man said nothing.\n\n\"Give it to me!\" screamed the old woman. \"They were my turnips, so it\nis my whistle-pipe.\"\n\n\"Well, whatever you do, don't blow in it,\" says the old man, and he\nhands over the whistle-pipe.\n\nShe wouldn't listen to him.\n\n\"What?\" says she; \"I must not blow my own whistle-pipe?\"\n\nAnd with that she put the whistle-pipe to her lips and blew.\n\nOut jumped the three lively whips, flew up in the air, and began to\nbeat her--phew! phew! phew!--one after another. If they made the old\nman sore, it was nothing to what they did to the cross old woman.\n\n\"Stop them! Stop them!\" she screamed, running this way and that in the\nhut, with the whips flying after her beating her all the time. \"I'll\nnever scold again. I am to blame. I stole the magic tablecloth, and\nput an old one instead of it. I hid it in the iron chest.\" She ran to\nthe iron chest and opened it, and pulled out the tablecloth. \"Stop\nthem! Stop them!\" she screamed, while the whips laid it on hard and\nfast, one after the other. \"I am to blame. The goat that sneezes gold\npieces is hidden in the bushes. The goat by the door is one of the old\nones. I wanted all the gold for myself.\"\n\nAll this time the old man was trying to get hold of the whistle-pipe.\nBut the old woman was running about the hut so fast, with the whips\nflying after her and beating her, that he could not get it out of her\nhands. At last he grabbed it. \"Into the whistle,\" says he, and put it\nto his lips and blew.\n\nIn a moment the three lively whips had hidden themselves in the\nwhistle. And there was the cross old woman, kissing his hand and\npromising never to scold any more.\n\n\"That's all right,\" says the old man; and he fetched the sneezing goat\nout of the bushes and made it sneeze a little gold, just to be sure\nthat it was that goat and no other. Then he laid the tablecloth on\nthe table and told it to turn inside out. Up it flew, and came down\nagain with the best dinner that ever was cooked, only waiting to be\neaten. And the old man and the old woman sat down and ate till they\ncould eat no more. The old woman rubbed herself now and again. And the\nold man rubbed himself too. But there was never a cross word between\nthem, and they went to bed singing like nightingales.\n\n\"Is that the end?\" Maroosia always asked.\n\n\"Is that all?\" asked Vanya, though he knew it was not.\n\n\"Not quite,\" said old Peter; \"but the tale won't go any quicker than\nmy old tongue.\"\n\nIn the morning the old woman had forgotten about her promise. And just\nfrom habit, she set about scolding the old man as if the whips had\nnever jumped out of the whistle. She scolded him for sleeping too\nlong, sent him upstairs, with a lot of cross words after him, to go to\nthe top of the dovecot to see how those turnips were getting on.\n\nAfter a little the old man came down.\n\n\"The turnips are coming on grandly,\" says he, \"and not a single one\nhas gone in the night. I told you the children said they would not\nsteal any more.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you,\" said the old woman. \"I'll see for myself. And\nif any are gone, you shall pay for it, and pay for it well.\"\n\nUp she jumped, and tried to climb the stairs. But the stairs were\nnarrow and steep and twisting. She tried and tried, and could not get\nup at all. So she gets angrier than ever, and starts scolding the old\nman again.\n\n\"You must carry me up,\" says she.\n\n\"I have to hold on with both hands, or I couldn't get up myself,\" says\nthe old man.\n\n\"I'll get in the flour sack, and you must carry me up with your\nteeth,\" says she; \"they're strong enough.\"\n\nAnd the old woman got into the flour sack.\n\n\"Don't ask me any questions,\" says the old man; and he took the sack\nin his teeth and began slowly climbing up the stairs, holding on with\nboth hands.\n\nHe climbed and climbed, but he did not climb fast enough for the old\nwoman.\n\n\"Are we at the top?\" says she.\n\nThe old man said nothing, but went on, climbing up and up, nearly dead\nwith the weight of the old woman in the sack which he was holding in\nhis teeth.\n\nHe climbed a little further, and the old woman screamed out,--\n\n\"Are we at the top now? We must be at the top. Let me out, you old\nfool!\"\n\nThe old man said nothing; he climbed on and on.\n\nThe old woman raged in the flour sack. She jumped about in the sack,\nand screamed at the old man,--\n\n\"Are we near the top now? Answer me, can't you! Answer me at once, or\nyou'll pay for it later. Are we near the top?\"\n\n\"Very near,\" said the old man.\n\nAnd as he opened his mouth to say that the sack slipped from between\nhis teeth, and bump, bump, bumpety bump, the old woman in the sack\nfell all the way to the very bottom, bumping on every step. That was\nthe end of her.\n\nAfter that the old man lived alone in the hut. When he wanted tobacco\nor clothes or a new axe, he made the goat sneeze some gold pieces, and\noff he went to the town with plenty of money in his pocket. When he\nwanted his dinner he had only to lay the tablecloth. He never had any\nwashing up to do, because the tablecloth did it for him. When he\nwanted to get rid of troublesome guests, he gave them the whistle to\nblow. And when he was lonely and wanted company, he went to the\nlittle hut under the pine trees and played with the little queer\nchildren.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE MASTER MISERY.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were two brothers, peasants, and one was kind\nand the other was cunning. And the cunning one made money and became\nrich--very rich--so rich that he thought himself far too good for the\nvillage. He went off to the town, and dressed in fine furs, and\nclothed his wife in rich brocades, and made friends among the\nmerchants, and began to live as merchants live, eating all day long,\nno longer like a simple peasant who eats kasha one day, kasha the next\nday, and for a change kasha on the third day also. And always he grew\nricher and richer.\n\nIt was very different with the kind one. He lent money to a neighbour,\nand the neighbour never paid it back. He sowed before the last frost,\nand lost all his crops. His horse went lame. His cow gave no milk. If\nhis hens laid eggs, they were stolen; and if he set a night-line in\nthe river, some one else always pulled it out and stole the fish and\nthe hooks. Everything went wrong with him, and each day saw him poorer\nthan the day before. At last there came a time when he had not a crumb\nof bread in the house. He and his wife were thin as sticks because\nthey had nothing to eat, and the children were crying all day long\nbecause of their little empty stomachs. From morning till night he dug\nand worked, struggling against poverty like a fish against the ice;\nbut it was no good. Things went from bad to worse.\n\nAt last his wife said to him: \"You must go to the town and see that\nrich brother of yours. He will surely not refuse to give you a little\nhelp.\"\n\nAnd he said: \"Truly, wife, there is nothing else to be done. I will go\nto the town, and perhaps my rich brother will help me. I am sure he\nwould not let my children starve. After all, he is their uncle.\"\n\nSo he took his stick and tramped off to the town.\n\nHe came to the house of his rich brother. A fine house it was, with\npainted eaves and a doorway carved by a master. Many servants were\nthere and food in plenty, and people coming and going. He went in and\nfound his brother, and said,--\n\n\"Dear brother of mine, I beg you help me, even if only a little. My\nwife and children are without bread. All day long they sit hungry and\nwaiting, and I have no food to give them.\"\n\nThe rich brother looks at him, and hums and strokes his beard. Then\nsays he: \"I will help you. But, of course, you must do something in\nreturn. Stay here and work for me, and at the end of a week you shall\nhave the help you have earned.\"\n\nThe poor brother thanked him, and bowed and kissed his hand, and\npraised God for the kindness of his brother's heart, and set instantly\nto work. For a whole week he slaved, and scarcely slept. He cleaned\nout the stables and cut the wood, swept the yard, drew water from the\nwell, and ran errands for the cook. And at the end of the week his\nbrother called him, and gave him a single loaf of bread.\n\n\"You must not forget,\" says the rich brother, \"that I have fed you all\nthe week you have been here, and all that food counts in the payment.\"\n\nThe poor brother thanked him, and was setting off to carry the loaf to\nhis wife and children when the rich brother called him back.\n\n\"Stop a minute,\" said he; \"I would like you to know that I am well\ndisposed towards you. To-morrow is my name-day. Come to the feast, and\nbring your wife with you.\"\n\n\"How can I do that, brother? Your friends are rich merchants, with\nfine clothes, and boots on their feet. And I have nothing but my old\ncoat, and my legs are bound in rags and my feet shuffle along in straw\nslippers. I do not want to shame you before your guests.\"\n\n\"Never mind about that,\" says the rich brother; \"we will find a place\nfor you.\"\n\n\"Very good, brother, and thank you kindly. God be praised for having\ngiven you a tender heart.\"\n\nAnd the poor brother, though he was tired out after all the work he\nhad done, set off home as fast as he could to take the bread to his\nwife and children.\n\n\"He might have given you more than that,\" said his wife.\n\n\"But listen,\" said he; \"what do you think of this? To-morrow we are\ninvited, you and I, as guests, to go to a great feast.\"\n\n\"What do you mean? A feast? Who has invited us?\"\n\n\"My brother has invited us. To-morrow is his name-day. I always told\nyou he had a kind heart. We shall be well fed, and I dare say we shall\nbe able to bring back something for the children.\"\n\n\"A pleasure like that does not often come our way,\" said his wife.\n\nSo early in the morning they got up, and walked all the way to the\ntown, so as not to shame the rich brother by putting up their old cart\nin the yard beside the merchants' fine carriages. They came to the\nrich brother's house, and found the guests all assembled and making\nmerry; rich merchants and their plump wives, all eating and laughing\nand drinking and talking.\n\nThey wished a long life to the rich brother, and the poor brother\nwanted to make a speech, congratulating him on his name-day. But the\nrich brother scarcely thanked him, because he was so busy entertaining\nthe rich merchants and their plump, laughing wives. He was pressing\nfood on his guests, now this, now that, and calling to the servants to\nkeep their glasses filled and their plates full of all the tastiest\nkinds of food. As for the poor brother and his wife, the rich one\nforgot all about them, and they got nothing to eat and never a drop to\ndrink. They just sat there with empty plates and empty glasses,\nwatching how the others ate and drank. The poor brother laughed with\nthe rest, because he did not wish to show that he had been forgotten.\n\nThe dinner came to an end. One by one the guests went up to the giver\nof the feast to thank him for his good cheer. And the poor brother too\ngot up from the bench, and bowed low before his brother and thanked\nhim.\n\nThe guests went home, drunken and joyful. A fine noise they made, as\npeople do on these occasions, shouting jokes to each other and singing\nsongs at the top of their voices.\n\nThe poor brother and his wife went home empty and sad. All that long\nway they had walked, and now they had to walk it again, and the feast\nwas over, and never a bite had they had in their mouths, nor a drop in\ntheir gullets.\n\n\"Come, wife,\" says the poor brother as he trudged along, \"let us sing\na song like the others.\"\n\n\"What a fool you are!\" says his wife. Hungry and cross she was, as\neven Maroosia would be after a day like that watching other people\nstuff themselves. \"What a fool you are!\" says she. \"People may very\nwell sing when they have eaten tasty dishes and drunk good wine. But\nwhat reason have you got for making a merry noise in the night?\"\n\n\"Why, my dear\" says he, \"we have been at my brother's name-day feast.\nI am ashamed to go home without a song. I'll sing. I'll sing so that\neveryone shall think he loaded us with good things like the rest.\"\n\n\"Well, sing if you like; but you'll sing by yourself.\"\n\nSo the peasant, the poor brother, started singing a song with his dry\nthroat. He lifted his voice and sang like the rest, while his wife\ntrudged silently beside him.\n\nBut as he sang it seemed to the peasant that he heard two voices\nsinging--his own and another's. He stopped, and asked his wife,--\n\n\"Is that you joining in my song with a little thin voice?\"\n\n\"What's the matter with you? I never thought of singing with you. I\nnever opened my mouth.\"\n\n\"Who is it then?\"\n\n\"No one except yourself. Any one would say you had had a drink of wine\nafter all.\"\n\n\"But I heard some one ... a little weak voice ... a little sad\nvoice ... joining with mine.\"\n\n\"I heard nothing,\" said his wife; \"but sing again, and I'll listen.\"\n\nThe poor man sang again. He sang alone. His wife listened, and it was\nclear that there were two voices singing--the dry voice of the poor\nman, and a little miserable voice that came from the shadows under the\ntrees. The poor man stopped, and asked out loud,--\n\n\"Who are you who are singing with me?\"\n\nAnd a little thin voice answered out of the shadows by the roadside,\nunder the trees,--\n\n\"I am Misery.\"\n\n\"So it was you, Misery, who were helping me?\"\n\n\"Yes, master, I was helping you.\"\n\n\"Well, little Master Misery, come along with us and keep us company.\"\n\n\"I'll do that willingly,\" says little Master Misery, \"and I'll never,\nnever leave you at all--no, not if you have no other friend in the\nworld.\"\n\nAnd a wretched little man, with a miserable face and little thin legs\nand arms, came out of the shadows and went home with the peasant and\nhis wife.\n\nIt was late when they got home, but little Master Misery asked the\npeasant to take him to the tavern. \"After such a day as this has\nbeen,\" says he, \"there's nothing else to be done.\"\n\n\"But I have no money,\" says the peasant.\n\n[Illustration: Misery seated himself firmly on his shoulders and\npulled out Handfuls of his hair.]\n\n\"What of that?\" says little Master Misery. \"Spring has begun, and you\nhave a winter jacket on. It will soon be summer, and whether you have\nit or not you won't wear it. Bring it along to the tavern, and change\nit for a drink.\"\n\nThe poor man went to the tavern with little Master Misery, and they\nsat there and drank the vodka that the tavern-keeper gave them in\nexchange for the coat.\n\nNext day, early in the morning, little Master Misery began\ncomplaining. His head ached and he could not open his eyes, and he did\nnot like the weather, and the children were crying, and there was no\nfood in the house. He asked the peasant to come with him to the tavern\nagain and forget all this wretchedness in a drink.\n\n\"But I've got no money,\" says the peasant.\n\n\"Rubbish!\" says little Master Misery; \"you have a sledge and a\ncart.\"\n\nThey took the cart and the sledge to the tavern, and stayed there\ndrinking until the tavern-keeper said they had had all that the cart\nand the sledge were worth. Then the tavern-keeper took them and threw\nthem out of doors into the night, and they picked themselves up and\ncrawled home.\n\nNext day Misery complained worse than before, and begged the peasant\nto come with him to the tavern. There was no getting rid of him, no\nkeeping him quiet. The peasant sold his barrow and plough, so that he\ncould no longer work his land. He went to the tavern with little\nMaster Misery.\n\nA month went by like that, and at the end of it the peasant had\nnothing left at all. He had even pledged the hut he lived in to a\nneighbour, and taken the money to the tavern.\n\nAnd every day little Master Misery begged him to come. \"There I am not\nwretched any longer,\" says Misery. \"There I sing, and even dance,\nhitting the floor with my heels and making a merry noise.\"\n\n\"But now I have no money at all, and nothing left to sell,\" says the\npoor peasant. \"I'd be willing enough to go with you, but I can't, and\nhere is an end of it.\"\n\n\"Rubbish!\" says Misery; \"your wife has two dresses. Leave her one; she\ncan't wear both at once. Leave her one, and buy a drink with the\nother. They are both ragged, but take the better of the two. The\ntavern-keeper is a just man, and will give us more drink for the\nbetter one.\"\n\nThe peasant took the dress and sold it; and Misery laughed and danced,\nwhile the peasant thought to himself, \"Well, this is the end. I've\nnothing left to sell, and my wife has nothing either. We've the\nclothes on our backs, and nothing else in the world.\"\n\nIn the morning little Master Misery woke with a headache as usual, and\na mouthful of groans and complaints. But he saw that the peasant had\nnothing left to sell, and he called out,--\n\n\"Listen to me, master of the house.\"\n\n\"What is it, Misery?\" says the peasant, who was master of nothing in\nthe world.\n\n\"Go you to a neighbour and beg the loan of a cart and a pair of good\noxen.\"\n\nThe poor peasant had no will of his own left. He did exactly as he\nwas told. He went to his neighbour and begged the loan of the oxen and\ncart.\n\n\"But how will you repay me?\" says the neighbour.\n\n\"I will do a week's work for you for nothing.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" says the neighbour; \"take the oxen and cart, but be\ncareful not to give them too heavy a load.\"\n\n\"Indeed I won't,\" says the peasant, thinking to himself that he had\nnothing to load them with. \"And thank you very much,\" says he; and he\ngoes back to Misery, taking with him the oxen and cart.\n\nMisery looked at him and grumbled in his wretched little voice, \"They\nare hardly strong enough,\"\n\n\"They are the best I could borrow,\" says the peasant; \"and you and I\nhave starved too long to be heavy.\"\n\nAnd the peasant and little Master Misery sat together in the cart and\ndrove off together, Misery holding his head in both hands and groaning\nat the jolt of the cart.\n\nAs soon as they had left the village, Misery sat up and asked the\npeasant,--\n\n\"Do you know the big stone that stands alone in the middle of a field\nnot far from here?\"\n\n\"Of course I know it,\" says the peasant.\n\n\"Drive straight to it,\" says Misery, and went on rocking himself to\nand fro, and groaning and complaining in his wretched little voice.\n\nThey came to the stone, and got down from the cart and looked at the\nstone. It was very big and heavy, and was fixed in the ground.\n\n\"Heave it up,\" says Misery.\n\nThe poor peasant set to work to heave it up, and Misery helped him,\ngroaning, and complaining that the peasant was nothing of a fellow\nbecause he could not do his work by himself. Well, they heaved it up,\nand there below it was a deep hole, and the hole was filled with gold\npieces to the very top; more gold pieces than ever you will see copper\nones if you live to be a hundred and ten.\n\n\"Well, what are you staring at?\" says Misery. \"Stir yourself, and be\nquick about it, and load all this gold into the cart.\"\n\nThe peasant set to work, and piled all the gold into the cart down to\nthe very last gold piece; while Misery sat on the stone and watched,\ngroaning and chuckling in his weak, wretched little voice.\n\n\"Be quick,\" says Misery; \"and then we can get back to the tavern.\"\n\nThe peasant looked into the pit to see that there was nothing left\nthere, and then says he,--\n\n\"Just take a look, little Master Misery, and see that we have left\nnothing behind. You are smaller than I, and can get right down into\nthe pit....\"\n\nMisery slipped down from the stone, grumbling at the peasant, and bent\nover the pit.\n\n\"You've taken the lot,\" says he; \"there's nothing to be seen.\"\n\n\"But what is that,\" says the peasant--\"there, shining in the corner?\"\n\n\"I don't see it.\"\n\n\"Jump down into the pit and you'll see it. It would be a pity to waste\na gold piece.\"\n\nMisery jumped down into the pit, and instantly the peasant rolled the\nstone over the hole and shut him in.\n\n\"Things will be better so,\" says the peasant. \"If I were to let you\nout of that, sooner or later you would drink up all this money, just\nas you drank up everything I had.\"\n\nThen the peasant drove home and hid the gold in the cellar; took the\noxen and cart back to his neighbour, thanked him kindly, and began to\nthink what he would do, now that Misery was his master no longer, and\nhe with plenty of money.\n\n\"But he had to work for a week to pay for the loan of the oxen and\ncart,\" said Vanya.\n\n\"Well, during the week, while he was working, he was thinking all the\ntime, in his head,\" said old Peter, a little grumpily. Then he went on\nwith his tale.\n\nAs soon as the week was over, he bought a forest and built himself a\nfine house, and began to live twice as richly as his brother in the\ntown. And his wife had two new dresses, perhaps more; with a lot of\ngold and silver braid, and necklaces of big yellow stones, and\nbracelets and sparkling rings. His children were well fed every\nday--rivers of milk between banks of kisel jelly, and mushrooms with\nsauce, and soup, and cakes with little balls of egg and meat hidden in\nthe middle. And they had toys that squeaked, a little boy feeding a\ngoose that poked its head into a dish, and a painted hen with a lot of\nchickens that all squeaked together.\n\nTime went on, and when his name-day drew near he thought of his\nbrother, the merchant, and drove off to the town to invite him to take\npart in the feast.\n\n\"I have not forgotten, brother, that you invited me to yours.\"\n\n\"What a fellow you are!\" says his brother; \"you have nothing to eat\nyourself, and here you are inviting other people for your name-day.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the peasant, \"once upon a time, it is true, I had nothing\nto eat; but now, praise be to God, I am no poorer than yourself. Come\nto my name-day feast and you will see.