{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_29672/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_29672","id":"gutenberg_29672","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29672","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales","Fairy tales -- Ukraine","Folklore -- Ukraine","Tales -- Ukraine"],"text":"Produced by David Edwards, Dan Horwood and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net. (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCOSSACK\nFAIRY TALES\n\n\n\n\n_Uniform with this Volume_\n\nRUSSIAN FAIRY TALES\n\nFrom the Skazki of Polevoi. By\nR. NISBET BAIN. Illustrated in\nColour and Black and White by\nNOEL L. NISBET\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: THEY CAME TO THE PLACE WHERE HE HAD LEFT HER\nPAGE 79]\n\n\n\n\nCOSSACK\nFAIRY TALES\nAND FOLK TALES SELECTED\nEDITED AND TRANSLATED BY\nR. NISBET BAIN ILLUSTRATED BY\nNOEL L. NISBET\n\n\n\n\nLONDON: GEORGE G. HARRAP & CO.\n2 & 3 PORTSMOUTH STREET KINGSWAY W.C.\nMCMXVI\n\n\n\n\nPRINTED AT THE COMPLETE PRESS\nWEST NORWOOD ENGLAND\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                            PAGE\n  Introduction                                                 9\n  Oh: The Tsar of the Forest                                  15\n  The Story of the Wind                                       29\n  The Voices at the Window                                    49\n  The Story of Little Tsar Novishny, the False Sister, and\n      the Faithful Beasts                                     57\n  The Vampire and St Michael                                  83\n  The Story of Tremsin, the Bird Zhar, and Nastasia, the\n      Lovely Maid of the Sea                                  95\n  The Serpent-Wife                                           105\n  The Story of Unlucky Daniel                                111\n  The Sparrow and the Bush                                   123\n  The Old Dog                                                129\n  The Fox and the Cat                                        133\n  The Straw Ox                                               139\n  The Golden Slipper                                         147\n  The Iron Wolf                                              159\n  The Three Brothers                                         167\n  The Tsar and the Angel                                     173\n  The Story of Ivan and the Daughter of the Sun              183\n  The Cat, the Cock, and the Fox                             191\n  The Serpent-Tsarevich and His Two Wives                    197\n  The Origin of the Mole                                     207\n  The Two Princes                                            211\n  The Ungrateful Children and the Old Father Who Went to\n      School Again                                           219\n  Ivan the Fool and St Peter's Fife                          229\n  The Magic Egg                                              239\n  The Story of the Forty-First Brother                       255\n  The Story of the Unlucky Days                              261\n  The Wondrous Story of Ivan Golik and the Serpents          267\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n                                                            PAGE\n  They came to the place where he had left her      Frontispiece\n  All manner of evil powers walked abroad                     16\n  \"How much do you want for that horse?\"                      24\n  The wind came and swept all his corn away                   30\n  \"Out of the drum, my henchmen!\"                             40\n  The Tsarivna arose from her coffin                          86\n  They were both on their knees                               90\n  Daniel waved his sword                                     114\n  His wife caressed and wheedled him                         118\n  The girl drove the heifer out to graze                     148\n  The Tsar's councillors went to the houses of all\n      the nobles and princes                                 154\n  The Tsar went about inquiring of his people if\n      any were wronged                                       178\n  The rulers of Hell laid hands upon the overseer\n      straightway                                            186\n  Nineteen times did she cast off one of her suits\n      of clothes                                             198\n  Suddenly St Peter appeared to him                          230\n  Ivan Golik drew the bow                                    276\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION TO THE\nFIRST EDITION\n\n\nThe favourable reception given to my volume of _Russian Fairy Tales_\nhas encouraged me to follow it up with a sister volume of stories\nselected from another Slavonic dialect extraordinarily rich in\nfolk-tales--I mean Ruthenian, the language of the Cossacks.\n\nRuthenian is a language intermediate between Russian and Polish, but\nquite independent of both. Its territory embraces, roughly speaking,\nthat vast plain which lies between the Carpathians, the watershed of\nthe Dnieper, and the Sea of Azov, with Lemberg and Kiev for its chief\nintellectual centres. Though it has been rigorously repressed by the\nRussian Government, it is still spoken by more than twenty millions of\npeople. It possesses a noble literature, numerous folk-songs, not\ninferior even to those of Serbia, and, what chiefly concerns us now, a\ncopious collection of justly admired folk-tales, many of them of great\nantiquity, which are regarded, both in Russia and Poland, as quite\nunique of their kind. Mr Ralston, I fancy, was the first to call the\nattention of the West to these curious stories, though the want at\nthat time of a good Ruthenian dictionary (a want since supplied by the\nexcellent lexicon of Zhelekhovsky and Nidilsky) prevented him from\nutilizing them. Another Slavonic scholar, Mr Morfill, has also\nfrequently alluded to them in terms of enthusiastic but by no means\nextravagant praise.\n\nThe three chief collections of Ruthenian folk-lore are those of\nKulish, Rudchenko, and Dragomanov, which represent, at least\napproximately, the three dialects into which Ruthenian is generally\ndivided. It is from these three collections that the present selection\nhas been made. Kulish, who has the merit of priority, was little more\nthan a pioneer, his contribution merely consisting of some dozen\n_kazki_ (_Maerchen_) and _kazochiki_ (_Maerchenlein_), incorporated in\nthe second volume of his _Zapiski o yuzhnoi Rusi_ (\"Descriptions of\nSouth Russia,\" Petrograd, 1856-7). Twelve years later Rudchenko\npublished at Kiev what is still, on the whole, the best collection of\nRuthenian folk-tales, under the title of _Narodnuiya Yuzhnorusskiya\nSkazki_ (\"Popular South Russian Folk-tales\"). Like Linnroet among the\nFinns, Rudchenko took down the greater part of these tales direct from\nthe lips of the people. In a second volume, published in the following\nyear, he added other stories gleaned from various minor manuscript\ncollections of great rarity. In 1876 the Imperial Russian Geographical\nSociety published at Kiev, under the title of _Malorusskiya Narodnuiya\nPredonyia i Razkazui_ (\"Little-Russian Popular Traditions and Tales\"),\nan edition of as many manuscript collections of Ruthenian folk-lore\n(including poems, proverbs, riddles, and rites) as it could lay its\nhands upon. This collection, though far less rich in variants than\nRudchenko's, contained many original tales which had escaped him, and\nwas ably edited by Michael Dragomanov, by whose name, indeed, it is\ngenerally known.\n\nThe present attempt to popularize these Cossack stories is, I\nbelieve, the first translation ever made from Ruthenian into\nEnglish. The selection, though naturally restricted, is fairly\nrepresentative; every variety of folk-tale has a place in it, and it\nshould never be forgotten that the Ruthenian _kazka_ (_Maerchen_),\nowing to favourable circumstances, has managed to preserve far more of\nthe fresh spontaneity and naive simplicity of the primitive folk-tale\nthan her more sophisticated sister, the Russian _skazka_. It is\nmaintained, moreover, by Slavonic scholars that there are peculiar\nand original elements in these stories not to be found in the\nfolk-lore of other European peoples; such data, for instance, as the\nmagic handkerchiefs (generally beneficial, but sometimes, as in the\nstory of Ivan Golik, terribly baleful), the demon-expelling\nhemp-and-tar whips, and the magic cattle-teeming egg, so mischievous\na possession to the unwary. It may be so, but, after all that Mr\nAndrew Lang has taught us on the subject, it would be rash for any\nmere philologist to assert positively that there can be anything\nreally new in folk-lore under the sun. On the other hand, the\ncomparative isolation and primitiveness of the Cossacks, and their\nremoteness from the great theatres of historical events, would seem\nto be favourable conditions both for the safe preservation of old\nmyths and the easy development of new ones. It is for professional\nstudents of folk-lore to study the original documents for themselves.\n\n                                                          R. N. B.\n\n\n\n\nOH: THE TSAR OF THE FOREST\n\n\nThe olden times were not like the times _we_ live in. In the olden\ntimes all manner of Evil Powers[1] walked abroad. The world itself was\nnot then as it is now: now there are no such Evil Powers among us.\nI'll tell you a _kazka_[2] of Oh, the Tsar of the Forest, that you may\nknow what manner of being he was.\n\n   [1] _Div._ This ancient, untranslatable word (comp. Latin _deus_) is\n       probably of Lithuanian origin, and means any malefic power.\n\n   [2] A folk-tale; Russ. _skazka_, Ger. _Maerchen_.\n\n[Illustration: ALL MANNER OF EVIL POWERS WALKED ABROAD]\n\nOnce upon a time, long long ago, beyond the times that we can call to\nmind, ere yet our great-grandfathers or their grandfathers had been\nborn into the world, there lived a poor man and his wife, and they had\none only son, who was not as an only son ought to be to his old father\nand mother. So idle and lazy was that only son that Heaven help him!\nHe would do nothing, he would not even fetch water from the well, but\nlay on the stove all day long and rolled among the warm cinders. If\nthey gave him anything to eat, he ate it; and if they didn't give him\nanything to eat, he did without. His father and mother fretted sorely\nbecause of him, and said, \"What are we to do with thee, O son? for\nthou art good for nothing. Other people's children are a stay and a\nsupport to their parents, but thou art but a fool and dost consume our\nbread for naught.\" But it was of no use at all. He would do nothing\nbut sit on the stove and play with the cinders. So his father and\nmother grieved over him for many a long day, and at last his mother\nsaid to his father, \"What is to be done with our son? Thou dost see\nthat he has grown up and yet is of no use to us, and he is so foolish\nthat we can do nothing with him. Look now, if we can send him away,\nlet us send him away; if we can hire him out, let us hire him out;\nperchance other folk may be able to do more with him than we can.\" So\nhis father and mother laid their heads together, and sent him to a\ntailor's to learn tailoring. There he remained three days, but then he\nran away home, climbed up on the stove, and again began playing with\nthe cinders. His father then gave him a sound drubbing and sent him to\na cobbler's to learn cobbling, but again he ran away home. His father\ngave him another drubbing and sent him to a blacksmith to learn\nsmith's work. But there too he did not remain long, but ran away home\nagain, so what was that poor father to do? \"I'll tell thee what I'll\ndo with thee, thou son of a dog!\" said he. \"I'll take thee, thou lazy\nlout, into another kingdom. There, perchance, they will be able to\nteach thee better than they can here, and it will be too far for thee\nto run home.\" So he took him and set out on his journey.\n\nThey went on and on, they went a short way and they went a long way,\nand at last they came to a forest so dark that they could see neither\nearth nor sky. They went through this forest, but in a short time they\ngrew very tired, and when they came to a path leading to a clearing\nfull of large tree-stumps, the father said, \"I am so tired out that I\nwill rest here a little,\" and with that he sat down on a tree-stump\nand cried, \"Oh, how tired I am!\" He had no sooner said these words\nthan out of the tree-stump, nobody could say how, sprang such a\nlittle, little old man, all so wrinkled and puckered, and his beard\nwas quite green and reached right down to his knee.--\"What dost thou\nwant of me, O man?\" he asked.--The man was amazed at the strangeness\nof his coming to light, and said to him, \"I did not call thee;\nbegone!\"--\"How canst thou say that when thou didst call me?\" asked the\nlittle old man.--\"Who art thou, then?\" asked the father.--\"I am Oh,\nthe Tsar of the Woods,\" replied the old man; \"why didst thou call me,\nI say?\"--\"Away with thee, I did not call thee,\" said the man.--\"What!\nthou didst not call me when thou saidst 'Oh'?\"--\"I was tired, and\ntherefore I said 'Oh'!\" replied the man.--\"Whither art thou going?\"\nasked Oh.--\"The wide world lies before me,\" sighed the man. \"I am\ntaking this sorry blockhead of mine to hire him out to somebody or\nother. Perchance other people may be able to knock more sense into him\nthan we can at home; but send him whither we will, he always comes\nrunning home again!\"--\"Hire him out to me. I'll warrant I'll teach\nhim,\" said Oh. \"Yet I'll only take him on one condition. Thou shalt\ncome back for him when a year has run, and if thou dost know him\nagain, thou mayst take him; but if thou dost not know him again, he\nshall serve another year with me.\"--\"Good!\" cried the man. So they\nshook hands upon it, had a good drink to clinch the bargain, and the\nman went back to his own home, while Oh took the son away with him.\n\nOh took the son away with him, and they passed into the other world,\nthe world beneath the earth, and came to a green hut woven out of\nrushes, and in this hut everything was green; the walls were green and\nthe benches were green, and Oh's wife was green and his children were\ngreen--in fact, everything there was green. And Oh had water-nixies\nfor serving-maids, and they were all as green as rue. \"Sit down now!\"\nsaid Oh to his new labourer, \"and have a bit of something to eat.\" The\nnixies then brought him some food, and that also was green, and he ate\nof it. \"And now,\" said Oh, \"take my labourer into the courtyard that\nhe may chop wood and draw water.\" So they took him into the courtyard,\nbut instead of chopping any wood he lay down and went to sleep. Oh\ncame out to see how he was getting on, and there he lay a-snoring.\nThen Oh seized him, and bade them bring wood and tie his labourer fast\nto the wood, and set the wood on fire till the labourer was burnt to\nashes. Then Oh took the ashes and scattered them to the four winds,\nbut a single piece of burnt coal fell from out of the ashes, and this\ncoal he sprinkled with living water, whereupon the labourer\nimmediately stood there alive again and somewhat handsomer and\nstronger than before. Oh again bade him chop wood, but again he went\nto sleep. Then Oh again tied him to the wood and burnt him and\nscattered the ashes to the four winds and sprinkled the remnant of the\ncoal with living water, and instead of the loutish clown there stood\nthere such a handsome and stalwart Cossack[3] that the like of him can\nneither be imagined nor described but only told of in tales.\n\n   [3] _Kozak_, a Cossack, being the ideal human hero of the Ruthenians,\n       just as a _bogatyr_ is a hero of the demi-god type, as the name\n       implies.\n\nThere, then, the lad remained for a year, and at the end of the year\nthe father came for his son. He came to the self-same charred stumps\nin the self-same forest, sat him down, and said, \"Oh!\" Oh immediately\ncame out of the charred stump and said, \"Hail! O man!\"--\"Hail to thee,\nOh!\"--\"And what dost thou want, O man?\" asked Oh.--\"I have come,\" said\nhe, \"for my son.\"--\"Well, come then! If thou dost know him again, thou\nshalt take him away; but if thou dost not know him, he shall serve\nwith me yet another year.\" So the man went with Oh. They came to his\nhut, and Oh took whole handfuls of millet and scattered it about, and\nmyriads of cocks came running up and pecked it. \"Well, dost thou know\nthy son again?\" said Oh. The man stared and stared. There was nothing\nbut cocks, and one cock was just like another. He could not pick out\nhis son. \"Well,\" said Oh, \"as thou dost not know him, go home again;\nthis year thy son must remain in my service.\" So the man went home\nagain.\n\nThe second year passed away, and the man again went to Oh. He came to\nthe charred stumps and said, \"Oh!\" and Oh popped out of the tree-stump\nagain. \"Come!\" said he, \"and see if thou canst recognize him now.\"\nThen he took him to a sheep-pen, and there were rows and rows of rams,\nand one ram was just like another. The man stared and stared, but he\ncould not pick out his son. \"Thou mayst as well go home then,\" said\nOh, \"but thy son shall live with me yet another year.\" So the man went\naway, sad at heart.\n\nThe third year also passed away, and the man came again to find Oh.\nHe went on and on till there met him an old man all as white as milk,\nand the raiment of this old man was glistening white. \"Hail to thee,\nO man!\" said he.--\"Hail to thee also, my father!\"--\"Whither doth God\nlead thee?\"--\"I am going to free my son from Oh.\"--\"How so?\"--Then\nthe man told the old white father how he had hired out his son to Oh\nand under what conditions.--\"Aye, aye!\" said the old white father,\n\"'tis a vile pagan thou hast to deal with; he will lead thee about\nby the nose for a long time.\"--\"Yes,\" said the man, \"I perceive that\nhe is a vile pagan; but I know not what in the world to do with him.\nCanst thou not tell me then, dear father, how I may recover my\nson?\"--\"Yes, I can,\" said the old man.--\"Then prythee tell me,\ndarling father, and I'll pray for thee to God all my life, for\nthough he has not been much of a son to me, he is still my own flesh\nand blood.\"--\"Hearken, then!\" said the old man; \"when thou dost go to\nOh, he will let loose a multitude of doves before thee, but choose\nnot one of these doves. The dove thou shalt choose must be the one\nthat comes not out, but remains sitting beneath the pear-tree pruning\nits feathers; that will be thy son.\" Then the man thanked the old\nwhite father and went on.\n\nHe came to the charred stumps. \"Oh!\" cried he, and out came Oh and led\nhim to his sylvan realm. There Oh scattered about handfuls of wheat\nand called his doves, and there flew down such a multitude of them\nthat there was no counting them, and one dove was just like another.\n\"Dost thou recognize thy son?\" asked Oh. \"An thou knowest him again,\nhe is thine; an thou knowest him not, he is mine.\" Now all the doves\nthere were pecking at the wheat, all but one that sat alone beneath\nthe pear-tree, sticking out its breast and pruning its feathers. \"That\nis my son,\" said the man.--\"Since thou hast guessed him, take him,\"\nreplied Oh. Then the father took the dove, and immediately it changed\ninto a handsome young man, and a handsomer was not to be found in the\nwide world. The father rejoiced greatly and embraced and kissed him.\n\"Let us go home, my son!\" said he. So they went.\n\nAs they went along the road together they fell a-talking, and his\nfather asked him how he had fared at Oh's. The son told him. Then the\nfather told the son what he had suffered, and it was the son's turn to\nlisten. Furthermore the father said, \"What shall we do now, my son? I\nam poor and thou art poor: hast thou served these three years and\nearned nothing?\"--\"Grieve not, dear dad, all will come right in the\nend. Look! there are some young nobles hunting after a fox. I will\nturn myself into a greyhound and catch the fox, then the young\nnoblemen will want to buy me of thee, and thou must sell me to them\nfor three hundred roubles--only, mind thou sell me without a chain;\nthen we shall have lots of money at home, and will live happily\ntogether!\"\n\nThey went on and on, and there, on the borders of a forest, some\nhounds were chasing a fox. They chased it and chased it, but the fox\nkept on escaping, and the hounds could not run it down. Then the son\nchanged himself into a greyhound, and ran down the fox and killed it.\nThe noblemen thereupon came galloping out of the forest. \"Is that thy\ngreyhound?\"--\"It is.\"--\"'Tis a good dog; wilt sell it to us?\"--\"Bid\nfor it!\"--\"What dost thou require?\"--\"Three hundred roubles without a\nchain.\"--\"What do we want with _thy_ chain, we would give him a chain\nof gold. Say a hundred roubles!\"--\"Nay!\"--\"Then take thy money and\ngive us the dog.\" They counted down the money and took the dog and\nset off hunting. They sent the dog after another fox. Away he went\nafter it and chased it right into the forest, but then he turned into\na youth again and rejoined his father.\n\nThey went on and on, and his father said to him, \"What use is this\nmoney to us after all? It is barely enough to begin housekeeping with\nand repair our hut.\"--\"Grieve not, dear dad, we shall get more still.\nOver yonder are some young noblemen hunting quails with falcons. I\nwill change myself into a falcon, and thou must sell me to them; only\nsell me for three hundred roubles, and without a hood.\"\n\nThey went into the plain, and there were some young noblemen casting\ntheir falcon at a quail. The falcon pursued but always fell short of\nthe quail, and the quail always eluded the falcon. The son then\nchanged himself into a falcon and immediately struck down its prey.\nThe young noblemen saw it and were astonished. \"Is that thy\nfalcon?\"--\"'Tis mine.\"--\"Sell it to us, then!\"--\"Bid for it!\"--\"What\ndost thou want for it?\"--\"If ye give three hundred roubles, ye may\ntake it, but it must be without the hood.\"--\"As if we want _thy_ hood!\nWe'll make for it a hood worthy of a Tsar.\" So they higgled and\nhaggled, but at last they gave him the three hundred roubles. Then the\nyoung nobles sent the falcon after another quail, and it flew and flew\ntill it beat down its prey; but then he became a youth again, and went\non with his father.\n\n\"How shall we manage to live with so little?\" said the father.--\"Wait\na while, dad, and we shall have still more,\" said the son. \"When we\npass through the fair I'll change myself into a horse, and thou must\nsell me. They will give thee a thousand roubles for me, only sell me\nwithout a halter.\" So when they got to the next little town, where\nthey were holding a fair, the son changed himself into a horse, a\nhorse as supple as a serpent, and so fiery that it was dangerous to\napproach him. The father led the horse along by the halter; it pranced\nabout and struck sparks from the ground with its hoofs. Then the\nhorse-dealers came together and began to bargain for it. \"A thousand\nroubles down,\" said he, \"and you may have it, but without the\nhalter.\"--\"What do we want with _thy_ halter? We will make for it a\nsilver-gilt halter. Come, we'll give thee five hundred!\"--\"No!\" said\nhe. Then up there came a gipsy, blind of one eye. \"O man! what dost\nthou want for that horse?\" said he.--\"A thousand roubles without the\nhalter.\"--\"Nay! but that is dear, little father! Wilt thou not take\nfive hundred with the halter?\"--\"No, not a bit of it!\"--\"Take six\nhundred, then!\" Then the gipsy began higgling and haggling, but the\nman would not give way. \"Come, sell it,\" said he, \"with the\nhalter.\"--\"No, thou gipsy, I have a liking for that halter.\"--\"But, my\ngood man, when didst thou ever see them sell a horse without a halter?\nHow then can one lead him off?\"--\"Nevertheless, the halter must remain\nmine.\"--\"Look now, my father, I'll give thee five roubles extra, only\nI must have the halter.\"--The old man fell a-thinking. \"A halter of\nthis kind is worth but three _grivni_[4] and the gipsy offers me five\nroubles for it; let him have it.