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" says his brother, \"I'll come; but don't think you can\nplay any jokes on me.\"\n\nOn the morning of the peasant's name-day his brother, the merchant in\nthe town, put on his best clothes, and his plump wife dressed in all\nher richest, and they got into their cart--a fine cart it was too,\npainted in the brightest colours--and off they drove together to the\nhouse of the brother who had once been poor. They took a basket of\nfood with them, in case he had only been joking when he invited them\nto his name-day feast.\n\nThey drove to the village, and asked for him at the hut where he used\nto be.\n\nAn old man hobbling along the road answered them,--\n\n\"Oh, you mean our Ivan Ilyitch. Well, he does not live here any\nlonger. Where have you been that you have not heard? His is the big\nnew house on the hill. You can see it through the trees over there,\nwhere all these people are walking. He has a kind heart, he has, and\nriches have not spoiled it. He has invited the whole village to feast\nwith him, because to-day is his name-day.\"\n\n\"Riches!\" thought the merchant; \"a new house!\" He was very much\nsurprised, but as he drove along the road he was more surprised still.\nFor he passed all the villagers on their way to the feast; and every\none was talking of his brother, and how kind he was and how generous,\nand what a feast there was going to be, and how many barrels of mead\nand, wine had been taken up to the house. All the folk were hurrying\nalong the road licking their lips, each one going faster than the\nother so as to be sure not to miss any of the good things.\n\nThe rich brother from the town drove with his wife into the courtyard\nof the fine new house. And there on the steps was the peasant brother,\nIvan Ilyitch, and his wife, receiving their guests. And if the rich\nbrother was well dressed, the peasant was better dressed; and if the\nrich brother's wife was in her fine clothes, the peasant's wife fairly\nglittered--what with the gold braid on her bosom and the shining\nsilver in her hair.\n\nAnd the peasant brother kissed his brother from the town on both\ncheeks, and gave him and his wife the best places at the table. He fed\nthem--ah, how he fed them!--with little red slips of smoked salmon,\nand beetroot soup with cream, and slabs of sturgeon, and meats of\nthree or four kinds, and game and sweetmeats of the best. There never\nwas such a feast--no, not even at the wedding of a Tzar. And as for\ndrink, there were red wine and white wine, and beer and mead in great\nbarrels, and everywhere the peasant went about among his guests,\nfilling glasses and seeing that their plates were kept piled with the\nfoods each one liked best.\n\nAnd the rich brother wondered and wondered, and at last he could wait\nno longer, and he took his brother aside and said,--\n\n\"I am delighted to see you so rich. But tell me, I beg you, how it was\nthat all this good fortune came to you.\"\n\nThe poor brother, never thinking, told him all--the whole truth about\nlittle Master Misery and the pit full of gold, and how Misery was shut\nin there under the big stone.\n\nThe merchant brother listened, and did not forget a word. He could\nhardly bear himself for envy, and as for his wife, she was worse. She\nlooked at the peasant's wife with her beautiful head-dress, and she\nbit her lips till they bled.\n\nAs soon as they could, they said good-bye and drove off home.\n\nThe merchant brother could not bear the thought that his brother was\nricher than he. He said to himself, \"I will go to the field, and move\nthe stone, and let Master Misery out. Then he will go and tear my\nbrother to pieces for shutting him in; and his riches will not be of\nmuch use to him then, even if Misery does not give them to me as a\ntoken of gratitude. Think of my brother daring to show off his riches\nto me!\"\n\nSo he drove off to the field, and came at last to the big stone. He\nmoved the stone on one side, and then bent over the pit to see what\nwas in it.\n\nHe had scarcely put his head over the edge before Misery sprang up out\nof the pit, seated himself firmly on his shoulders, squeezed his neck\nbetween his little wiry legs, and pulled out handfuls of his hair.\n\n\"Scream away!\" cried little Master Misery. \"You tried to kill me,\nshutting me up in there, while you went off and bought fine clothes.\nYou tried to kill me, and came to feast your eyes on my corpse. Now,\nwhatever happens, I'll never leave you again.\"\n\n\"Listen, Misery!\" screamed the merchant. \"Ai, ai! stop pulling my\nhair. You are choking me. Ai! Listen. It was not I who shut you in\nunder the stone....\"\n\n\"Who was it, if it was not you?\" asked Misery, tugging out his hair,\nand digging his knees into the merchant's throat.\n\n\"It was my brother. I came here on purpose to let you out. I came out\nof pity.\"\n\nMisery tugged the merchant's hair, and twisted the merchant's ears\ntill they nearly came off.\n\n\"Liar, liar!\" he shouted in his little, wretched, angry voice. \"You\ntricked me once. Do you think you'll get the better of me again by a\nclumsy lie of that kind? Now then. Gee up! Home we go.\"\n\nAnd so the rich brother went trotting home, crying with pain; while\nlittle Master Misery sat firmly on his shoulders, pulling at his\nhair.\n\nInstantly Misery was at his old tricks.\n\n\"You seem to have bought a good deal with the gold,\" he said, looking\nat the merchant's house. \"We'll see how far it will go.\" And every day\nhe rode the rich merchant to the tavern, and made him drink up all his\nmoney, and his house, his clothes, his horses and carts and\nsledges--everything he had--until he was as poor as his brother had\nbeen in the beginning.\n\nThe merchant thought and thought, and puzzled his brain to find a way\nto get rid of him. And at last one night, when Misery had groaned\nhimself to sleep, the merchant went out into the yard and took a big\ncart wheel and made two stout wedges of wood, just big enough to fit\ninto the hub of the wheel. He drove one wedge firmly in at one end of\nthe hub, and left the wheel in the yard with the other wedge, and a\nbig hammer lying handy close to it.\n\nIn the morning Misery wakes as usual, and cries out to be taken to the\ntavern.\n\n\"We've sold everything I've got,\" says the merchant.\n\n\"Well, what are you going to do to amuse me?\" says Misery.\n\n\"Let's play hide-and-seek in the yard,\" says the merchant.\n\n\"Right,\" says Misery; \"but you'll never find me, for I can make myself\nso small I can hide in a mouse-hole in the floor.\"\n\n\"We'll see,\" says the merchant.\n\nThe merchant hid first, and Misery found him at once.\n\n\"Now it's my turn,\" says Misery; \"but what's the good? You'll never\nfind me. Why, I could get inside the hub of that wheel if I had a mind\nto.\"\n\n\"What a liar you are!\" says the merchant; \"you never could get into\nthat little hole.\"\n\n\"Look,\" says Misery, and he made himself little, little, little, and\nsat on the hub of the wheel.\n\n\"Look,\" says he, making himself smaller again; and then, pouf! in he\npops into the hole of the hub.\n\nInstantly the merchant took the other wedge and the hammer, and drove\nthe wedge into the hole. The first wedge had closed up the other end,\nand so there was Misery shut up inside the hub of the cart wheel.\n\nThe merchant set the wheel on his shoulders, and took it to the river\nand threw it out as far as he could, and it went floating away down to\nthe sea.\n\nThen he went home and set to work to make money again, and earn his\ndaily bread; for Misery had made him so poor that he had nothing left,\nand had to hire himself out to make a living, just as his peasant\nbrother used to do.\n\nBut what happened to Misery when he went floating away?\n\nHe floated away down the river, shut up in the hub of the wheel. He\nought to have starved there. But I am afraid some silly, greedy fellow\nthought to get a new wheel for nothing, and pulled the wedges out and\nlet him go; for, by all I hear, Misery is still wandering about the\nworld and making people wretched--bad luck to him!\n\n\n\n\nA CHAPTER OF FISH.\n\n\nSometimes in spring, when the big river flooded its banks and made\nlakes of the meadows, and the little rivers flowed deep, old Peter\nspent a few days netting fish. Also in summer he set night-lines in\nthe little river not far from where it left the forest. And so it\nhappened that one day he sat in the warm sunshine outside his hut,\nmending his nets and making floats for them; not cork floats like\nours, but little rolls of the silver bark of the birch tree.\n\nAnd while he sat there Vanya and Maroosia watched him, and sometimes\neven helped, holding a piece of the net between them, while old Peter\nfastened on the little glistening rolls of bark that were to keep it\nup in the water. And all the time old Peter worked he smoked, and told\nthem stories about fish.\n\nFirst he told them what happened when the first pike was born, and how\nit is that all the little fish are not eaten by the great pike with\nhis huge greedy mouth and his sharp teeth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOn the night of Ivanov's Day (that is the day of Saint John, which is\nMidsummer) there was born the pike, a huge fish, with such teeth as\nnever were. And when the pike was born the waters of the river foamed\nand raged, so that the ships in the river were all but swamped, and\nthe pretty young girls who were playing on the banks ran away as fast\nas they could, frightened, they were, by the roaring of the waves, and\nthe black wind and the white foam on the water. Terrible was the birth\nof the sharp-toothed pike.\n\nAnd when the pike was born he did not grow up by months or by days,\nbut by hours. Every day it was two inches longer than the day before.\nIn a month it was two yards long; in two months it was twelve feet\nlong; in three months it was raging up and down the river like a\ntempest, eating the bream and the perch, and all the small fish that\ncame in its way. There was a bream or a perch swimming lazily in the\nstream. The pike saw it as it raged by, caught it in its great white\nmouth, and instantly the bream or the perch was gone, torn to pieces\nby the pike's teeth, and swallowed as you would swallow a sunflower\nseed. And bream and perch are big fish. It was worse for the little\nones.\n\n[Illustration: \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n             Fish, fish, listen to me\"]\n\nWhat was to be done? The bream and the perch put their heads together\nin a quiet pool. It was clear enough that the great pike would eat\neveryone of them. So they called a meeting of all the little fish,\nand set to thinking what could be done by way of dealing with the\ngreat pike, which had such sharp teeth and was making so free with\ntheir lives.\n\nThey all came to the meeting--bream, and perch, and roach, and dace,\nand gudgeon; yes, and the little ersh with his spiny back.\n\nThe silly roach said, \"Let us kill the pike.\"\n\nBut the gudgeon looked at him with his great eyes, and asked, \"Have\nyou got good teeth?\"\n\n\"No,\" says the roach, \"I haven't any teeth.\"\n\n\"You'd swallow the pike, I suppose?\" says the perch.\n\n\"My mouth is too small.\"\n\n\"Then do not use it to talk foolishness,\" said the gudgeon; and the\nroach's fins blushed scarlet, and are red to this day.\n\n\"I will set my prickles on end,\" says the perch, who has a row of\nsharp prickles in the fin on his back. \"The pike won't find them too\ncomfortable in his throat.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the bream; \"but you will have to go into his throat to put\nthem there, and he'll swallow you all the same. Besides, we have not\nall got prickles.\"\n\nThere was a lot more foolishness talked. Even the minnows had\nsomething to say, until they were made to be quiet by the dace.\n\nNow the little ersh had come to the meeting, with his spiny back, and\nhis big front fins, and his head all shining in blue and gold and\ngreen. And when he had heard all they had to say, he began to talk.\n\n\"Think away,\" says he, \"and break your heads, and spoil your brains,\nif ever you had any; but listen for a moment to what I have to say.\"\n\nAnd all the fish turned to listen to the ersh, who is the cleverest of\nall the little fish, because he has a big head and a small body.\n\n\"Listen,\" says the ersh. \"It is clear enough that the pike lives in\nthis big river, and that he does not give the little fish a chance,\ncrunches them all with his sharp teeth, and swallows them ten at a\ntime. I quite agree that it would be much better for everybody if he\ncould be killed; but not one of us is strong enough for that. We are\nnot strong enough to kill him; but we can starve him, and save\nourselves at the same time. There's no living in the big river while\nhe is here. Let all us little fish clear out, and go and live in the\nlittle rivers that flow into the big. There the waters are shallow,\nand we can hide among the weeds. No one will touch us there, and we\ncan live and bring up our children in peace, and only be in danger\nwhen we go visiting from one little river to another. And as for the\ngreat pike, we will leave him alone in the big river to rage hungrily\nup and down. His teeth will soon grow blunt, for there will be nothing\nfor him to eat.\"\n\nAll the little fish waved their fins and danced in the water when they\nheard the wisdom of the ersh's speech. And the ersh and the roach,\nand the bream and the perch, and the dace and the gudgeon left the big\nriver and swam up the little rivers between the green meadows. And\nthere they began again to live in peace and bring up their little\nones, though the cunning fishermen set nets in the little rivers and\ncaught many of them on their way. From that time on there have never\nbeen many little fish in the big river.\n\nAnd as for the monstrous pike, he swam up and down the great river,\nlashing the waters, and driving his nose through the waves, but found\nno food for his sharp teeth. He had to take to worms, and was caught\nin the end on a fisherman's hook. Yes, and the fisherman made a soup\nof him--the best fish soup that ever was made. He was a friend of mine\nwhen I was a boy, and he gave me a taste in my wooden spoon.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThen he told them the story of other pike, and particularly of the\npike that was king of a river, and made the little fish come together\non the top of the water so that the young hunter could cross over with\ndry feet. And he told them of the pike that hid the lover of the\nprincess by swallowing him and lying at the bottom of a deep pool, and\nhow the princess saw her lover sitting in the pike, when the big fish\nopened his mouth to snap up a little perch that swam too near his\nnose. Then he told them of the big trial in the river, when the fishes\nchose judges, and made a case at law against the ersh, and found him\nguilty, and how the ersh spat in the faces of the judges and swam\nmerrily away.\n\nFinally, he told them the story of the Golden Fish. But that is a\nlong story, and a chapter all by itself, and begins on the next page.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN FISH.\n\n\n\"This,\" said old Peter, \"is a story against wanting more than enough.\"\n\nLong ago, near the shore of the blue sea, an old man lived with his\nold woman in a little old hut made of earth and moss and logs. They\nnever had a rouble to spend. A rouble! they never had a kopeck. They\njust lived there in the little hut, and the old man caught fish out of\nthe sea in his old net, and the old woman cooked the fish; and so\nthey lived, poorly enough in summer and worse in winter. Sometimes\nthey had a few fish to sell, but not often. In the summer evenings\nthey sat outside their hut on a broken old bench, and the old man\nmended the holes in his ragged old net. There were holes in it a hare\ncould jump through with his ears standing, let alone one of those\nlittle fishes that live in the sea. The old woman sat on the bench\nbeside him, and patched his trousers and complained.\n\nWell, one day the old man went fishing, as he always did. All day long\nhe fished, and caught nothing. And then in the evening, when he was\nthinking he might as well give up and go home, he threw his net for\nthe last time, and when he came to pull it in he began to think he had\ncaught an island instead of a haul of fish, and a strong and lively\nisland at that--the net was so heavy and pulled so hard against his\nfeeble old arms.\n\n\"This time,\" says he, \"I have caught a hundred fish at least.\"\n\nNot a bit of it. The net came in as heavy as if it were full of\nfighting fish, but empty ----.\n\n\"Empty?\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"Well, not quite empty,\" said old Peter, and went on with his tale.\n\nNot quite empty, for when the last of the net came ashore there was\nsomething glittering in it--a golden fish, not very big and not very\nlittle, caught in the meshes. And it was this single golden fish which\nhad made the net so heavy.\n\nThe old fisherman took the golden fish in his hands.\n\n\"At least it will be enough for supper,\" said he.\n\nBut the golden fish lay still in his hands, and looked at him with\nwise eyes, and spoke--yes, my dears, it spoke, just as if it were you\nor I.\n\n\"Old man,\" says the fish, \"do not kill me. I beg you throw me back\ninto the blue waters. Some day I may be able to be of use to you.\"\n\n\"What?\" says the old fisherman; \"and do you talk with a human voice?\"\n\n\"I do,\" says the fish. \"And my fish's heart feels pain like yours. It\nwould be as bitter to me to die as it would be to yourself.\"\n\n\"And is that so?\" says the old fisherman. \"Well, you shall not die\nthis time.\" And he threw the golden fish back into the sea.\n\nYou would have thought the golden fish would have splashed with his\ntail, and turned head downwards, and swum away into the blue depths of\nthe sea. Not a bit of it. It stayed there with its tail slowly\nflapping in the water so as to keep its head up, and it looked at the\nfisherman with its wise eyes, and it spoke again.\n\n\"You have given me my life,\" says the golden fish. \"Now ask anything\nyou wish from me, and you shall have it.\"\n\nThe old fisherman stood there on the shore, combing his beard with his\nold fingers, and thinking. Think as he would, he could not call to\nmind a single thing he wanted.\n\n\"No, fish,\" he said at last; \"I think I have everything I need,\"\n\n\"Well, if ever you do want anything, come and ask for it,\" says the\nfish, and turns over, flashing gold, and goes down into the blue sea.\n\nThe old fisherman went back to his hut, where his wife was waiting for\nhim.\n\n\"What!\" she screamed out; \"you haven't caught so much as one little\nfish for our supper?\"\n\n\"I caught one fish, mother,\" says the old man: \"a golden fish it was,\nand it spoke to me; and I let it go, and it told me to ask for\nanything I wanted.\"\n\n\"And what did you ask for? Show me.\"\n\n\"I couldn't think of anything to ask for; so I did not ask for\nanything at all.\"\n\n\"Fool,\" says his wife, \"and dolt, and us with no food to put in our\nmouths. Go back at once, and ask for some bread.\"\n\nWell, the poor old fisherman got down his net, and tramped back to the\nseashore. And he stood on the shore of the wide blue sea, and he\ncalled out,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nAnd in a moment there was the golden fish with his head out of the\nwater, flapping his tail below him in the water, and looking at the\nfisherman with his wise eyes.\n\n\"What is it?\" said the fish.\n\n\"Be so kind,\" says the fisherman; \"be so kind. We have no bread in the\nhouse.\"\n\n\"Go home,\" says the fish, and turned over and went down into the sea.\n\n\"God be good to me,\" says the old fisherman; \"but what shall I say to\nmy wife, going home like this without the bread?\" And he went home\nvery wretchedly, and slower than he came.\n\nAs soon as he came within sight of his hut he saw his wife, and she\nwas waving her arms and shouting.\n\n\"Stir your old bones,\" she screamed out. \"It's as fine a loaf as ever\nI've seen.\"\n\nAnd he hurried along, and found his old wife cutting up a huge loaf of\nwhite bread, mind you, not black--a huge loaf of white bread, nearly\nas big as Maroosia.\n\n\"You did not do so badly after all,\" said his old wife as they sat\nthere with the samovar on the table between them, dipping their bread\nin the hot tea.\n\nBut that night, as they lay sleeping on the stove, the old woman poked\nthe old man in the ribs with her bony elbow. He groaned and woke up.\n\n\"I've been thinking,\" says his wife, \"your fish might have given us a\ntrough to keep the bread in while he was about it. There is a lot left\nover, and without a trough it will go bad, and not be fit for\nanything. And our old trough is broken; besides, it's too small.\nFirst thing in the morning off you go, and ask your fish to give us a\nnew trough to put the bread in.\"\n\nEarly in the morning she woke the old man again, and he had to get up\nand go down to the seashore. He was very much afraid, because he\nthought the fish would not take it kindly. But at dawn, just as the\nred sun was rising out of the sea, he stood on the shore, and called\nout in his windy old voice,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nAnd there in the morning sunlight was the golden fish, looking at him\nwith its wise eyes.\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" says the old man, \"but could you, just to oblige\nmy wife, give us some sort of trough to put the bread in?\"\n\n\"Go home,\" says the fish; and down it goes into the blue sea.\n\nThe old man went home, and there, outside the hut, was the old woman,\nlooking at the handsomest bread trough that ever was seen on earth.\nPainted it was, with little flowers, in three colours, and there were\nstrips of gilding about its handles.\n\n\"Look at this,\" grumbled the old woman. \"This is far too fine a trough\nfor a tumbledown hut like ours. Why, there is scarcely a place in the\nroof where the rain does not come through. If we were to keep this\ntrough in such a hut, it would be spoiled in a month. You must go back\nto your fish and ask it for a new hut.