\" So they clinched the bargain with a\ngood drink, and the old man went home with the money, and the gipsy\nwalked off with the horse. But it was not really a gipsy, but Oh, who\nhad taken the shape of a gipsy.\n\n   [4] A _grivna_ is the tenth part of a rouble, about 2-1/2 d.\n\n[Illustration: \"HOW MUCH DO YOU WANT FOR THAT HORSE?\"]\n\nThen Oh rode off on the horse, and the horse carried him higher than\nthe trees of the forest, but lower than the clouds of the sky. At last\nthey sank down among the woods and came to Oh's hut, and Oh went into\nhis hut and left his horse outside on the steppe. \"This son of a dog\nshall not escape from my hands so quickly a second time,\" said he to\nhis wife. At dawn Oh took the horse by the bridle and led it away to\nthe river to water it. But no sooner did the horse get to the river\nand bend down its head to drink than it turned into a perch and began\nswimming away. Oh, without more ado, turned himself into a pike and\npursued the perch. But just as the pike was almost up with it, the\nperch gave a sudden twist and stuck out its spiky fins and turned its\ntail toward the pike, so that the pike could not lay hold of it. So\nwhen the pike came up to it, it said, \"Perch! perch! turn thy head\ntoward me, I want to have a chat with thee!\"--\"I can hear thee very\nwell as I am, dear cousin, if thou art inclined to chat,\" said the\nperch. So off they set again, and again the pike overtook the perch.\n\"Perch! perch! turn thy head round toward me, I want to have a chat\nwith thee!\" Then the perch stuck out its bristly fins again and said,\n\"If thou dost wish to have a chat, dear cousin, I can hear thee just\nas well as I am.\" So the pike kept on pursuing the perch, but it was\nof no use. At last the perch swam ashore, and there was a Tsarivna[5]\nwhittling an ash twig. The perch changed itself into a gold ring set\nwith garnets, and the Tsarivna saw it and fished up the ring out of\nthe water. Full of joy she took it home, and said to her father,\n\"Look, dear papa! what a nice ring I have found!\" The Tsar kissed her,\nbut the Tsarivna did not know which finger it would suit best, it was\nso lovely.\n\n   [5] Russian _Tsarevna_, _i.e._ a Tsar's daughter.\n\nAbout the same time they told the Tsar that a certain merchant had\ncome to the palace. It was Oh, who had changed himself into a\nmerchant. The Tsar went out to him and said, \"What dost thou want, old\nman?\"--\"I was sailing on the sea in my ship,\" said Oh, \"and carrying\nto the Tsar of my own land a precious garnet ring, and this ring I\ndropped into the water. Has any of thy servants perchance found this\nprecious ring?\"--\"No, but my daughter has,\" said the Tsar. So they\ncalled the damsel, and Oh began to beg her to give it back to him,\n\"for I may not live in this world if I bring not the ring,\" said he.\nBut it was of no avail, she would not give it up.\n\nThen the Tsar himself spoke to her. \"Nay, but, darling daughter, give\nit up, lest misfortune befall this man because of us; give it up, I\nsay!\" Then Oh begged and prayed her yet more, and said, \"Take what\nthou wilt of me, only give me back the ring.\"--\"Nay, then,\" said the\nTsarivna, \"it shall be neither mine nor thine,\" and with that she\ntossed the ring upon the ground, and it turned into a heap of\nmillet-seed and scattered all about the floor. Then Oh, without more\nado, changed into a cock, and began pecking up all the seed. He pecked\nand pecked till he had pecked it all up. Yet there was one single\nlittle grain of millet which rolled right beneath the feet of the\nTsarivna, and that he did not see. When he had done pecking he got\nupon the window-sill, opened his wings, and flew right away.\n\nBut the one remaining grain of millet-seed turned into a most\nbeauteous youth, a youth so beauteous that when the Tsarivna beheld\nhim she fell in love with him on the spot, and begged the Tsar and\nTsaritsa right piteously to let her have him as her husband. \"With no\nother shall I ever be happy,\" said she; \"my happiness is in him\nalone!\" For a long time the Tsar wrinkled his brows at the thought of\ngiving his daughter to a simple youth; but at last he gave them his\nblessing, and they crowned them with bridal wreaths, and all the world\nwas bidden to the wedding-feast. And I too was there, and drank beer\nand mead, and what my mouth could not hold ran down over my beard, and\nmy heart rejoiced within me.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE WIND\n\n\nOnce upon a time there dwelt two brethren in one village, and one\nbrother was very, very rich, and the other brother was very, very\npoor. The rich man had wealth of all sorts, but all that the poor man\nhad was a heap of children.\n\nOne day, at harvest-time, the poor man left his wife and went to reap\nand thresh out his little plot of wheat, but the Wind came and swept\nall his corn away down to the very last grain. The poor man was\nexceeding wrath thereat, and said, \"Come what will, I'll go seek the\nWind, and I'll tell him with what pains and trouble I had got my corn\nto grow and ripen, and then he, forsooth! must needs come and blow it\nall away.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE WIND CAME AND SWEPT ALL HIS CORN AWAY]\n\nSo the man went home and made ready to go, and as he was making ready\nhis wife said to him, \"Whither away, husband?\"--\"I am going to seek\nthe Wind,\" said he; \"what dost thou say to that?\"--\"I should say, do\nno such thing,\" replied his wife. \"Thou knowest the saying, 'If thou\ndost want to find the Wind, seek him on the open steppe. He can go ten\ndifferent ways to thy one.' Think of that, dear husband, and go not at\nall.\"--\"I mean to go,\" replied the man, \"though I never return home\nagain.\" Then he took leave of his wife and children, and went straight\nout into the wide world to seek the Wind on the open steppe.\n\nHe went on farther and farther till he saw before him a forest, and\non the borders of that forest stood a hut on hens' legs. The man went\ninto this hut and was filled with astonishment, for there lay on the\nfloor a huge, huge old man, as grey as milk. He lay there stretched\nat full length, his head on the seat of honour,[6] with an arm and\nleg in each of the four corners, and all his hair standing on end. It\nwas no other than the Wind himself. The man stared at this awful\nAncient with terror, for never in his life had he seen anything like\nit. \"God help thee, old father!\" cried he.--\"Good health to thee,\ngood man!\" said the ancient giant, as he lay on the floor of the\nhut. Then he asked him in the most friendly manner, \"Whence hath God\nbrought thee hither, good man?\"--\"I am wandering through the wide\nworld in search of the Wind,\" said the man. \"If I find him, I will\nturn back; if I don't find him, I shall go on and on till I\ndo.\"--\"What dost thou want with the Wind?\" asked the old giant lying\non the floor. \"Or what wrong hath he done thee, that thou shouldst\nseek him out so doggedly?\"--\"What wrong hath he done me?\" replied\nthe wayfarer. \"Hearken now, O Ancient, and I will tell thee! I went\nstraight from my wife into the field and reaped my little plot of\ncorn; but when I began to thresh it out, the Wind came and caught\nand scattered every bit of it in a twinkling, so that there was\nnot a single little grain of it left. So now thou dost see, old\nman, what I have to thank him for. Tell me, in God's name, why such\nthings be? My little plot of corn was my all-in-all, and in the\nsweat of my brow did I reap and thresh it; but the Wind came and blew\nit all away, so that not a trace of it is to be found in the wide\nworld. Then I thought to myself, 'Why should he do this?' And I said\nto my wife, 'I'll go seek the Wind, and say to him, \"Another time,\nvisit not the poor man who hath but a little corn, and blow it not\naway, for bitterly doth he rue it!\"'\"--\"Good, my son!\" said the giant\nwho lay on the floor. \"I shall know better in future; in future I will\nnot blow away the poor man's corn. But, good man, there is no need\nfor thee to seek the Wind in the open steppe, for I myself am the\nWind.\"--\"Then if thou art the Wind,\" said the man, \"give me back my\ncorn.\"--\"Nay,\" said the giant; \"thou canst not make the dead come back\nfrom the grave. Yet, inasmuch as I have done thee a mischief, I will\nnow give thee this sack, good man, and do thou take it home with\nthee. And whenever thou wantest a meal say, 'Sack, sack, give me to\neat and drink!' and immediately thou shalt have thy fill both of\nmeat and drink, so now thou wilt have wherewithal to comfort thy\nwife and children.\"\n\n   [6] _Pokute_, the place of honour in a Ruthenian peasant's hut, at\n       the right-hand side of the entrance.\n\nThen the man was full of gratitude. \"I thank thee, O Wind!\" said he,\n\"for thy courtesy in giving me such a sack as will give me my fill of\nmeat and drink without the trouble of working for it.\"--\"For a lazy\nloon, 'twere a double boon,\" said the Wind. \"Go home, then, but look\nnow, enter no tavern by the way; I shall know it if thou dost.\"--\"No,\"\nsaid the man, \"I will not.\" And then he took leave of the Wind and\nwent his way.\n\nHe had not gone very far when he passed by a tavern, and he felt a\nburning desire to find out whether the Wind had spoken the truth in\nthe matter of the sack. \"How can a man pass a tavern without going\ninto it?\" thought he; \"I'll go in, come what may. The Wind won't\nknow, because he can't see.\" So he went into the tavern and hung up\nhis sack upon a peg. The Jew who kept the tavern immediately said to\nhim, \"What dost thou want, good man?\"--\"What is that to thee, thou\ndog?\" said the man.--\"You are all alike,\" sneered the Jew, \"take what\nyou can, and pay for nothing.\"--\"Dost think I want to buy anything\nfrom thee?\" shrieked the man; then, turning angrily to the sack, he\ncried, \"Sack, sack, give me to eat and drink!\" Immediately the table\nwas covered with all sorts of meats and liquors. Then all the Jews in\nthe tavern crowded round full of amazement, and asked all manner of\nquestions. \"Why, what is this, good man?\" said they; \"never have we\nseen anything like this before!\"--\"Ask no questions, ye accursed\nJews!\" cried the man, \"but sit down to eat, for there is enough for\nall.\" So the Jews and the Jewesses set to and ate until they were full\nup to the ears; and they drank the man's health in pitchers of wine of\nevery sort, and said, \"Drink, good man, and spare not, and when thou\nhast drunk thy fill thou shalt lodge with us this night. We'll make\nready a bed for thee. None shall vex thee. Come now, eat and drink\nwhatever thy soul desires.\" So the Jews flattered him with devilish\ncunning, and almost forced the wine-jars to his lips.\n\nThe simple fellow did not perceive their malice and cunning, and he\ngot so drunk that he could not move from the place, but went to sleep\nwhere he was. Then the Jews changed his sack for another, which they\nhung up on a peg, and then they woke him. \"Dost hear, fellow!\" cried\nthey; \"get up, it is time to go home. Dost thou not see the morning\nlight?\" The man sat up and scratched the back of his head, for he was\nloath to go. But what was he to do? So he shouldered the sack that was\nhanging on the peg, and went off home.\n\nWhen he got to his house, he cried, \"Open the door, wife!\" Then his\nwife opened the door, and he went in and hung his sack on the peg and\nsaid, \"Sit down at the table, dear wife, and you children sit down\nthere too. Now, thank God! we shall have enough to eat and drink,\nand to spare.\" The wife looked at her husband and smiled. She thought\nhe was mad, but down she sat, and her children sat down all round\nher, and she waited to see what her husband would do next. Then\nthe man said, \"Sack, sack, give to us meat and drink!\" But the sack\nwas silent. Then he said again, \"Sack, sack, give my children\nsomething to eat!\" And still the sack was silent. Then the man fell\ninto a violent rage. \"Thou didst give me something at the tavern,\"\ncried he; \"and now I may call in vain. Thou givest nothing, and thou\nhearest nothing\"--and, leaping from his seat, he took up a club\nand began beating the sack till he had knocked a hole in the wall,\nand beaten the sack to bits. Then he set off to seek the Wind again.\nBut his wife stayed at home and put everything to rights again,\nrailing and scolding at her husband as a madman.\n\nBut the man went to the Wind and said, \"Hail to thee, O Wind!\"--\"Good\nhealth to thee, O man!\" replied the Wind. Then the Wind asked,\n\"Wherefore hast thou come hither, O man? Did I not give thee a sack?\nWhat more dost thou want?\"--\"A pretty sack indeed!\" replied the man;\n\"that sack of thine has been the cause of much mischief to me and\nmine.\"--\"What mischief has it done thee?\"--\"Why, look now, old\nfather, I'll tell thee what it has done. It wouldn't give me anything\nto eat and drink, so I began beating it, and beat the wall in. Now\nwhat shall I do to repair my crazy hut? Give me something, old\nfather.\"--But the Wind replied, \"Nay, O man, thou must do without.\nFools are neither sown nor reaped, but grow of their own accord--hast\nthou not been into a tavern?\"--\"I have not,\" said the man.--\"Thou hast\nnot? Why wilt thou lie?\"--\"Well, and suppose I did lie?\" said the man;\n\"if thou suffer harm through thine own fault, hold thy tongue about\nit, that's what I say. Yet it is all the fault of thy sack that this\nevil has come upon me. If it had only given me to eat and to drink, I\nshould not have come to thee again.\" At this the Wind scratched his\nhead a bit, but then he said, \"Well then, thou man! there's a little\nram for thee, and whenever thou dost want money say to it, 'Little\nram, little ram, scatter money!' and it will scatter money as much as\nthou wilt. Only bear this in mind: go not into a tavern, for if thou\ndost, I shall know all about it; and if thou comest to me a third\ntime, thou shalt have cause to remember it for ever.\"--\"Good,\" said\nthe man, \"I won't go.\"--Then he took the little ram, thanked the Wind,\nand went on his way.\n\nSo the man went along leading the little ram by a string, and they\ncame to a tavern, that very same tavern where he had been before, and\nagain a strong desire came upon the man to go in. So he stood by the\ndoor and began thinking whether he should go in or not, and whether he\nhad any need to find out the truth about the little ram. \"Well, well,\"\nsaid he at last, \"I'll go in, only this time I won't get drunk. I'll\ndrink just a glass or so, and then I'll go home.\" So into the tavern\nhe went, dragging the little ram after him, for he was afraid to let\nit go.\n\nNow, when the Jews who were inside there saw the little ram, they\nbegan shrieking and said, \"What art thou thinking of, O man! that thou\nbringest that little ram into the room? Are there no barns outside\nwhere thou mayst put it up?\"--\"Hold your tongues, ye accursed\nwretches!\" replied the man; \"what has it got to do with you? It is not\nthe sort of ram that fellows like you deal in. And if you don't\nbelieve me, spread a cloth on the floor and you shall see something, I\nwarrant you.\"--Then he said, \"Little ram, little ram, scatter money!\"\nand the little ram scattered so much money that it seemed to grow, and\nthe Jews screeched like demons.--\"O man, man!\" cried they, \"such a ram\nas that we have never seen in all our days. Sell it to us! We will\ngive thee such a lot of money for it.\"--\"You may pick up all that\nmoney, ye accursed ones,\" cried the man, \"but I don't mean to sell my\nram.\"\n\nThen the Jews picked up the money, but they laid before him a table\ncovered with all the dishes that a man's heart may desire, and they\nbegged him to sit down and make merry, and said with true Jewish\ncunning, \"Though thou mayst get a little lively, don't get drunk, for\nthou knowest how drink plays the fool with a man's wits.\"--The man\nmarvelled at the straightforwardness of the Jews in warning him\nagainst the drink, and, forgetting everything else, sat down at table\nand began drinking pot after pot of mead, and talking with the Jews,\nand his little ram went clean out of his head. But the Jews made him\ndrunk, and laid him in the bed, and changed rams with him; his they\ntook away, and put in its place one of their own exactly like it.\n\nWhen the man had slept off his carouse, he arose and went away, taking\nthe ram with him, after bidding the Jews farewell. When he got to his\nhut he found his wife in the doorway, and the moment she saw him\ncoming, she went into the hut and cried to her children, \"Come,\nchildren! make haste, make haste! for daddy is coming, and brings a\nlittle ram along with him; get up, and look sharp about it! An evil\nyear of waiting has been the lot of wretched me, but he has come home\nat last.\"\n\nThe husband arrived at the door and said, \"Open the door, little wife;\nopen, I say!\"--The wife replied, \"Thou art not a great nobleman, so\nopen the door thyself. Why dost thou get so drunk that thou dost not\nknow how to open a door? It's an evil time that I spend with thee.\nHere we are with all these little children, and yet thou dost go away\nand drink.\"--Then the wife opened the door, and the husband walked\ninto the hut and said, \"Good health to thee, dear wife!\"--But the wife\ncried, \"Why dost thou bring that ram inside the hut, can't it stay\noutside the walls?\"--\"Wife, wife!\" said the man, \"speak, but don't\nscreech. Now we shall have all manner of good things, and the children\nwill have a fine time of it.\"--\"What!\" said the wife, \"what good can\nwe get from that wretched ram? Where shall we get the money to find\nfood for it? Why, we've nothing to eat ourselves, and thou dost saddle\nus with a ram besides. Stuff and nonsense! I say.\"--\"Silence, wife,\"\nreplied the husband; \"that ram is not like other rams, I tell\nthee.\"--\"What sort is it, then?\" asked his wife.--\"Don't ask\nquestions, but spread a cloth on the floor and keep thine eyes\nopen.\"--\"Why spread a cloth?\" asked the wife.--\"Why?\" shrieked the man\nin a rage; \"do what I tell thee, and hold thy tongue.\"--But the wife\nsaid, \"Alas, alas! I have an evil time of it. Thou dost nothing at all\nbut go away and drink, and then thou comest home and dost talk\nnonsense, and bringest sacks and rams with thee, and knockest down our\nlittle hut.\"--At this the husband could control his rage no longer,\nbut shrieked at the ram, \"Little ram, little ram, scatter money!\"--But\nthe ram only stood there and stared at him. Then he cried again,\n\"Little ram, little ram, scatter money!\"--But the ram stood there\nstock-still and did nothing. Then the man in his anger caught up a\npiece of wood and struck the ram on the head, but the poor ram only\nuttered a feeble baa! and fell to the earth dead.\n\nThe man was now very much offended and said, \"I'll go to the Wind\nagain, and I'll tell him what a fool he has made of me.\" Then he took\nup his hat and went, leaving everything behind him. And the poor wife\nput everything to rights, and reproached and railed at her husband.\n\nSo the man came to the Wind for the third time and said, \"Wilt thou\ntell me, please, if thou art really the Wind or no?\"--\"What's the\nmatter with thee?\" asked the Wind.--\"I'll tell thee what's the\nmatter,\" said the man; \"why hast thou laughed at and mocked me and\nmade such a fool of me?\"--\"I laugh at _thee_!\" thundered the old\nfather as he lay there on the floor and turned round on the other ear;\n\"why didst thou not hold fast what I gave thee? Why didst thou not\nlisten to me when I told thee not to go into the tavern, eh?\"--\"What\ntavern dost thou mean?\" asked the man proudly; \"as for the sack and\nthe ram thou didst give me, they only did me a mischief; give me\nsomething else.\"--\"What's the use of giving thee anything?\" said the\nWind; \"thou wilt only take it to the tavern. Out of the drum, my\ntwelve henchmen!\" cried the Wind, \"and just give this accursed\ndrunkard a good lesson that he may keep his throat dry and listen a\nlittle more to old people!\"--Immediately twelve henchmen leaped out of\nhis drum and began giving the man a sound thrashing. Then the man saw\nthat it was no joke and begged for mercy. \"Dear old father Wind,\"\ncried he, \"be merciful, and let me get off alive. I'll not come to\nthee again though I should have to wait till the Judgment Day, and\nI'll do all thy behests.\"--\"Into the drum, my henchmen!\" cried the\nWind.--\"And now, O man!\" said the Wind, \"thou mayst have this drum\nwith the twelve henchmen, and go to those accursed Jews, and if they\nwill not give thee back thy sack and thy ram, thou wilt know what to\nsay.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"OUT OF THE DRUM, MY HENCHMEN!\"]\n\nSo the man thanked the Wind for his good advice, and went on his way.\nHe came to the inn, and when the Jews saw that he brought nothing with\nhim they said, \"Hearken, O man! don't come here, for we have no\nbrandy.\"--\"What do I want with your brandy?\" cried the man in a\nrage.--\"Then for what hast thou come hither?\"--\"I have come for my\nown.\"--\"Thy own,\" said the Jews; \"what dost thou mean?\"--\"What do I\nmean?\" roared the man; \"why, my sack and my ram, which you must give\nup to me.\"--\"What ram? What sack?\" said the Jews; \"why, thou didst\ntake them away from here thyself.\"--\"Yes, but you changed them,\" said\nthe man.--\"What dost thou mean by changed?\" whined the Jews; \"we will\ngo before the magistrate, and thou shalt hear from us about\nthis.\"--\"You will have an evil time of it if you go before the\nmagistrate,\" said the man; \"but at any rate, give me back my own.\" And\nhe sat down upon a bench. Then the Jews caught him by the shoulders to\ncast him out and cried, \"Be off, thou rascal! Does any one know where\nthis man comes from? No doubt he is an evil-doer.\" The man could not\nstand this, so he cried, \"Out of the drum, my henchmen! and give the\naccursed Jews a sound drubbing, that they may know better than to take\nin honest folk!\" and immediately the twelve henchmen leaped out of the\ndrum and began thwacking the Jews finely.--\"Oh, oh!\" roared the Jews;\n\"oh, dear, darling, good man, we'll give thee whatever thou dost want,\nonly leave off beating us! Let us live a bit longer in the world, and\nwe will give thee back everything.\"--\"Good!\" said the man, \"and\nanother time you'll know better than to deceive people.\" Then he\ncried, \"Into the drum, my henchmen!\" and the henchmen disappeared,\nleaving the Jews more dead than alive. Then they gave the man his sack\nand his ram, and he went home, but it was a long, long time before the\nJews forgot those henchmen.\n\nSo the man went home, and his wife and children saw him coming from\nafar. \"Daddy is coming home now with a sack and a ram!\" said she;\n\"what shall we do? We shall have a bad time of it, we shall have\nnothing left at all. God defend us poor wretches! Go and hide\neverything, children.\" So the children hastened away, but the husband\ncame to the door and said, \"Open the door!\"--\"Open the door thyself,\"\nreplied the wife.--Again the husband bade her open the door, but she\npaid no heed to him. The man was astonished. This was carrying a joke\ntoo far, so he cried to his henchmen, \"Henchmen, henchmen! out of the\ndrum, and teach my wife to respect her husband!\" Then the henchmen\nleaped out of the drum, laid the good wife by the heels, and began to\ngive her a sound drubbing. \"Oh, my dear, darling husband!\" shrieked\nthe wife, \"never to the end of my days will I be sulky with thee\nagain. I'll do whatever thou tellest me, only leave off beating\nme.\"--\"Then I have taught thee sense, eh?\" said the man.--\"Oh, yes,\nyes, good husband!\" cried she. Then the man said: \"Henchmen, henchmen!\ninto the drum!\" and the henchmen leaped into it again, leaving the\npoor wife more dead than alive.\n\nThen the husband said to her, \"Wife, spread a cloth upon the floor.\"\nThe wife scudded about as nimbly as a fly, and spread a cloth out on\nthe floor without a word. Then the husband said, \"Little ram, little\nram, scatter money!\" And the little ram scattered money till there\nwere piles and piles of it. \"Pick it up, my children,\" said the man,\n\"and thou too, wife, take what thou wilt!