\"\n\n\"I hardly like to do that,\" says the old man.\n\n\"Get along with you,\" says his wife. \"If the fish can make a trough\nlike this, a hut will be no trouble to him. And, after all, you must\nnot forget he owes his life to you.\"\n\n\"I suppose that is true,\" says the old man; but he went back to the\nshore with a heavy heart. He stood on the edge of the sea and called\nout, doubtfully,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nInstantly there was a ripple in the water, and the golden fish was\nlooking at him with its wise eyes.\n\n\"Well?\" says the fish.\n\n\"My old woman is so pleased with the trough that she wants a new hut\nto keep it in, because ours, if you could only see it, is really\nfalling to pieces, and the rain comes in and ----.\"\n\n\"Go home,\" says the fish.\n\nThe old fisherman went home, but he could not find his old hut at all.\nAt first he thought he had lost his way. But then he saw his wife. And\nshe was walking about, first one way and then the other, looking at\nthe finest hut that God ever gave a poor moujik to keep him from the\nrain and the cold, and the too great heat of the sun. It was built of\nsound logs, neatly finished at the ends and carved. And the\noverhanging of the roof was cut in patterns, so neat, so pretty, you\ncould never think how they had been done. The old woman looked at it\nfrom all sides. And the old man stood, wondering. Then they went in\ntogether. And everything within the hut was new and clean. There were\na fine big stove, and strong wooden benches, and a good table, and a\nfire lit in the stove, and logs ready to put in, and a samovar already\non the boil--a fine new samovar of glittering brass.\n\nYou would have thought the old woman would have been satisfied with\nthat. Not a bit of it.\n\n\"You don't know how to lift your eyes from the ground,\" says she. \"You\ndon't know what to ask. I am tired of being a peasant woman and a\nmoujik's wife. I was made for something better. I want to be a lady,\nand have good people to do the work, and see folk bow and curtsy to me\nwhen I meet them walking abroad. Go back at once to the fish, you old\nfool, and ask him for that, instead of bothering him for little\ntrifles like bread troughs and moujiks' huts. Off with you.\"\n\nThe old fisherman went back to the shore with a sad heart; but he was\nafraid of his wife, and he dared not disobey her. He stood on the\nshore, and called out in his windy old voice,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nInstantly there was the golden fish looking at him with its wise eyes.\n\n\"Well?\" says the fish.\n\n\"My old woman won't give me a moment's peace,\" says the old man; \"and\nsince she has the new hut--which is a fine one, I must say; as good a\nhut as ever I saw--she won't be content at all. She is tired of being\na peasant's wife, and wants to be a lady with a house and servants,\nand to see the good folk curtsy to her when she meets them walking\nabroad.\"\n\n\"Go home,\" says the fish.\n\nThe old man went home, thinking about the hut, and how pleasant it\nwould be to live in it, even if his wife were a lady.\n\nBut when he got home the hut had gone, and in its place there was a\nfine brick house, three stories high. There were servants running this\nway and that in the courtyard. There was a cook in the kitchen, and\nthere was his old woman, in a dress of rich brocade, sitting idle in a\ntall carved chair, and giving orders right and left.\n\n\"Good health to you, wife,\" says the old man.\n\n\"Ah, you, clown that you are, how dare you call me your wife! Can't\nyou see that I'm a lady? Here! Off with this fellow to the stables,\nand see that he gets a beating he won't forget in a hurry.\"\n\nInstantly the servants seized the old man by the collar and lugged him\nalong to the stables. There the grooms treated him to such a whipping\nthat he could hardly stand on his feet. After that the old woman made\nhim doorkeeper. She ordered that a besom should be given him to clean\nup the courtyard, and said that he was to have his meals in the\nkitchen. A wretched life the old man lived. All day long he was\nsweeping up the courtyard, and if there was a speck of dirt to be seen\nin it anywhere, he paid for it at once in the stable under the whips\nof the grooms.\n\nTime went on, and the old woman grew tired of being only a lady. And\nat last there came a day when she sent into the yard to tell the old\nman to come before her. The poor old man combed his hair and cleaned\nhis boots, and came into the house, and bowed low before the old\nwoman.\n\n\"Be off with you, you old good-for-nothing!\" says she. \"Go and find\nyour golden fish, and tell him from me that I am tired of being a\nlady. I want to be Tzaritza, with generals and courtiers and men of\nstate to do whatever I tell them.\"\n\nThe old man went along to the seashore, glad enough to be out of the\ncourtyard and out of reach of the stablemen with their whips. He came\nto the shore, and cried out in his windy old voice,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nAnd there was the golden fish looking at him with its wise eyes.\n\n\"What's the matter now, old man?\" says the fish.\n\n\"My old woman is going on worse than ever,\" says the old fisherman.\n\"My back is sore with the whips of her grooms. And now she says it\nisn't enough for her to be a lady; she wants to be a Tzaritza.\"\n\n\"Never you worry about it,\" says the fish. \"Go home and praise God;\"\nand with that the fish turned over and went down into the sea.\n\nThe old man went home slowly, for he did not know what his wife would\ndo to him if the golden fish did not make her into a Tzaritza.\n\nBut as soon as he came near he heard the noise of trumpets and the\nbeating of drums, and there where the fine stone house had been was\nnow a great palace with a golden roof. Behind it was a big garden of\nflowers, that are fair to look at but have no fruit, and before it was\na meadow of fine green grass. And on the meadow was an army of\nsoldiers drawn up in squares and all dressed alike. And suddenly the\nfisherman saw his old woman in the gold and silver dress of a Tzaritza\ncome stalking out on the balcony with her generals and boyars to hold\na review of her troops. And the drums beat and the trumpets sounded,\nand the soldiers cried \"Hurrah!\" And the poor old fisherman found a\ndark corner in one of the barns, and lay down in the straw.\n\nTime went on, and at last the old woman was tired of being Tzaritza.\nShe thought she was made for something better. And one day she said to\nher chamberlain,--\n\n\"Find me that ragged old beggar who is always hanging about in the\ncourtyard. Find him, and bring him here.\"\n\nThe chamberlain told his officers, and the officers told the servants,\nand the servants looked for the old man, and found him at last asleep\non the straw in the corner of one of the barns. They took some of the\ndirt off him, and brought him before the Tzaritza, sitting proudly on\nher golden throne.\n\n\"Listen, old fool!\" says she. \"Be off to your golden fish, and tell it\nI am tired of being Tzaritza. Anybody can be Tzaritza. I want to be\nthe ruler of the seas, so that all the waters shall obey me, and all\nthe fishes shall be my servants.\"\n\n\"I don't like to ask that,\" said the old man, trembling.\n\n\"What's that?\" she screamed at him. \"Do you dare to answer the\nTzaritza? If you do not set off this minute, I'll have your head cut\noff and your body thrown to the dogs.\"\n\nUnwillingly the old man hobbled off. He came to the shore, and cried\nout with a windy, quavering old voice,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nNothing happened.\n\nThe old man thought of his wife, and what would happen to him if she\nwere still Tzaritza when he came home. Again he called out,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nNothing happened, nothing at all.\n\nA third time, with the tears running down his face, he called out in\nhis windy, creaky, quavering old voice,--\n\n    \"Head in air and tail in sea,\n    Fish, fish, listen to me.\"\n\nSuddenly there was a loud noise, louder and louder over the sea. The\nsun hid itself. The sea broke into waves, and the waves piled\nthemselves one upon another. The sky and the sea turned black, and\nthere was a great roaring wind that lifted the white crests of the\nwaves and tossed them abroad over the waters. The golden fish came up\nout of the storm and spoke out of the sea.\n\n\"What is it now?\" says he, in a voice more terrible than the voice of\nthe storm itself.\n\n\"O fish,\" says the old man, trembling like a reed shaken by the storm,\n\"my old woman is worse than before. She is tired of being Tzaritza.\nShe wants to be the ruler of the seas, so that all the waters shall\nobey her and all the fishes be her servants.\"\n\nThe golden fish said nothing, nothing at all. He turned over and went\ndown into the deep seas. And the wind from the sea was so strong that\nthe old man could hardly stand against it. For a long time he waited,\nafraid to go home; but at last the storm calmed, and it grew towards\nevening, and he hobbled back, thinking to creep in and hide amongst\nthe straw.\n\nAs he came near, he listened for the trumpets and the drums. He heard\nnothing except the wind from the sea rustling the little leaves of\nbirch trees. He looked for the palace. It was gone, and where it had\nbeen was a little tumbledown hut of earth and logs. It seemed to the\nold fisherman that he knew the little hut, and he looked at it with\njoy. And he went to the door of the hut, and there was sitting his old\nwoman in a ragged dress, cleaning out a saucepan, and singing in a\ncreaky old voice. And this time she was glad to see him, and they sat\ndown together on the bench and drank tea without sugar, because they\nhad not any money.\n\nThey began to live again as they used to live, and the old man grew\nhappier every day. He fished and fished, and many were the fish that\nhe caught, and of many kinds; but never again did he catch another\ngolden fish that could talk like a human being. I doubt whether he\nwould have said anything to his wife about it, even if he had caught\none every day.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"What a horrid old woman!\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"I wonder the old fisherman forgave her,\" said Ivan.\n\n\"I think he might have beaten her a little,\" said Maroosia. \"she\ndeserved it.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said old Peter, \"supposing we could have everything we wanted\nfor the asking, I wonder how it would be. Perhaps God knew what He\nwas doing when He made those golden fishes rare.\"\n\n\"Are there really any of them?\" asked Vanya.\n\n\"Well, there was once one, anyhow,\" said old Peter; and then he rolled\nhis nets neatly together, hung them on the fence, and went into the\nhut to make the dinner. And Vanya and Maroosia went in with him to\nhelp him as much as they could; though Vanya was wondering all the\ntime whether he could make a net, and throw it in the little river\nwhere old Peter fished, and perhaps pull out a golden fish that would\nspeak to him with the voice of a human being.\n\n\n\n\nWHO LIVED IN THE SKULL?\n\n\nOnce upon a time a horse's skull lay on the open plain. It had been\npicked clean by the ants, and shone white in the sunlight.\n\nLittle Burrowing Mouse came along, twirling his whiskers and looking\nat the world. He saw the white skull, and thought it was as good as a\npalace. He stood up in front of it and called out,--\n\n\"Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?\"\n\nNo one answered, for there was no one inside.\n\n\"I will live there myself,\" says little Burrowing Mouse, and in he\nwent, and set up house in the horse's skull.\n\nCroaking Frog came along, a jump, three long strides, and a jump\nagain.\n\n\"Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?\"\n\n\"I am Burrowing Mouse; who are you?\"\n\n\"I am Croaking Frog.\"\n\n\"Come in and make yourself at home.\"\n\nSo the frog went in, and they began to live, the two of them together.\n\nHare Hide-in-the-Hill came running by.\n\n\"Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?\"\n\n\"Burrowing Mouse and Croaking Frog. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I am Hare Hide-in-the-Hill.\"\n\n\"Come along in.\"\n\nSo the hare put his ears down and went in, and they began to live, the\nthree of them together.\n\nThen the fox came running by.\n\n\"Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?\"\n\n\"Burrowing Mouse and Croaking Frog and Hare Hide-in-the-Hill. Who are\nyou?\"\n\n\"I am Fox Run-about-Everywhere.\"\n\n\"Come along in; we've room for you.\"\n\nSo the fox went in, and they began to live, the four of them together.\n\nThen the wolf came prowling by, and saw the skull.\n\n\"Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?\"\n\n\"Burrowing Mouse, and Croaking Frog, and Hare Hide-in-the-Hill, and\nFox Run-about-Every-where. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I am Wolf Leap-out-of-the-Bushes.\"\n\n\"Come in then.\"\n\nSo the wolf went in, and they began to live, the five of them\ntogether.\n\nAnd then there came along the Bear. He was very slow and very heavy.\n\n\"Little house, little house! Who lives in the little house?\"\n\n\"Burrowing Mouse, and Croaking Frog, and Hare Hide-in-the-Hill, and\nFox Run-about-Every-where, and Wolf Leap-out-of-the-Bushes. Who are\nyou?\"\n\n\"I am Bear Squash-the-Lot.\"\n\nAnd the Bear sat down on the horse's skull, and squashed the whole lot\nof them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe way to tell that story is to make one hand the skull, and the\nfingers and thumb of the other hand the animals that go in one by one.\nAt least that was the way old Peter told it; and when it came to the\nend, and the Bear came along, why, the Bear was old Peter himself, who\nsquashed both little hands, and Vanya or Maroosia, whichever it was,\nall together in one big hug.\n\n\n\n\nALENOUSHKA AND HER BROTHER.\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were two orphan children, a little boy and a\nlittle girl. Their father and mother were dead, and they had not even\nan old grandfather to spend his time in telling them stories. They\nwere alone. The little boy was called Vanoushka,[3] and the little\ngirl's name was Alenoushka.[3]\n\nThey set out together to walk through the whole of the great wide\nworld. It was a long journey they set out on, and they did not think\nof any end to it, but only of moving on and on, and never stopping\nlong enough in one place to be unhappy there.\n\n[Footnote 3: That means that they were called Ivan and Elena.\nVanoushka and Alenoushka are affectionate forms of these names.]\n\nThey were travelling one day over a broad plain, padding along on\ntheir little bare feet. There were no trees on the plain, no bushes;\nopen flat country as far as you could see, and the great sun up in the\nsky burning the grass and making their throats dry, and the sandy\nground so hot that they could scarcely bear to set their feet on it.\nAll day from early morning they had been walking, and the heat grew\ngreater and greater towards noon.\n\n\"Oh,\" said little Vanoushka, \"my throat is so dry. I want a drink. I\nmust have a drink--just a little drink of cool water.\"\n\n\"We must go on,\" said Alenoushka, \"till we come to a well. Then we\nwill drink.\"\n\nThey went on along the track, with their eyes burning and their\nthroats as dry as sand on a stove.\n\nBut presently Vanoushka cried out joyfully. He saw a horse's hoofmark\nin the ground. And it was full of water, like a little well.\n\n\"Sister, sister,\" says he, \"the horse has made a little well for me\nwith his great hoof, and now we can have a drink; and oh, but I am\nthirsty!\"\n\n\"Not yet, brother,\" says Alenoushka. \"If you drink from the hoofmark\nof a horse, you will turn into a little foal, and that would never\ndo.\"\n\n\"I am so very thirsty,\" says Vanoushka; but he did as his sister told\nhim, and they walked on together under the burning sun.\n\nA little farther on Vanoushka saw the hoofmark of a cow, and there\nwas water in it glittering in the sun.\n\n\"Sister, sister,\" says Vanoushka, \"the cow has made a little well for\nme, and now I can have a drink.\"\n\n\"Not yet, brother,\" says Alenoushka. \"If you drink from the hoofmark\nof a cow, you will turn into a little calf, and that would never do.\nWe must go on till we come to a well. There we will drink and rest\nourselves. There will be trees by the well, and shadows, and we will\nlie down there by the quiet water and cool our hands and feet, and\nperhaps our eyes will stop burning.\"\n\nSo they went on farther along the track that scorched the bare soles\nof their feet, and under the sun that burned their heads and their\nlittle bare necks. The sun was high in the sky above them, and it\nseemed to Vanoushka that they would never come to the well.\n\nBut when they had walked on and on, and he was nearly crying with\nthirst, only that the sun had dried up all his tears and burnt them\nbefore they had time to come into his eyes, he saw another footprint.\nIt was quite a tiny footprint, divided in the middle--the footprint of\na sheep; and in it was a little drop of clear water, sparkling in the\nsun. He said nothing to his sister, nothing at all. But he went down\non his hands and knees and drank that water, that little drop of clear\nwater, to cool his burning throat. And he had no sooner drunk it than\nhe had turned into a little lamb...\n\n\"A little white lamb,\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"With a black nose,\" said Vanya.\n\nA little lamb, said old Peter, a little lamb who ran round and round\nAlenoushka, frisking and leaping, with its little tail tossing in the\nair.\n\nAlenoushka looked round for her brother, but could not see him. But\nthere was the little lamb, leaping round her, trying to lick her face,\nand there in the ground was the print left by the sheep's foot.\n\nShe guessed at once what had happened, and burst into tears. There was\na hayrick close by, and under the hayrick Alenoushka sat down and\nwept. The little lamb, seeing her so sad, stood gravely in front of\nher; but not for long, for he was a little lamb, and he could not help\nhimself. However sad he felt, he had to leap and frisk in the sun, and\ntoss his little white tail.\n\nPresently a fine gentleman came riding by on his big black horse. He\nstopped when he came to the hayrick. He was very much surprised at\nseeing a beautiful little girl sitting there, crying her eyes out,\nwhile a white lamb frisked this way and that, and played before her,\nand now and then ran up to her and licked the tears from her face with\nits little pink tongue.\n\n\"What is your name,\" says the fine gentleman, \"and why are you in\ntrouble? Perhaps I may be able to help you.\"\n\n\"My name is Alenoushka, and this is my little brother Vanoushka, whom\nI love.\" And she told him the whole story.\n\n\"Well, I can hardly believe all that,\" says the fine gentleman, \"But\ncome with me, and I will dress you in fine clothes, and set silver\nornaments in your hair, and bracelets of gold on your little brown\nwrists. And as for the lamb, he shall come too, if you love him.\nWherever you are there he shall be, and you shall never be parted from\nhim.\"\n\nAnd so Alenoushka took her little brother in her arms, and the fine\ngentleman lifted them up before him on the big black horse, and\ngalloped home with them across the plain to his big house not far from\nthe river. And when he got home he made a feast and married\nAlenoushka, and they lived together so happily that good people\nrejoiced to see them, and bad ones were jealous. And the little lamb\nlived in the house, and never grew any bigger, but always frisked and\nplayed, and followed Alenoushka wherever she went.\n\nAnd then one day, when the fine gentleman had ridden far away to the\ntown to buy a new bracelet for Alenoushka, there came an old witch.\nUgly she was, with only one tooth in her head, and wicked as ever went\nabout the world doing evil to decent folk. She begged from Alenoushka,\nand said she was hungry, and Alenoushka begged her to share her\ndinner. And she put a spell in the wine that Alenoushka drank, so that\nAlenoushka fell ill, and before evening, when the fine gentleman came\nriding back, had become pale, pale as snow, and as thin as an old\nstick.\n\n\"My dear,\" says the fine gentleman, \"what is the matter with you?\"\n\n\"Perhaps I shall be better to-morrow,\" says Alenoushka.\n\nWell, the next day the gentleman rode into the fields, and the old hag\ncame again while he was out.\n\n\"Would you like me to cure you?\" says she. \"I know a way to make you\nas well as ever you were. Plump you will be, and pretty again, before\nyour husband comes riding home.\"\n\n\"And what must I do?\" says Alenoushka, crying to think herself so\nugly.\n\n\"You must go to the river and bathe this afternoon,\" says the old\nwitch. \"I will be there and put a spell on the water. Secretly you\nmust go, for if any one knows whither you have gone my spell will not\nwork.\"\n\nSo Alenoushka wrapped a shawl about her head, and slipped out of the\nhouse and went to the river. Only the little lamb, Vanoushka, knew\nwhere she had gone. He followed her, leaping about, and tossing his\nlittle white tail. The old witch was waiting for her. She sprang out\nof the bushes by the riverside, and seized Alenoushka, and tore off\nher pretty white dress, and fastened a heavy stone about her neck, and\nthrew her from the bank into a deep place, so that she sank to the\nbottom of the river. Then the old witch, the wicked hag, put on\nAlenoushka's pretty white dress, and cast a spell, and made herself so\nlike Alenoushka to look at that nobody could tell the difference. Only\nthe little lamb had seen everything that had happened.\n\nThe fine gentleman came riding home in the evening, and he rejoiced\nwhen he saw his dear Alenoushka well again, with plump pink cheeks,\nand a smile on her rosy lips.