\"--And they didn't wait to be\nasked twice. Then the man hung up his sack on a peg and said, \"Sack,\nsack, meat and drink!\" Then he caught hold of it and shook it, and\nimmediately the table was as full as it could hold with all manner of\nvictuals and drink. \"Sit down, my children, and thou too, dear wife,\nand eat thy fill. Thank God, we shall now have no lack of food, and\nshall not have to work for it either.\"\n\nSo the man and his wife were very happy together, and were never tired\nof thanking the Wind. They had not had the sack and the ram very long\nwhen they grew very rich, and then the husband said to the wife, \"I\ntell thee what, wife!\"--\"What?\" said she.--\"Let us invite my brother\nto come and see us.\"--\"Very good,\" she replied; \"invite him, but dost\nthou think he'll come?\"--\"Why shouldn't he?\" asked her husband. \"Now,\nthank God, we have everything we want. He wouldn't come to us when we\nwere poor and he was rich, because then he was ashamed to say that I\nwas his brother, but now even he hasn't got so much as we have.\"\n\nSo they made ready, and the man went to invite his brother. The poor\nman came to his rich brother and said, \"Hail to thee, brother; God\nhelp thee!\"--Now the rich brother was threshing wheat on his\nthreshing-floor, and, raising his head, was surprised to see his\nbrother there, and said to him haughtily, \"I thank thee. Hail to\nthee also! Sit down, my brother, and tell us why thou hast come\nhither.\"--\"Thanks, my brother, I do not want to sit down. I have come\nhither to invite thee to us, thee and thy wife.\"--\"Wherefore?\"\nasked the rich brother.--The poor man said, \"My wife prays thee, and\nI pray thee also, to come and dine with us of thy courtesy.\"--\"Good!\"\nreplied the rich brother, smiling secretly. \"I will come whatever\nthy dinner may be.\"\n\nSo the rich man went with his wife to the poor man, and already from\nafar they perceived that the poor man had grown rich. And the poor\nman rejoiced greatly when he saw his rich brother in his house. And\nhis tongue was loosened, and he began to show him everything,\nwhatsoever he possessed. The rich man was amazed that things were\ngoing so well with his brother, and asked him how he had managed\nto get on so. But the poor man answered, \"Don't ask me, brother. I\nhave more to show thee yet.\" Then he took him to his copper money,\nand said, \"There are my oats, brother!\" Then he took and showed\nhim his silver money, and said, \"That's the sort of barley I thresh\non my threshing-floor!\" And, last of all, he took him to his gold\nmoney, and said, \"There, my dear brother, is the best wheat I've\ngot.\"--Then the rich brother shook his head, not once nor twice,\nand marvelled at the sight of so many good things, and he said,\n\"Wherever didst thou pick up all this, my brother?\"--\"Oh! I've more\nthan that to show thee yet. Just be so good as to sit down on that\nchair, and I'll show and tell thee everything.\"\n\nThen they sat them down, and the poor man hung up his sack upon a peg.\n\"Sack, sack, meat and drink!\" he cried, and immediately the table was\ncovered with all manner of dishes. So they ate and ate, till they were\nfull up to the ears. When they had eaten and drunken their fill, the\npoor man called to his son to bring the little ram into the hut. So\nthe lad brought in the ram, and the rich brother wondered what they\nwere going to do with it. Then the poor man said, \"Little ram, scatter\nmoney!\" And the little ram scattered money, till there were piles and\npiles of it on the floor. \"Pick it up!\" said the poor man to the rich\nman and his wife. So they picked it up, and the rich brother and his\nwife marvelled, and the brother said, \"Thou hast a very nice piece of\ngoods there, brother. If I had only something like that I should lack\nnothing;\" then, after thinking a long time, he said, \"Sell it to me,\nmy brother.\"--\"No,\" said the poor man, \"I will not sell it.\"--After a\nlittle time, however, the rich brother said again, \"Come now! I'll\ngive thee for it six yoke of oxen, and a plough, and a harrow, and a\nhay-fork, and I'll give thee besides, lots of corn to sow, thus thou\nwilt have plenty, but give me the ram and the sack.\" So at last they\nexchanged. The rich man took the sack and the ram, and the poor man\ntook the oxen and went out to the plough.\n\nThen the poor brother went out ploughing all day, but he neither\nwatered his oxen nor gave them anything to eat. And next day the poor\nbrother again went out to his oxen, but found them rolling on their\nsides on the ground. He began to pull and tug at them, but they didn't\nget up. Then he began to beat them with a stick, but they uttered not\na sound. The man was surprised to find them fit for nothing, and off\nhe ran to his brother, not forgetting to take with him his drum with\nthe henchmen.\n\nWhen the poor brother came to the rich brother's, he lost no time in\ncrossing his threshold, and said, \"Hail, my brother!\"--\"Good health to\nthee also!\" replied the rich man, \"why hast thou come hither? Has thy\nplough broken, or thy oxen failed thee? Perchance thou hast watered\nthem with foul water, so that their blood is stagnant, and their flesh\ninflamed?\"--\"The murrain take 'em if I know thy meaning!\" cried the\npoor brother. \"All that I know is that I thwacked 'em till my arms\nached, and they wouldn't stir, and not a single grunt did they give;\ntill I was so angry that I spat at them, and came to tell thee. Give\nme back my sack and my ram, I say, and take back thy oxen, for they\nwon't listen to me!\"--\"What! take them back!\" roared the rich brother.\n\"Dost think I only made the exchange for a single day? No, I gave them\nto thee once and for all, and now thou wouldst rip the whole thing up\nlike a goat at the fair. I have no doubt thou hast neither watered\nthem nor fed them, and that is why they won't stand up.\"--\"I didn't\nknow,\" said the poor man, \"that oxen needed water and food.\"--\"Didn't\nknow!\" screeched the rich man, in a mighty rage, and taking the poor\nbrother by the hand, he led him away from the hut. \"Go away,\" said he,\n\"and never come back here again, or I'll have thee hanged on a\ngallows!\"--\"Ah! what a big gentleman we are!\" said the poor brother;\n\"just thou give me back my own, and then I will go away.\"--\"Thou hadst\nbetter not stop here,\" said the rich brother; \"come, stir thy stumps,\nthou pagan! Go home ere I beat thee!\"--\"Don't say that,\" replied the\npoor man, \"but give me back my ram and my sack, and then I _will_\ngo.\"--At this the rich brother quite lost his temper, and cried to his\nwife and children, \"Why do you stand staring like that? Can't you come\nand help me to pitch this insolent rogue out of the house?\" This,\nhowever, was something beyond a joke, so the poor brother called to\nhis henchmen, \"Henchmen, henchmen! out of the drum, and give this\nbrother of mine and his wife a sound drubbing, that they may think\ntwice about it another time before they pitch a poor brother out of\ntheir hut!\" Then the henchmen leaped out of the drum, and laid hold of\nthe rich brother and his wife, and trounced them soundly, until the\nrich brother yelled with all his might, \"Oh, oh! my own true brother,\ntake what thou wilt, only let me off alive!\" whereupon the poor\nbrother cried to his henchmen, \"Henchmen, henchmen! into the drum!\"\nand the henchmen disappeared immediately.\n\nThen the poor brother took his ram and his sack, and set off home with\nthem. And they lived happily ever after, and grew richer and richer.\nThey sowed neither wheat nor barley, and yet they had lots and lots to\neat. And I was there, and drank mead and beer. What my mouth couldn't\nhold ran down my beard. For you, there's a _kazka_, but there be fat\nhearth-cakes for me the asker. And if I have aught to eat, thou shalt\nshare the treat.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VOICES AT THE WINDOW\n\n\nA nobleman went hunting one autumn, and with him went a goodly train\nof huntsmen. All day long they hunted and hunted, and at the end of\nthe day they had caught nothing. At last dark night overtook them. It\nhad now grown bitterly cold, and the rain began to fall heavily. The\nnobleman was wet to the skin, and his teeth chattered. He rubbed his\nhands together and cried, \"Oh, had we but a warm hut, and a white bed,\nand soft bread, and sour kvas,[7] we should have naught to complain\nof, but would tell tales and feign fables till dawn of day!\"\nImmediately there shone a light in the depths of the forest. They\nhastened up to it, and lo! there was a hut. They entered, and on the\ntable lay bread and a jug of kvas; and the hut was warm, and the bed\ntherein was white--everything just as the nobleman had desired it. So\nthey all entered after him, and said grace, and had supper, and laid\nthem down to sleep.\n\n   [7] A sourish drink.\n\nThey all slept, all but one, but to him slumber would not come. About\nmidnight he heard a strange noise, and something came to the window\nand said, \"Oh, thou son of a dog! thou didst say, 'If we had but a\nwarm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should\nhave naught to complain of, but would tell tales and feign fables till\ndawn'; but now thou hast forgotten thy fine promise! Wherefore this\nshall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt fall in with an\napple-tree full of apples, and thou shalt desire to taste of them,\nand when thou hast tasted thereof thou shalt burst. And if any of\nthese thy huntsmen hear this thing and tell thee of it, that man shall\nbecome stone to the knee!\" All this that huntsman heard, and he\nthought, \"Woe is me!\"\n\nAnd about the second cockcrow something else came to the window and\nsaid, \"Oh, thou son of a dog! thou didst say, 'If we had but a warm\nhut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should have\nnaught to complain of, but would tell tales and feign fables till\ndawn'; but now thou hast forgotten thy fine promises! Wherefore this\nshall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt come upon a spring by\nthe roadside, a spring of pure water, and thou shalt desire to drink\nof it, and when thou hast drunk thereof thou shalt burst. But if any\nof these thy huntsmen hear and tell thee of this thing, he shall\nbecome stone to the girdle.\" All this that huntsman heard, and he\nthought to himself, \"Woe is me!\"\n\nAgain, toward the third cockcrow, he heard something else coming to\nthe window, and it said, \"Oh, thou son of a dog! thou didst say, 'If\nonly we had a warm hut, and a white bed, and soft bread, and sour\nkvas, we should have naught to complain of, but would tell tales and\nfeign fables till dawn'; but now thou hast forgotten all thy fine\npromises! Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home. Thou shalt\ncome upon a feather-bed in the highway; a longing for rest shall come\nover thee, and thou wilt lie down on it, and the moment thou liest\ndown thereon thou shalt burst. But if any of thy huntsmen hear this\nthing and tell it thee, he shall become stone up to the neck!\" All\nthis that huntsman heard, and then he awoke his comrades and said,\n\"It is time to depart!\"--\"Let us go then,\" said the nobleman.\n\nSo on they went, and they had not gone very far when they saw an\napple-tree growing by the wayside, and on it were apples so beautiful\nthat words cannot describe them. The nobleman felt that he must taste\nof these apples or die; but the wakeful huntsman rushed up and cut\ndown the apple-tree, whereupon apples and apple-tree turned to ashes.\nBut the huntsman galloped on before and hid himself.\n\nThey went on a little farther till they came to a spring, and the\nwater of that spring was so pure and clear that words cannot describe\nit. Then the nobleman felt that he must drink of that water or die;\nbut the huntsman rushed up and splashed in the spring with his sword,\nand immediately the water turned to blood. The nobleman was wrath, and\ncried, \"Cut me down that son of a dog!\" But the huntsman rode on in\nfront and hid himself.\n\nThey went on still farther till they came upon a golden bed in the\nhighway, full of white feathers so soft and cosy that words cannot\ndescribe it. The nobleman felt that he must rest in that bed or die.\nThen the huntsman rushed up and struck the bed with his sword, and it\nturned to coal. But the nobleman was very wrath, and cried, \"Shoot me\ndown that son of a dog!\" But the huntsman rode on before and hid\nhimself.\n\nWhen they got home the nobleman commanded them to bring the huntsman\nbefore him. \"What hast thou done, thou son of Satan?\" he cried. \"I\nmust needs slay thee!\" But the huntsman said, \"My master, bid them\nbring hither into the courtyard an old mare fit for naught but the\nknacker.\" They brought the mare, and he mounted it and said, \"My\nmaster, last midnight something came beneath the window and said, 'Oh,\nson of a dog! thou saidst, \"If only we had a warm hut, and a white\nbed, and soft bread, and sour kvas, we should grieve no more, but tell\ntales and feign fables till dawn,\" and now thou hast forgotten thy\npromise. Wherefore this shall befall thee on thy way home: thou shalt\ncome upon an apple-tree covered with apples by the wayside, and\nstraightway thou shalt long to eat of them, and the moment thou\ntastest thereof thou shalt burst. And if any of thy huntsmen hears\nthis thing, and tells thee of it, he shall become stone up to the\nknee.'\" When the huntsman had spoken so far, the horse on which he sat\nbecame stone up to the knee. Then he went on, \"About the second\ncockcrow something else came to the window and said the selfsame\nthing, and prophesied, 'He shall come upon a spring by the roadside, a\nspring of pure water, and he shall long to drink thereof, and the\nmoment he tastes of it he shall burst; and whoever hears and tells him\nof this thing shall become stone right up to the girdle.'\" And when\nthe huntsman had spoken so far, the horse on which he sat became stone\nright up to the breast. And he continued, and said, \"About the third\ncockcrow something else came to the window and said the selfsame\nthing, and added, 'This shall befall thy lord on his way home. He\nshall come upon a white bed on the road, and he shall desire to rest\nupon it, and the moment he rests upon it he shall burst; and whoever\nhears and tells him of this thing shall become stone right up to the\nneck!'\" And with these words he leaped from the horse, and the horse\nbecame stone right up to its neck. \"That therefore, my master, was why\nI did what I did, and I pray thee pardon me.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF LITTLE TSAR\nNOVISHNY, THE FALSE SISTER,\nAND THE FAITHFUL BEASTS\n\n\nOnce upon a time, in a certain kingdom, in a certain empire, there\ndwelt a certain Tsar who had never had a child. One day this Tsar went\nto the bazaar (such a bazaar as we have at Kherson) to buy food for\nhis needs. For though he was a Tsar, he had a mean and churlish soul,\nand used always to do his own marketing, and so now, too, he bought a\nlittle salt fish and went home with it. On his way homeward, a great\nthirst suddenly fell upon him, so he turned aside into a lonely\nmountain where he knew, as his father had known before him, there was\na spring of crystal-clear water. He was so very thirsty that he flung\nhimself down headlong by this spring without first crossing himself,\nwherefore that Accursed One, Satan, immediately had power over him,\nand caught him by the beard. The Tsar sprang back in terror, and\ncried, \"Let me go!\" But the Accursed One held him all the tighter.\n\"Nay, I will not let thee go!\" cried he. Then the Tsar began to\nentreat him piteously. \"Ask what thou wilt of me,\" said he, \"only let\nme go.\"--\"Give me, then,\" said the Accursed One, \"something that thou\nhast in the house, and then I'll let thee go!\"--\"Let me see, what have\nI got?\" said the Tsar. \"Oh, I know. I've got eight horses at home, the\nlike of which I have seen nowhere else, and I'll immediately bid my\nequerry bring them to thee to this spring--take them.\"--\"I _won't_\nhave them!\" cried the Accursed One, and he held him still more tightly\nby the beard. \"Well, then, hearken now!\" cried the Tsar. \"I have\neight oxen. They have never yet gone a-ploughing for me, or done a\nday's work. I'll have them brought hither. I'll feast my eyes on them\nonce more, and then I'll have them driven into thy steppes--take\nthem.\"--\"No, that won't do either!\" said the Accursed One. The Tsar\nwent over, one by one, all the most precious things he had at home,\nbut the Accursed One said \"No!\" all along, and pulled him more and\nmore tightly by the beard. When the Tsar saw that the Accursed One\nwould take none of all these things, he said to him at last, \"Look\nnow! I have a wife so lovely that the like of her is not to be found\nin the whole world, take her and let me go!\"--\"No!\" replied the\nAccursed One, \"I will not have her.\" The Tsar was in great straits.\n\"What am I to do now?\" thought he. \"I have offered him my lovely wife,\nwho is the very choicest of my chattels, and he won't have her!\"--Then\nsaid the Accursed One, \"Promise me what thou shalt find awaiting thee\nat home, and I'll let thee go.\"\n\nThe Tsar gladly promised this, for he could think of naught else that\nhe had, and then the Accursed One let him go.\n\nBut while he had been away from home, there had been born to him a\nTsarevko[8] and a Tsarivna; and they grew up not by the day, or even\nby the hour, but by the minute: never were known such fine children.\nAnd his wife saw him coming from afar, and went out to meet him, with\nher two children, with great joy. But he, the moment he saw them,\nburst into tears. \"Nay, my dear love,\" cried she, \"wherefore dost thou\nburst into tears? Or art thou so delighted that such children have\nbeen born unto thee that thou canst not find thy voice for tears of\njoy?\"--And he answered her, \"My darling wife, on my way back from the\nbazaar I was athirst, and turned toward a mountain known of old to my\nfather and me, and it seemed to me as though there were a spring of\nwater there, though the water was very near dried up. But looking\ncloser, I saw that it was quite full; so I bethought me that I would\ndrink thereof, and I leaned over, when lo! that Evil-wanton (I mean\nthe Devil) caught me by the beard and would not let me go. I begged\nand prayed, but still he held me tight. 'Give me,' said he, 'what thou\nhast at home, or I'll never let thee go!'--And I said to him, 'Lo!\nnow, I have horses.'--'I don't want thy horses!' said he.--'I have\noxen,' I said.--'I don't want thine oxen!' said he.--'I have,' said I,\n'a wife so fair that the like of her is not to be found in God's fair\nworld; take her, but let me go.'--'I don't want thy fair wife!' said\nhe.--Then I promised him what I should find at home when I got there,\nfor I never thought that God had blessed me so. Come now, my darling\nwife! and let us bury them both lest he take them!\"--\"Nay, nay! my\ndear husband, we had better hide them somewhere. Let us dig a ditch by\nour hut--just under the gables!\" (For there were no lordly mansions in\nthose days, and the Tsars dwelt in peasants' huts.) So they dug a\nditch right under the gables, and put their children inside it, and\ngave them provision of bread and water. Then they covered it up and\nsmoothed it down, and turned into their own little hut.\n\n   [8] A little Tsar.\n\nPresently the serpent (for the Accursed One had changed himself into a\nserpent) came flying up in search of the children. He raged up and\ndown outside the hut--but there was nothing to be seen. At last he\ncried out to the stove, \"Stove, stove, where has the Tsar hidden\nhis children?\"--The stove replied, \"The Tsar has been a good master\nto me; he has put lots of warm fuel inside me; I hold to him.\"--So,\nfinding he could get nothing out of the stove, he cried to the\nhearth-broom, \"Hearth-broom, hearth-broom, where has the Tsar\nhidden his children?\"--But the hearth-broom answered, \"The Tsar has\nalways been a good master to me, for he always cleans the warm grate\nwith me; I hold to him.\" So the Accursed One could get nothing out\nof the hearth-broom.--Then he cried to the hatchet, \"Hatchet,\nhatchet, where has the Tsar hidden his children?\"--The hatchet\nreplied, \"The Tsar has always been a good master to me. He chops\nhis wood with me, and gives me a place to lie down in; so I'll not\nhave him disturbed.\"--Then the Devil cried to the gimlet, \"Gimlet,\ngimlet, where has the Tsar hidden his children?\"--But the gimlet\nreplied, \"The Tsar has always been a good master to me. He drills\nlittle holes with me, and then lets me rest; so I'll let him rest\ntoo.\"--Then the serpent said to the gimlet, \"So the Tsar's a good\nmaster to thee, eh! Well, I can only say that if he's the good\nmaster thou sayest he is, I am rather surprised that he knocks thee\non the head so much with a hammer.\"--\"Well, that's true,\" said\nthe gimlet, \"I never thought of that. Thou mayst take hold of me if\nthou wilt, and draw me out of the top of the hut, near the front\ngable; and wherever I fall into the marshy ground, there set to work\nand dig with me!\"\n\nThe Devil did so, and began digging at the spot where the gimlet fell\nout on the marshy ground till he had dug out the children. Now, as\nthey had been growing all along, they were children no more, but a\nstately youth and a fair damsel; and the serpent took them up and\ncarried them off. But they were big and heavy, so he soon got tired\nand lay down to rest, and presently fell asleep. Then the Tsarivna sat\ndown on his head, and the Tsarevko sat down beside her, till a horse\ncame running up. The horse ran right up to them and said, \"Hail!\nlittle Tsar Novishny; art thou here by thy leave or against thy\nleave?\"--And the little Tsar Novishny replied, \"Nay, little nag! we\nare here against our leave, not by our leave.\"--\"Then sit on my back!\"\nsaid the horse, \"and I'll carry you off!\" So they got on his back, for\nthe serpent was asleep all the time. Then the horse galloped off with\nthem; and he galloped far, far away. Presently the serpent awoke,\nlooked all round him, and could see nothing till he had got up out of\nthe reeds in which he lay, when he saw them in the far distance, and\ngave chase. He soon caught them up; and little Tsar Novishny said to\nthe horse, \"Oh! little nag, how hot it is. It is all up with thee and\nus!\" And, in truth, the horse's tail was already singed to a coal, for\nthe serpent was hard behind them, blazing like fire. The horse\nperceived that he could do no more, so he gave one last wriggle and\ndied; but they, poor things, were left alive. \"Whom have you been\nlistening to?\" said the serpent as he flew up to them. \"Don't you know\nthat I only am your father and tsar, and have the right to carry you\naway?\"--\"Oh, dear daddy! we'll never listen to anybody else\nagain!\"--\"Well, I'll forgive you this time,\" said the serpent; \"but\nmind you never do it again.\"\n\nAgain the serpent took them up and carried them off. Presently he\ngrew tired and again lay down to rest, and nodded off. Then the\nTsarivna sat down on his head, and the Tsarevko sat down beside her,\ntill a humble-bee came flying up. \"Hail, little Tsar Novishny!\" cried\nthe humble-bee.--\"Hail, little humble-bee!\" said the little\nTsar.--\"Say, friends, are you here by your leave or against your\nleave?\"--\"Alas! little humble-bumble-bee, 'tis not with my leave I\nhave been brought hither, but against my leave, as thou mayst see for\nthyself.\"--\"Then sit on my back,\" said the bee, \"and I'll carry you\naway.\"--\"But, dear little humble-bumble-bee, if a horse couldn't save\nus, how will you?\"--\"I cannot tell till I try,\" said the humble-bee.\n\"But if I cannot save you, I'll let you fall.\"--\"Well, then,\" said\nthe little Tsar, \"we'll try. For we two must perish in any case,\nbut thou perhaps mayst get off scot-free.\" So they embraced each\nother, sat on the humble-bee, and off they went. When the serpent\nawoke he missed them, and raising his head above the reeds and rushes,\nsaw them flying far away, and set off after them at full speed.\n\"Alas! little humble-bumble-bee,\" cried little Tsar Novishny, \"how\nburning hot 'tis getting. We shall all three perish!\" Then the\nhumble-bee turned his wing and shook them off. They fell to the\nearth, and he flew away. Then the serpent came flying up and fell\nupon them with open jaws. \"Ah-ha!\" cried he, with a snort, \"you've\ncome to grief again, eh? Didn't I tell you to listen to nobody but\nme!\" Then they fell to weeping and entreating, \"We'll listen to you\nalone and to nobody else!\" and they wept and entreated so much that\nat last he forgave them.\n\nSo he took them up and carried them off once more. Again he sat down\nto rest and fell asleep, and again the Tsarivna sat upon his head and\nthe Tsarevko sat down by her side, till a bullock came up, full tilt,\nand said to them, \"Hail, little Tsar Novishny! art thou here with thy\nleave or art thou here against thy leave?\"--\"Alas! dear little\nbullock, I came not hither by my leave; but maybe I was brought here\nagainst my leave!\"--\"Sit on my back, then,\" said the bullock, \"and\nI'll carry you away.\"--But they said, \"Nay, if a horse and a bee could\nnot manage it, how wilt thou?\"--\"Nonsense!\" said the bullock. \"Sit\ndown, and I'll carry you off!\" So he persuaded them.--\"Well, we can\nonly perish once!\" they cried; and the bullock carried them off. And\nevery little while they went a little mile, and jolted so that they\nvery nearly tumbled off. Presently the serpent awoke and was very very\nwrath. He rose high above the woods and flew after them--oh! how fast\nhe did fly! Then cried the little Tsar, \"Alas! bullock, how hot it\nturns. Thou wilt perish, and we shall perish also!\"--Then said the\nbullock, \"Little Tsar! look into my left ear and thou wilt see a\nhorse-comb. Pull it out and throw it behind thee!\"--The little Tsar\ntook out the comb and threw it behind him, and it became a huge wood,\nas thick and jagged as the teeth of a horse-comb. But the bullock went\non at his old pace: every little while they went a little mile, and\njolted so that they nearly tumbled off. The serpent, however, managed\nto gnaw his way through the wood, and then flew after them again. Then\ncried the little Tsar, \"Alas! bullock, it begins to burn again. Thou\nwilt perish, and we shall perish also!\"--Then said the bullock, \"Look\ninto my right ear, and pull out the brush thou dost find there, and\nfling it behind thee!\"--So he threw it behind him, and it became a\nforest as thick as a brush. Then the serpent came up to the forest and\nbegan to gnaw at it; and at last he gnawed his way right through it.\nBut the bullock went on at his old pace: every little while they went\na little mile, and they jolted so that they nearly tumbled off. But\nwhen the serpent had gnawed his way through the forest, he again\npursued them; and again they felt a burning. And the little Tsar said,\n\"Alas! bullock, look! look! how it burns. Look! look! how we perish.\"\nNow the bullock was already nearing the sea. \"Look into my right ear,\"\nsaid the bullock, \"draw out the little handkerchief thou findest\nthere, and throw it in front of me.\" He drew it out and flung it, and\nbefore them stood a bridge. Over this bridge they galloped, and by the\ntime they had done so, the serpent reached the sea. Then said the\nbullock to the little Tsar, \"Take up the handkerchief again and wave\nit behind me.\" Then he took and waved it till the bridge doubled up\nbehind them, and went and spread out again right in front of them.\nThe serpent came up to the edge of the sea; but there he had to stop,\nfor he had nothing to run upon.\n\nSo they crossed over that sea right to the other side, and the serpent\nremained on his own side. Then the bullock said to them, \"I'll lead\nyou to a hut close to the sea, and in that hut you must live, and you\nmust take and slay me.\" But they fell a-weeping sore. \"How shall we\nslay thee!\" they cried; \"thou art our own little dad, and hast saved\nus from death!\"--\"Nay!\" said the bullock; \"but you must slay me, and\none quarter of me you must hang up on the stove, and the second\nquarter you must place on the ground in a corner, and the third\nquarter you must put in the corner at the entrance of the hut, and the\nfourth quarter you must put round the threshold, so that there will be\na quarter in all four corners.\" So they took and slew him in front of\nthe threshold, and they hung his four quarters in the four corners as\nhe had bidden them, and then they laid them down to sleep. Now the\nTsarevko awoke at midnight, and saw in the right-hand corner a horse\nso gorgeously caparisoned that he could not resist rising at once and\nmounting it; and in the threshold corner there was a self-slicing\nsword, and in the third corner stood the dog _Protius_[9], and in the\nstove corner stood the dog _Nedviga_[9]. The little Tsar longed to be\noff. \"Rise, little sister!\" cried he. \"God has been good to us! Rise,\ndear little sister, and let us pray to God!\" So they arose and prayed\nto God, and while they prayed the day dawned. Then he mounted his\nhorse and took the dogs with him, that he might live by what they\ncaught.\n\n   [9] The two fabulous hounds of Ruthenian legend.\n\nSo they lived in their hut by the sea, and one day the sister went\ndown to the sea to wash her bed-linen and her body-linen in the blue\nwaters. And the serpent came and said to her, \"How didst thou manage\nto jump over the sea?\"--\"Look, now!\" said she, \"we crossed over in\nthis way. My brother has a handkerchief which becomes a bridge when he\nwaves it behind him.\"--And the serpent said to her, \"I tell thee what,\nask him for this handkerchief; say thou dost want to wash it, and take\nand wave it, and I'll then be able to cross over to thee and live with\nthee, and we'll poison thy brother.\"--Then she went home and said to\nher brother, \"Give me that handkerchief, dear little brother; it is\ndirty, so I'll wash and give it back to thee.\" And he believed her and\ngave it to her, for she was dear to him, and he thought her good and\ntrue. Then she took the handkerchief, went down to the sea, and waved\nit--and behold there was a bridge. Then the serpent crossed over to\nher side, and they walked to the hut together and consulted as to the\nbest way of destroying her brother and removing him from God's fair\nworld. Now it was his custom to rise at dawn, mount his horse, and go\na-hunting, for hunting he dearly loved. So the serpent said to her,\n\"Take to thy bed and pretend to be ill, and say to him, 'I dreamed a\ndream, dear brother, and lo, I saw thee go and fetch me wolf's milk to\nmake me well.' Then he'll go and fetch it, and the wolves will tear\nhis dogs to pieces, and then we can take and do to him as we list, for\nhis strength is in his dogs.\"\n\nSo when the brother came home from hunting the serpent hid himself,\nbut the sister said, \"I have dreamed a dream, dear brother. Methought\nthou didst go and fetch me wolf's milk, and I drank of it, and my\nhealth came back to me, for I am so weak that God grant I die\nnot.\"--\"I'll fetch it,\" said her brother. So he mounted his horse and\nset off. Presently he came to a little thicket, and immediately a\nshe-wolf came out. Then Protius ran her down and Nedviga held her\nfast, and the little Tsar milked her and let her go. And the she-wolf\nlooked round and said, \"Well for thee, little Tsar Novishny, that thou\nhast let me go. Methought thou wouldst not let me go alive. For that\nthou hast let me go, I'll give thee, little Tsar Novishny, a\nwolf-whelp.\"--Then she said to the little wolf, \"Thou shalt serve this\ndear little Tsar as though he were thine own dear father.\" Then the\nlittle Tsar went back, and now there were with him two dogs and a\nlittle wolf-whelp that trotted behind them.\n\nNow the serpent and the false sister saw him coming from afar, and\nthree dogs trotting behind him. And the serpent said to her, \"What a\nsly, wily one it is! He has added another watch-dog to his train! Lie\ndown, and make thyself out worse than ever, and ask bear's milk of\nhim, for the bears will tear him to pieces without doubt.\" Then the\nserpent turned himself into a needle, and she took him up and stuck\nhim in the wall. Meanwhile the brother dismounted from his horse and\ncame with his dogs and the wolf to the hut, and the dogs began\nsnuffing at the needle in the wall. And his sister said to him, \"Tell\nme, why dost thou keep these big dogs? They let me have no rest.\" Then\nhe called to the dogs, and they sat down. And his sister said to him,\n\"I dreamed a dream, my brother. I saw thee go and search and fetch me\nfrom somewhere bear's milk, and I drank of it, and my health came back\nto me.\"--\"I will fetch it,\" said her brother.\n\nBut first of all he laid him down to sleep. Nedviga lay at his head,\nand Protius at his feet, and _Vovchok_[10] by his side. So he slept\nthrough the night, and at dawn he arose and mounted his good steed and\nhied him thence. Again they came to a little thicket, and this time a\nshe-bear came out. Protius ran her down, Nedviga held her fast, and\nthe little Tsar milked her and let her go. Then the she-bear said,\n\"Hail to thee, little Tsar Novishny; because thou hast let me go, I'll\ngive thee a bear-cub.\" But to the little bear she said, \"Obey him as\nthough he were thine own father.\" So he set off home, and the serpent\nand his sister saw that four were now trotting behind him. \"Look!\"\nsaid the serpent, \"if there are not four running behind him! Shall we\nnever be able to destroy him? I tell thee what. Ask him to get thee\nhare's milk; perhaps his beasts will gobble up the hare before he can\nmilk it.\" So he turned himself into a needle again, and she fastened\nhim in the wall, only a little higher up, so that the dogs should not\nget at him. Then, when the little Tsar dismounted from his horse, he\nand his dogs came into the hut, and the dogs began snuffing at the\nneedle in the wall and barked at it, but the brother knew not the\ncause thereof. But his sister burst into tears and said, \"Why dost\nthou keep such monstrous dogs? Such a kennel of them makes me ill with\nanguish!\" Then he shouted to the dogs, and they sat down quite still.\nThen she said to him, \"I am so ill, brother, that nothing will make me\nwell but hare's milk. Go and get it for me.\"--\"I'll get it,\" said he.\n\n  [10] Little Wolf.\n\nBut first he laid him down to sleep. Nedviga lay at his head, Protius\nat his feet, and Vovchok and _Medvedik_[11] each on one side. He slept\nthrough the night, but at dawn he mounted his steed, took his pack\nwith him, and departed. Again he came to a little thicket, and a\nshe-hare popped out. Protius ran her down, Nedviga held her fast, then\nhe milked her and let her go. Then the hare said, \"Hail to thee,\nlittle Tsar Novishny; because thou hast let me go--I thought thou\nwouldst have torn me to pieces with thy dogs--I'll give thee a\nleveret.\" But to the leveret she said, \"Obey him, as though he were\nthine own father.\" Then he went home, and again they saw him from\nafar. \"What a wily rogue it is!\" said they. \"All five are following\nhim, and he is as well as ever!\"--\"Ask him to get thee fox's milk!\"\nsaid the serpent; \"perhaps when he goes for it his beasts will leave\nhim in the lurch!\" Then he changed himself into a needle, and she\nstuck him still higher in the wall, so that the dogs could not get at\nhim. The Tsar again dismounted from his horse, and his dogs rushed up\nto the hut and began snuffing at the needle. But his sister fell\na-weeping, and said, \"Why dost thou keep such monstrous dogs?\" He\nshouted to them, and they sat down quietly on their haunches. Then his\nsister said again, \"I am ailing, my brother; go and get me fox's milk,\nand I shall be well.\"--\"I'll fetch it for thee,\" said her brother.\n\n  [11] Little Bear.\n\nBut first he lay down to sleep. Nedviga lay at his head, Protius at\nhis feet, and Vovchok, Medvedik, and the leveret by his side. The\nlittle Tsar slept through the night, and at dawn he arose, mounted his\nhorse, took his pack with him, and went off. They came to a little\nthicket, and a vixen popped out. Protius ran her down, Nedviga held\nher fast, and the little Tsar milked her and let her go. Then said the\nvixen to him, \"Thanks to thee, little Tsar Novishny, that thou hast\nlet me go. Methought thou wouldst tear me in pieces with thy dogs. For\nthy kindness I'll give thee a little fox.\" But to the little fox she\nsaid, \"Obey him as though he were thine own father.\" So he went home,\nand they saw him coming from afar, and lo! now he had six guardians,\nand yet had come by no harm. \"'Tis no good; we shall never do for\nhim,\" said the serpent. \"Look, now! Make thyself worse than ever, and\nsay to him, 'I am very ill, my brother, because in another realm, far,\nfar away, there is a wild boar who ploughs with his nose, and sows\nwith his ears, and harrows with his tail--and in that same empire\nthere is a mill with twelve furnaces that grinds its own grain and\ncasts forth its own meal, and if thou wilt bring me of the meal that\nis beneath these twelve furnaces, so that I may make me a cake of it\nand eat, my soul shall live.'\"--Then her brother said to her,\n\"Methinks thou art not my sister, but my foe!\"--But she replied, \"How\ncan I be thy foe when we two live all alone together in a strange\nland?\"--\"Well, I will get it for thee,\" said he. For again he believed\nin his sister.\n\nSo he mounted his steed, took his pack with him, and departed, and he\ncame to the land where were that boar and that mill she had told him\nof. He came up to the mill, tied his horse to it, and entered into it.\nAnd there were twelve furnaces there and twelve doors, and these\ntwelve doors needed no man to open or shut them, for they opened and\nshut themselves. He took meal from beneath the first furnace and went\nthrough the second door, but the dogs were shut in by the doors.\nThrough all twelve doors he went, and came out again at the first\ndoor, and looked about him, and--there were no dogs to be seen. He\nwhistled, and he heard his dogs whining where they could not get out.\nThen he wept sore, mounted his horse, and went home. He got home, and\nthere was his sister making merry with the serpent. And no sooner did\nthe brother enter the hut than the serpent said, \"Well, we wanted\nflesh, and now flesh has come to us!\" For they had just slain a\nbullock, and on the ground where they had slain it there sprang up a\nwhitethorn-tree, so lovely that it may be told of in tales, but\nneither imagined nor divined. When the little Tsar saw it, he said,\n\"Oh, my dear brother-in-law!\" (for without his dogs he must needs be\ncourteous to the serpent) \"pray let me climb up that whitethorn-tree,\nand have a good look about me!\" But the sister said to the serpent,\n\"Dear friend, make him get ready boiling water for himself, and we\nwill boil him, for it does not become thee to dirty thy hands.\"--\"Very\nwell,\" said the serpent; \"he shall make the boiling water ready!\" So\nthey ordered the little Tsar to go and chop wood and get the hot water\nready. Then he went and chopped wood, but as he was doing so, a\nstarling flew out and said to him, \"Not so fast, not so fast, little\nTsar Novishny. Be as slow as thou canst, for thy dogs have gnawed\ntheir way through two doors.\"\n\nThen the little Tsar poured water into the cauldron, and put fire\nunder it. But the wood that he had cut was rotten and very very dry,\nso that it burned most fiercely, and he took and sprinkled it with\nwater, and sprinkled it again and again, so that it might not burn too\nmuch. And when he went out into the courtyard for more water, the\nstarling said to him, \"Not so fast, not so fast, little Tsar Novishny,\nfor thy dogs have gnawed their way through four doors!\" As he was\nreturning to the hut his sister said to him, \"That water does not boil\nup quickly enough! Take the fire-shovel and poke the fire!\" So he did\nso, and the faggots blazed up, but when she had gone away he sprinkled\nthem with water again, so that they might burn more slowly. Then he\nwent into the courtyard again, and the starling met him and said, \"Not\nso fast, not so fast, little Tsar; be as slow as thou canst, for thy\ndogs have gnawed their way through six doors.\" Then he returned to the\nhut, and his sister again took up the shovel and made him poke up the\nfire, and when she went away he again flung water on the burning\ncoals. So he kept going in and out of the courtyard. \"'Tis weary\nwork!\" cried he; but the starling said to him, \"Not so fast, not so\nfast, little Tsar Novishny, for thy dogs have already gnawed their way\nthrough ten doors!\" The little Tsar picked up the rottenest wood he\ncould find and flung it on the fire, to make believe he was making\nhaste, but sprinkled it at the same time with water, so that it might\nnot burn up too quickly, and yet the kettle soon began to boil. Again\nhe went to the forest for more wood, and the starling said to him,\n\"Not so fast, not so fast, little Tsar, for thy dogs have already\ngnawed their way through all the doors, and are now resting!\" But now\nthe water was boiling, and his sister ran up and said to him, \"Come,\nboil thyself, be quick; how much longer art thou going to keep us\nwaiting?\" Then he, poor thing, began ladling the boiling water over\nhimself, while she got the table ready and spread the cloth, that the\nserpent might eat her brother on that very table.\n\nBut he, poor thing, kept ladling himself, and cried, \"Oh, my\ndear brother-in-law, pray let me climb up to the top of that\nwhitethorn-tree; let me have a look out from the top of it, for\nthence one can see afar!\"--\"Don't let him, dear!\" said the sister\nto the serpent; \"he will stay there too long and lose our precious\ntime.\"--But the serpent replied, \"It doesn't matter, it doesn't\nmatter; let him climb up if he likes.\" So the little Tsar went up\nto the tree, and began to climb it; he did not miss a single\nbranch, and stopped a little at each one to gain time, and so he\nclimbed up to the very top, and then he took out his flute and\nbegan to play upon it. But the starling flew up to him and said,\n\"Not so fast, little Tsar Novishny, for lo! thy dogs are running to\nthee with all their might.\" But his sister ran out and said,\n\"What art thou playing up there for? Thou dost forget perhaps that\nwe are waiting for thee down here!\" Then he began to descend the\ntree, but he stopped at every branch on his way down, while his\nsister kept on calling to him to come down quicker. At last he came\nto the last branch, and as he stood upon it and leaped down to\nthe ground, he thought to himself, \"Now I perish!\" At that same\ninstant his dogs and his beasts, growling loudly, came running up,\nand stood in a circle around him. Then he crossed himself and said,\n\"Glory to Thee, O Lord! I have still, perchance, a little time\nto live in Thy fair world!\" Then he called aloud to the serpent\nand said, \"And now, dear brother-in-law, come out, for I am ready\nfor thee!\" Out came the serpent to eat him, but he said to his dogs\nand his beasts, \"Vovchok! Medvedik! Protius! Nedviga! Seize him!\"\nThen the dogs and the beasts rushed upon him and tore him to bits.\n\nThen the little Tsar collected the pieces and burnt them to ashes, and\nthe little fox rolled his brush in the ashes till it was covered with\nthem, and then went out into the open field and scattered them to the\nfour winds. But while they were tearing the serpent to pieces the\nwicked sister knocked out his tooth and hid it. After it was all over\nthe little Tsar said to her, \"As thou hast been such a false friend to\nme, sister, thou must remain here while I go into another kingdom.\"\nThen he made two buckets and hung them up on the whitethorn-tree, and\nsaid to his sister, \"Look now, sister! if thou weepest for me, this\nbucket will fill with tears, but if thou weepest for the serpent that\nbucket will fill with blood!\" Then she fell a-weeping and praying, and\nsaid to him, \"Don't leave me, brother, but take me with thee.\"--\"I\nwon't,\" said he; \"such a false friend as thou art I'll not have with\nme. Stay where thou art.\" So he mounted his horse, called to him his\ndogs and his beasts, and went his way into another kingdom and into\nanother empire.\n\nHe went on and on till he came to a certain city, and in this city\nthere was only one spring, and in this spring sat a dragon with twelve\nheads. And it was so that when any went to draw water from this well\nthe dragon rose up and ate them, and there was no other place whence\nthat city could draw its water. So the little Tsar came to that town\nand put up at the stranger's inn, and he asked his host, \"What is the\nmeaning of all this running and crying of the people in the\nstreets?\"--\"Why, dost thou not know?\" said he; \"it is the turn of the\nTsar to send his daughter to the dragon!\"--Then he went out and\nlistened, and heard the people say, \"The Tsar proclaims that whoever\nis able to slay the dragon, to him will he give his daughter and\none-half of his tsardom!\" Then little Tsar Novishny stepped forth and\nsaid, \"I am able to slay this evil dragon!\" So all the people\nimmediately sent and told the Tsar, \"A stranger has come hither who\nsays he is ready to meet and slay the dragon.\" Then the Tsar bade them\ntake him to the watch-house and put him among the guards.\n\nThen they led out the Tsarivna, and behind her they led him, and\nbehind him came his beasts and his horse. And the Tsarivna was so\nlovely and so richly attired that all who beheld her burst into tears.\nBut the moment the dragon appeared and opened his mouth to devour the\nTsarivna, the little Tsar cried to his self-slicing sword, \"Fall upon\nhim!\" and to his beasts he cried, \"Protius! Medvedik! Vovchok!\nNedviga! Seize him!\" Then the self-slicing sword and the beasts fell\nupon him, and tore him into little bits. When they had finished\ntearing him, the little Tsar took the remains of the body and burnt\nthem to ashes, and the little fox took up all the ashes on her tail,\nand scattered them to the four winds. Then he took the Tsarivna by the\nhand, and led her to the Tsar, and the people rejoiced because their\nwater was free again. And the Tsarivna gave him the nuptial ring.\n\nThen they set off home again. They went on and on, for it was a long\nway from the tsardom of that Tsar, and at last he grew weary and lay\ndown in the grass, and she sat at his head. Then his lackey crept up\nto him, unfastened the self-slicing sword from his side, went up to\nthe little Tsar, and said, \"Self-slicing sword! slay him!\" Then the\nself-slicing sword cut him into little bits, and his beasts knew\nnothing about it, for they were sleeping after their labours. After\nthat the lackey said to the Tsarivna, \"Thou must say now to all men\nthat I saved thee from death, or if not, I will do to thee what I have\ndone to him. Swear that thou wilt say this thing!\" Then she said, \"I\nwill swear that thou didst save me from death,\" for she was sore\nafraid of the lackey. Then they returned to the city, and the Tsar was\nvery glad to see them, and clothed the lackey in goodly apparel, and\nthey all made merry together.\n\nNow when Nedviga awoke he perceived that his master was no longer\nthere, and immediately awoke all the rest, and they all began to think\nand consider which of them was the swiftest. And when they had thought\nit well over they judged that the hare was the swiftest, and they\nresolved that the hare should run and get living and healing water and\nthe apple of youth also. So the hare ran to fetch this water and this\napple, and he ran and ran till he came to a certain land, and in this\nland the hare saw a spring, and close to the spring grew an apple-tree\nwith the apples of youth, and this spring and this apple-tree were\nguarded by a Muscovite, oh! so strong, so strong, and he waved his\nsabre again and again so that not even a mouse could make its way up\nto that well. What was to be done? Then the little hare had resort to\nsubtlety, and made herself crooked, and limped toward the spring as if\nshe were lame. When the Muscovite saw her he said, \"What sort of a\nlittle beast is this? I never saw the like of it before!\" So the hare\npassed him by, and went farther and farther on till she came right up\nto the well. The Muscovite stood there and opened his eyes wide, but\nthe hare had now got up to the spring, and took a little flask of the\nwater and nipped off a little apple, and was off in a trice.