\n\nBut the little lamb knew everything. He was sad and melancholy, and\nwould not eat, and went every morning and every evening to the river,\nand there wandered about the banks, and cried, \"Baa, baa,\" and was\nanswered by the sighing of the wind in the long reeds.\n\nThe witch saw that the lamb went off by himself every morning and\nevery evening. She watched where he went, and when she knew she began\nto hate the lamb; and she gave orders for the sticks to be cut, and\nthe iron cauldron to be heated, and the steel knives made sharp. She\nsent a servant to catch the lamb; and she said to the fine gentleman,\nwho thought all the time that she was Alenoushka, \"It is time for the\nlamb to be killed, and made into a tasty stew.\"\n\nThe fine gentleman was astonished.\n\n\"What,\" says he, \"you want to have the lamb killed? Why, you called it\nyour brother when first I found you by the hayrick in the plain. You\nwere always giving it caresses and sweet words. You loved it so much\nthat I was sick of the sight of it, and now you give orders for its\nthroat to be cut. Truly,\" says he, \"the mind of woman is like the wind\nin summer.\"\n\nThe lamb ran away when he saw that the servant had come to catch him.\nHe heard the sharpening of the knives, and had seen the cutting of the\nwood, and the great cauldron taken from its place. He was frightened,\nand he ran away, and came to the river bank, where the wind was\nsighing through the tall reeds. And there he sang a farewell song to\nhis sister, thinking he had not long to live. The servant followed\nthe lamb cunningly, and crept near to catch him, and heard his little\nsong. This is what he sang:--\n\n    \"Alenoushka, little sister,\n    They are going to slaughter me;\n    They are cutting wooden fagots,\n    They are heating iron cauldrons,\n    They are sharpening knives of steel.\"\n\nAnd Alenoushka, lamenting, answered the lamb from the bottom of the\nriver:--\n\n    \"O my brother Ivanoushka,\n    A heavy stone is round my throat,\n    Silken grass grows through my fingers,\n    Yellow sand lies on my breast.\"\n\nThe servant listened, and marvelled at the miracle of the lamb\nsinging, and the sweet voice answering him from the river. He crept\naway quietly, and came to the fine gentleman, and told him what he had\nheard; and they set out together to the river, to watch the lamb, and\nlisten, and see what was happening.\n\n[Illustration: He stepped on one of its fiery wings and pressed it to\nThe ground.]\n\nThe little white lamb stood on the bank of the river weeping, so that\nhis tears fell into the water. And presently he sang again:--\n\n    \"Alenoushka, little sister,\n    They are going to slaughter me;\n    They are cutting wooden fagots,\n    They are heating iron cauldrons,\n    They are sharpening knives of steel.\"\n\nAnd Alenoushka answered him, lamenting, from the bottom of the\nriver:--\n\n    \"O my brother Ivanoushka,\n    A heavy stone is round my throat,\n    Silken grass grows through my fingers,\n    Yellow sand lies on my breast.\"\n\nThe fine gentleman heard, and he was sure that the voice was the voice\nof his own dear wife, and he remembered how she had loved the lamb. He\nsent his servant to fetch men, and fishing nets and nets of silk. The\nmen came running, and they dragged the river with fishing nets, and\nbrought their nets empty to land. Then they tried with nets of fine\nsilk, and, as they drew them in, there was Alenoushka lying in the\nnets as if she were asleep.\n\nThey brought her to the bank and untied the stone from her white neck,\nand washed her in fresh water and clothed her in white clothes. But\nthey had no sooner done all this than she woke up, more beautiful than\never she had been before, though then she was pretty enough, God\nknows. She woke, and sprang up, and threw her arms round the neck of\nthe little white lamb, who suddenly became once more her little\nbrother Vanoushka, who had been so thirsty as to drink water from the\nhoofmark of a sheep. And Vanoushka laughed and shouted in the\nsunshine, and the fine gentleman wept tears of joy. And they all\npraised God and kissed each other, and went home together, and began\nto live as happily as before, even more happily, because Vanoushka was\nno longer a lamb. But as soon as they got home the fine gentleman\nturned the old witch out of the house. And she became an ugly old hag,\nand went away to the deep woods, shrieking as she went.\n\n\"And did she ever come back again?\" asked Ivan.\n\n\"No, she never came back again,\" said old Peter. \"Once was enough.\"\n\n\"And what happened to Vanoushka when he grew up?\"\n\n\"He grew up as handsome as Alenoushka was pretty. And he became a\ngreat hunter. And he married the sister of the fine gentleman. And\nthey all lived happily together, and ate honey every day, with white\nbread and new milk.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRE-BIRD, THE HORSE OF POWER, AND THE PRINCESS VASILISSA.\n\n\nOnce upon a time a strong and powerful Tzar ruled in a country far\naway. And among his servants was a young archer, and this archer had a\nhorse--a horse of power--such a horse as belonged to the wonderful men\nof long ago--a great horse with a broad chest, eyes like fire, and\nhoofs of iron. There are no such horses nowadays. They sleep with the\nstrong men who rode them, the bogatirs, until the time comes when\nRussia has need of them. Then the great horses will thunder up from\nunder the ground, and the valiant men leap from the graves in the\narmour they have worn so long. The strong men will sit those horses of\npower, and there will be swinging of clubs and thunder of hoofs, and\nthe earth will be swept clean from the enemies of God and the Tzar. So\nmy grandfather used to say, and he was as much older than I as I am\nolder than you, little ones, and so he should know.\n\nWell, one day long ago, in the green time of the year, the young\narcher rode through the forest on his horse of power. The trees were\ngreen; there were little blue flowers on the ground under the trees;\nthe squirrels ran in the branches, and the hares in the undergrowth;\nbut no birds sang. The young archer rode along the forest path and\nlistened for the singing of the birds, but there was no singing. The\nforest was silent, and the only noises in it were the scratching of\nfour-footed beasts, the dropping of fir cones, and the heavy stamping\nof the horse of power in the soft path.\n\n\"What has come to the birds?\" said the young archer.\n\nHe had scarcely said this before he saw a big curving feather lying in\nthe path before him. The feather was larger than a swan's, larger than\nan eagle's. It lay in the path, glittering like a flame; for the sun\nwas on it, and it was a feather of pure gold. Then he knew why there\nwas no singing in the forest. For he knew that the fire-bird had flown\nthat way, and that the feather in the path before him was a feather\nfrom its burning breast.\n\nThe horse of power spoke and said,--\n\n\"Leave the golden feather where it lies. If you take it you will be\nsorry for it, and know the meaning of fear.\"\n\nBut the brave young archer sat on the horse of power and looked at\nthe golden feather, and wondered whether to take it or not. He had no\nwish to learn what it was to be afraid, but he thought, \"If I take it\nand bring it to the Tzar my master, he will be pleased; and he will\nnot send me away with empty hands, for no Tzar in the world has a\nfeather from the burning breast of the fire-bird.\" And the more he\nthought, the more he wanted to carry the feather to the Tzar. And in\nthe end he did not listen to the words of the horse of power. He leapt\nfrom the saddle, picked up the golden feather of the fire-bird,\nmounted his horse again, and galloped back through the green forest\ntill he came to the palace of the Tzar.\n\nHe went into the palace, and bowed before the Tzar and said,--\n\n\"O Tzar, I have brought you a feather of the fire-bird.\"\n\nThe Tzar looked gladly at the feather, and then at the young archer.\n\n\"Thank you,\" says he; \"but if you have brought me a feather of the\nfire-bird, you will be able to bring me the bird itself. I should like\nto see it. A feather is not a fit gift to bring to the Tzar. Bring the\nbird itself, or, I swear by my sword, your head shall no longer sit\nbetween your shoulders!\"\n\nThe young archer bowed his head and went out. Bitterly he wept, for he\nknew now what it was to be afraid. He went out into the courtyard,\nwhere the horse of power was waiting for him, tossing its head and\nstamping on the ground.\n\n\"Master,\" says the horse of power, \"why do you weep?\"\n\n\"The Tzar has told me to bring him the fire-bird, and no man on earth\ncan do that,\" says the young archer, and he bowed his head on his\nbreast.\n\n\"I told you,\" says the horse of power, \"that if you took the feather\nyou would learn the meaning of fear. Well, do not be frightened yet,\nand do not weep. The trouble is not now; the trouble lies before you.\nGo to the Tzar and ask him to have a hundred sacks of maize scattered\nover the open field, and let this be done at midnight.\"\n\nThe young archer went back into the palace and begged the Tzar for\nthis, and the Tzar ordered that at midnight a hundred sacks of maize\nshould be scattered in the open field.\n\nNext morning, at the first redness in the sky, the young archer rode\nout on the horse of power, and came to the open field. The ground was\nscattered all over with maize. In the middle of the field stood a\ngreat oak with spreading boughs. The young archer leapt to the ground,\ntook off the saddle, and let the horse of power loose to wander as he\npleased about the field. Then he climbed up into the oak and hid\nhimself among the green boughs.\n\nThe sky grew red and gold, and the sun rose. Suddenly there was a\nnoise in the forest round the field. The trees shook and swayed, and\nalmost fell. There was a mighty wind. The sea piled itself into waves\nwith crests of foam, and the fire-bird came flying from the other side\nof the world. Huge and golden and flaming in the sun, it flew, dropped\ndown with open wings into the field, and began to eat the maize.\n\nThe horse of power wandered in the field. This way he went, and that,\nbut always he came a little nearer to the fire-bird. Nearer and nearer\ncame the horse. He came close up to the fire-bird, and then suddenly\nstepped on one of its spreading fiery wings and pressed it heavily to\nthe ground. The bird struggled, flapping mightily with its fiery\nwings, but it could not get away. The young archer slipped down from\nthe tree, bound the fire-bird with three strong ropes, swung it on his\nback, saddled the horse, and rode to the palace of the Tzar.\n\nThe young archer stood before the Tzar, and his back was bent under\nthe great weight of the fire-bird, and the broad wings of the bird\nhung on either side of him like fiery shields, and there was a trail\nof golden feathers on the floor. The young archer swung the magic\nbird to the foot of the throne before the Tzar; and the Tzar was glad,\nbecause since the beginning of the world no Tzar had seen the\nfire-bird flung before him like a wild duck caught in a snare.\n\nThe Tzar looked at the fire-bird and laughed with pride. Then he\nlifted his eyes and looked at the young archer, and says he,--\n\n\"As you have known how to take the fire-bird, you will know how to\nbring me my bride, for whom I have long been waiting. In the land of\nNever, on the very edge of the world, where the red sun rises in flame\nfrom behind the sea, lives the Princess Vasilissa. I will marry none\nbut her. Bring her to me, and I will reward you with silver and gold.\nBut if you do not bring her, then, by my sword, your head will no\nlonger sit between your shoulders!\"\n\nThe young archer wept bitter tears, and went out into the courtyard,\nwhere the horse of power was, stamping the ground with its hoofs of\niron and tossing its thick mane.\n\n\"Master, why do you weep?\" asked the horse of power.\n\n\"The Tzar has ordered me to go to the land of Never, and to bring back\nthe Princess Vasilissa.\"\n\n\"Do not weep--do not grieve. The trouble is not yet; the trouble is to\ncome. Go to the Tzar and ask him for a silver tent with a golden roof,\nand for all kinds of food and drink to take with us on the journey.\"\n\nThe young archer went in and asked the Tzar for this, and the Tzar\ngave him a silver tent with silver hangings and a gold-embroidered\nroof, and every kind of rich wine and the tastiest of foods.\n\nThen the young archer mounted the horse of power and rode off to the\nland of Never. On and on he rode, many days and nights, and came at\nlast to the edge of the world, where the red sun rises in flame from\nbehind the deep blue sea.\n\nOn the shore of the sea the young archer reined in the horse of power,\nand the heavy hoofs of the horse sank in the sand. He shaded his eyes\nand looked out over the blue water, and there was the Princess\nVasilissa in a little silver boat, rowing with golden oars.\n\nThe young archer rode back a little way to where the sand ended and\nthe green world began. There he loosed the horse to wander where he\npleased, and to feed on the green grass. Then on the edge of the\nshore, where the green grass ended and grew thin and the sand began,\nhe set up the shining tent, with its silver hangings and its gold\nembroidered roof. In the tent he set out the tasty dishes and the rich\nflagons of wine which the Tzar had given him, and he sat himself down\nin the tent and began to regale himself, while he waited for the\nPrincess Vasilissa.\n\nThe Princess Vasilissa dipped her golden oars in the blue water, and\nthe little silver boat moved lightly through the dancing waves. She\nsat in the little boat and looked over the blue sea to the edge of the\nworld, and there, between the golden sand and the green earth, she saw\nthe tent standing, silver and gold in the sun. She dipped her oars,\nand came nearer to see it the better. The nearer she came the fairer\nseemed the tent, and at last she rowed to the shore and grounded her\nlittle boat on the golden sand, and stepped out daintily and came up\nto the tent. She was a little frightened, and now and again she\nstopped and looked back to where the silver boat lay on the sand with\nthe blue sea beyond it. The young archer said not a word, but went on\nregaling himself on the pleasant dishes he had set out there in the\ntent.\n\nAt last the Princess Vasilissa came up to the tent and looked in.\n\nThe young archer rose and bowed before her. Says he,--\n\n\"Good-day to you, Princess! Be so kind as to come in and take bread\nand salt with me, and taste my foreign wines.\"\n\nAnd the Princess Vasilissa came into the tent and sat down with the\nyoung archer, and ate sweetmeats with him, and drank his health in a\ngolden goblet of the wine the Tzar had given him. Now this wine was\nheavy, and the last drop from the goblet had no sooner trickled down\nher little slender throat than her eyes closed against her will, once,\ntwice, and again.\n\n\"Ah me!\" says the Princess, \"it is as if the night itself had perched\non my eyelids, and yet it is but noon.\"\n\nAnd the golden goblet dropped to the ground from her little fingers,\nand she leant back on a cushion and fell instantly asleep. If she had\nbeen beautiful before, she was lovelier still when she lay in that\ndeep sleep in the shadow of the tent.\n\nQuickly the young archer called to the horse of power. Lightly he\nlifted the Princess in his strong young arms. Swiftly he leapt with\nher into the saddle. Like a feather she lay in the hollow of his left\narm, and slept while the iron hoofs of the great horse thundered over\nthe ground.\n\nThey came to the Tzar's palace, and the young archer leapt from the\nhorse of power and carried the Princess into the palace. Great was the\njoy of the Tzar; but it did not last for long.\n\n\"Go, sound the trumpets for our wedding,\" he said to his servants;\n\"let all the bells be rung.\"\n\nThe bells rang out and the trumpets sounded, and at the noise of the\nhorns and the ringing of the bells the Princess Vasilissa woke up and\nlooked about her.\n\n\"What is this ringing of bells,\" says she, \"and this noise of\ntrumpets? And where, oh, where is the blue sea, and my little silver\nboat with its golden oars?\" And the Princess put her hand to her eyes.\n\n\"The blue sea is far away,\" says the Tzar, \"and for your little silver\nboat I give you a golden throne. The trumpets sound for our wedding,\nand the bells are ringing for our joy.\"\n\nBut the Princess turned her face away from the Tzar; and there was no\nwonder in that, for he was old, and his eyes were not kind.\n\nAnd she looked with love at the young archer; and there was no wonder\nin that either, for he was a young man fit to ride the horse of power.\n\nThe Tzar was angry with the Princess Vasilissa, but his anger was as\nuseless as his joy.\n\n\"Why, Princess,\" says he, \"will you not marry me, and forget your blue\nsea and your silver boat?\"\n\n\"In the middle of the deep blue sea lies a great stone,\" says the\nPrincess, \"and under that stone is hidden my wedding dress. If I\ncannot wear that dress I will marry nobody at all.\"\n\nInstantly the Tzar turned to the young archer, who was waiting before\nthe throne.\n\n\"Ride swiftly back,\" says he, \"to the land of Never, where the red sun\nrises in flame. There--do you hear what the Princess says?--a great\nstone lies in the middle of the sea. Under that stone is hidden her\nwedding dress. Ride swiftly. Bring back that dress, or, by my sword,\nyour head shall no longer sit between your shoulders!\"\n\nThe young archer wept bitter tears, and went out into the courtyard,\nwhere the horse of power was waiting for him, champing its golden bit.\n\n\"There is no way of escaping death this time,\" he said.\n\n\"Master, why do you weep?\" asked the horse of power.\n\n\"The Tzar has ordered me to ride to the land of Never, to fetch the\nwedding dress of the Princess Vasilissa from the bottom of the deep\nblue sea. Besides, the dress is wanted for the Tzar's wedding, and I\nlove the Princess myself.\"\n\n\"What did I tell you?\" says the horse of power. \"I told you that\nthere would be trouble if you picked up the golden feather from the\nfire-bird's burning breast. Well, do not be afraid. The trouble is not\nyet; the trouble is to come. Up! into the saddle with you, and away\nfor the wedding dress of the Princess Vasilissa!\"\n\nThe young archer leapt into the saddle, and the horse of power, with\nhis thundering hoofs, carried him swiftly through the green forests\nand over the bare plains, till they came to the edge of the world, to\nthe land of Never, where the red sun rises in flame from behind the\ndeep blue sea. There they rested, at the very edge of the sea.\n\nThe young archer looked sadly over the wide waters, but the horse of\npower tossed its mane and did not look at the sea, but on the shore.\nThis way and that it looked, and saw at last a huge lobster moving\nslowly, sideways, along the golden sand.\n\nNearer and nearer came the lobster, and it was a giant among lobsters,\nthe Tzar of all the lobsters; and it moved slowly along the shore,\nwhile the horse of power moved carefully and as if by accident, until\nit stood between the lobster and the sea. Then, when the lobster came\nclose by, the horse of power lifted an iron hoof and set it firmly on\nthe lobster's tail.\n\n\"You will be the death of me!\" screamed the lobster--as well he\nmight, with the heavy foot of the horse of power pressing his tail\ninto the sand. \"Let me live, and I will do whatever you ask of me.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" says the horse of power; \"we will let you live,\" and he\nslowly lifted his foot. \"But this is what you shall do for us. In the\nmiddle of the blue sea lies a great stone, and under that stone is\nhidden the wedding dress of the Princess Vasilissa. Bring it here.\"\n\nThe lobster groaned with the pain in his tail. Then he cried out in a\nvoice that could be heard all over the deep blue sea. And the sea was\ndisturbed, and from all sides lobsters in thousands made their way\ntowards the bank. And the huge lobster that was the oldest of them all\nand the Tzar of all the lobsters that live between the rising and the\nsetting of the sun, gave them the order and sent them back into the\nsea. And the young archer sat on the horse of power and waited.\n\nAfter a little time the sea was disturbed again, and the lobsters in\ntheir thousands came to the shore, and with them they brought a golden\ncasket in which was the wedding dress of the Princess Vasilissa. They\nhad taken it from under the great stone that lay in the middle of the\nsea.\n\nThe Tzar of all the lobsters raised himself painfully on his bruised\ntail and gave the casket into the hands of the young archer, and\ninstantly the horse of power turned himself about and galloped back to\nthe palace of the Tzar, far, far away, at the other side of the green\nforests and beyond the treeless plains.\n\nThe young archer went into the palace and gave the casket into the\nhands of the Princess, and looked at her with sadness in his eyes, and\nshe looked at him with love. Then she went away into an inner chamber,\nand came back in her wedding dress, fairer than the spring itself.\nGreat was the joy of the Tzar. The wedding feast was made ready, and\nthe bells rang, and flags waved above the palace.\n\nThe Tzar held out his hand to the Princess, and looked at her with his\nold eyes. But she would not take his hand.\n\n\"No,\" says she; \"I will marry nobody until the man who brought me here\nhas done penance in boiling water.\"\n\nInstantly the Tzar turned to his servants and ordered them to make a\ngreat fire, and to fill a great cauldron with water and set it on the\nfire, and, when the water should be at its hottest, to take the young\narcher and throw him into it, to do penance for having taken the\nPrincess Vasilissa away from the land of Never.\n\nThere was no gratitude in the mind of that Tzar.\n\nSwiftly the servants brought wood and made a mighty fire, and on it\nthey laid a huge cauldron of water, and built the fire round the walls\nof the cauldron. The fire burned hot and the water steamed. The fire\nburned hotter, and the water bubbled and seethed. They made ready to\ntake the young archer, to throw him into the cauldron.