\n\nShe ran back to the little Tsar Novishny, and Nedviga immediately took\nthe water and sprinkled therewith the fragments of the little Tsar,\nand the fragments came together again. Then he poured some of the\nliving water into his mouth and he became alive, and gave him a bite\nof the apple of youth, and he instantly grew young again and stronger\nthan ever. Then the little Tsar rose upon his feet, stretched himself,\nand yawned. \"What a long time I've been asleep!\" cried he.--\"'Tis a\ngood thing for thee that we got the living and healing water!\" said\nProtius.--\"But what shall we do next?\" said they all. Then they all\ntook council together, and agreed that the little Tsar should disguise\nhimself as an old man, and so go to the Tsar's palace.\n\nSo the little Tsar Novishny disguised himself as an old man, and went\nto the palace of the Tsar. And when he got there he begged them to let\nhim in that he might see the young married people. But the lackeys\nwould not let him in. Then the Tsarivna herself heard the sound of his\nbegging and praying, and commanded them to admit him. Now when he\nentered the room and took off his cap and cloak, the ring which the\nTsarivna had given him when he slew the serpent sparkled so that she\nknew him, but, not believing her own eyes, she said to him, \"Come\nhither, thou godly old pilgrim, that I may show thee hospitality!\"\nThen the little Tsar drew near to the table, and the Tsarivna poured\nhim out a glass of wine and gave it to him, and he took it with his\nleft hand. She marked that he did not take it with the hand on which\nwas the ring, so she drank off that glass herself. Then she filled\nanother glass and gave it him, and he took it with his right hand.\nThen she immediately recognized her ring, and said to her father,\n\"This man is my husband who delivered me from death, but that\nfellow\"--pointing to the lackey--\"that rascally slavish soul killed my\nhusband and made me say that he was my husband.\" When the Tsar heard\nthis he boiled over with rage. \"So _that_ is what thou art!\" said he\nto the lackey, and immediately he bade them bind him and tie him to\nthe tail of a horse so savage that no man could ride it, and then turn\nit loose into the endless steppe. But the little Tsar Novishny sat\ndown behind the table and made merry.\n\nSo the Tsarevko and the Tsarivna lived a long time together in\nhappiness, but one day she asked him, \"What of thy kindred and thy\nfather's house?\" Then he told her all about his sister. She\nimmediately bade him saddle his horse, and taking his beasts with him,\ngo in search of her. They came to the place where he had left her, and\nsaw that the bucket which was put up for the serpent was full of\nblood, but that the little Tsar's bucket was all dry and falling to\npieces. Then he perceived that she was still lamenting for the\nserpent, and said to her, \"God be with thee, but I will know thee no\nmore. Stay here, and never will I look upon thy face again!\" But she\nbegan to entreat and caress and implore him that he would take her\nwith him. Then the brother had compassion on his sister and took her\naway with him.\n\nNow when they got home she took out the serpent's tooth which she had\nhidden about her, and put it beneath his pillow on the bed whereon he\nslept. And at night-time the little Tsar went to lie down and the\ntooth killed him. His wife thought that he was sulky, and therefore\ndid not speak to her, so she begged him not to be angry; and, getting\nno answer, took him by the hand, and lo! his hand was cold, as cold as\nlead, and she screamed out. But Protius came bounding through the door\nand kissed his master. Then the little Tsar became alive again, but\nProtius died. Then Nedviga kissed Protius and Protius became alive,\nbut Nedviga died. Then the Tsarevko said to Medvedik, \"Kiss Nedviga!\"\nHe did so, and Nedviga became alive again, but Medvedik died. And so\nthey went on kissing each other from the greatest to the smallest,\ntill the turn came to the hare. She kissed Vovchok and died, but\nVovchok remained alive. What was to be done? Now that the little hare\nhad died there was none to kiss her back into life again. \"Kiss her,\"\nsaid the little Tsar to the little fox. But the little fox was artful,\nand taking the little hare on his shoulder, he trotted off to the\nforest. He carried her to a place where lay a felled oak, with two\nbranches one on the top of the other, and put the hare on the lower\nbranch; then he ran under the branch and kissed the hare, but took\ngood care that the branch should be between them. Thereupon the\nserpent's tooth flew out of the hare and fastened itself in the upper\nbranch, and both fox and hare scampered back out of the forest alive\nand well. When the others saw them both alive they rejoiced greatly\nthat no harm had come to any of them from the tooth. But they seized\nthe sister and tied her to the tail of a savage horse and let her\nloose upon the endless steppe.\n\nSo they all lived the merry lives of Tsars who feast continually. And\nI was there too, and drank wine and mead till my mouth ran over and it\ntrickled all down my beard. So there's the whole _kazka_ for you.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VAMPIRE AND ST MICHAEL\n\n\nOnce upon a time in a certain village there lived two neighbours; one\nwas rich, very rich, and the other so poor that he had nothing in the\nworld but a little hut, and that was tumbling about his ears. At\nlength things came to such a pass with the poor man that he had\nnothing to eat, and could get work nowhere. Full of grief, he\nbethought him what he should do. He thought and thought, and at last\nhe said, \"Look ye, wife! I'll go to my rich neighbour. Perchance he\nwill lend me a silver rouble; that, at any rate, will be enough to buy\nbread with.\" So he went.\n\nHe came to the rich man. \"Good health to my lord!\" cried he.--\"Good\nhealth!\"--\"I have come on an errand to thee, dear little master!\"--\"What\nmay thine errand be?\" inquired the rich man.--\"Alas! would to God that I\nhad no need to say it. It has come to such a pass with us that\nthere's not a crust of bread nor a farthing of money in the house. So I\nhave come to thee, dear little master; lend us but a silver rouble and\nwe will be ever thankful to thee, and I'll work myself old to pay it\nback.\"--\"But who will stand surety for thee?\" asked the rich man.--\"I\nknow not if any man will, I am so poor. Yet, perchance, God and St\nMichael will be my sureties,\" and he pointed at the ikon in the corner.\nThen the ikon of St Michael spoke to the rich man from the niche and\nsaid, \"Come now! lend it him, and put it down to my account. God will\nrepay thee!\"--\"Well,\" said the rich man, \"I'll lend it to thee.\" So he\nlent it, and the poor man thanked him and returned to his home full of\njoy.\n\nBut the rich man was not content that God should give him back his\nloan by blessing him in his flocks and herds, and in his children, and\nin his health, and in the blessed fruits of the earth. He waited and\nwaited for the poor man to come and pay him back his rouble, and at\nlast he went to seek him. \"Thou son of a dog,\" he shouted, before the\nhouse, \"why hast thou not brought me back my money? Thou knowest how\nto borrow, but thou forgettest to repay!\" Then the wife of the poor\nman burst into tears. \"He would repay thee indeed if he were in this\nworld,\" said she, \"but lo now! he died but a little while ago!\" The\nrich man snarled at her and departed, but when he got home he said to\nthe ikon, \"A pretty surety _thou_ art!\" Then he took St Michael down\nfrom the niche, dug out his eyes, and began beating him.\n\nHe beat St Michael again and again, and at last he flung him into a\npuddle and trampled on him. \"I'll give it thee for standing me surety\nso scurvily,\" said he. While he was thus abusing St Michael, a young\nfellow about twenty years old came along that way, and said to him,\n\"What art thou doing, my father?\"--\"I am beating him because he stood\nsurety and has played me false. He took upon himself the repayment of\na silver rouble, which I lent to the son of a pig, who has since gone\naway and died. That is why I am beating him now.\"--\"Beat him not, my\nfather! I'll give thee a silver rouble, but do thou give me this holy\nimage!\"--\"Take him if thou wilt, but see that thou bring me the silver\nrouble first.\"\n\nThen the young man ran home and said to his father, \"Dad, give me a\nsilver rouble!\"--\"Wherefore, my son?\"--\"I would buy a holy image,\"\nsaid he, and he told his father how he had seen that heathen beating\nSt Michael.--\"Nay, my son, whence shall we who are poor find a silver\nrouble to give to him who is so rich?\"--\"Nay, but give it me, dad!\"\nand he begged and prayed till he got it. Then he ran back as quickly\nas he could, paid the silver rouble to the rich man, and got the holy\nimage. He washed it clean and placed it in the midst of sweet-smelling\nflowers. And so they lived on as before.\n\nNow this youth had three uncles, rich merchants, who sold all manner\nof merchandise, and went in ships to foreign lands, where they sold\ntheir goods and made their gains. One day, when his uncles were again\nmaking ready to depart into foreign lands, he said to them, \"Take me\nwith you!\"--\"Why shouldst thou go?\" said they; \"we have wares to sell,\nbut what hast thou?\"--\"Yet take me,\" said he.--\"But thou hast\nnothing.\"--\"I will make me laths and boards and take them with me,\"\nsaid he.--His uncles laughed at him for imagining such wares as these,\nbut he begged and prayed them till they were wearied. \"Well, come,\"\nthey said, \"though there is naught for thee to do; only take not much\nof these wares of thine with thee, for our ships are already\nfull.\"--Then he made him laths and boards, put them on board the ship,\ntook St Michael with him, and they departed.\n\nThey went on and on. They sailed a short distance and they sailed a\nlong distance, till at last they came to another tsardom and another\nempire. And the Tsar of this tsardom had an only daughter, so lovely\nthat the like of her is neither to be imagined nor divined in God's\nfair world, neither may it be told in tales. Now this Tsarivna one day\nwent down to the river to bathe, and plunged into the water without\nfirst crossing herself, whereupon the Evil Spirit took possession of\nher. The Tsarivna got out of the water, and straightway fell ill of so\nterrible a disease that it may not be told of. Do what they would--and\nthe wise men and the wise women did their utmost--it was of no avail.\nIn a few days she grew worse and died. Then the Tsar, her father, made\na proclamation that people should come and read the prayers for the\ndead over her dead body, and so exorcise the evil spirit, and\nwhosoever delivered her was to have half his power and half his\ntsardom.\n\nAnd the people came in crowds--but none of them could read the prayers\nfor the dead over her, it was impossible. Every evening a man went\ninto the church, and every morning they swept out his bones, for there\nwas naught else of him remaining. And the Tsar was very wrath. \"All my\npeople will be devoured,\" cried he. And he commanded that all the\nforeign merchants passing through his realm should be made to read\nprayers for the dead over his daughter's body. \"And if they will not\nread,\" said he, \"they shall not depart from my kingdom.\"\n\nSo the foreign merchants went one by one. In the evening a merchant\nwas shut up in the church, and in the early morning they came and\nfound and swept away his bones. At last it came to the turn of the\nyoung man's uncles to read the prayers for the dead in the church.\nThey wept and lamented and cried, \"We are lost! we are lost! Heaven\nhelp us!\" Then the eldest uncle said to the lad, \"Listen, good\nsimpleton! It has now come to my turn to read prayers over the\nTsarivna. Do thou go in my stead and pass the night in the church, and\nI'll give thee all my ship.\"--\"Nay, but,\" said the simpleton, \"what if\nshe tear me to pieces too? I won't go!\"--But then St Michael said to\nhim, \"Go and fear not! Stand in the very middle of the church, fenced\nround about with thy laths and boards, and take with thee a basket\nfull of pears. When she rushes at thee, take and scatter the pears,\nand it will take her till cockcrow to pick them all up. But do thou go\non reading thy prayers all the time, and look not up, whatever she may\ndo.\"\n\nWhen night came, he took up his laths and boards and a basket of\npears, and went to the church. He entrenched himself behind his\nboards, stood there and began to read. At dead of night there was a\nrustling and a rattling. O Lord! what was that? There was a shaking of\nthe bier--bang! bang!--and the Tsarivna arose from her coffin and came\nstraight toward him. She leaped upon the boards and made a grab at him\nand fell back. Then she leaped at him again, and again she fell back.\nThen he took his basket and scattered the pears. All through the\nchurch they rolled, she after them, and she tried to pick them up till\ncockcrow, and at the very first \"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\" she got into her\nbier again and lay still.\n\n[Illustration: THE TSARIVNA AROSE FROM HER COFFIN]\n\nWhen God's bright day dawned, the people came to clean out the church\nand sweep away his bones; but there he was reading his prayers, and\nthe rumour of it went through the town and they were all filled with\njoy.\n\nNext night it was the turn of the second uncle, and he began to beg\nand pray, \"Go thou, simpleton, in my stead! Look now, thou hast\nalready passed a night there, thou mayst very well pass another, and\nI'll give thee all my ship.\"--But he said, \"I won't go, I am\nafraid.\"--But then St Michael said to him again, \"Fear not, but go!\nFence thee all about with thy boards, and take with thee a basket of\nnuts. When she rushes at thee, scatter thy nuts, and the nuts will go\nrolling all about the church, and it will take her till cockcrow to\ngather them all up. But do thou go on reading thy prayers, nor look\nthou up, whatever may happen.\"\n\nAnd he did so. He took his boards and the basket of nuts, and went to\nthe church at nightfall and read. A little after midnight there was a\nrustling and an uproar, and the whole church shook. Then came a\nfumbling round about the coffin--bang! bang!--up she started, and made\nstraight for him. She leaped and plunged, she very nearly got through\nthe boards. She hissed, like seething pitch, and her eyes glared at\nhim like coals of fire, but it was of no use. He read on and on, and\ndidn't once look at her. Besides, he scattered his nuts, and she went\nafter them and tried to pick them all up till cockcrow. And at the\nfirst \"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\" she leaped into her coffin again and pulled\ndown the lid. In the morning the people came to sweep away his bones,\nand lo! they found him alive.\n\nThe next night he had to go again in the third uncle's stead. Then he\nsat down and cried and wailed, \"Alas, alas! what shall I do? 'Twere\nbetter I had never been born!\"--But St Michael said to him, \"Weep\nnot, 'twill all end happily. Fence thyself about with thy boards,\nsprinkle thyself all about with holy water, incense thyself with holy\nincense, and take me with thee. She shall not have thee. And the\nmoment she leaves her coffin, do thou jump quickly into it. And\nwhatever she may say to thee, and however she may implore thee, let\nher not get into it again until she says to thee, '_My consort!_'\"\n\nSo he went. There he stood in the middle of the church, fenced himself\nabout with his boards, strewed consecrated poppy-seed around him,\nincensed himself with holy incense, and read and read. About the\nmiddle of the night a tempest arose outside, and there was a rustling\nand a roaring, a hissing and a wailing. The church shook, the altar\ncandelabra were thrown down, the holy images fell on their faces. O\nLord, how awful! Then came a bang! bang! from the coffin, and again\nthe Tsarivna started up. She left her coffin and fluttered about the\nchurch. She rushed at the boards and made a snatch at him, and fell\nback; she rushed at him again, and again she fell back. She foamed at\nthe mouth, and her fury every instant grew worse and worse. She dashed\nherself about, and darted madly from one corner of the church to the\nother, seeking him everywhere. But he skipped into the coffin, with\nthe image of St Michael by his side. She ran all over the church\nseeking him. \"He was here--and now he is not here!\" cried she. Then\nshe ran farther on, felt all about her, and cried again, \"He was\nhere--and now he's not here!\" At last she sprang up to the coffin, and\nthere he was. Then she began to beg and pray him, \"Come down, come\ndown! I'll try and catch thee no more, only come down, come down!\"\nBut he only prayed to God, and answered her never a word. Then the\ncock crew once, \"Cock-a-doodle-doo!\"--\"Alas! come down, come down, _my\nconsort!_\" cried she. Then he came down, and they both fell on their\nknees and began praying to God, and wept sore and gave thanks to God\nbecause He had had mercy on them both.\n\nAnd at dawn of day crowds of people, with the Tsar at the head of\nthem, came to the church. \"Shall we find him reading prayers, or shall\nwe only find his bones?\" said they. And lo! there they both were on\ntheir knees praying fervently to God. Then the Tsar rejoiced greatly,\nand embraced both him and her. After that they had a grand service in\nthe church, and sprinkled her with holy water, and baptized her again,\nand the unclean spirit departed from her. Then the Tsar gave the young\nman half his power and half his kingdom, but the merchants departed in\ntheir ships, with their nephew on board.\n\n[Illustration: THEY WERE BOTH ON THEIR KNEES]\n\nThey lived together, and time went on and the young man still remained\na bachelor, and was so handsome that words cannot describe it. But the\nTsar lived alone with his daughter. She, however, grew sadder and\nsadder, and was no longer like her former self, so sorrowful was she.\nAnd the Tsar asked her, saying, \"Wherefore art thou so sorrowful?\"--\"I\nam not sorrowful, father,\" said she. But the Tsar watched her, and saw\nthat she _was_ sorrowful, and there was no help for it. Then he asked\nher again, \"Art thou ill?\"--\"Nay, dear dad,\" said she. \"I myself know\nnot what is the matter with me.\"\n\nAnd so it went on, till the Tsar dreamt a dream, and in this dream it\nwas said to him, \"Thy daughter grieves because she loves so much the\nyouth who drove the unclean spirit out of her.\" Then the Tsar asked\nher, \"Dost thou love this youth?\"--And she answered, \"I do, dear\nfather.\"--\"Then why didst thou not tell me before, my daughter?\" said\nhe. Then he sent for his heyducks and commanded them, saying, \"Go this\ninstant to such and such a kingdom, and there ye will find the youth\nwho cured my daughter; bring him to me.\" Then they went on and on\nuntil they found him, and he took just the same laths and boards that\nhe had had before, and went with them. The Tsar met him, and bought\nall his boards, and when they split them in pieces, lo! they were full\nof precious stones. Then the Tsar took him to his own house and gave\nhim his daughter. And they lived right merrily together.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF TREMSIN, THE\nBIRD ZHAR, AND NASTASIA,\nTHE LOVELY MAID OF THE SEA\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a man and a woman, and they had one little\nboy. In the summertime they used to go out and mow corn in the fields,\nand one summer when they had laid their little lad by the side of a\nsheaf, an eagle swooped down, caught up the child, carried him into a\nforest, and laid him in its nest. Now in this forest three bandits\nchanced to be wandering at the same time. They heard the child crying\nin the eagle's nest: \"Oo-oo! oo-oo! oo-oo!\" so they went up to the oak\non which was the nest and said one to another, \"Let us hew down the\ntree and kill the child!\"--\"No,\" replied one of them, \"it were better\nto climb up the tree and bring him down alive.\" So he climbed up the\ntree and brought down the lad, and they nurtured him and gave him the\nname of Tremsin. They brought up Tremsin until he became a youth, and\nthen they gave him a horse, set him upon it, and said to him, \"Now go\nout into the wide world and search for thy father and thy mother!\" So\nTremsin went out into the wide world and pastured his steed on the\nvast steppes, and his steed spoke to him and said, \"When we have gone\na little farther, thou wilt see before thee a plume of the Bird\n_Zhar_[12]; pick it not up, or sore trouble will be thine!\" Then they\nwent on again. They went on and on, through ten tsardoms they went,\ntill they came to another empire in the land of Thrice Ten where lay\nthe feather. And the youth said to himself, \"Why should I not pick up\nthe feather when it shines so brightly even from afar?\" And he went\nnear to the feather, and it shone so that the like of it cannot be\nexpressed or conceived or imagined or even told of in tales. Then\nTremsin picked up the feather and went into the town over against him,\nand in that town there lived a rich nobleman. And Tremsin entered the\nhouse of this nobleman and said, \"Sir, may I not take service with\nthee as a labourer?\"--The nobleman looked at him, and seeing that he\nwas comely and stalwart, \"Why not? Of course thou mayst,\" said he. So\nhe took him into his service. Now this nobleman had many servants, and\nthey curried his horses for him, and made them smart and glossy\nagainst the day he should go a-hunting. And Tremsin began to curry his\nhorse likewise, and the servants of the nobleman could not make the\nhorses of their master so shining bright as Tremsin made his own\nhorse. So they looked more closely, and they perceived that when\nTremsin cleaned his horse he stroked it with the feather of the Bird\nZhar, and the coat of the good steed straightway shone like burnished\nsilver. Then those servants were filled with envy, and said among\nthemselves, \"How can we remove this fellow from the world? We'll\nsaddle him with a task he is unable to do, and then our master will\ndrive him away.\"--So they went to their master and said, \"Tremsin has\na feather of the Bird Zhar, and he says that if he likes he can get\nthe Bird Zhar itself.\" Then the nobleman sent for Tremsin and said to\nhim, \"O Tremsin! my henchmen say that thou canst get the Bird Zhar if\nthou dost choose.\"--\"Nay, but I cannot,\" replied Tremsin.--\"Answer me\nnot,\" said the nobleman, \"for so sure as I've a sword, I'll slice thy\nhead off like a gourd.\"--Then Tremsin fell a-weeping and went away to\nhis horse. \"My master,\" said he, \"hath given me a task to do that will\nclean undo me.\"--\"What task is that?\" asked the horse.--\"Why, to fetch\nhim the Bird Zhar.\"--\"Why that's not a task, but a trifle,\" replied\nthe horse. \"Let us go to the steppes,\" it continued, \"and let me go\na-browsing; but do thou strip thyself stark-naked and lie down in the\ngrass, and the Bird Zhar will straightway swoop down to feed. So long\nas she only claws about thy body, touch her not; but as soon as she\nbegins to claw at thine eyes, seize her by the legs.\"\n\n  [12] _I.e._ Burning bright.\n\nSo when they got to the wild steppes, Tremsin stripped himself naked\nand flung himself in the grass, and, immediately, the Bird Zhar\nswooped down and began pecking all about him, and at last she pecked\nat his eyes. Then Tremsin seized her by both legs, and mounted his\nhorse and took the Bird Zhar to the nobleman. Then his fellow-servants\nwere more envious than ever, and they said among themselves, \"How\nshall we devise for him a task to do that cannot be done, and so rid\nthe world of him altogether?\" So they bethought them, and then they\nwent to the nobleman and said, \"Tremsin says that to get the Bird Zhar\nwas nothing, and that he is also able to get the thrice-lovely\nNastasia of the sea.\" Then the nobleman again sent for Tremsin and\nsaid to him, \"Look now! thou didst get for me the Bird Zhar, see that\nthou now also gettest for me the thrice-lovely Nastasia of the\nsea.\"--\"But I cannot, sir!\" said Tremsin.--\"Answer me not so!