\n\n\"Oh, misery!\" thought the young archer. \"Why did I ever take the\ngolden feather that had fallen from the fire-bird's burning breast?\nWhy did I not listen to the wise words of the horse of power?\" And he\nremembered the horse of power, and he begged the Tzar,--\n\n\"O lord Tzar, I do not complain. I shall presently die in the heat of\nthe water on the fire. Suffer me, before I die, once more to see my\nhorse.\"\n\n\"Let him see his horse,\" says the Princess.\n\n\"Very well,\" says the Tzar. \"Say good-bye to your horse, for you will\nnot ride him again. But let your farewells be short, for we are\nwaiting.\"\n\nThe young archer crossed the courtyard and came to the horse of power,\nwho was scraping the ground with his iron hoofs.\n\n\"Farewell, my horse of power,\" says the young archer. \"I should have\nlistened to your words of wisdom, for now the end is come, and we\nshall never more see the green trees pass above us and the ground\ndisappear beneath us, as we race the wind between the earth and the\nsky.\"\n\n\"Why so?\" says the horse of power.\n\n\"The Tzar has ordered that I am to be boiled to death--thrown into\nthat cauldron that is seething on the great fire.\"\n\n\"Fear not,\" says the horse of power, \"for the Princess Vasilissa has\nmade him do this, and the end of these things is better than I\nthought. Go back, and when they are ready to throw you in the\ncauldron, do you run boldly and leap yourself into the boiling water.\"\n\nThe young archer went back across the courtyard, and the servants made\nready to throw him into the cauldron.\n\n\"Are you sure that the water is boiling?\" says the Princess Vasilissa.\n\n\"It bubbles and seethes,\" said the servants.\n\n\"Let me see for myself,\" says the Princess, and she went to the fire\nand waved her hand above the cauldron. And some say there was\nsomething in her hand, and some say there was not.\n\n\"It is boiling,\" says she, and the servants laid hands on the young\narcher; but he threw them from him, and ran and leapt boldly before\nthem all into the very middle of the cauldron.\n\nTwice he sank below the surface, borne round with the bubbles and foam\nof the boiling water. Then he leapt from the cauldron and stood before\nthe Tzar and the Princess. He had become so beautiful a youth that all\nwho saw cried aloud in wonder.\n\n\"This is a miracle,\" says the Tzar. And the Tzar looked at the\nbeautiful young archer, and thought of himself--of his age, of his\nbent back, and his gray beard, and his toothless gums. \"I too will\nbecome beautiful,\" thinks he, and he rose from his throne and\nclambered into the cauldron, and was boiled to death in a moment.\n\nAnd the end of the story? They buried the Tzar, and made the young\narcher Tzar in his place. He married the Princess Vasilissa, and lived\nmany years with her in love and good fellowship. And he built a golden\nstable for the horse of power, and never forgot what he owed to him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HUNTER AND HIS WIFE.\n\n\nIt sometimes happened that the two children asked too many questions\neven for old Peter, though he was the kindest old Russian peasant who\never was a grandfather. Sometimes he was busy; sometimes he was tired,\nand really could not think of the right answer; sometimes he did not\nknow the right answer. And once, when Vanya asked him why the sun was\nhot, and his sister Maroosia went on and on asking if the sun was a\nfire, who lit it? and if it was burning, why didn't it burn out? old\nPeter grumbled that he would not answer any more.\n\nFor a moment the two children were quiet, and then Maroosia asked one\nmore question.\n\nOld Peter looked up from the net he was mending. \"Maroosia, my dear,\"\nhe said, \"you had better watch the tip of your tongue, or perhaps,\nwhen you are grown up and have a husband, the same thing will happen\nto you that happened to the wife of the huntsman who saw a snake in a\nburning wood-pile.\"\n\n\"Oh, tell us what happened to her!\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"That is another question,\" said old Peter; \"but I'll tell you, and\nthen perhaps you won't ask any more, and will give my old head a\nrest.\"\n\nAnd then he told them the story of the hunter and his wife.\n\nOnce upon a time there was a hunter who went out into the forest to\nshoot game. He had a wife and two dogs. His wife was for ever asking\nquestions, so that he was glad to get away from her into the forest.\nAnd she did not like dogs, and said they were always bringing dirt\ninto the house with their muddy paws. So that the dogs were glad to\nget away into the forest with the hunter.\n\nOne day the hunter and the two dogs wandered all day through the deep\nwoods, and never got a sight of a bird; no, they never even saw a\nhare. All day long they wandered on and saw nothing. The hunter had\nnot fired a cartridge. He did not want to go home and have to answer\nhis wife's questions about why he had an empty bag, so he went deeper\nand deeper into the thick forest. And suddenly, as it grew towards\nevening, the sharp smell of burning wood floated through the trees,\nand the hunter, looking about him, saw the flickering of a fire. He\nmade his way towards it, and found a clearing in the forest, and a\nwood pile in the middle of it, and it was burning so fiercely that he\ncould scarcely come near it.\n\nAnd this was the marvel, that in the middle of the blazing timbers was\nsitting a great snake, curled round and round upon itself and waving\nits head above the flames.\n\nAs soon as it saw the hunter it called out, in a loud hissing voice,\nto come near.\n\nHe went as near as he could, shading his face from the heat.\n\n\"My good man,\" says the snake, \"pull me out of the fire, and you shall\nunderstand the talk of the beasts and the songs of the birds.\"\n\n\"I'll be happy to help you,\" says the hunter, \"but how? for the flames\nare so hot that I cannot reach you.\"\n\n\"Put the barrel of your gun into the fire, and I'll crawl out along\nit.\"\n\nThe hunter put the barrel of his long gun into the flames, and\ninstantly the snake wound itself about it, and so escaped out of the\nfire.\n\n\"Thank you, my good man,\" says the snake; \"you shall know henceforward\nthe language of all living things. But one thing you must remember.\nYou must not tell any one of this, for if you tell you will die the\ndeath; and man only dies once, and that will be an end of your life\nand your knowledge.\"\n\nThen the snake slipped off along the ground, and almost before the\nhunter knew it was going, it was gone, and he never saw it again.\n\nWell, he went on with the two dogs, looking for something to shoot at;\nand when the dark night fell he was still far from home, away in the\ndeep forest.\n\n\"I am tired,\" he thought, \"and perhaps there will be birds stirring in\nthe early morning. I will sleep the night here, and try my luck at\nsunrise.\"\n\nHe made a fire of twigs and broken branches, and lay down beside it,\ntogether with his dogs. He had scarcely lain down to sleep when he\nheard the dogs talking together and calling each other \"Brother.\" He\nunderstood every word they said.\n\n\"Well, brother,\" says the first, \"you sleep here and look after our\nmaster, while I run home to look after the house and yard. It will\nsoon be one o'clock, and when the master is away that is the time for\nthieves.\"\n\n\"Off with you, brother, and God be with you,\" says the second.\n\nAnd the hunter heard the first dog go bounding away through the\nundergrowth, while the second lay still, with its head between its\npaws, watching its master blinking at the fire.\n\nEarly in the morning the hunter was awakened by the noise of the dog\npushing through the brushwood on its way back. He heard how the dogs\ngreeted each other.\n\n\"Well, and how are you, brother?\" says the first.\n\n\"Finely,\" says the second; \"and how's yourself?\"\n\n\"Finely too. Did the night pass well?\"\n\n\"Well enough, thanks be to God. But with you, brother? How was it at\nhome?\"\n\n\"Oh, badly. I ran home, and the mistress, when she sees me, sings out,\n'What the devil are you doing here without your master? Well, there's\nyour supper;' and she threw me a crust of bread, burnt to a black\ncinder. I snuffed it and snuffed it, but as for eating it, it was\nburnt through. No dog alive could have made a meal of it. And with\nthat she ups with a poker and beats me. Brother, she counted all my\nribs and nearly broke each one of them. But at night, later on--just\nas I thought--thieves came into the yard, and were going to clear out\nthe barn and the larder. But I let loose such a howl, and leapt upon\nthem so vicious and angry, that they had little thought to spare for\nother people's goods, and had all they could do to get away whole\nthemselves. And so I spent the night.\"\n\nThe hunter heard all that the dogs said, and kept it in mind. \"Wait a\nbit, my good woman,\" says he, \"and see what I have to say to you when\nI get home.\"\n\nThat morning his luck was good, and he came home with a couple of\nhares and three or four woodcock.\n\n\"Good-day, mistress,\" says he to his wife, who was standing in the\ndoorway.\n\n\"Good-day, master,\" says she.\n\n\"Last night one of the dogs came home.\"\n\n\"It did,\" says she.\n\n\"And how did you feed it?\"\n\n\"Feed it, my love?\" says she. \"I gave it a whole basin of milk, and\ncrumbled a loaf of bread for it.\"\n\n\"You lie, you old witch,\" says the hunter; \"you gave it nothing but a\nburnt crust, and you beat it with the poker.\"\n\nThe old woman was so surprised that she let the truth out of her mouth\nbefore she knew. She says to her husband, \"How on earth did you know\nall that?\"\n\n\"I won't tell you,\" says the hunter.\n\n\"Tell me, tell me,\" begs the old woman, just like Maroosia when she\nwants to know too much.\n\n\"I can't tell you,\" says the hunter; \"it's forbidden me to tell.\"\n\n\"Tell me, dear one,\" says she.\n\n\"Truly, I can't.\"\n\n\"Tell me, my little pigeon.\"\n\n\"If I tell you I shall die the death.\"\n\n\"Rubbish, my dearest; only tell me.\"\n\n\"But I shall die.\"\n\n\"Just tell me that one little thing. You won't die for that.\"\n\nAnd so she bothered him and bothered him, until he thought, \"There's\nnothing to be done if a woman sets her mind on a thing. I'd better die\nand get it over at once.\"\n\nSo he put on a clean white shirt, and lay down on the bench in the\ncorner, under the sacred images, and made all ready for his death; and\nwas just going to tell his wife the whole truth about the snake and\nthe wood-pile, and how he knew the language of all living things. But\njust then there was a great clucking in the yard, and some of the hens\nran into the cottage, and after them came the cock, scolding first one\nand then another, and boasting,--\n\n\"That's the way to deal with you,\" says the cock; and the hunter,\nlying there in his white shirt, ready to die, heard and understood\nevery word, \"Yes,\" says the cock, as he drove the hens about the room,\n\"you see I am not such a fool as our master here, who does not know\nhow to keep a single wife in order. Why, I have thirty of you and\nmore, and the whole lot hear from me sharp enough if they do not do as\nI say.\"\n\nAs soon as the hunter heard this he made up his mind to be a fool no\nlonger. He jumped up from the bench, and took his whip and gave his\nwife such a beating that she never asked him another question to this\nday. And she has never yet learnt how it was that he knew what she did\nin the hut while he was away in the forest.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Yes,\" said Maroosia, \"but then she was a bad woman; and besides, my\nhusband would never call me an old witch.\"\n\n\"Old witch!\" said Vanya, and bolted out of the hut with Maroosia after\nhim; and so old Peter was left in peace.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE MEN OF POWER--EVENING, MIDNIGHT, AND SUNRISE.\n\n\nLong ago there lived a King, and he had three daughters, the\nloveliest in all the world. He loved them so well that he built a\npalace for them underground, lest the rough winds should blow on them\nor the red sun scorch their delicate faces. A wonderful palace it was,\ndown there underground, with fountains and courts, and lamps burning,\nand precious stones glittering in the light of the lamps. And the\nthree lovely princesses grew up in that palace underground, and knew\nno other light but that of the coloured lanterns, and had never seen\nthe broad world that lies open under the sun by day and under the\nstars by night. Indeed, they did not know that there was a world\noutside those glittering walls, above that shining ceiling, carved and\ngilded and set with precious stones.\n\nBut it so happened that among the books that were given them to read\nwas one in which was written of the world: how the sun shines in the\nsky; how trees grow green; how the grass waves in the wind and the\nleaves whisper together; how the rivers flow between their green banks\nand through the flowery meadows, until they come to the blue sea that\njoins the earth and the sky. They read in that book of white-walled\ntowns, of churches with gilded and painted domes, of the brown wooden\nhuts of the peasants, of the great forests, of the ships on the\nrivers, and of the long roads with the folk moving on them, this way\nand that, about the world.\n\nAnd when the King came to see them, as he was used to do, they asked\nhim,--\n\n\"Father, is it true that there is a garden in the world?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the King.\n\n\"And green grass?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the King.\n\n\"And little shining flowers?\"\n\n\"Why, yes,\" said the King, wondering and stroking his silver beard.\n\nAnd the three lovely princesses all begged him at once,--\n\n\"Oh, your Majesty, our own little father, whom, we love, let us out to\nsee this world. Let us out just so that we may see this garden, and\nwalk in it on the green grass, and see the shining flowers.\"\n\nThe King turned his head away and tried not to listen to them. But\nwhat could he do? They were the loveliest princesses in the world, and\nwhen they begged him just to let them walk in the garden he could see\nthe tears in their eyes. And after all, he thought, there were high\nwalls to the garden.\n\nSo he called up his army, and set soldiers all round the garden, and a\nhundred soldiers to each gate, so that no one should come in. And then\nhe let the princesses come up from their underground palace, and step\nout into the sunshine in the garden, with ten nurses and maids to each\nprincess to see that no harm came to her.\n\nThe princesses stepped out into the garden, under the blue sky,\nshading their eyes at first because they had never before been in the\ngolden sunlight. Soon they were taking hands, and running this way and\nthat along the garden paths and over the green grass, and gathering\nposies of shining flowers to set in their girdles and to shame their\ngolden crowns. And the King sat and watched them with love in his\neyes, and was glad to see how happy they were. And after all, he\nthought, what with the high walls and the soldiers standing to arms,\nnothing could get in to hurt them.\n\n[Illustration: It caught up the princesses and carried them up into\nthe air.]\n\nBut just as he had quieted his old heart a strong whirlwind came down\nout of the blue sky, tearing up trees and throwing them aside, and\nlifting the roofs from the houses. But it did not touch the palace\nroofs, shining green in the sunlight, and it plucked no trees from the\ngarden. It raged this way and that, and then with its swift whirling\narms it caught up the three lovely princesses, and carried them up\ninto the air, over the high walls and over the heads of the guarding\nsoldiers. For a moment the King saw them, his daughters, the three\nlovely princesses, spinning round and round, as if they were dancing\nin the sky. A moment later they were no more than little whirling\nspecks, like dust in the sunlight. And then they were out of sight,\nand the King and all the maids and nurses were alone in the empty\ngarden. The noise of the wind had gone. The soldiers did not dare to\nspeak. The only sound in the King's ears was the sobbing and weeping\nof the maids and nurses.\n\nThe King called his generals, and made them send the soldiers in all\ndirections over the country to bring back the princesses, if the\nwhirlwind should tire and set them again upon the ground. The soldiers\nwent to the very boundaries of the kingdom, but they came back as they\nwent. Not one of them had seen the three lovely princesses.\n\nThen the King called together all his faithful servants, and promised\na great reward to any one who should bring news of the three\nprincesses. It was the same with the servants as with the soldiers.\nFar and wide they galloped out. Slowly, one by one, they rode back,\nwith bent heads, on tired horses. Not one of them had seen the King's\ndaughters.\n\nThen the King called a grand council of his wise boyars and men of\nstate. They all sat round and listened as the King told his tale and\nasked if one of them would not undertake the task of finding and\nrescuing the three princesses. \"The wind has not set them down within\nthe boundaries of my kingdom; and now, God knows, they may be in the\npower of wicked men or worse.\" He said he would give one of the\nprincesses in marriage to any one who could follow where the wind went\nand bring his daughters back; yes, and besides, he would make him the\nrichest man in the kingdom. But the boyars and the wise men of state\nsat round in silence. He asked them one by one. They were all silent\nand afraid. For they were boyars and wise men of state, and not one of\nthem would undertake to follow the whirlwind and rescue the three\nprincesses.\n\nThe King wept bitter tears.\n\n\"I see,\" he said, \"I have no friends about me in the palace. My\nsoldiers cannot, my servants cannot, and my boyars and wise men will\nnot, bring back my three sweet maids, whom I love better than my\nkingdom.\"\n\nAnd with that he sent heralds throughout the kingdom to announce the\nnews, and to ask if there were none among the common folk, the\nmoujiks, the simple folk like us, who would put his hand to the work\nof rescuing the three lovely princesses, since not one of the boyars\nand wise men was willing to do it.\n\nNow, at that time in a certain village lived a poor widow, and she had\nthree sons, strong men, true bogatirs and men of power. All three had\nbeen born in a single night: the eldest at evening, the middle one at\nmidnight, and the youngest just as the sky was lightening with the\ndawn. For this reason they were called Evening, Midnight, and Sunrise.\nEvening was dusky, with brown eyes and hair; Midnight was dark, with\neyes and hair as black as charcoal; while Sunrise had hair golden as\nthe sun, and eyes blue as morning sky. And all three were as strong as\nany of the strong men and mighty bogatirs who have shaken this land of\nRussia with their tread.\n\nAs soon as the King's word had been proclaimed in the village, the\nthree brothers asked for their mother's blessing, which she gave them,\nkissing them on the forehead and on both cheeks. Then they made ready\nfor the journey and rode off to the capital--Evening on his horse of\ndusky brown, Midnight on his black horse, and Sunrise on his horse\nthat was as white as clouds in summer. They came to the capital, and\nas they rode through the streets everybody stopped to look at them,\nand all the pretty young women waved handkerchiefs at the windows. But\nthe three brothers looked neither to right nor left but straight\nbefore them, and they rode to the palace of the King.\n\nThey came to the King, bowed low before him, and said,--\n\n\"May you live for many years, O King. We have come to you not for\nfeasting but for service. Let us, O King, ride out to rescue your\nthree princesses.\"\n\n\"God give you success, my good young men,\" says the King. \"What are\nyour names?\"\n\n\"We are three brothers--Evening, Midnight, and Sunrise.\"\n\n\"What will you have to take with you on the road?\"\n\n\"For ourselves, O King, we want nothing. Only, do not leave our\nmother in poverty, for she is old.\"\n\nThe King sent for the old woman, their mother, and gave her a home in\nhis palace, and made her eat and drink at his table, and gave her new\nboots made by his own cobblers, and new clothes sewn by the very\nsempstresses who were used to make dresses for the three daughters of\nthe King, who were the loveliest princesses in the world, and had been\ncarried away by the whirlwind. No old woman in Russia was better\nlooked after than the mother of the three young bogatirs and men of\npower, Evening, Midnight, and Sunrise, while they were away on their\nadventure seeking the King's daughters.\n\nThe young men rode out on their journey. A month they rode together,\ntwo months, and in the third month they came to a broad desert plain,\nwhere there were no towns, no villages, no farms, and not a human\nbeing to be seen. They rode on over the sand, through the rank grass,\nover the stony wastes. At last, on the other side of that desolate\nplain, they came to a thick forest. They found a path through the\nthick undergrowth, and rode along that path together into the very\nheart of the forest. And there, alone in the heart of the forest, they\ncame to a hut, with a railed yard and a shed full of cattle and sheep.\nThey called out with their strong young voices, and were answered by\nthe lowing of the cattle, the bleating of the sheep, and the strong\nwind in the tops of the great trees.\n\nThey rode through the railed yard and came to the hut. Evening leant\nfrom his brown horse and knocked on the window. There was no answer.\nThey forced open the door, and found no one at all.\n\n\"Well, brothers,\" says Evening, \"let us make ourselves at home. Let\nus stay here awhile. We have been riding three months. Let us rest,\nand then ride farther. We shall deal better with our adventure if we\ncome to it as fresh men, and not dusty and weary from the long road.\"\n\nThe others agreed. They tied up their horses, fed them, drew water\nfrom the well, and gave them to drink; and then, tired out, they went\ninto the hut, said their prayers to God, and lay down to sleep with\ntheir weapons close to their hands, like true bogatirs and men of\npower.\n\nIn the morning the youngest brother. Sunrise, said to the eldest\nbrother, Evening,--\n\n\"Midnight and I are going hunting to-day, and you shall rest here, and\nsee what sort of dinner you can give us when we come back.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" says Evening; \"but to-morrow I shall go hunting, and one\nof you shall stay here and cook the dinner.\"\n\nNobody made bones about that, and so Evening stood at the door of the\nhut while the others rode off--Midnight on his black horse, and\nSunrise on his horse, white as a summer cloud. They rode off into the\nforest, and disappeared among the green trees.\n\nEvening watched them out of sight, and then, without thinking twice\nabout what he was doing, went out into the yard, picked out the finest\nsheep he could see, caught it, killed it, skinned it, cleaned it, and\nset it in a cauldron on the stove so as to be ready and hot whenever\nhis brothers should come riding back from the forest. As soon as that\nwas done, Evening lay down on the broad bench to rest himself.\n\nHe had scarcely lain down before there were a knocking and a rattling\nand a stumbling, and the door opened, and in walked a little man a\nyard high, with a beard seven yards long[4] flowing out behind him\nover both his shoulders. He looked round angrily, and saw Evening, who\nyawned, and sat up on the bench, and began chuckling at the sight of\nhim. The little man screamed out,--\n\n\"What are you chuckling about? How dare you play the master in my\nhouse? How dare you kill my best sheep?\"\n\nEvening answered him, laughing,--\n\n\"Grow a little bigger, and it won't be so hard to see you down there.\nTill then it will be better for you to keep a civil tongue in your\nhead.\"\n\nThe little man was angry before, but now he was angrier.\n\n\"What?\" he screamed. \"I am little, am I? Well, see what little does!\"\n\n\nAnd with that he grabbed an old crust of bread, leapt on Evening's\nshoulders, and began beating him over the head. Yes, and the little\nfellow was so strong he beat Evening till he was half dead, and was\nblind in one eye and could not see out of the other. Then, when he was\ntired, he threw Evening under the bench, took the sheep out of the\ncauldron, gobbled it up in a few mouthfuls, and, when he had done,\nwent off again into the forest.\n\n[Footnote 4: The little man was really one arshin high, and his beard\nwas seven arshins long. An arshin is 0.77 of a yard, so any one who\nknows decimals can tell exactly how high the little man was and the\nprecise length of his beard.]\n\nWhen Evening came to his senses again, he bound up his head with a\ndishcloth, and lay on the ground and groaned.\n\nMidnight and Sunrise rode back, on the black horse and the white, and\ncame to the hut, where they found their brother groaning on the\nground, unable to see out of his eyes, and with a dishcloth round his\nhead.\n\n\"What are you tied up like that for?\" they asked; \"and where is our\ndinner?\"\n\nEvening was ashamed to tell them the truth--how he had been thumped\nabout with a crust of bread by a little fellow only a yard high. He\nmoaned and said,--\n\n\"O my brothers, I made a fire in the stove, and fell ill from the\ngreat heat in this little hut. My head ached. All day I lay senseless,\nand could neither boil nor roast. I thought my head would burst with\nthe heat, and my brains fly beyond the seventh world.\"\n\nNext day Sunrise went hunting with Evening, whose head was still bound\nup in a dishcloth, and hurting so sorely that he could hardly see.\nMidnight stayed at home. It was his turn to see to the dinner. Sunrise\nrode out on his cloud-white horse, and Evening on his dusky brown.\nMidnight stood in the doorway of the hut, watched them disappear among\nthe green trees, and then set about getting the dinner.\n\nHe lit the fire, but was careful not to make it too hot. Then he went\ninto the yard, caught the very fattest of the sheep, killed it,\nskinned it, cleaned it, cut it up, and set it on the stove. Then, when\nall was ready, he lay down on the bench and rested himself.\n\nBut before he had lain there long there were a knocking, a stamping, a\nrattling, a grumbling, and in came the little old man, one yard high,\nwith a beard seven yards long, and without wasting words the little\nfellow leapt on the shoulders of the bogatir, and set to beating him\nand thumping him, first on one side of his head and then on the other.\nHe gave him such a banging that he very nearly made an end of him\naltogether. Then the little fellow ate up the whole of the sheep in a\nfew mouthfuls, and went off angrily into the forest, with his long\nwhite beard flowing behind him.\n\nMidnight tied up his head with a handkerchief, and lay down under the\nbench, groaning and groaning, unable to put his head to the ground, or\neven to lay it in the crook of his arm, it was so bruised by the\nbeating given it by the little old man.\n\nIn the evening the brothers rode back, and found Midnight groaning\nunder the bench, with his head bound up in a handkerchief.\n\nEvening looked at him and said nothing. Perhaps he was thinking of his\nown bruised head, which was still tied up in a dishcloth.\n\n\"What's the matter with you?\" says Sunrise.\n\n\"There never was such another stove as this,\" says Midnight. \"I'd no\nsooner lit it than it seemed as if the whole hut were on fire. My\nhead nearly burst. It's aching now; and as for your dinner, why, I've\nnot been able to put a hand to anything all day.\"\n\nEvening chuckled to himself, but Sunrise only said, \"That's bad,\nbrother; but you shall go hunting to-morrow, and I'll stay at home,\nand see what I can do with the stove.\"\n\nAnd so on the third day the two elder brothers went hunting--Midnight\non his black horse, and Evening on his horse of dusky brown. Sunrise\nstood in the doorway of the hut, and saw them disappear under the\ngreen trees. The sun shone on his golden curls, and his blue eyes were\nlike the sky itself. There, never was such another bogatir as he.\n\nHe went into the hut and lit the stove. Then he went out into the\nyard, chose the best sheep he could find, killed it, skinned it,\ncleaned it, cut it up, and set it on the stove. He made everything\nready, and then lay down on the bench.\n\nBefore he had lain there very long he heard a stumping, a thumping, a\nknocking, a rattling, a grumbling, a rumbling. Sunrise leaped up from\nthe bench and looked out through the window of the hut. There in the\nyard was the little old man, one yard high, with a beard seven yards\nlong. He was carrying a whole haystack on his head and a great tub of\nwater in his arms. He came into the middle of the yard, and set down\nhis tub to water all the beasts. He set down the haystack and\nscattered the hay about. All the cattle and the sheep came together to\neat and to drink, and the little man stood and counted them. He\ncounted the oxen, he counted the goats, and then he counted the sheep.\nHe counted them once, and his eyes began to flash. He counted them\ntwice, and he began to grind his teeth. He counted them a third time,\nmade sure that one was missing, and then he flew into a violent rage,\nrushed across the yard and into the hut, and gave Sunrise a terrific\nblow on the head.\n\nSunrise shook his head as if a fly had settled on it. Then he jumped\nsuddenly and caught the end of the long beard of the little old man,\nand set to pulling him this way and that, round and round the hut, as\nif his beard was a rope. Phew! how the little man roared.\n\nSunrise laughed, and tugged him this way and that, and mocked him,\ncrying out, \"If you do not know the ford, it is better not to go into\nthe water,\" meaning that the little fellow had begun to beat him\nwithout finding out who was the stronger.\n\nThe little old man, one yard high, with a beard seven yards long,\nbegan to pray and to beg,--\n\n\"O man of power, O great and mighty bogatir, have mercy upon me. Do\nnot kill me. Leave me my soul to repent with.\"\n\nSunrise laughed, and dragged the little fellow out into the yard,\nwhirled him round at the end of his beard, and brought him to a great\noak trunk that lay on the ground. Then with a heavy iron wedge he\nfixed the end of the little man's beard firmly in the oaken trunk,\nand, leaving the little man howling and lamenting, went back to the\nhut, set it in order again, saw that the sheep was cooking as it\nshould, and then lay down in peace to wait for the coming of his\nbrothers.\n\nEvening and Midnight rode home, leapt from their horses, and came into\nthe hut to see how the little man had dealt with their brother. They\ncould hardly believe their eyes when they saw him alive and well,\nwithout a bruise, lying comfortably on the bench.\n\nHe sat up and laughed in their faces.\n\n\"Well, brothers,\" says he, \"come along with me into the yard, and I\nthink I can show you that headache of yours. It's a good deal stronger\nthan it is big, but for the time being you need not be afraid of it,\nfor it's fastened to an oak timber that all three of us together could\nnot lift.\"\n\nHe got up and went into the yard. Evening and Midnight followed him\nwith shamed faces. But when they came to the oaken timber the little\nman was not there. Long ago he had torn himself free and run away into\nthe forest. But half his beard was left, wedged in the trunk, and\nSunrise pointed to that and said,--\n\n\"Tell me, brothers, was it the heat of the stove that gave you your\nheadaches? Or had this long beard something to do with it?\"\n\nThe brothers grew red, and laughed, and told him the whole truth.\n\nMeanwhile Sunrise had been looking at the end of the beard, the end of\nthe half beard that was left, and he saw that it had been torn out by\nthe roots, and that drops of blood from the little man's chin showed\nthe way he had gone.\n\nQuickly the brothers went back to the hut and ate up the sheep. Then\nthey leapt on their horses, and rode off into the green forest,\nfollowing the drops of blood that had fallen from the little man's\nchin. For three days they rode through the green forest, until at last\nthe red drops of the trail led them to a deep pit, a black hole in the\nearth, hidden by thick bushes and going far down into the underworld.\n\nSunrise left his brothers to guard the hole, while he went off into\nthe forest and gathered bast, and twisted it, and made a strong rope,\nand brought it to the mouth of the pit, and asked his brothers to\nlower him down.\n\nHe made a loop in the rope. His brothers kissed him on both cheeks,\nand he kissed them back. Then he sat in the loop, and Evening and\nMidnight lowered him down into the darkness. Down and down he went,\nswinging in the dark, till he came into a world under the world, with\na light that was neither that of the sun, nor of the moon, nor of the\nstars. He stepped from the loop in the rope of twisted bast, and set\nout walking through the underworld, going whither his eyes led him,\nfor he found no more drops of blood, nor any other traces of the\nlittle old man.\n\nHe walked and walked, and came at last to a palace of copper, green\nand ruddy in the strange light. He went into that palace, and there\ncame to meet him in the copper halls a maiden whose cheeks were redder\nthan the aloe and whiter than the snow. She was the youngest daughter\nof the King, and the loveliest of the three princesses, who were the\nloveliest in all the world. Sweetly she curtsied to Sunrise, as he\nstood there with his golden hair and his eyes blue as the sky at\nmorning, and sweetly she asked him,--\n\n\"How have you come hither, my brave young man--of your own will or\nagainst it?\"\n\n\"Your father has sent to rescue you and your sisters.\"\n\nShe bade him sit at the table, and gave him food and brought him a\nlittle flask of the water of strength.\n\n\"Strong you are,\" says she, \"but not strong enough for what is before\nyou. Drink this, and your strength will be greater than it is; for you\nwill need all the strength you have and can win, if you are to rescue\nus and live.\"\n\nSunrise looked in her sweet eyes, and drank the water of strength in a\nsingle draught, and felt gigantic power forcing its way throughout his\nbody.\n\n\"Now,\" thought he, \"let come what may.\"\n\nInstantly a violent wind rushed through the copper palace, and the\nPrincess trembled.\n\n\"The snake that holds me here is coming,\" says she. \"He is flying\nhither on his strong wings.\"\n\nShe took the great hand of the bogatir in her little fingers, and drew\nhim to another room, and hid him there.\n\nThe copper palace rocked in the wind, and there flew into the great\nhall a huge snake with three heads. The snake hissed loudly, and\ncalled out in a whistling voice,--\n\n\"I smell the smell of a Russian soul. What visitor have you here?\"\n\n\"How could any one come here?\" said the Princess. \"You have been\nflying over Russia. There you smelt Russian souls, and the smell is\nstill in your nostrils, so that you think you smell them here.\"\n\n\"It is true,\" said the snake: \"I have been flying over Russia. I have\nflown far. Let me eat and drink, for I am both hungry and thirsty.\"\n\nAll this time Sunrise was watching from the other room.\n\nThe Princess brought meat and drink to the snake, and in the drink she\nput a philtre of sleep.\n\nThe snake ate and drank, and began to feel sleepy. He coiled himself\nup in rings, laid his three heads in the lap of the Princess, told her\nto scratch them for him, and dropped into a deep sleep.\n\nThe Princess called Sunrise, and the bogatir rushed in, swung his\nglittering sword three times round his golden head, and cut off all\nthree heads of the snake. It was like felling three oak trees at a\nsingle blow. Then he made a great fire of wood, and threw upon it the\nbody of the snake, and, when it was burnt up, scattered the ashes over\nthe open country.\n\n\"And now fare you well,\" says Sunrise to the Princess; but she threw\nher arms about his neck.\n\n\"Fare you well,\" says he. \"I go to seek your sisters. As soon as I\nhave found them I will come back.\"\n\nAnd at that she let him go.\n\nHe walked on further through the underworld, and came at last to a\npalace of silver, gleaming in the strange light.\n\nHe went in there, and was met with sweet words and kindness by the\nsecond of the three lovely princesses. In that palace he killed a\nsnake with six heads. The Princess begged him to stay; but he told her\nhe had yet to find her eldest sister. At that she wished him the help\nof God, and he left her, and went on further.\n\nHe walked and walked, and came at last to a palace of gold, glittering\nin the light of the underworld. All happened as in the other palaces.\nThe eldest of the three daughters of the King met him with courtesy\nand kindness. And he killed a snake with twelve heads and freed the\nPrincess from her imprisonment. The Princess rejoiced, and thanked\nSunrise, and set about her packing to go home.\n\nAnd this was the way of her packing. She went out into the broad\ncourtyard and waved a scarlet handkerchief, and instantly the whole\npalace, golden and glittering, and the kingdom belonging to it, became\nlittle, little, little, till it went into a little golden egg. The\nPrincess tied the egg in a corner of her handkerchief, and set out\nwith Sunrise to join her sisters and go home to her father.\n\nHer sisters did their packing in the same way. The silver palace and\nits kingdom were packed by the second sister into a little silver egg.\nAnd when they came to the copper palace, the youngest of the three\nlovely princesses clapped her hands and kissed Sunrise on both his\ncheeks, and waved a scarlet handkerchief, and instantly the copper\npalace and its kingdom were packed into a little copper egg, shining\nruddy and green.\n\nAnd so Sunrise and the three daughters of the King came to the foot of\nthe deep hole down which he had come into the underworld. And there\nwas the rope hanging with the loop at its end. And they sat in the\nloop, and Evening and Midnight pulled them up one by one, rejoicing\ntogether. Then the three brothers took, each of them, a princess with\nhim on his horse, and they all rode together back to the old King,\ntelling talcs and singing songs as they went. The Princess from the\ngolden palace rode with Evening on his horse of dusky brown; the\nPrincess from the silver palace rode with Midnight on his horse as\nblack as charcoal; but the Princess from the copper palace, the\nyoungest of them all, rode with Sunrise on his horse, white as a\nsummer cloud. Merry was the journey through the green forest, and\ngladly they rode over the open plain, till they came at last to the\npalace of her father.\n\nThere was the old King, sitting melancholy alone, when the three\nbrothers with the princesses rode into the courtyard of the palace.\nThe old King was so glad that he laughed and cried at the same time,\nand his tears ran down his beard.\n\n\"Ah me!\" says the old King, \"I am old, and you young men have brought\nmy daughters back from the very world under the world. Safer they will\nbe if they have you to guard them, even than they were in the palace I\nhad built for them underground. But I have only one kingdom and three\ndaughters.\"\n\n\"Do not trouble about that,\" laughed the three princesses, and they\nall rode out together into the open country, and there the princesses\nbroke their eggs, one after the other, and there were the palaces of\nsilver, copper, and gold, with the kingdoms belonging to them, and the\ncattle and the sheep and the goats. There was a kingdom for each of\nthe brothers. Then they made a great feast, and had three weddings all\ntogether, and the old King sat with the mother of the three strong\nmen, and men of power, the noble bogatirs, Evening, Midnight, and\nSunrise, sitting at his side. Great was the feasting, loud were the\nsongs, and the King made Sunrise his heir, so that some day he would\nwear his crown. But little did Sunrise think of that. He thought of\nnothing but the youngest Princess. And little she thought of it, for\nshe had no eyes but for Sunrise. And merrily they lived together in\nthe copper palace. And happily they rode together on the horse that\nwas as white as clouds in summer.\n\n\n\n\nSALT.\n\n\nOne evening, when they were sitting round the table after their\nsupper, old Peter asked the children what story they would like to\nhear. Vanya asked whether there were any stories left which they had\nnot already heard.\n\n\"Why,\" said old Peter, \"you have heard scarcely any of the stories,\nfor there is a story to be told about everything in the world.\"\n\n\"About everything, grandfather?\" asked Vanya.\n\n\"About everything,\" said old Peter.\n\n\"About the sky, and the thunder, and the dogs, and the flies, and the\nbirds, and the trees, and the milk?\"\n\n\"There is a story about everyone of those things.\"\n\n\"I know something there isn't a story about,\" said Vanya.\n\n\"And what's that?\" asked old Peter, smiling in his beard.\n\n\"Salt,\" said Vanya. \"There can't be a story about salt.\" He put the\ntip of his finger into the little box of salt on the table, and then\nhe touched his tongue with his finger to taste.\n\n\"But of course there is a story about salt,\" said old Peter.\n\n\"Tell it us,\" said Maroosia; and presently, when his pipe had been lit\ntwice and gone out, old Peter began.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOnce upon a time there were three brothers, and their father was a\ngreat merchant who sent his ships far over the sea, and traded here\nand there in countries the names of which I, being an old man, can\nnever rightly call to mind. Well, the names of the two elder brothers\ndo not matter, but the youngest was called Ivan the Ninny, because he\nwas always playing and never working; and if there was a silly thing\nto do, why, off he went and did it. And so, when the brothers grew up,\nthe father sent the two elder ones off, each in a fine ship laden with\ngold and jewels, and rings and bracelets, and laces and silks, and\nsticks with little bits of silver hammered into their handles, and\nspoons with patterns of blue and red, and everything else you can\nthink of that costs too much to buy. But he made Ivan the Ninny stay\nat home, and did not give him a ship at all. Ivan saw his brothers go\nsailing off over the sea on a summer morning, to make their fortunes\nand come back rich men; and then, for the first time in his life, he\nwanted to work and do something useful. He went to his father and\nkissed his hand, and he kissed the hand of his little old mother, and\nhe begged his father to give him a ship so that he could try his\nfortune like his brothers.\n\n\"But you have never done a wise thing in your life, and no one could\ncount all the silly things you've done if he spent a hundred days in\ncounting,\" said his father.\n\n\"True,\" said Ivan; \"but now I am going to be wise, and sail the sea\nand come back with something in my pockets to show that I am not a\nninny any longer. Give me just a little ship, father mine--just a\nlittle ship for myself.\"\n\n\"Give him a little ship,\" said the mother. \"He may not be a ninny\nafter all.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said his father. \"I will give him a little ship; but I am\nnot going to waste good roubles by giving him a rich cargo.\"\n\n\"Give me any cargo you like,\" said Ivan.\n\nSo his father gave him a little ship, a little old ship, and a cargo\nof rags and scraps and things that were not fit for anything but to be\nthrown away. And he gave him a crew of ancient old sailormen who were\npast work; and Ivan went on board and sailed away at sunset, like the\nninny he was. And the feeble, ancient, old sailormen pulled up the\nragged, dirty sails, and away they went over the sea to learn what\nfortune, good or bad, God had in mind for a crew of old men with a\nninny for a master.