\"\nreplied the nobleman, \"for so sure as I've a sword, I'll slice thy\nhead off like a gourd an thou bring her not.\"--Then Tremsin went out\nto his horse and fell a-weeping.--\"Wherefore dost thou weep?\" asked\nthe faithful steed.--\"Wherefore should I not weep?\" he replied. \"My\nmaster has given me a task that cannot be done.\"--\"What task is\nthat?\"--\"Why, to fetch him the thrice-lovely Nastasia of the\nsea!\"--\"Oh-ho!\" laughed the horse, \"that is not a task, but a trifle.\nGo to thy master and say, 'Cause white tents to be raised by the\nsea-shore, and buy wares of sundry kinds, and wine and spirits in\nbottles and flasks,' and the thrice-lovely Nastasia will come and\npurchase thy wares, and then thou mayst take her.\"\n\nAnd the nobleman did so. He caused white tents to be pitched by the\nsea-shore, and bought kerchiefs and scarves and spread them out gaily,\nand made great store of wine and brandy in bottles and flasks. Then\nTremsin rode toward the tents, and while he was on the way his horse\nsaid to him, \"Now when I go to graze, do thou lie down and feign to\nsleep. Then the thrice-lovely Nastasia will appear and say, 'What for\nthy wares?' but do thou keep silence. But when she begins to taste of\nthe wine and the brandy, then she will go to sleep in the tent, and\nthou canst catch her easily and hold her fast!\" Then Tremsin lay down\nand feigned to sleep, and forth from the sea came the thrice-lovely\nNastasia, and went up to the tents and asked, \"Merchant, merchant,\nwhat for thy wares?\" But he lay there, and moved never a limb. She\nasked the same thing over and over again, but, getting no answer, went\ninto the tents where stood the flasks and the bottles. She tasted of\nthe wine. How good it was! She tasted of the brandy. That was still\nbetter. So from tasting she fell to drinking. First she drank a\nlittle, and then she drank a little more, and at last she went asleep\nin the tent. Then Tremsin seized the thrice-lovely Nastasia and put\nher behind him on horseback, and carried her off to the nobleman. The\nnobleman praised Tremsin exceedingly, but the thrice-lovely Nastasia\nsaid, \"Look now! since thou hast found the feather of the Bird Zhar,\nand the Bird Zhar herself, since also thou hast found me, thou must\nnow fetch me also my little coral necklace from the sea!\" Then Tremsin\nwent out to his faithful steed and wept sorely, and told him all about\nit. And the horse said to him, \"Did I not tell thee that grievous woe\nwould come upon thee if thou didst pick up that feather?\" But the\nhorse added, \"Come! weep not! after all 'tis not a task, but a\ntrifle.\" Then they went along by the sea, and the horse said to him,\n\"Let me out to graze, and then keep watch till thou seest a crab come\nforth from the sea, and then say to him, 'I'll catch thee.'\"--So\nTremsin let his horse out to graze, and he himself stood by the\nsea-shore, and watched and watched till he saw a crab come swimming\nalong. Then he said to the crab, \"I'll catch thee.\"--\"Oh! seize me\nnot!\" said the crab, \"but let me get back into the sea, and I'll be of\ngreat service to thee.\"--\"Very well,\" said Tremsin, \"but thou must get\nme from the sea the coral necklace of the thrice-lovely Nastasia,\" and\nwith that he let the crab go back into the sea again. Then the crab\ncalled together all her young crabs, and they collected all the coral\nand brought it ashore, and gave it to Tremsin. Then the faithful\nsteed came running up, and Tremsin mounted it, and took the coral to\nthe thrice-lovely Nastasia. \"Well,\" said Nastasia, \"thou hast got the\nfeather of the Bird Zhar, thou hast got the Bird Zhar itself, thou\nhast got me my coral, get me now from the sea my herd of wild\nhorses!\"--Then Tremsin was sore distressed, and went to his faithful\nsteed and wept bitterly, and told him all about it. \"Well,\" said the\nhorse, \"this time 'tis no trifle, but a real hard task. Go now to thy\nmaster, and bid him buy twenty hides, and twenty poods[13] of pitch,\nand twenty poods of flax, and twenty poods of hair.\"--So Tremsin went\nto his master and told him, and his master bought it all. Then Tremsin\nloaded his horse with all this, and to the sea they went together. And\nwhen they came to the sea the horse said, \"Now lay upon me the hides\nand the tar and the flax, and lay them in this order--first a hide,\nand then a pood of tar, and then a pood of flax, and so on, laying\nthem thus till they are all laid.\" Tremsin did so. \"And now,\" said the\nhorse, \"I shall plunge into the sea, and when thou seest a large red\nwave driving toward the shore, run away till the red wave has passed\nand thou dost see a white wave coming, and then sit down on the shore\nand keep watch. I shall then come out of the sea, and after me the\nwhole herd; then thou must strike with the horsehair the horse which\ngallops immediately after me, and he will not be too strong for\nthee.\"--So the faithful steed plunged into the sea, and Tremsin sat\ndown on the shore and watched. The horse swam to a bosquet that rose\nout of the sea, and there the herd of sea-horses was grazing. When\nthe strong charger of Nastasia saw him and the hides he carried on his\nback, it set off after him at full tilt, and the whole herd followed\nthe strong charger of Nastasia. They drove the horse with the hides\ninto the sea, and pursued him. Then the strong charger of Nastasia\ncaught up the steed of Tremsin and tore off one of his hides, and\nbegan to worry it with his teeth and tear it to fragments as he ran.\nThen he caught him up a second time, and tore off another hide, and\nbegan to worry that in like manner till he had torn it also to shreds;\nand thus he ran after Tremsin's steed for seventy miles, till he had\ntorn off all the hides, and worried them to bits. But Tremsin sat upon\nthe sea-shore till he saw the large white billow bounding in, and\nbehind the billow came his own horse, and behind his own horse came\nthe thrice-terrible charger of the thrice-lovely Nastasia, with the\nwhole herd at his heels. Tremsin struck him full on the forehead with\nthe twenty poods of hair, and immediately he stood stock still. Then\nTremsin threw a halter over him, mounted, and drove the whole herd to\nthe thrice-lovely Nastasia. Nastasia praised Tremsin for his prowess,\nand said to him, \"Well, thou hast got the feather of the Bird Zhar,\nthou hast got the Bird Zhar itself, thou hast got me my coral and my\nherd of horses, now milk my mare and put the milk into three vats, so\nthat there may be milk hot as boiling water in the first vat, lukewarm\nmilk in the second vat, and icy cold milk in the third vat.\" Then\nTremsin went to his faithful steed and wept bitterly, and the horse\nsaid to him, \"Wherefore dost thou weep?\"--\"Why should I not weep?\"\ncried he; \"the thrice-lovely Nastasia has given me a task to do that\ncannot be done. I am to fill three vats with the milk from her mare,\nand the milk must be boiling hot in the first vat, and lukewarm in the\nsecond, and icy cold in the third vat.\"--\"Oh-ho!\" cried the horse,\n\"that is not a task, but a trifle. I'll caress the mare, and then go\non nibbling till thou hast milked all three vats full.\" So Tremsin did\nso. He milked the three vats full, and the milk in the first vat was\nboiling hot, and in the second vat warm, and in the third vat freezing\ncold. When all was ready the thrice-lovely Nastasia said to Tremsin,\n\"Now, leap first of all into the cold vat, and then into the warm vat,\nand then into the boiling hot vat!\"--Tremsin leaped into the first\nvat, and leaped out again an old man; he leaped into the second vat,\nand leaped out again a youth; he leaped into the third vat, but when\nhe leaped out again, he was so young and handsome that no pen can\ndescribe it, and no tale can tell of it. Then the thrice-lovely\nNastasia herself leaped into the vats. She leaped into the first vat,\nand came out an old woman; she leaped into the second vat, and came\nout a young maid; but when she leaped out of the third vat, she was so\nhandsome and goodly that no pen can describe it, and no tale can tell\nof it. Then the thrice-lovely Nastasia made the nobleman leap into the\nvats. He leaped into the first vat, and became quite old; he leaped\ninto the second vat, and became quite young; he leaped into the third\nvat, and burst to pieces. Then Tremsin took unto himself the\nthrice-lovely Nastasia to wife, and they lived happily together on the\nnobleman's estate, and the evil servants they drove right away.\n\n  [13] A pood = 40 lb.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SERPENT-WIFE\n\n\nThere was once a gentleman who had a labourer who never went about in\ncompany. His fellow-servants did all they could to make him come with\nthem, and now and then enticed him into the tavern, but they could\nnever get him to stay there long, and he always wandered away by\nhimself through the woods. One day he went strolling about in the\nforest as usual, far from any village and the haunts of men, when he\ncame upon a huge Serpent, which wriggled straight up to him and said,\n\"I am going to eat thee on the spot!\" But the labourer, who was used\nto the loneliness of the forest, replied, \"Very well, eat me if thou\nhast a mind to!\"--Then the Serpent said, \"Nay! I will not eat thee;\nonly do what I tell thee!\" And the Serpent began to tell the man what\nhe had to do. \"Turn back home,\" it said, \"and thou wilt find thy\nmaster angry because thou hast tarried so long, and there was none to\nwork for him, so that his corn has to remain standing in the field.\nThen he will send thee to bring in his sheaves, and I'll help thee.\nLoad the wagon well, but don't take quite all the sheaves from the\nfield. Leave one little sheaf behind; more than that thou needst not\nleave, but that thou must leave. Then beg thy master to let thee have\nthis little sheaf by way of wages. Take no money from him, but that\none little sheaf only. Then, when thy master has given thee this\nsheaf, burn it, and a fair lady will leap out of it; take her to\nwife!\"\n\nThe labourer obeyed, and went and worked for his master as the\nSerpent had told him. He went out into the field to bring home his\nmaster's corn, and marvellously he managed it. He did all the carrying\nhimself, and loaded the wagon so heavily that it creaked beneath its\nburden. Then when he had brought home all his master's corn, he begged\nthat he might have the remaining little sheaf for himself. He refused\nto be rewarded for his smart labour, he would take no money; he wanted\nnothing for himself, he said, but the little sheaf he had left in the\nfield. So his master let him have the sheaf. Then he went out by\nhimself into the field, burnt the sheaf, just as the Serpent had told\nhim, and immediately a lovely lady leapt out of it. The labourer\nforthwith took and married her; and now he began to look out for a\nplace to build him a hut upon. His master gave him a place where he\nmight build his hut, and his wife helped him so much with the building\nof it that it seemed to him as if he himself never laid a hand to it.\nHis hut grew up as quick as thought, and it contained everything that\nthey wanted. The man could not understand it; he could only walk about\nand wonder at it. Wherever he looked there was everything quite spick\nand span and ready for use: none in the whole village had a better\nhouse than he.\n\nAnd so he might have lived in all peace and prosperity to the end of\nhis days had not his desires outstripped his deserts. He had three\nfields of standing corn, and when he came home one day his labourers\nsaid to him, \"Thy corn is not gathered in yet, though it is standing\nall ripe on its stalks.\" Now the season was getting on, and for all\nthe care and labour of his wife, the corn was still standing in the\nfield. \"Why, what's the meaning of this?\" thought he. Then in his\nanger he cried, \"I see how it is. Once a serpent, always a serpent!\"\nHe was quite beside himself all the way home, and was very wrath with\nhis wife because of the corn.\n\nWhen he got home he went straight to his chamber to lie down on his\npillow. There was no sign of his wife, but a huge serpent was just\ncoiling itself round and round and settling down in the middle of the\npillow. Then he called to mind how, once, his wife had said to him,\n\"Beware, for Heaven's sake, of ever calling me a serpent. I will not\nsuffer thee to call me by that name, and if thou dost thou shalt lose\nthy wife.\" He called this to mind now, but it was already too late;\nwhat he had said could not be unsaid. Then he reflected what a good\nwife he had had, and how she herself had sought him out, and how she\nhad waited upon him continually and done him boundless good, and yet\nhe had not been able to refrain his tongue, so that now, maybe, he\nwould be without a wife for the rest of his days. His heart grew heavy\nwithin him as he thought of all this, and he wept bitterly at the harm\nhe had done to himself. Then the Serpent said to him, \"Weep no more.\nWhat is to be, must be. Is it thy standing corn thou art grieved\nabout? Go up to thy barn, and there thou wilt find all thy corn lying,\nto the very last little grain. Have I not brought it all home and\nthreshed it for thee, and set everything in order? And now I must\ndepart to the place where thou didst first find me.\" Then she crept\noff, and the man followed her, weeping and mourning all the time as\nfor one already dead. When they reached the forest she stopped and\ncoiled herself round and round beneath a hazel-nut bush. Then she said\nto the man, \"Now kiss me once, but see to it that I do not bite\nthee!\"--Then he kissed her once, and she wound herself round a branch\nof a tree and asked him, \"What dost thou feel within thee?\"--He\nanswered, \"At the moment when I kissed thee it seemed to me as if I\nknew everything that was going on in the world!\"--Then she said to him\nagain, \"Kiss me a second time!\"--\"And what dost thou feel now?\" she\nasked when he had kissed her again.--\"Now,\" said he, \"I understand all\nlanguages which are spoken among men.\"--Then she said to him, \"And now\nkiss me a third time, but this will be for the last time.\" Then he\nkissed the Serpent for the last time, and she said to him, \"What dost\nthou feel now?\"--\"Now,\" said he, \"I know all that is going on under\nthe earth.\"--\"Go now,\" said she, \"to the Tsar, and he will give thee\nhis daughter for the knowledge thou hast. But pray to God for poor me,\nfor now I must be and remain a serpent for ever.\" And with that the\nSerpent uncoiled herself and disappeared among the bushes, but the man\nwent away and wedded the Tsar's daughter.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF UNLUCKY DANIEL\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a youth called Unlucky Dan. Wherever he\nwent, and whatever he did, and with whomsoever he served, nothing came\nof it: all his labour was like spilt water, he got no good from it.\nOne day he took service with a new master. \"I'll serve thee a whole\nyear,\" said he, \"for a piece of sown wheat-land.\" His master agreed,\nand he entered into his service, and at the same time he sowed his\npiece of wheat-land. His wheat shot up rapidly. When his master's\nwheat was in the stalk, his was already in the ear, and when his\nmaster's wheat was in the ear, his own wheat was already ripe. \"I'll\nreap it to-morrow,\" thought he. The same night a cloud arose, the hail\npoured down, and destroyed his wheat altogether. Daniel fell\na-weeping. \"I'll go serve another master,\" he cried, \"perhaps God will\nthen prosper me!\" So he went to another master. \"I'll serve thee for a\nwhole year,\" said he, \"if thou wilt give me that wild colt.\" So he\nstopped and served him, and by the end of the year he trained the wild\ncolt so well that he made a carriage-horse out of it. \"Oh-ho!\" thought\nhe, \"I shall take away something with me this time!\" The same night\nthe wolves made an inroad upon the stables and tore the horse to\npieces. Daniel fell a-weeping. \"I'll go to another master,\" said he,\n\"perhaps I shall be luckier there.\" So he went to a third master, and\non this master's tomb lay a large stone. Whence it came none knew, and\nit was so heavy that none could move it, though they tried for ages.\n\"I'll serve thee a year,\" said he, \"for that stone.\" The master\nagreed, and he entered his service. Then a change came over the stone,\nand divers flowers began to grow upon it. On one side they were red,\non the second side silver, and on the third side golden. \"Oh-ho,\"\nthought Daniel, \"that stone, at any rate, will soon be mine. Nobody\ncan move it.\" But the next morning a thunderbolt descended and struck\nthe stone, and shivered it to atoms. Then Daniel fell a-weeping, and\nlamented that God had given him nothing, though he had served for so\nmany years. But the people said to him, \"Listen now! thou that art so\nunlucky, why dost thou not go to the Tsar? He is the father of us all,\nand will therefore certainly care for thee!\" So he listened to them\nand went, and the Tsar gave him a place at his court. One day the Tsar\nsaid to him, \"I marvel that thou art so unlucky, for do whatsoever\nthou wilt, thou art none the better for it. I would fain requite thee\nfor all thy labours.\" Then he took and filled three barrels, the first\nwith gold, and the second with coal, and the third with sand, and said\nto Daniel, \"Look now! if thou dost pitch upon that which is filled\nwith gold, thou shalt be a Tsar; if thou dost choose the one that is\nfilled with coal, thou shalt be a blacksmith; but if thou dost pick\nout the one that is full of sand, why then thou art indeed hopelessly\nunlucky, and out of my tsardom thou must go straightway, yet I will\ngive thee a horse and armour to take along with thee.\" So Daniel was\nbrought to the place where were the three barrels, and went about them\nand felt and felt them one after the other. \"This one is full of\ngold!\" said he. They broke it open and it was full of sand. \"Well,\"\nsaid the Tsar, \"I see that thou art hopelessly unlucky. Depart from my\ntsardom, for I have no need at all of such as thou.\" Then he gave him\na charger and armour, and the full equipment of a Cossack, and sent\nhim away.\n\nHe went on and on for a whole day, he went on and on for a second\nday, and there was nothing to eat, either for his horse or himself.\nHe went for a third day, and in the distance he saw a hay-cock. \"That\nwill do for my horse, at any rate,\" thought he, \"even if it is of no\ngood to me.\" So he went up to it, and immediately it burst into\nflames. Daniel began to weep, when he heard a voice crying piteously,\n\"Save me, save me! I am burning!\"--\"How can I save thee,\" he cried,\n\"when I myself cannot draw near?\"--\"Oh! give me thy weapon!\" cried\nthe voice, \"and I'll seize hold of it, and then thou canst pull me\nout.\" So he stretched forth his weapon, and drew forth a goodly\nserpent, such as is only known of in old folk-songs. And she said\nto him, \"Since thou hast drawn me out, thou must also take me\nhome.\"--\"How shall I carry thee?\" asked he.--\"Carry me on thy horse,\nand in whatsoever direction I turn my head and his, thither go.\"--So\nhe took her upon his horse, and they went on and on till they came to\na court so splendid that it was a delight to look at it. Then she\nglided down from his charger and said, \"Wait here, and I'll soon be\nwith thee again,\" and with that she wriggled under the gate. He stood\nthere and stood and waited and waited till he wept from sheer\nweariness; but, at last, she came out again in the shape of a\nlovely damsel in gorgeous raiment, and opened the gate for him.\n\"Lead in thy horse,\" said she, \"and eat and rest awhile.\" So they\nwent into the courtyard, and in the midst of it stood two springs.\nThe lady drew out of one of these springs a little glass of water,\nand strewing a handful of oats beside it, said, \"Fasten up thy\nhorse here!\"--\"What!\" thought he, \"for these three days we have had\nnaught to eat or drink, and now she mocks us with a handful of\noats!\"--Then they went together to the guest-chamber, and she gave\nhim there a little glass of water and a small piece of wheaten\nbread.--\"Why, what is this for a hungry man like me?\" thought he.\nBut when he chanced to glance through the window, he saw that the\nwhole courtyard was full of oats and water, and that his horse had\nalready eaten its fill. Then he nibbled his little piece of wheaten\nbread and sipped his water, and his hunger was immediately satisfied.\n\"Well,\" said the lady, \"hast thou eaten thy fill?\"--\"That I have,\"\nhe replied.--\"Then lie down and rest awhile,\" said she. And the next\nmorning, when he rose up, she said to him, \"Give me thy horse, thy\narmour, and thy raiment, and I'll give thee mine in exchange.\"--Then\nshe gave him her shift and her weapon, and said, \"This sword is of\nsuch a sort that, if thou do but wave it, all men will fall down\nbefore thee; and as for this shift, when once thou hast it on, none\nwill be able to seize thee. And now go on thy way till thou come\nto an inn, and there they will tell thee that the Tsar of that land is\nseeking warriors. Go and offer thyself to him, and thou shalt marry\nhis daughter, but tell her not the truth for seven years!\" Then they\ntook leave of each other, and he departed. He came to the inn, and\nthere they asked him whence he came. And when they knew that he came\nfrom a strange land, they said to him, \"A strange people has\nattacked our Tsar, and he cannot defend himself, for a mighty\nwarrior has conquered his tsardom and carried off his daughter, and\nworries him to death.\"--\"Show me the way to your Tsar,\" said\nDaniel. Then they showed him, and he went. When he came to the Tsar,\nhe said to him, \"I will subdue this strange land for thee. All the\narmy I want is a couple of Cossacks, but they must be picked men.\"\nThen the heralds went through the tsardom till they had found\nthese two Cossacks, and Daniel went forth with them into the endless\nsteppes, and there he bade them lie down and sleep while he kept\nwatch. And while they slept the army of the strange country came upon\nthem, and cried to Daniel to turn back if he would escape destruction.\nAnd then they began to fire with their guns and cannons, and they\nfired so many balls that the bodies of the two Cossacks were quite\ncovered by them. Then Daniel waved his sword and smote, and only those\nwhom his blows did not reach escaped alive. So he vanquished them\nall, and conquered that strange land, and came back and married the\nTsar's daughter, and they lived happily together.\n\n[Illustration: DANIEL WAVED HIS SWORD]\n\nBut counsellors from the strange land whispered dark sayings in the\nears of the Tsarivna. \"What is this fellow that thou hast taken to\nthyself? Who is he, and whence? Find out for us wherein lies his\nstrength, that we may destroy him and take thee away.\"--Then she began\nasking him, and he said to her, \"Look now! all my strength is in these\ngloves.\" Then she waited till he was asleep, and drew them off him,\nand gave them to the people from the strange land. And the next day he\nwent hunting, and the evil counsellors surrounded and shot at him with\ntheir darts, and beat him with the gloves; but it was all in vain.\nThen he waved his sword, and whomsoever he struck fell to the ground,\nand he clapped them all in prison. But his wife caressed and wheedled\nhim again, and said, \"Nay, but tell me, wherein doth thy strength\nlie?\"--\"My strength, darling,\" said he, \"lies in my boots.\" Then she\ndrew off his boots while he slept, and gave them to his enemies. And\nthey fell upon him again as he went out, but again he waved his sword,\nand as many as he struck fell to the ground, and he put them all in\nprison. Then his wife wheedled and caressed him the third time. \"Nay,\nbut tell me, darling,\" quoth she, \"wherein doth thy strength lie?\"\nThen he was wearied with her beseeching, and said to her, \"My strength\nlies in this sword of mine, and in my shirt, and so long as I have\nthis shirt on, nobody can touch me.\" Then she caressed and fondled\nhim, and said, \"Thou shouldst take a bath, my darling, and well wash\nthyself. My father always did so.