\n\nThe fourth day after they set sail there came a great wind over the\nsea. The feeble old men did the best they could with the ship; but the\nold, torn sails tore from the masts, and the wind did what it pleased,\nand threw the little ship on an unknown island away in the middle of\nthe sea. Then the wind dropped, and left the little ship on the\nbeach, and Ivan the Ninny and his ancient old men, like good Russians,\npraising God that they were still alive.\n\n\"Well, children,\" said Ivan, for he knew how to talk to sailors, \"do\nyou stay here and mend the sails, and make new ones out of the rags we\ncarry as cargo, while I go inland and see if there is anything that\ncould be of use to us.\"\n\nSo the ancient old sailormen sat on deck with their legs crossed, and\nmade sails out of rags, of torn scraps of old brocades, of soiled\nembroidered shawls, of all the rubbish that they had with them for a\ncargo. You never saw such sails. The tide came up and floated the\nship, and they threw out anchors at bow and stern, and sat there in\nthe sunlight, making sails and patching them and talking of the days\nwhen they were young. All this while Ivan the Ninny went walking off\ninto the island.\n\nNow in the middle of that island was a high mountain, a high mountain\nit was, and so white that when he came near it Ivan the Ninny began\nthinking of sheepskin coats, although it was midsummer and the sun was\nhot in the sky. The trees were green round about, but there was\nnothing growing on the mountain at all. It was just a great white\nmountain piled up into the sky in the middle of a green island. Ivan\nwalked a little way up the white slopes of the mountain, and then,\nbecause he felt thirsty, he thought he would let a little snow melt in\nhis mouth. He took some in his fingers and stuffed it in. Quickly\nenough it came out again, I can tell you, for the mountain was not\nmade of snow but of good Russian salt. And if you want to try what a\nmouthful of salt is like, you may.\n\n\"No, thank you, grandfather,\" the children said hurriedly together.\n\nOld Peter went on with his tale.\n\nIvan the Ninny did not stop to think twice. The salt was so clean and\nshone so brightly in the sunlight. He just turned round and ran back\nto the shore, and called out to his ancient old sailormen and told\nthem to empty everything they had on board over into the sea. Over it\nall went, rags and tags and rotten timbers, till the little ship was\nas empty as a soup bowl after supper. And then those ancient old men\nwere set to work carrying salt from the mountain and taking it on\nboard the little ship, and stowing it away below deck till there was\nnot room for another grain. Ivan the Ninny would have liked to take\nthe whole mountain, but there was not room in the little ship. And for\nthat the ancient old sailormen thanked God, because their backs ached\nand their old legs were weak, and they said they would have died if\nthey had had to carry any more.\n\nThen they hoisted up the new sails they had patched together out of\nthe rags and scraps of shawls and old brocades, and they sailed away\nonce more over the blue sea. And the wind stood fair, and they sailed\nbefore it, and the ancient old sailors rested their backs, and told\nold tales, and took turn and turn about at the rudder.\n\nAnd after many days' sailing they came to a town, with towers and\nchurches and painted roofs, all set on the side of a hill that sloped\ndown into the sea. At the foot of the hill was a quiet harbour, and\nthey sailed in there and moored the ship and hauled down their\npatchwork sails.\n\nIvan the Ninny went ashore, and took with him a little bag of clean\nwhite salt to show what kind of goods he had for sale, and he asked\nhis way to the palace of the Tzar of that town. He came to the palace,\nand went in and bowed to the ground before the Tzar.\n\n\"Who are you?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"I, great lord, am a Russian merchant, and here in a bag is some of my\nmerchandise, and I beg your leave to trade with your subjects in this\ntown.\"\n\n\"Let me see what is in the bag,\" says the Tzar. Ivan the Ninny took a\nhandful from the bag and showed it to the Tzar.\n\n\"What is it?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"Good Russian salt,\" says Ivan the Ninny.\n\nNow in that country they had never heard of salt, and the Tzar looked\nat the salt, and he looked at Ivan and he laughed.\n\n\"Why, this,\" says he, \"is nothing but white dust, and that we can pick\nup for nothing. The men of my town have no need to trade with you. You\nmust be a ninny.\"\n\nIvan grew very red, for he knew what his father used to call him. He\nwas ashamed to say anything. So he bowed to the ground, and went away\nout of the palace.\n\nBut when he was outside he thought to himself, \"I wonder what sort of\nsalt they use in these parts if they do not know good Russian salt\nwhen they see it. I will go to the kitchen.\"\n\nSo he went round to the back door of the palace, and put his head into\nthe kitchen, and said, \"I am very tired. May I sit down here and rest\na little while?\"\n\n\"Come in,\" says one of the cooks. \"But you must sit just there, and\nnot put even your little finger in the way of us; for we are the\nTzar's cooks, and we are in the middle of making ready his dinner.\"\nAnd the cook put a stool in a corner out of the way, and Ivan slipped\nin round the door, and sat down in the corner and looked about him.\nThere were seven cooks at least, boiling and baking, and stewing and\ntoasting, and roasting and frying. And as for scullions, they were as\nthick as cockroaches, dozens of them, running to and fro, tumbling\nover each other, and helping the cooks.\n\nIvan the Ninny sat on his stool, with his legs tucked under him and\nthe bag of salt on his knees. He watched the cooks and the scullions,\nbut he did not see them put anything in the dishes which he thought\ncould take the place of salt. No; the meat was without salt, the kasha\nwas without salt, and there was no salt in the potatoes. Ivan nearly\nturned sick at the thought of the tastelessness of all that food.\n\nThere came the moment when all the cooks and scullions ran out of the\nkitchen to fetch the silver platters on which to lay the dishes. Ivan\nslipped down from his stool, and running from stove to stove, from\nsaucepan to frying pan, he dropped a pinch of salt, just what was\nwanted, no more no less, in everyone of the dishes. Then he ran back\nto the stool in the corner, and sat there, and watched the dishes\nbeing put on the silver platters and carried off in gold-embroidered\nnapkins to be the dinner of the Tzar.\n\nThe Tzar sat at table and took his first spoonful of soup.\n\n\"The soup is very good to-day,\" says he, and he finishes the soup to\nthe last drop.\n\n\"I've never known the soup so good,\" says the Tzaritza, and she\nfinishes hers.\n\n\"This is the best soup I ever tasted,\" says the Princess, and down\ngoes hers, and she, you know, was the prettiest princess who ever had\ndinner in this world.\n\nIt was the same with the kasha and the same with the meat. The Tzar\nand the Tzaritza and the Princess wondered why they had never had so\ngood a dinner in all their lives before.\n\n\"Call the cooks,\" says the Tzar. And they called the cooks, and the\ncooks all came in, and bowed to the ground, and stood in a row before\nthe Tzar.\n\n\"What did you put in the dishes to-day that you never put before?\"\nsays the Tzar.\n\n\"We put nothing unusual, your greatness,\" say the cooks, and bowed to\nthe ground again.\n\n\"Then why do the dishes taste better?\"\n\n\"We do not know, your greatness,\" say the cooks.\n\n\"Call the scullions,\" says the Tzar. And the scullions were called,\nand they too bowed to the ground, and stood in a row before the Tzar.\n\n\"What was done in the kitchen to-day that has not been done there\nbefore?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"Nothing, your greatness,\" say all the scullions except one.\n\nAnd that one scullion bowed again, and kept on bowing, and then he\nsaid, \"Please, your greatness, please, great lord, there is usually\nnone in the kitchen but ourselves; but to-day there was a young\nRussian merchant, who sat on a stool in the corner and said he was\ntired.\"\n\n\"Call the merchant,\" says the Tzar.\n\nSo they brought in Ivan the Ninny, and he bowed before the Tzar, and\nstood there with his little bag of salt in his hand.\n\n\"Did you do anything to my dinner?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"I did, your greatness,\" says Ivan.\n\n\"What did you do?\"\n\n\"I put a pinch of Russian salt in every dish.\"\n\n\"That white dust?\" says the Tzar.\n\n\"Nothing but that.\"\n\n\"Have you got any more of it?\"\n\n\"I have a little ship in the harbour laden with nothing else,\" says\nIvan.\n\n\"It is the most wonderful dust in the world,\" says the Tzar, \"and I\nwill buy every grain of it you have. What do you want for it?\"\n\nIvan the Ninny scratched his head and thought. He thought that if the\nTzar liked it as much as all that it must be worth a fair price, so he\nsaid, \"We will put the salt into bags, and for every bag of salt you\nmust give me three bags of the same weight--one of gold, one of\nsilver, and one of precious stones. Cheaper than that, your greatness,\nI could not possibly sell.\"\n\n\"Agreed,\" says the Tzar. \"And a cheap price, too, for a dust so full\nof magic that it makes dull dishes tasty, and tasty dishes so good\nthat there is no looking away from them.\"\n\nSo all the day long, and far into the night, the ancient old sailormen\nbent their backs under sacks of salt, and bent them again under sacks\nof gold and silver and precious stones. When all the salt had been put\nin the Tzar's treasury--yes, with twenty soldiers guarding it with\ngreat swords shining in the moonlight--and when the little ship was\nloaded with riches, so that even the deck was piled high with precious\nstones, the ancient old men lay down among the jewels and slept till\nmorning, when Ivan the Ninny went to bid good-bye to the Tzar.\n\n\"And whither shall you sail now?\" asked the Tzar.\n\n\"I shall sail away to Russia in my little ship,\" says Ivan.\n\nAnd the Princess, who was very beautiful, said, \"A little Russian\nship?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" says Ivan.\n\n\"I have never seen a Russian ship,\" says the Princess, and she begs\nher father to let her go to the harbour with her nurses and maids, to\nsee the little Russian ship before Ivan set sail.\n\nShe came with Ivan to the harbour, and the ancient old sailormen took\nthem on board.\n\nShe ran all over the ship, looking now at this and now at that, and\nIvan told her the names of everything--deck, mast, and rudder.\n\n\"May I see the sails?\" she asked. And the ancient old men hoisted the\nragged sails, and the wind filled the sails and tugged.\n\n\"Why doesn't the ship move when the sails are up?\" asked the Princess.\n\n\"The anchor holds her,\" said Ivan.\n\n\"Please let me see the anchor,\" says the Princess.\n\n\"Haul up the anchor, my children, and show it to the Princess,\" says\nIvan to the ancient old sailormen.\n\nAnd the old men hauled up the anchor, and showed it to the Princess;\nand she said it was a very good little anchor. But, of course, as soon\nas the anchor was up the ship began to move. One of the ancient old\nmen bent over the tiller, and, with a fair wind behind her, the little\nship slipped out of the harbour and away to the blue sea. When the\nPrincess looked round, thinking it was time to go home, the little\nship was far from land, and away in the distance she could only see\nthe gold towers of her father's palace, glittering like pin points in\nthe sunlight. Her nurses and maids wrung their hands and made an\noutcry, and the Princess sat down on a heap of jewels, and put a\nhandkerchief to her eyes, and cried and cried and cried.\n\nIvan the Ninny took her hands and comforted her, and told her of the\nwonders of the sea that he would show her, and the wonders of the\nland. And she looked up at him while he talked, and his eyes were kind\nand hers were sweet; and the end of it was that they were both very\nwell content, and agreed to have a marriage feast as soon as the\nlittle ship should bring them to the home of Ivan's father. Merry was\nthat voyage. All day long Ivan and the Princess sat on deck and said\nsweet things to each other, and at twilight they sang songs, and drank\ntea, and told stories. As for the nurses and maids, the Princess told\nthem to be glad; and so they danced and clapped their hands, and ran\nabout the ship, and teased the ancient old sailormen.\n\nWhen they had been sailing many days, the Princess was looking out\nover the sea, and she cried out to Ivan, \"See, over there, far away,\nare two big ships with white sails, not like our sails of brocade and\nbits of silk.\"\n\nIvan looked, shading his eyes with his hands.\n\n\"Why, those are the ships of my elder brothers,\" said he. \"We shall\nall sail home together.\"\n\nAnd he made the ancient old sailormen give a hail in their cracked old\nvoices. And the brothers heard them, and came on board to greet Ivan\nand his bride. And when they saw that she was a Tzar's daughter, and\nthat the very decks were heaped with precious stones, because there\nwas no room below, they said one thing to Ivan and something else to\neach other.\n\nTo Ivan they said, \"Thanks be to God, He has given you good trading.\"\n\nBut to each other, \"How can this be?\" says one. \"Ivan the Ninny\nbringing back such a cargo, while we in our fine ships have only a bag\nor two of gold.\"\n\n\"And what is Ivan the Ninny doing with a princess?\" says the other.\n\nAnd they ground their teeth, and waited their time, and came up\nsuddenly, when Ivan was alone in the twilight, and picked him up by\nhis head and his heels, and hove him overboard into the dark blue sea.\n\nNot one of the old men had seen them, and the Princess was not on\ndeck. In the morning they said that Ivan the Ninny must have walked\noverboard in his sleep. And they drew lots. The eldest brother took\nthe Princess, and the second brother took the little ship laden with\ngold and silver and precious stones. And so the brothers sailed home\nvery well content. But the Princess sat and wept all day long, looking\ndown into the blue water. The elder brother could not comfort her, and\nthe second brother did not try. And the ancient old sailormen muttered\nin their beards, and were sorry, and prayed to God to give rest to\nIvan's soul; for although he had been a ninny, and although he had\nmade them carry a lot of salt and other things, yet they loved him,\nbecause he knew how to talk to ancient old sailormen.\n\nBut Ivan was not dead. As soon as he splashed into the water, he\ncrammed his fur hat a little tighter on his head, and began swimming\nin the sea. He swam about until the sun rose, and then, not far away,\nhe saw a floating timber log, and he swam to the log, and got astride\nof it, and thanked God. And he sat there on the log in the middle of\nthe sea, twiddling his thumbs for want of something to do.\n\nThere was a strong current in the sea that carried him along, and at\nlast, after floating for many days without ever a bite for his teeth\nor a drop for his gullet, his feet touched land. Now that was at\nnight, and he left the log and walked up out of the sea, and lay down\non the shore and waited for morning.\n\nWhen the sun rose he stood up, and saw that he was on a bare island,\nand he saw nothing at all on the island except a huge house as big as\na mountain; and as he was looking at the house the great door creaked\nwith a noise like that of a hurricane among the pine forests, and\nopened; and a giant came walking out, and came to the shore, and stood\nthere, looking down at Ivan.\n\n\"What are you doing here, little one?\" says the giant.\n\nIvan told him the whole story, just as I have told it to you.\n\nThe giant listened to the very end, pulling at his monstrous whiskers.\nThen he said, \"Listen, little one. I know more of the story than you,\nfor I can tell you that to-morrow morning your eldest brother is going\nto marry your Princess. But there is no need for you to take on about\nit. If you want to be there, I will carry you and set you down before\nthe house in time for the wedding. And a fine wedding it is like to\nbe, for your father thinks well of those brothers of yours bringing\nback all those precious stones, and silver and gold enough to buy a\nkingdom.\"\n\nAnd with that he picked up Ivan the Ninny and set him on his great\nshoulders, and set off striding through the sea.\n\nHe went so fast that the wind of his going blew off Ivan's hat.\n\n\"Stop a moment,\" shouts Ivan; \"my hat has blown off.\"\n\n\"We can't turn back for that,\" says the giant; \"we have already left\nyour hat five hundred versts behind us.\" And he rushed on, splashing\nthrough the sea. The sea was up to his armpits. He rushed on, and the\nsea was up to his waist. He rushed on, and before the sun had climbed\nto the top of the blue sky he was splashing up out of the sea with the\nwater about his ankles. He lifted Ivan from his shoulders and set him\non the ground.\n\n\"Now,\" says he, \"little man, off you run, and you'll be in time for\nthe feast. But don't you dare to boast about riding on my shoulders.\nIf you open your mouth about that you'll smart for it, if I have to\ncome ten thousand thousand versts.\"\n\nIvan the Ninny thanked the giant for carrying him through the sea,\npromised that he would not boast, and then ran off to his father's\nhouse. Long before he got there he heard the musicians in the\ncourtyard playing as if they wanted to wear out their instruments\nbefore night. The wedding feast had begun, and when Ivan ran in,\nthere, at the high board, was sitting the Princess, and beside her his\neldest brother. And there were his father and mother, his second\nbrother, and all the guests. And everyone of them was as merry as\ncould be, except the Princess, and she was as white as the salt he had\nsold to her father.\n\nSuddenly the blood flushed into her cheeks. She saw Ivan in the\ndoorway. Up she jumped at the high board, and cried out, \"There, there\nis my true love, and not this man who sits beside me at the table.\"\n\n\"What is this?\" says Ivan's father, and in a few minutes knew the\nwhole story.\n\nHe turned the two elder brothers out of doors, gave their ships to\nIvan, married him to the Princess, and made him his heir. And the\nwedding feast began again, and they sent for the ancient old sailormen\nto take part in it. And the ancient old sailormen wept with joy when\nthey saw Ivan and the Princess, like two sweet pigeons, sitting side\nby side; yes, and they lifted their flagons with their old shaking\nhands, and cheered with their old cracked voices, and poured the wine\ndown their dry old throats.\n\nThere was wine enough and to spare, beer too, and mead--enough to\ndrown a herd of cattle. And as the guests drank and grew merry and\nproud they set to boasting. This one bragged of his riches, that one\nof his wife. Another boasted of his cunning, another of his new house,\nanother of his strength, and this one was angry because they would not\nlet him show how he could lift the table on one hand. They all drank\nIvan's health, and he drank theirs, and in the end he could not bear\nto listen to their proud boasts.\n\n\"That's all very well,\" says he, \"but I am the only man in the world\nwho rode on the shoulders of a giant to come to his wedding feast.\"\n\nThe words were scarcely out of his mouth before there were a\ntremendous trampling and a roar of a great wind. The house shook with\nthe footsteps of the giant as he strode up. The giant bent down over\nthe courtyard and looked in at the feast.\n\n\"Little man, little man,\" says he, \"you promised not to boast of me. I\ntold you what would come if you did, and here you are and have boasted\nalready.\"\n\n\"Forgive me,\" says Ivan; \"it was the drink that boasted, not I.\"\n\n\"What sort of drink is it that knows how to boast?\" says the giant.\n\n\"You shall taste it,\" says Ivan.\n\nAnd he made his ancient old sailormen roll a great barrel of wine into\nthe yard, more than enough for a hundred men, and after that a barrel\nof beer that was as big, and then a barrel of mead that was no\nsmaller.\n\n\"Try the taste of that,\" says Ivan the Ninny.\n\nWell, the giant did not wait to be asked twice. He lifted the barrel\nof wine as if it had been a little glass, and emptied it down his\nthroat. He lifted the barrel of beer as if it had been an acorn, and\nemptied it after the wine. Then he lifted the barrel of mead as if it\nhad been a very small pea, and swallowed every drop of mead that was\nin it. And after that he began stamping about and breaking things.\nHouses fell to pieces this way and that, and trees were swept flat\nlike grass. Every step the giant took was followed by the crash of\nbreaking timbers. Then suddenly he fell flat on his back and slept.\nFor three days and nights he slept without waking. At last he opened\nhis eyes.\n\n\"Just look about you,\" says Ivan, \"and see the damage that you've\ndone.\"\n\n\"And did that little drop of drink make me do all that?\" says the\ngiant. \"Well, well, I can well understand that a drink like that can\ndo a bit of bragging. And after that,\" says he, looking at the wrecks\nof houses, and all the broken things scattered about--\"after that,\"\nsays he, \"you can boast of me for a thousand years, and I'll have\nnothing against you.\"\n\nAnd he tugged at his great whiskers, and wrinkled his eyes, and went\nstriding off into the sea.\n\nThat is the story about salt, and how it made a rich man of Ivan the\nNinny, and besides, gave him the prettiest wife in the world, and she\na Tzar's daughter.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHRISTENING IN THE VILLAGE.\n\n\nThis chapter is not one of old Peter's stories, though there are,\ndoubtless, some stories in it. It tells how Vanya and Maroosia drove\nto the village to see a new baby.\n\nOld Peter had a sister who lived in the village not so very far away\nfrom the forest. And she had a plump daughter, and the daughter was\ncalled Nastasia, and she was married to a handsome peasant called\nSergie, who had three cows, a lot of pigs, and a flock of fat geese.\nAnd one day when old Peter had gone to the village to buy tobacco and\nsugar and sunflower seeds, he came back in the evening, and said to\nthe children,--\n\n\"There's something new in the village.\"\n\n\"What sort of a something?\" asked Vanya.\n\n\"Alive,\" said old Peter.\n\n\"Is there a lot of it?\" asked Vanya.\n\n\"No, only one.\"\n\n\"Then it can't be pigs,\" said Vanya, in a melancholy voice. \"I thought\nit was pigs.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it is a little calf,\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"I know what it is,\" said Vanya.\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"It's a foal. It's brown all over with white on its nose, and a lot of\nwhite hairs in its tail.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What is it then, grandfather?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you, little pigeons. It's small and red, and it's got a\nbumpy head with hair on it like the fluff of a duckling. It has blue\neyes, and ten fingers to its fore paws, and ten toes to its hind\nfeet--five to each.\"\n\n\"It's a baby,\" said Maroosia.\n\n\"Yes. Nastasia has got a little son, Aunt Sofia has got a grandson,\nyou have got a new cousin, and I have got a new great-nephew. Think of\nthat! Already it's a son, and a cousin, and a grandson, and a\ngreat-nephew, and he's only been alive twelve hours. He lost no time\nin taking a position for himself. He'll be a great man one of these\ndays if he goes on as fast as that.\"\n\nThe children had jumped up as soon as they knew it was a baby.\n\n\"When is the christening?\"\n\n\"The day after to-morrow.\"\n\n\"O grandfather!\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"Who is going to the christening?\"\n\n\"The baby, of course.\"\n\n\"Yes; but other people?\"\n\n\"All the village.\"\n\n\"And us?\"\n\n\"I have to go, and I suppose there'll be room in the cart for two\nlittle bear cubs like you.\"\n\nAnd so it was settled that Vanya and Maroosia were to go to the\nchristening of their new cousin, who was only twelve hours old. All\nthe next day they could think of nothing else, and early on the\nmorning of the christening they were up and about, Maroosia seeing\nthat Vanya had on a clean shirt, and herself putting a green ribbon in\nher hair. The sun shone, and the leaves on the trees were all new and\nbright, and the sky was pale blue through the flickering green leaves.\n\nOld Peter was up early too, harnessing the little yellow horse into\nthe old cart. The cart was of rough wood, without springs, like a big\nbox fixed on long larch poles between two pairs of wheels. The larch\npoles did instead of springs, bending and creaking, as the cart moved\nover the forest track. The shafts came from the front wheels upwards\nto the horse's shoulders, and between the ends of them there was a\ntall strong hoop of wood, called a douga, which rose high over the\nshoulders of the horse, above his collar, and had two little bells\nhanging from it at the top. The wooden hoop was painted green with\nlittle red flowers. The harness was mostly of ropes, but that did not\nmatter so long as it held together. The horse had a long tail and\nmane, and looked as untidy as a little boy; but he had a green ribbon\nin his forelock in honour of the christening, and he could go like\nanything, and never got tired.\n\nWhen all was ready, old Peter arranged a lot of soft fresh hay in the\ncart for the children to sit in. Hay is the best thing in the world to\nsit in when you drive in a jolting Russian cart. Old Peter put in a\ntremendous lot, so that the horse could eat some of it while waiting\nin the village, and yet leave them enough to make them comfortable on\nthe journey back. Finally, old Peter took a gun that he had spent all\nthe evening before in cleaning, and laid it carefully in the hay.\n\n\"What is the gun for?\" asked Vanya.\n\n\"I am to be a godparent,\" said old Peter, \"and I want to give him a\npresent. I could not give him a better present than a gun, for he\nshall be a forester, and a good shot, and you cannot begin too early.\"\n\nPresently Vanya and Maroosia were tucked into the hay, and old Peter\nclimbed in with the plaited reins, and away they went along the narrow\nforest track, where the wheels followed the ruts and splashed through\nthe deep holes; for the spring was young, and the roads had not yet\ndried. Some of the deepest holes had a few pine branches laid in them,\nbut that was the only road-mending that ever was done. Overhead were\nthe tall firs and silver birches with their little pale round leaves;\nand somewhere, not far away, a cuckoo was calling, while the murmur of\nthe wild pigeons never stopped for a moment.\n\nThey drove on and on through the forest, and at last came out from\namong the trees into the open country, a broad, flat plain stretching\nto the river. Far away they could see the big square sail of a boat,\nswelled out in the light wind, and they knew that there was the river,\non the banks of which stood the village. They could see a small clump\nof trees, and, as they came nearer, the pale green cupolas of the\nwhite village church rising above the tops of the birches.\n\nPresently they came to a rough wooden bridge, and crossed over a\nlittle stream that was on its way to join the big river.\n\nVanya looked at it.\n\n\"Grandfather,\" he asked, \"when the frost went, which was water\nfirst--the big river or the little river?\"\n\n\"Why, the little river, of course,\" said old Peter. \"It's always the\nlittle streams that wake first in the spring, and running down to the\nbig river make it swell and flood and break up the ice. It's always\nbeen so ever since the quarrel between the Vazouza and the Volga.\"\n\n\"What was that?\" said Vanya.\n\n\"It was like this,\" said old Peter.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Vazouza and the Volga flow for a long way side by side, and then\nthey join and flow together. And the Vazouza is a little river; but\nthe Volga is the mother of all Russia, and the greatest river in the\nworld.\n\nAnd the little Vazouza was jealous of the Volga.\n\n\"You are big and noisy,\" she says to the Volga, \"and terribly strong;\nbut as for brains,\" says she, \"why, I have more brains in a single\nripple than you in all that lump of water.\"\n\nOf course the Volga told her not to be so rude, and said that little\nrivers should know their place and not argue with the great.\n\nBut the Vazouza would not keep quiet, and at last she said to the\nVolga: \"Look here, we will lie down and sleep, and we will agree that\nthe one of us who wakes first and comes first to the sea is the wiser\nof the two.\"\n\nAnd the Volga said, \"Very well, if only you will stop talking.\"\n\nSo the little Vazouza and the big Volga lay and slept, white and\nstill, all through the winter. And when the spring came, the little\nVazouza woke first, brisk and laughing and hurrying, and rushed away\nas hard as she could go towards the sea. When the Volga woke the\nlittle Vazouza was already far ahead. But the Volga did not hurry. She\nwoke slowly and shook the ice from herself, and then came roaring\nafter the Vazouza, a huge foaming flood of angry water.\n\nAnd the little Vazouza listened as she ran, and she heard the Volga\ncoming after her; and when the Volga caught her up--a tremendous\nfoaming river, whirling along trees and blocks of ice--she was\nfrightened, and she said,--\n\n\"O Volga, let me be your little sister. I will never argue with you\nany more. You are wiser than I and stronger than I. Only take me by\nthe hand and bring me with you to the sea.\"\n\nAnd the Volga forgave the little Vazouza, and took her by the hand and\nbrought her safely to the sea. And they have never quarrelled again.\nBut all the same, it is always the little Vazouza that gets up first\nin the spring, and tugs at the white blankets of ice and snow, and\nwakes her big sister from her winter sleep.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey drove on over the flat open country, with no hedges, but only\nditches to drain off the floods, and very often not even ditches to\ndivide one field from another. And huge crows, with gray hoods and\nshawls, pecked about in the grass at the roadside or flew heavily in\nthe sunshine. They passed a little girl with a flock of geese, and\nanother little girl lying in the grass holding a long rope which was\nfastened to the horns of a brown cow. And the little girl lay on her\nface and slept among the flowers, while the cow walked slowly round\nher, step by step, chewing the grass and thinking about nothing at\nall.\n\nAnd at last they came to the village, where the road was wider; and\ninstead of one pair of ruts there were dozens, and the cart bumped\nworse than ever. The broad earthy road had no stones in it; and in\nplaces where the puddles would have been deeper than the axles of the\nwheels, it had been mended by laying down fir logs and small branches\nin the puddles, and putting a few spadefuls of earth on the top of\nthem.\n\nThe road ran right through the village. On either side of it were\nlittle wooden huts. The ends of the timbers crossed outside at the\nfour corners of the huts. They fitted neatly into each other, and some\nof them were carved. And there were no slates or tiles on the roofs,\nbut little thin slips of wood overlapping each other. There was not a\nsingle stone hut or cottage in the village. Only the church was partly\nbrick, whitewashed, with bright green cupolas up in the air, and thin\ngold crosses on the tops of the cupolas, shining in the clear sky.\n\nOutside the church were rows of short posts, with long rough fir\ntimbers nailed on the top of them, to which the country people tied\ntheir horses when they came to church. There were several carts there\nalready, with bright-coloured rugs lying on the hay in them; and the\nhorses were eating hay or biting the logs. Always, except when the\nlogs are quite new, you can tell the favourite places for tying up\nhorses to them, because the timbers will have deep holes in them,\nwhere they have been gnawed away by the horses' teeth. They bite the\ntimbers, while their masters eat sunflower seeds, not for food, but to\npass the time.\n\n\"Now then,\" said old Peter, as he got down from the cart, tied the\nhorse, gave him an armful of hay from the cart, and lifted the\nchildren out. \"Be quick. We shall be late if we don't take care. I\nbelieve we are late already.--Good health to you, Fedor,\" he said to\nan old peasant; \"and has the baby gone in?\"\n\n\"He has, Peter. And my health is not so bad; and how is yours?\"\n\n\"Good also, Fedor, thanks be to God. And will you see to these two?\nfor I am a godparent, and must be near the priest.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" said the old peasant Fedor. \"How they do grow, to be\nsure, like young birch trees. Come along then, little pigeons.\"\n\nOld Peter hurried into the church, followed by Fedor with Vanya and\nMaroosia. They all crossed themselves and said a prayer as they went\nin.\n\nThe ceremony was just beginning.\n\nThe priest, in his silk robes, was standing before the gold and\npainted screen at the end of the church, and there were the basin of\nholy water, and old Peter's sister, and the nurse Babka Tanya, very\nproud, holding the baby in a roll of white linen, and rocking it to\nand fro. There were coloured pictures of saints all over the screen,\nwhich stretches from one side of the church to the other. Some of the\npictures were framed in gilt frames under glass, and were partly\npainted and partly metal. The faces and hands of the saints were\npainted, and their clothes were glittering silver or gold. Little\nlamps were burning in front of them, and candles.\n\nA Russian christening is very different from an English one. For one\nthing, the baby goes right into the water, not once, but three times.\nBabka Tanya unrolled the baby, and the priest covered its face with\nhis hand, and down it went under the water, once, twice, and again.\nThen he took some of the sacred ointment on his finger and anointed\nthe baby's forehead, and feet, and hands, and little round stomach.\nThen, with a pair of scissors, he cut a little pinch of fluff from the\nbaby's head, and rolled it into a pellet with the ointment, and threw\nthe pellet into the holy water. And after that the baby was carried\nsolemnly three times round the holy water. The priest blessed it and\nprayed for it; and there it was, a little true Russian, ready to be\ncarried back to its mother, Nastasia, who lay at home in her cottage\nwaiting for it.\n\nWhen they got outside the church, they all went to Nastasia's cottage\nto congratulate her on her baby, and to tell her what good lungs it\nhad, and what a handsome face, and how it was exactly like its father.\n\nNastasia smiled at Vanya and Maroosia; but they had no eyes except for\nthe baby, and for all that belonged to it, especially its cradle. Now\na Russian baby has a very much finer cradle than an English baby. A\nlong fir pole is fastened in the middle and at one end to the beams in\nthe ceiling of the hut, so that the other end swings free, just below\nthe rafters. From this end is hung a big basket, and on the ropes by\nwhich the basket hangs are fastened shawls of bright colours. The baby\nis tucked in the basket, the shawls closed round it; and as the mother\nor the nurse sits at her spinning, she just kicks the basket gently\nnow and again, and it swings up and down from the end of the pole, as\nif it were hung from the branch of a tree.\n\nThis baby had a fine new basket and a larch pole, newly fixed, white\nand shining, under the dark beams of the ceiling. It had presents\nbesides old Peter's gun. It had a fine wooden spoon with a picture on\nit of a cottage and a fish. It had a wooden bowl and a painted mug,\nbought from one of the peddling barges that go up and down the rivers\nselling chairs and crockery, just like the caravans that travel our\nEnglish roads. And also, although it was so young, it had a little\nsacred picture, made of metal, a picture of St. Nikolai; because this\nwas St. Nikolai's day, and the baby was called Nikolai.\n\nThere was a samovar already steaming in the cottage, and a great cake\nof pastry, and cabbage and egg and fish. And there were cabbage soup\nwith sour cream, and black bread and a little white bread, and red\nkisel jelly and a huge jug of milk.\n\nAnd everybody ate and drank and talked as if they were never going to\nstop. The sun was warm, and presently the men went outside and sat on\na log, leaning their backs against the wall of the hut and making\ncigarettes and smoking, or eating sunflower seeds, cracking the husks\nwith their teeth, taking out the white kernels, and blowing the husks\naway. And the women sat in the hut, and now and then brought out\nglasses of hot tea to the men, and then went back again to talk of\nwhat a fine man the baby would be, and to remember other babies. And\nthe old women looked at the young mothers and laughed, and said that\nthey could remember the days when they were christened--when they were\nbabies themselves, no bigger than the little Nikolai who swung in the\nbasket and squalled, or slept proudly, just as if he knew that all the\nworld belonged to him because he was so very young. And Vanya and\nMaroosia ate sunflower seeds too, and sometimes played outside the\ncottage and sometimes inside; but mostly stood very quiet close to the\nswinging cradle, waiting till old Babka Tanya, the nurse, should pull\nthe shawls a little way aside and let them see the pink, crumpled\nface of the little Nikolai, and the yellow fluff, just like a\nduckling's, which covered his bumpy pink head.\n\nAt last, towards evening, old Peter packed what was left of the hay\ninto the cart, and packed Vanya and Maroosia in with the hay.\nEverybody said good-byes all round, and Peter climbed in and took up\nthe rope reins.\n\n\"He'll be a fine man,\" he shouted through the door to Nastasia, \"a\nfine man; and God grant he'll be as healthy as he is good.--Till we\nmeet again,\" he cried out merrily to the villagers; and Vanya and\nMaroosia waved their hands, and off they drove, back again to the hut\nin the forest.\n\nThey were very much quieter on the way back than they had been when\nthey drove to the village in the morning. And the early summer day was\nquiet as it came to its end. There was a corncrake rattling in the\nfields, and more than once they saw frogs hop out of the road as they\ndrove by in the twilight. A hare ran before them through the dusk and\ndisappeared. And when they came to the wooden bridge over the stream,\na tall gray bird with a long beak rose up from the bank and flew\nslowly away, carrying his long legs, like a thin pair of crutches,\nstraight out behind him.\n\n\"Who is that?\" asked Vanya sleepily from his nest in the hay.\n\n\"That is Mr. Crane,\" said old Peter. \"Perhaps he is on his way to\nvisit Miss Heron and tell her that this time he has really made up his\nmind, and to ask her to let bygones be bygones.\"\n\n\"What bygones?\" said Vanya.\n\nOld Peter watched the crane's slow, steady flight above the low marshy\nground on either side of the stream, and then he said,--\n\n\"Why, surely you know all about that. It is an old story, little one,\nand I must have told it you a dozen times.\"\n\n\"No, never, grandfather,\" said Maroosia. She was nearly as sleepy as\nVanya after the day in the village, and the fuss and pleasure of the\nchristening.\n\n\"Oh, well,\" said old Peter; and he told the tale of Mr. Crane and Miss\nHeron as the cart bumped slowly along the rough road, while Vanya and\nMaroosia looked out with sleepy eyes from their nest of hay and\nlistened, and the sky turned green, and the trees grew dim, and the\nfrogs croaked in the ditches.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMr. Crane and Miss Heron lived in a marsh five miles across from end to\nend. They lived there, and fed on the frogs which they caught in their\nlong bills, and held up in the air for a moment, and then swallowed,\nstanding on one leg. The marsh was always damp, and there were always\nplenty of frogs, and life went well for them, except that they saw\nvery little company. They had no one to pass the time of day with. For\nMr. Crane had built his little hut on one side of the marsh, and Miss\nHeron had built hers on the other.\n\nSo it came into the head of Mr. Crane that it was dull work living\nalone. If only I were married, he thought, there would be two of us to\ndrink our tea beside the samovar at night, and I should not spend my\nevenings in melancholy, thinking only of frogs. I will go to see Miss\nHeron, and I will offer to marry her.\n\nSo off he flew to the other side of the marsh, flap, flap, with his\nlegs hanging out behind, just as we saw him to-night. He came to the\nother side of the marsh, and flew down to the hut of Miss Heron. He\ntapped on the door with his long beak.\n\n\"Is Miss Heron at home?\"\n\n\"At home,\" said Miss Heron.\n\n\"Will you marry me?\" said Mr. Crane.\n\n\"Of course I won't,\" said Miss Heron; \"your legs are long and\nill-shaped, and your coat is short, and you fly awkwardly, and you are\nnot even rich. You would have no dainties to feed me with. Off with\nyou, long-bodied one, and don't come bothering me.\"\n\nShe shut the door in his face.\n\nMr. Crane looked the fool he thought himself, and went off home,\nwishing he had never made the journey.\n\nBut as soon as he was gone, Miss Heron, sitting alone in her hut,\nbegan to think things over and to be sorry she had spoken in such a\nhurry.\n\n\"After all,\" thinks she, \"it is poor work living alone. And Mr. Crane,\nin spite of what I said about his looks, is really a handsome enough\nyoung fellow. Indeed at evening, when he stands on one leg, he is very\nhandsome indeed. Yes, I will go and marry him.\"\n\nSo off flew Miss Heron, flap, flap, over five miles of marsh, and came\nto the hut of Mr. Crane.\n\n\"Is the master at home?\"\n\n\"At home,\" said Mr. Crane.\n\n\"Ah, Mr. Crane,\" said Miss Heron, \"I was chaffing you just now. When\nshall we be married?\"\n\n\"No, Miss Heron,\" said Mr. Crane; \"I have no need of you at all. I do\nnot wish to marry, and I would not take you for my wife even if I\ndid. Clear out, and let me see the last of you.\" He shut the door.\n\nMiss Heron wept tears of shame, that ran from her eyes down her long\nbill and dropped one by one to the ground. Then she flew away home,\nwishing she had not come.\n\nAs soon as she was gone Mr. Crane began to think, and he said to\nhimself, \"What a fool I was to be so short with Miss Heron! It's dull\nliving alone. Since she wants it, I will marry her.\" And he flew off\nafter Miss Heron. He came to her hut, and told her,--\n\n\"Miss Heron, I have thought things over. I have decided to marry you.\"\n\n\"Mr. Crane,\" said Miss Heron, \"I, too, have thought things over. I\nwould not marry you, not for ten thousand young frogs.\"\n\nOff flew Mr. Crane.\n\nAs soon as he was gone Miss Heron thought, \"Why didn't I agree to\nmarry Mr. Crane? It's dull alone. I will go at once and tell him I\nhave changed my mind.\"\n\nShe flew off to betroth herself; but Mr. Crane would have none of her,\nand she flew back again.\n\nAnd so they go on to this day--first one and then the other flying\nacross the marsh with an offer of marriage, and flying back with\nshame. They have never married, and never will.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Grandfather,\" whispered Maroosia, tugging at old Peter's sleeve,\n\"Vanya is asleep.\"\n\nThey drove on through the forest silently, except for the creaking of\nthe cart and the loud singing of the nightingales in the tops of the\ntall firs. They came at last to their hut.\n\n\"Ah!\" said old Peter, as he lifted them out, first one and then the\nother; \"it isn't only Vanya who's asleep.\" And he carried them in, and\nput them to bed without waking them.\n\nTHE END.","title":"Old Peter's Russian Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":68691}