\" So he let himself be persuaded, and\nno sooner had he undressed than she changed all his clothes for\nothers, and gave his sword and his shirt to his enemies. Then he came\nout of his bath, and immediately they fell upon him, cut him to\npieces, put him in a sack, placed him on his horse, and let the horse\ngo where it would. So the horse went on and on, and wandered farther\nand farther, till it came to the old place where he had stayed with\nthe Serpent Lady. And when his benefactress saw him, she said, \"Why,\nif poor unlucky Daniel hasn't fallen into a scrape again.\" And\nimmediately she took him out of the sack, and fitted his pieces\ntogether, and washed them clean, and took healing water from one of\nthe springs, and living water from the other, and sprinkled him all\nover, and he stood there sound and strong again. \"Now, did I not bid\nthee tell not thy wife the truth for seven years?\" said she, \"and thou\nwouldst not take heed.\" And he stood there, and spoke never a word.\n\"Well, now, rest awhile,\" she continued, \"for thou dost need it, and\nthen I'll give thee something else.\" So the next day she gave him a\nchain, and said to him, \"Listen! Go to that inn where thou didst go\nbefore, and early next morning, whilst thou art bathing, bid the\ninnkeeper beat thee with all his might on the back with this chain,\nand so thou wilt get back to thy wife, but tell her not a word of what\nhas happened.\" So he went to this same inn and passed the night there,\nand, on the morrow, he called the innkeeper, and said to him, \"Look\nnow! the first time I dip my head in the water, beat me about the back\nwith this chain as hard as thou canst.\" So the innkeeper waited till\nhe had ducked his head under the water, and then he thrashed him with\nthe chain, whereupon he turned into a horse so beautiful that it was a\ndelight to look upon it. The innkeeper was so glad, so glad. \"So I've\ngot rid of one guest only to get another one,\" thought he. He lost no\ntime in taking the horse to the fair, and offered it for sale, and\namong those who saw it was the Tsar himself. \"What dost thou ask for\nit?\" said the Tsar.--\"I ask five thousand roubles.\" Then the Tsar\ncounted down the money and took the horse away. When he got to his\ncourt, he made a great to-do about his beautiful horse, and cried to\nhis daughter, \"Come and see, dear little heart, what a fine horse I\nhave bought.\" Then she came forth to look at it; but the moment she\nsaw it, she cried, \"That horse will be my ruin. Thou must kill it on\nthe spot.\"--\"Nay, dear little heart! how can I do such a thing?\" said\nthe Tsar.--\"Slay it thou must, and slay it thou shalt!\" cried the\nTsarivna. So they sent for a knife, and began sharpening it, when one\nof the maidens of the court took pity on the horse, and cried, \"Oh, my\ngood, my darling horse, so lovely as thou art, and yet to kill thee!\"\nBut the horse neighed and went to her, and said, \"Look now! take the\nfirst drop of blood which flows from me, and bury it in the garden.\"\nThen they slew the horse, but the maiden did as she was told, and took\nthe drop of blood and buried it in the garden. And from this drop of\nblood there sprang up a cherry-tree; and its first leaf was golden,\nand its second leaf was of richer colour still, and its third leaf was\nyet another colour, and every leaf upon it was different to the\nothers. One day the Tsar went out walking in his garden, and when he\nsaw this cherry-tree he fell in love with it, and praised it to his\ndaughter. \"Look!\" said he, \"what a beauteous cherry-tree we have in\nour garden! Who can tell whence it sprung?\"--But the moment the\nTsarivna saw it, she cried, \"That tree will be my ruin! Thou must cut\nit down.\"--\"Nay!\" said he, \"how can I cut down the fairest ornament of\nmy garden?\"--\"Down it must come, and down it shall come!\" replied the\nTsarivna. Then they sent for an axe and made ready to cut it down, but\nthe damsel came running up, and said, \"Oh, darling little cherry-tree,\ndarling little cherry-tree, so fair thou art! From a horse hast thou\nsprung, and now they will fell thee before thou hast lived a\nday!\"--\"Never mind,\" said the cherry-tree; \"take the first chip that\nfalls from me, and throw it into the water.\"--Then they cut down the\ncherry-tree; but the girl did as she was bidden, and threw the first\nchip from the cherry-tree into the water, and out of it swam a drake\nso beautiful that it was a delight to look upon it. Then the Tsar went\na-hunting, and saw it swimming in the water, and it was so close that\nhe could touch it with his hand. The Tsar took off his clothes and\nplunged into the water after it, and it enticed him farther and\nfarther away from the shore. Then the drake swam toward the spot where\nthe Tsar had left his clothes, and when it came up to them it changed\ninto a man and put them on, and behold! the man was Daniel. Then he\ncalled to the Tsar: \"Swim hither, swim hither!\" The Tsar swam up, but\nwhen he swam ashore Daniel met and killed him, and after that he went\nback to court in the Tsar's clothes. Then all the courtiers hailed him\nas the Tsar, but he said, \"Where is that damsel who was here just\nnow?\"--They brought her instantly before him. \"Well,\" said he to her,\n\"thou hast been a second mother to me, and now thou shalt be my\nsecond wife!\" So he lived with her and was happy, but he caused his\nfirst wife to be tied to the tails of wild horses and torn to pieces\nin the endless steppes.\n\n[Illustration: HIS WIFE CARESSED AND WHEEDLED HIM]\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPARROW AND THE BUSH\n\n\nA sparrow once flew down upon a bush and said, \"Little bush, give good\nlittle sparrow a swing.\"--\"I won't!\" said the little bush. Then the\nsparrow was angry, and went to the goat and said, \"Goat, goat, nibble\nbush, bush won't give good little sparrow a swing.\"--\"I won't!\" said\nthe goat.--Then the sparrow went to the wolf and said, \"Wolf, wolf,\neat goat, goat won't nibble bush, bush won't give good little sparrow\na swing.\"--\"I won't!\" said the wolf.--Then the sparrow went to the\npeople and said, \"Good people, kill wolf, wolf won't eat goat, goat\nwon't nibble bush, bush won't give good little sparrow a swing.\"--\"We\nwon't!\" said the people.--Then the sparrow went to the Tartars and\nsaid, \"Tartars, Tartars, slay people, people won't kill wolf, wolf\nwon't eat goat, goat won't nibble bush, bush won't give good little\nsparrow a swing.\"--But the Tartars said, \"We won't slay the people!\"\nand the people said, \"We won't kill the wolf!\" and the wolf said, \"I\nwon't eat the goat!\" and the goat said, \"I won't nibble the bush!\" and\nthe bush said, \"I won't give the good little sparrow a swing.\"--\"Go!\"\nsaid the bush, \"to the fire, for the Tartars won't slay the people,\nand the people won't kill the wolf, and the wolf won't eat the goat,\nand the goat won't nibble the bush, and the bush won't give the dear\nlittle sparrow a swing.\"--But the fire also said, \"I won't!\" (they\nwere all alike)--\"go to the water,\" said he.--So the sparrow went to\nthe water and said, \"Come water, quench fire, fire won't burn Tartars,\nTartars won't slay people, people won't kill wolf, wolf won't eat\ngoat, goat won't nibble bush, bush won't give good little sparrow a\nswing.\"--But the water also said, \"I won't!\" So the sparrow went to\nthe ox and said, \"Ox, ox, drink water, water won't quench fire, fire\nwon't burn Tartars, Tartars won't slay people, people won't kill wolf,\nwolf won't eat goat, goat won't nibble bush, bush won't give little\nsparrow a swing.\"--\"I won't!\" said the ox.--Then the sparrow went to\nthe pole-axe and said, \"Pole-axe, pole-axe, strike ox, ox won't drink\nwater, water won't quench fire, fire won't burn Tartars, Tartars won't\nslay people, people won't kill wolf, wolf won't eat goat, goat won't\nnibble bush, bush won't give little sparrow a swing.\"--\"I won't!\" said\nthe pole-axe.--So the sparrow went to the worms and said, \"Worms,\nworms, gnaw pole-axe, pole-axe won't strike ox, ox won't drink water,\nwater won't quench fire, fire won't burn Tartars, Tartars won't slay\npeople, people won't kill wolf, wolf won't eat goat, goat won't nibble\nbush, bush won't give little sparrow a swing.\"--\"We won't!\" said the\nworms.--Then the sparrow went to the hen and said, \"Hen, hen, peck\nworms, worms won't gnaw pole-axe, pole-axe won't strike ox, ox won't\ndrink water, water won't quench fire, fire won't burn Tartars, Tartars\nwon't slay people, people won't kill wolf, wolf won't eat goat, goat\nwon't nibble bush, bush won't give little sparrow a swing.\"--\"I\nwon't!\" said the hen, \"but go to the sparrow-hawk, he ought to give\nthe first push, or why is he called the Pusher!\"[14]--So the sparrow\nwent to the sparrow-hawk and said, \"Come, pusher, seize hen, hen\nwon't peck worms, worms won't gnaw pole-axe, pole-axe won't strike\nox, ox won't drink water, water won't quench fire, fire won't burn\nTartars, Tartars won't slay people, people won't kill wolf, wolf won't\neat goat, goat won't nibble bush, bush won't give little sparrow a\nswing.\"\n\n  [14] _Shulyak_ means both _sparrow-hawk_ and _push_.\n\nThen the sparrow-hawk began to seize the hen, the hen began to peck\nthe worms, the worms began to gnaw the pole-axe, the pole-axe began to\nhit the ox, the ox began to drink the water, the water began to quench\nthe fire, the fire began to burn the Tartars, the Tartars began to\nslay the people, the people began to kill the wolf, the wolf began to\neat the goat, the goat began to nibble the bush, and the bush cried\nout:\n\n  \"_Swing away, swing away, swi-i-i-i-ing!\n  Little daddy sparrow, have your fli-i-i-ing!_\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD DOG\n\n\nThere was once a man who had a dog. While the dog was young he was\nmade much of, but when he grew old he was driven out of doors. So he\nwent and lay outside the fence, and a wolf came up to him and said,\n\"Doggy, why so down in the mouth?\"--\"While I was young,\" said the dog,\n\"they made much of me; but now that I am old they beat me.\" The wolf\nsaid, \"I see thy master in the field; go after him, and perchance\nhe'll give thee something.\"--\"Nay,\" said the dog, \"they won't even let\nme walk about the fields now, they only beat me.\"--\"Look now,\" said\nthe wolf, \"I'm sorry, and will make things better for thee. Thy\nmistress, I see, has put her child down beneath that wagon. I'll seize\nit, and make off with it. Run thou after me and bark, and though thou\nhast no teeth left, touzle me as much as thou canst, so that thy\nmistress may see it.\"\n\nSo the wolf seized the child, and ran away with it, and the dog ran\nafter him, and began to touzle him. His mistress saw it, and made\nafter them with a harrow, crying at the same time, \"Husband, husband!\nthe wolf has got the child! Gabriel, Gabriel! don't you see? The wolf\nhas got the child!\" Then the man chased the wolf, and got back the\nchild. \"Brave old dog!\" said he; \"you are old and toothless, and yet\nyou can give help in time of need, and will not let your master's\nchild be stolen.\" And henceforth the woman and her husband gave the\nold dog a large lump of bread every day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOX AND THE CAT\n\n\nIn a certain forest there once lived a fox, and near to the fox lived\na man who had a cat that had been a good mouser in its youth, but was\nnow old and half blind. The man didn't want puss any longer, but not\nliking to kill it, took it out into the forest and lost it there. Then\nthe fox came up and said, \"Why, Mr Shaggy Matthew! How d'ye do! What\nbrings you here?\"--\"Alas!\" said Pussy, \"my master loved me as long as\nI could bite, but now that I can bite no longer and have left off\ncatching mice--and I used to catch them finely once--he doesn't like\nto kill me, but he has left me in the wood where I must perish\nmiserably.\"--\"No, dear Pussy!\" said the fox; \"you leave it to me, and\nI'll help you to get your daily bread.\"--\"You are very good, dear\nlittle sister foxey!\" said the cat, and the fox built him a little\nshed with a garden round it to walk about in.\n\nNow one day the hare came to steal the man's cabbage.\n\"Kreem-kreem-kreem!\" he squeaked. But the cat popped his head out of\nthe window, and when he saw the hare, he put up his back and stuck up\nhis tail and said, \"Ft-t-t-t-t-Frrrrrrr!\" The hare was frightened and\nran away and told the bear, the wolf, and the wild boar all about it.\n\"Never mind,\" said the bear, \"I tell you what, we'll all four give a\nbanquet, and invite the fox and the cat, and do for the pair of them.\nNow, look here! I'll steal the man's mead; and you, Mr Wolf, steal his\nfat-pot; and you, Mr Wildboar, root up his fruit-trees; and you, Mr\nBunny, go and invite the fox and the cat to dinner.\"\n\nSo they made everything ready as the bear had said, and the hare ran\noff to invite the guests. He came beneath the window and said, \"We\ninvite your little ladyship Foxey-Woxey, together with Mr Shaggy\nMatthew, to dinner\"--and back he ran again.--\"But you should have told\nthem to bring their spoons with them,\" said the bear.--\"Oh, what a\nhead I've got! if I didn't quite forget!\" cried the hare, and back he\nwent again, ran beneath the window and cried, \"Mind you bring your\nspoons!\"--\"Very well,\" said the fox.\n\nSo the cat and the fox went to the banquet, and when the cat saw the\nbacon, he put up his back and stuck out his tail, and cried, \"Mee-oo,\nmee-oo!\" with all his might. But they thought he said, \"Ma-lo,\nma-lo[15]!\"--\"What!\" said the bear, who was hiding behind the beeches\nwith the other beasts, \"here have we four been getting together all we\ncould, and this pig-faced cat calls it too little! What a monstrous\ncat he must be to have such an appetite!\" So they were all four very\nfrightened, and the bear ran up a tree, and the others hid where they\ncould. But when the cat saw the boar's bristles sticking out from\nbehind the bushes he thought it was a mouse, and put up his back again\nand cried, \"Ft! ft! ft! Frrrrrrr!\" Then they were more frightened than\never. And the boar went into a bush still farther off, and the wolf\nwent behind an oak, and the bear got down from the tree, and climbed\nup into a bigger one, and the hare ran right away.\n\n  [15] What a little! What a little!\n\nBut the cat remained in the midst of all the good things and ate away\nat the bacon, and the little fox gobbled up the honey, and they ate\nand ate till they couldn't eat any more, and then they both went home\nlicking their paws.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STRAW OX\n\n\nThere was once upon a time an old man and an old woman. The old man\nworked in the fields as a pitch-burner, while the old woman sat at\nhome and spun flax. They were so poor that they could save nothing at\nall; all their earnings went in bare food, and when that was gone\nthere was nothing left. At last the old woman had a good idea. \"Look\nnow, husband,\" cried she, \"make me a straw ox, and smear it all over\nwith tar.\"--\"Why, you foolish woman!\" said he, \"what's the good of an\nox of that sort?\"--\"Never mind,\" said she, \"you just make it. I know\nwhat I am about.\"--What was the poor man to do? He set to work and\nmade the ox of straw, and smeared it all over with tar.\n\nThe night passed away, and at early dawn the old woman took her\ndistaff, and drove the straw ox out into the steppe to graze, and she\nherself sat down behind a hillock, and began spinning her flax, and\ncried, \"Graze away, little ox, while I spin my flax! Graze away,\nlittle ox, while I spin my flax!\" And while she spun, her head drooped\ndown and she began to doze, and while she was dozing, from behind the\ndark wood and from the back of the huge pines a bear came rushing out\nupon the ox and said, \"Who are you? Speak and tell me!\"--And the ox\nsaid, \"A three-year-old heifer am I, made of straw and smeared with\ntar.\"--\"Oh!\" said the bear, \"stuffed with straw and trimmed with tar,\nare you? Then give me of your straw and tar, that I may patch up my\nragged fur again!\"--\"Take some,\" said the ox, and the bear fell upon\nhim and began to tear away at the tar. He tore and tore, and buried\nhis teeth in it till he found he couldn't let go again. He tugged and\nhe tugged, but it was no good, and the ox dragged him gradually off\ngoodness knows where. Then the old woman awoke, and there was no ox to\nbe seen. \"Alas! old fool that I am!\" cried she, \"perchance it has gone\nhome.\" Then she quickly caught up her distaff and spinning-board,\nthrew them over her shoulders, and hastened off home, and she saw that\nthe ox had dragged the bear up to the fence, and in she went to the\nold man. \"Dad, dad!\" she cried, \"look, look! the ox has brought us a\nbear. Come out and kill it!\" Then the old man jumped up, tore off the\nbear, tied him up, and threw him in the cellar.\n\nNext morning, between dark and dawn, the old woman took her distaff\nand drove the ox into the steppe to graze. She herself sat down by a\nmound, began spinning, and said, \"Graze, graze away, little ox, while\nI spin my flax! Graze, graze away, little ox, while I spin my flax!\"\nAnd while she spun, her head drooped down and she dozed. And, lo! from\nbehind the dark wood, from the back of the huge pines, a grey wolf\ncame rushing out upon the ox and said, \"Who are you? Come, tell\nme!\"--\"I am a three-year-old heifer, stuffed with straw and trimmed\nwith tar,\" said the ox.--\"Oh! trimmed with tar, are you? Then give me\nof your tar to tar my sides, that the dogs and the sons of dogs tear\nme not!\"--\"Take some,\" said the ox. And with that the wolf fell upon\nhim and tried to tear the tar off. He tugged and tugged, and tore with\nhis teeth, but could get none off. Then he tried to let go, and\ncouldn't; tug and worry as he might, it was no good. When the old\nwoman woke, there was no heifer in sight. \"Maybe my heifer has gone\nhome!\" she cried; \"I'll go home and see.\" When she got there she was\nastonished, for by the palings stood the ox with the wolf still\ntugging at it. She ran and told her old man, and her old man came and\nthrew the wolf into the cellar also.\n\nOn the third day the old woman again drove her ox into the pastures to\ngraze, and sat down by a mound and dozed off. Then a fox came running\nup. \"Who are you?\" it asked the ox.--\"I'm a three-year-old heifer,\nstuffed with straw and daubed with tar.\"--\"Then give me some of your\ntar to smear my sides with, when those dogs and sons of dogs tear my\nhide!\"--\"Take some,\" said the ox. Then the fox fastened her teeth in\nhim and couldn't draw them out again. The old woman told her old man,\nand he took and cast the fox into the cellar in the same way. And\nafter that they caught Pussy Swift-foot[16] likewise.\n\n  [16] The hare.\n\nSo when he had got them all safely, the old man sat down on a bench\nbefore the cellar and began sharpening a knife. And the bear said to\nhim, \"Tell me, daddy, what are you sharpening your knife for?\"--\"To\nflay your skin off, that I may make a leather jacket for myself and\na pelisse for my old wife.\"--\"Oh! don't flay me, daddy dear! Rather\nlet me go, and I'll bring you a lot of honey.\"--\"Very well, see you\ndo it,\" and he unbound and let the bear go. Then he sat down on the\nbench and again began sharpening his knife. And the wolf asked him,\n\"Daddy, what are you sharpening your knife for?\"--\"To flay off your\nskin, that I may make me a warm cap against the winter.\"--\"Oh!\ndon't flay me, daddy dear, and I'll bring you a whole herd of\nlittle sheep.\"--\"Well, see that you do it,\" and he let the wolf go.\nThen he sat down and began sharpening his knife again. The fox put out\nher little snout and asked him, \"Be so kind, dear daddy, and tell me\nwhy you are sharpening your knife!\"--\"Little foxes,\" said the old\nman, \"have nice skins that do capitally for collars and trimmings,\nand I want to skin you!\"--\"Oh! don't take my skin away, daddy dear,\nand I will bring you hens and geese.\"--\"Very well, see that you do\nit!\" and he let the fox go. The hare now alone remained, and the\nold man began sharpening his knife on the hare's account. \"Why do\nyou do that?\" asked puss, and he replied, \"Little hares have nice\nlittle soft warm skins, which will make me gloves and mittens\nagainst the winter!\"--\"Oh! daddy dear! don't flay me, and I'll\nbring you kale and good cauliflower, if only you let me go!\" Then he\nlet the hare go also.\n\nThen they went to bed, but very early in the morning, when it was\nneither dusk nor dawn, there was a noise in the doorway like\n\"Durrrrrr!\"--\"Daddy!\" cried the old woman, \"there's some one\nscratching at the door, go and see who it is!\" The old man went out,\nand there was the bear carrying a whole hive full of honey. The old\nman took the honey from the bear, but no sooner did he lie down than\nagain there was another \"Durrrrr!\" at the door. The old man looked out\nand saw the wolf driving a whole flock of sheep into the yard. Close\non his heels came the fox, driving before him geese and hens and all\nmanner of fowls; and last of all came the hare, bringing cabbage and\nkale and all manner of good food. And the old man was glad, and the\nold woman was glad. And the old man sold the sheep and oxen and got so\nrich that he needed nothing more. As for the straw-stuffed ox, it\nstood in the sun till it fell to pieces.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN SLIPPER\n\n\nThere was once upon a time an old man and an old woman, and the old\nman had a daughter, and the old woman had a daughter. And the old\nwoman said to the old man, \"Go and buy a heifer, that thy daughter may\nhave something to look after!\" So the old man went to the fair and\nbought a heifer.\n\nNow the old woman spoiled her own daughter, but was always snapping at\nthe old man's daughter. Yet the old man's daughter was a good,\nhard-working girl, while as for the old woman's daughter, she was but\nan idle slut. She did nothing but sit down all day with her hands in\nher lap. One day the old woman said to the old man's daughter, \"Look\nnow, thou daughter of a dog, go and drive out the heifer to graze!\nHere thou hast two bundles of flax. See that thou unravel it, and reel\nit, and bleach it, and bring it home all ready in the evening!\" Then\nthe girl took the flax and drove the heifer out to graze.\n\nSo the heifer began to graze, but the girl sat down and began to weep.\nAnd the heifer said to her, \"Tell me, dear little maiden, wherefore\ndost thou weep?\"--\"Alas! why should I not weep? My stepmother has\ngiven me this flax and bidden me unravel it, and reel it, and bleach\nit, and bring it back as cloth in the evening.\"--\"Grieve not, maiden!\"\nsaid the heifer, \"it will all turn out well. Lie down to sleep!\"--So\nshe lay down to sleep, and when she awoke the flax was all unravelled\nand reeled and spun into fine cloth, and bleached. Then she drove the\nheifer home and gave the cloth to her stepmother. The old woman took\nit and hid it away, that nobody might know that the old man's daughter\nhad brought it to her.\n\nThe next day she said to her own daughter, \"Dear little daughter,\ndrive the heifer out to graze, and here is a little piece of flax for\nthee, unravel it and reel it, or unravel it not and reel it not as\nthou likest best, but bring it home with thee.\" Then she drove the\nheifer out to graze, and threw herself down in the grass, and slept\nthe whole day, and did not even take the trouble to go and moisten the\nflax in the cooling stream. And in the evening she drove the heifer\nback from the field and gave her mother the flax. \"Oh, mammy!\" she\nsaid, \"my head ached so the whole day, and the sun scorched so, that I\ncouldn't go down to the stream to moisten the flax.\"--\"Never mind,\"\nsaid her mother, \"lie down and sleep; it will do for another day.\"\n\nAnd the next day she called the old man's daughter again, \"Get up,\nthou daughter of a dog, and take the heifer out to graze. And here\nthou hast a bundle of raw flax; unravel it, heckle it, wind it on to\nthy spindles, bleach it, weave with it, and make it into fine cloth\nfor me by the evening!\"--Then the girl drove out the heifer to graze.\nThe heifer began grazing, but she sat down beneath a willow-tree, and\nthrew her flax down beside her, and began weeping with all her might.\nBut the heifer came up to her and said, \"Tell me, little maiden,\nwherefore dost thou weep?\"--\"Why should I not weep?\" said she, and she\ntold the heifer all about it.--\"Grieve not!\" said the heifer, \"it\nwill all come right, but lie down to sleep.\"--So she lay down and\nimmediately fell asleep. And by evening the bundle of raw flax was\nheckled and spun and reeled, and the cloth was woven and bleached, so\nthat one could have made shirts of it straight off. Then she drove the\nheifer home, and gave the cloth to her stepmother.\n\n[Illustration: THE GIRL DROVE THE HEIFER OUT TO GRAZE]\n\nThen the old woman said to herself, \"How comes it that this daughter\nof the son of a dog has done all her task so easily? The heifer must\nhave got it done for her, I know. But I'll put a stop to all this,\nthou daughter of the son of a dog,\" said she. Then she went to the old\nman and said, \"Father, kill and cut to pieces this heifer of thine,\nfor because of it thy daughter does not a stroke of work. She drives\nthe heifer out to graze, and goes to sleep the whole day and does\nnothing.\"--\"Then I'll kill it!\" said he.--But the old man's daughter\nheard what he said, and went into the garden and began to weep\nbitterly. The heifer came to her and said, \"Tell me, dear little\nmaiden, wherefore dost thou weep?\"--\"Why should I _not_ weep,\" she\nsaid, \"when they want to kill thee?\"--\"Don't grieve,\" said the heifer,\n\"it will all come right. When they have killed me, ask thy stepmother\nto give thee my entrails to wash, and in them thou wilt find a grain\nof corn. Plant this grain of corn, and out of it will grow up a\nwillow-tree, and whatever thou dost want, go to this willow-tree and\nask, and thou shalt have thy heart's desire.\"\n\nThen her father slew the heifer, and she went to her stepmother and\nsaid, \"Prythee, let me have the entrails of the heifer to wash!\"--And\nher stepmother answered, \"As if I would let anybody else do such work\nbut thee!\"--Then she went and washed them, and sure enough she found\nthe grain of corn, planted it by the porch, trod down the earth, and\nwatered it a little. And the next morning, when she awoke, she saw\nthat a willow-tree had sprung out of this grain of corn, and beneath\nthe willow-tree was a spring of water, and no better water was to be\nfound anywhere in the whole village. It was as cold and as clear as\nice.\n\nWhen Sunday came round, the old woman tricked her pet daughter out\nfinely, and took her to church, but to the old man's daughter she\nsaid, \"Look to the fire, thou slut! Keep a good fire burning and get\nready the dinner, and make everything in the house neat and tidy, and\nhave thy best frock on, and all the shirts washed against I come back\nfrom church. And if thou hast not all these things done, thou shalt\nsay good-bye to dear life.\"\n\nSo the old woman and her daughter went to church, and the smart little\nstepdaughter made the fire burn up, and got the dinner ready, and then\nwent to the willow-tree and said, \"Willow-tree, willow-tree, come out\nof thy bark! Lady Anna, come when I call thee!\" Then the willow-tree\ndid its duty, and shook all its leaves, and a noble lady came forth\nfrom it. \"Dear little lady, sweet little lady, what are thy commands?\"\nsaid she.--\"Give me,\" said she, \"a grand dress and let me have a\ncarriage and horses, for I would go to God's House!\"--And immediately\nshe was dressed in silk and satin, with golden slippers on her feet,\nand the carriage came up and she went to church.\n\nWhen she entered the church there was a great to-do, and every one\nsaid, \"Oh! oh! oh! Who is it? Is it perchance some princess or some\nqueen? for the like of it we have never seen before.\" Now the young\nTsarevich chanced to be in church at that time. When he saw her, his\nheart began to beat. He stood there, and could not take his eyes off\nher. And all the great captains and courtiers marvelled at her and\nfell in love with her straightway. But who she was, they knew not.\nWhen service was over, she got up and drove away. When she got home,\nshe took off all her fine things, and put on all her rags again, and\nsat in the window-corner and watched the folk coming from church.\n\nThen her stepmother came back too. \"Is the dinner ready?\" said\nshe.--\"Yes, it is ready.\"--\"Hast thou sewn the shirts?\"--\"Yes, the\nshirts are sewn too.\"--Then they sat down to meat, and began to relate\nhow they had seen such a beautiful young lady at church.--\"The\nTsarevich,\" said the old woman, \"instead of saying his prayers, was\nlooking at her all the while, so goodly was she.\" Then she said to the\nold man's daughter, \"As for thee, thou slut! though thou _hast_ sewn\nthe shirts and bleached them, thou art but a dirty under-wench!\"\n\nOn the following Sunday the stepmother again dressed up her daughter,\nand took her to church. But, before she went, she said to the old\nman's daughter, \"See that thou keep the fire in, thou slut!\" and she\ngave her a lot of work to do. The old man's daughter very soon did it\nall, and then she went to the willow-tree and said, \"Bright spring\nwillow, bright spring willow, change thee, transform thee!\" Then\nstill statelier dames stepped forth from the willow-tree, \"Dear little\nlady, sweet little lady, what commands hast thou to give?\" She told\nthem what she wanted, and they gave her a gorgeous dress, and put\ngolden shoes on her feet, and she went to church in a grand carriage.\nThe Tsarevich was again there, and at the sight of her he stood as if\nrooted to the ground, and couldn't take his eyes from her. Then the\npeople began to whisper, \"Is there none here who knows her? Is there\nnone who knows who such a handsome lady may be!\" And they began to ask\neach other, \"Dost _thou_ know her? Dost _thou_ know her?\"--But the\nTsarevich said, \"Whoever will tell me who this great lady is, to him\nwill I give a sack-load of gold ducats!\"--Then they inquired and\ninquired, and laid all their heads together, but nothing came of it.\nBut the Tsarevich had a jester who was always with him, and used\nalways to jest and cut capers whenever this child of the Tsar was sad.\nSo now, too, he began to laugh at the young Tsarevich and say to him,\n\"I know how to find out who this fine lady is.\"--\"How?\" asked the\nyoung Tsarevich.--\"I'll tell thee,\" said the jester; \"smear with pitch\nthe place in church where she is wont to stand. Then her slippers will\nstick to it, and she, in her hurry to get away, will never notice that\nshe has left them behind her in church.\"--So the Tsarevich ordered his\ncourtiers to smear the spot with pitch straightway. Next time, when\nthe service was over, she got up as usual and hastened away, but left\nher golden slippers behind her. When she got home she took off her\ncostly raiment and put on her rags, and waited in the window-corner\ntill they came from church.\n\nWhen they came from church they had all sorts of things to talk about,\nand how the young Tsarevich had fallen in love with the grand young\nlady, and how they were unable to tell him whence she came, or who she\nwas, and the stepmother hated the old man's daughter all the more\nbecause she had done her work so nicely.\n\nBut the Tsarevich did nothing but pine away. And they proclaimed\nthroughout the kingdom, \"Who has lost a pair of golden slippers?\" But\nnone could tell. Then the Tsar sent his wise councillors throughout\nthe kingdom to find her. \"If ye do not find her,\" said he, \"it will be\nthe death of my child, and then ye also are dead men.\"\n\nSo the Tsar's councillors went through all the towns and villages, and\nmeasured the feet of all the maidens against the golden slippers, and\nshe was to be the bride of the Tsarevich whom the golden slippers\nfitted. They went to the houses of all the princes, and all the\nnobles, and all the rich merchants, but it was of no avail. The feet\nof all the maidens were either too little or too large. Then they hied\nthem to the huts of the peasants.\n\n[Illustration: THE TSAR'S COUNCILLORS WENT TO THE HOUSES OF ALL THE\nNOBLES AND PRINCES]\n\nThey went on and on, they measured and measured, and at last they were\nso tired that they could scarce draw one foot after the other. Then\nthey looked about them and saw a beautiful willow-tree standing by a\nhut, and beneath the willow-tree was a spring of water. \"Let us go and\nrest in the cool shade,\" said they. So they went and rested, and the\nold woman came out of the hut to them.--\"Hast thou a daughter, little\nmother?\" said they.--\"Yes, that I have,\" said she.--\"One or two?\" they\nasked.--\"Well, there is another,\" said she, \"but she is not my\ndaughter, she is a mere kitchen slut, the very look of her is\nnasty.\"--\"Very well,\" said they, \"we will measure them with the golden\nslippers.\"--\"Good!\" cried the old woman. Then she said to her own\ndaughter, \"Go, my dear little daughter, tidy thyself up a bit, and\nwash thy little feet!\"--But the old man's daughter she drove behind\nthe stove, and the poor thing was neither washed nor dressed. \"Sit\nthere, thou daughter of a dog!\" said she.--Then the Tsar's councillors\ncame into the hut to measure, and the old woman said to her daughter,\n\"Put out thy little foot, darling!\"--The councillors then measured\nwith the slippers, but they wouldn't fit her at all. Then they said,\n\"Tell us, little mother, where is thy other daughter?\"--\"Oh, as for\nher, she is a mere slut, and besides she isn't dressed.\"--\"No matter,\"\nsaid they; \"where is she?\"--Then she came out from behind the stove,\nand her stepmother hustled her and said, \"Get along, thou sluttish\nhussy!\"--Then they measured her with the slippers, and they fitted\nlike gloves, whereupon the courtiers rejoiced exceedingly and praised\nthe Lord.\n\n\"Well, little mother,\" said they, \"we will take this daughter away\nwith us.\"--\"What! take a slattern like that? Why, all the people will\nlaugh at you!\"--\"Maybe they will,\" said they.--Then the old woman\nscolded, and wouldn't let her go. \"How can such a slut become the\nconsort of the Tsar's son?\" screeched she.--\"Nay, but she must come!\"\nsaid they; \"go, dress thyself, maiden!\"--\"Wait but a moment,\" said\nshe, \"and I'll tire myself as is meet!\"--Then she went to the spring\nbeneath the willow-tree, and washed and dressed herself, and she came\nback so lovely and splendid that the like of it can neither be thought\nof nor guessed at, but only told of in tales. As she entered the hut\nshe shone like the sun, and her stepmother had not another word to\nsay.\n\nSo they put her in a carriage and drove off, and when the Tsarevich\nsaw her, he could not contain himself. \"Make haste, O my father!\"\ncried he, \"and give us thy blessing.\" So the Tsar blessed them, and\nthey were wedded. Then they made a great feast and invited all the\nworld to it. And they lived happily together, and ate wheat-bread to\ntheir hearts' content.\n\n\n\n\nTHE IRON WOLF\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a parson who had a servant, and when this\nservant had served him faithfully for twelve years and upward, he came\nto the parson and said, \"Let us now settle our accounts, master, and\npay me what thou owest me. I have now served long enough, and would\nfain have a little place in the wide world all to myself.\"--\"Good!\"\nsaid the parson. \"I'll tell thee now what wage I'll give thee for thy\nfaithful service. I'll give thee this egg. Take it home, and when thou\ngettest there, make to thyself a cattle-pen, and make it strong; then\nbreak the egg in the middle of thy cattle-pen, and thou shalt see\nsomething. But whatever thou doest, don't break it on thy way home, or\nall thy luck will leave thee.\"\n\nSo the servant departed on his homeward way. He went on and on, and at\nlast he thought to himself, \"Come now, I'll see what is inside this\negg of mine!\" So he broke it, and out of it came all sorts of cattle\nin such numbers that the open steppe became like a fair. The servant\nstood there in amazement, and he thought to himself, \"However in God's\nworld shall I be able to drive all these cattle back again?\" He had\nscarcely uttered the words when the Iron Wolf came running up, and\nsaid to him, \"I'll collect and drive back all these cattle into the\negg again, and I'll patch the egg up so that it will become quite\nwhole. But in return for that,\" continued the Iron Wolf, \"whenever\nthou dost sit down on the bridal bench,[17] I'll come and eat\nthee.\"--\"Well,\" thought the servant to himself, \"a lot of things may\nhappen before I sit down on the bridal bench and he comes to eat me,\nand in the meantime I shall get all these cattle. Agreed, then,\" said\nhe. So the Iron Wolf immediately collected all the cattle, and drove\nthem back into the egg, and patched up the egg and made it whole just\nas it was before.\n\n  [17] Posad, or posag, a bench covered with white cloth on which the\n       bride and bridegroom sat down together.\n\nThe servant went home to the village where he lived, made him a\ncattle-pen stronger than strong, went inside it and broke the egg, and\nimmediately that cattle-pen was as full of cattle as it could hold.\nThen he took to farming and cattle-breeding, and he became so rich\nthat in the whole wide world there was none richer than he. He kept to\nhimself, and his goods increased and multiplied exceedingly; the only\nthing wanting to his happiness was a wife, but a wife he was afraid to\ntake. Now near to where he lived was a General who had a lovely\ndaughter, and this daughter fell in love with the rich man. So the\nGeneral went and said to him, \"Come, why don't you marry? I'll give\nyou my daughter and lots of money with her.\"--\"How is it possible for\nme to marry?\" replied the man; \"as soon as ever I sit down on the\nbridal bench, the Iron Wolf will come and eat me up.\" And he told the\nGeneral all that had happened.--\"Oh, nonsense!\" said the General,\n\"don't be afraid. I have a mighty host, and when the time comes for\nyou to sit down on the bridal bench, we'll surround your house with\nthree strong rows of soldiers, and _they_ won't let the Iron Wolf get\nat you, I can tell you.\" So they talked the matter over till he let\nhimself be persuaded, and then they began to make great preparations\nfor the bridal banquet. Everything went off excellently well, and they\nmade merry till the time came when bride and bridegroom were to sit\ndown together on the bridal bench. Then the General placed his men in\nthree strong rows all round the house so as not to let the Iron Wolf\nget in; and no sooner had the young people sat down upon the bridal\nbench, than, sure enough, the Iron Wolf came running up. He saw the\nhost standing round the house in three strong rows, but through all\nthree rows he leaped and made straight for the house. But the man, as\nsoon as he saw the Iron Wolf, leaped out of the window, mounted his\nhorse, and galloped off with the wolf after him.\n\nAway and away he galloped, and after him came the wolf, but try as it\nwould, it could not catch him up anyhow. At last, toward evening, the\nman stopped and looked about him, and saw that he was in a lone\nforest, and before him stood a hut. He went up to this hut, and saw an\nold man and an old woman sitting in front of it, and said to them,\n\"Would you let me rest a little while with you, good people?\"--\"By all\nmeans!\" said they.--\"There is one thing, however, good people!\" said\nhe, \"don't let the Iron Wolf catch me while I am resting with\nyou.\"--\"Have no fear of that!\" replied the old couple. \"We have a dog\ncalled Chutko,[18] who can hear a wolf coming a mile off, and he'll be\nsure to let us know.\" So he laid him down to sleep, and was just\ndropping off when Chutko began to bark. Then the old people awoke him,\nand said, \"Be off! be off! for the Iron Wolf is coming.\" And they\ngave him the dog, and a wheaten hearth-cake as provision by the way.\n\n  [18] Hearkener.\n\nSo he went on and on, and the dog followed after him till it began to\ngrow dark, and then he perceived another hut in another forest. He\nwent up to that hut, and in front of it were sitting an old man and an\nold woman. He asked them for a night's lodging. \"Only,\" said he, \"take\ncare that the Iron Wolf doesn't catch me!\"--\"Have no fear of that,\"\nsaid they. \"We have a dog here called Vazhko,[19] who can hear a wolf\nnine miles off.\" So he laid him down and slept. Just before dawn\nVazhko began to bark. Immediately they awoke him. \"Run!\" cried they,\n\"the Iron Wolf is coming!\" And they gave him the dog, and a barley\nhearth-cake as provision by the way. So he took the hearth-cake, sat\nhim on his horse, and off he went, and his two dogs followed after\nhim.\n\n  [19] Heavysides.\n\nHe went on and on. On and on he went till evening, when again he\nstopped and looked about him, and he saw that he was in another\nforest, and another little hut stood before him. He went into the hut,\nand there were sitting an old man and an old woman. \"Will you let me\npass the night here, good people?\" said he; \"only take care that the\nIron Wolf does not get hold of me!\"--\"Have no fear!\" said they, \"we\nhave a dog called Bary, who can hear a wolf coming twelve miles off.\nHe'll let us know.\" So he lay down to sleep, and early in the morning\nBary let them know that the Iron Wolf was drawing nigh. Immediately\nthey awoke him. \"'Tis high time for you to be off!\" said they. Then\nthey gave him the dog, and a buckwheat hearth-cake as provision by the\nway. He took the hearth-cake, sat him on his horse, and off he went.\nSo now he had three dogs, and they all three followed him.\n\nHe went on and on, and toward evening he found himself in front of\nanother hut. He went into it, and there was nobody there. He went and\nlay down, and his dogs lay down also, Chutko on the threshold of the\nroom door, Vazhko at the threshold of the house door, and Bary at the\nthreshold of the outer gate. Presently the Iron Wolf came trotting up.\nImmediately Chutko gave the alarm, Vazhko nailed him to the earth, and\nBary tore him to pieces.\n\nThen the man gathered his faithful dogs around him, mounted his horse,\nand went back to his own home.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE BROTHERS\n\n\nThere were, once upon a time, three brothers, and the third was a\nfool. And in their little garden grew golden apple-trees with golden\napples, and not far off lived a hog that had taken a fancy to these\napples. So the father sent his sons into the garden to guard the\ntrees. The eldest went first, and sat and sat and watched and watched\ntill he was tired of watching, and fell asleep. Then the hog crept in,\nand dug and dug till he had digged up an apple-tree, which he ate up,\nand then went his way. The father got up next morning and counted his\napple-trees, and one of them was gone. The next night the father sent\nthe second son to watch. He waited and watched till he also fell\nasleep, and the hog came again and dug up and ate another golden\napple-tree and made off. The next morning the father got up again and\ncounted his trees, and another was gone. Then the fool said, \"Dad, let\nme go too!\" But the father said, \"Oh, fool, fool, wherefore shouldst\nthou go? Thy wise brethren have watched to no purpose, what canst thou\ndo?\"--\"Hoity-toity!\" said the fool; \"give me a gun, and I'll go all\nthe same.\" His father wouldn't give him a gun, so he took it, and went\nto watch. He placed his gun across his knees and sat down. He sat and\nsat, but nothing came, nothing came; he got drowsy, was nodding off,\nwhen his gun fell off his knees, and he awoke with a start and watched\nmore warily. At last he heard something--and there stood the hog. It\nbegan to dig up another tree, when he pulled the trigger and--bang!\nHis brothers heard the sound, came running up, were quite amazed to\nsee a dead boar lying there, and said, \"What will become of us\nnow?\"--\"Let us kill him,\" said the eldest brother, \"and bury him in\nthat ditch, and say that we killed the hog.\" So they took and slew\nhim, and buried him in the ditch, and took the hog to their father,\nand said, \"While we were watching, this hog came up and began digging,\nso we killed him and have brought him to you.\"\n\nOne day a nobleman came by that way, and was surprised to see a\nbeautiful elder-bush growing out of the ditch; so he went up to it,\ncut off a branch, made him a flute out of it, and began playing upon\nit. But the flute played of its own accord, and made this moan:\n\n  \"_Play, good master, play,\n  But steal not my heart away!\n  Me my brothers took and slew,\n  In the ditch my body threw,\n  For that hog shot down by me\n  That rooted up the tree._\"\n\nThe nobleman then went on to the inn, and there he found the fool's\nfather. \"Such a funny thing has happened to me,\" said the nobleman. \"I\nwent and cut me out a flute from an elder-bush, and lo! it plays of\nits own accord!\" Then the father took the flute and tried his hand at\nit, and it sang:\n\n  \"_Play, good daddy, play,\n  But don't steal my heart away!\n  Me my brothers took and slew,\n  In the ditch my body threw,\n  For that hog shot down by me,\n  That rooted up the tree!_\"\n\nThe father was so astonished that he bought it, and took it home, and\ngave it to the mother for her to play upon it, and it sang:\n\n  \"_Play, good mammy, play,\n  But don't steal my heart away!\n  Me my brothers took and slew,\n  In the ditch my body threw,\n  For that hog shot down by me,\n  That rooted up the tree!_\"\n\nThen the father gave the flute to his brothers to play upon, but they\nwouldn't. \"Nay, but you must!\" said their father. Then the younger\nbrother took and played upon it:\n\n  \"_Play, my brother, play,\n  But don't steal my heart away!\n  Me my brothers took and slew,\n  In the ditch my body threw,\n  For the hog shot down by me,\n  That rooted up the tree!_\"\n\nThen the father gave the flute to the elder brother who had slain him,\nbut he wouldn't take it. \"Take it and play upon it!\" roared his father\nat him. Then he took it and played:\n\n  \"_Play, my brother, play,\n  But don't steal my heart away!\n  'Twas thou who didst me slay,\n  And stowed my corpse away,\n  For the hog shot down by me,\n  That rooted up the tree!_\"\n\n\"Then it was thou who didst slay him?\" cried the father. What could\nthe elder brother do but confess it! Then they dug the dead man up,\nand buried him in the cemetery; but they tied the elder brother to a\nwild horse, which scattered his bones about the endless steppe.\n\nBut I was there, and drank wine and mead till my beard was wet.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TSAR AND THE ANGEL\n\n\nSomewhere, nowhere, in a certain kingdom, in a certain empire, time\nout of mind, and in no land of ours, dwelt a Tsar who was so proud, so\nvery proud, that he feared neither God nor man. He listened to no good\ncounsel from whithersoever it might come, but did only that which was\ngood in his own eyes, and nobody durst put him right. And all his\nministers and nobles grieved exceedingly, and all the people grieved\nlikewise.\n\nOne day this Tsar went to church; the priest was reading from Holy\nScripture, and so he needs must listen. Now there were certain words\nthere which pleased him not. \"To say such words to me!\" thought he,\n\"words that I can never forget, though I grow grey-headed.\" After\nservice the Tsar went home, and bade them send the priest to him.\nThe priest came. \"How durst thou read such and such passages to me?\"\nsaid the Tsar.--\"They were written to be read,\" replied the\npriest.--\"Written, indeed! And wouldst thou then read everything that\nis written? Smear those places over with grease, and never dare to\nread them again, I say!\"--\"'Tis not I who have written those words,\nyour Majesty,\" said the priest; \"nor is it for such as I to smear\nthem over.\"--\"What! thou dost presume to teach me? I am the Tsar, and\nit is thy duty to obey me.\"--\"In all things will I obey thee, O\nTsar, save only in sacred things. God is over them, men cannot\nalter them.\"--\"Not alter them!\" roared the Tsar; \"if I wish them\naltered, altered they must be. Strike me out those words instantly,\nI say, and never dare read them in church again. Dost hear?\"--\"I dare\nnot,\" said the priest, \"I have no will in the matter.\"--\"I command\nthee, fellow!\"--\"I dare not, O Tsar!\"--\"Well,\" said the Tsar, \"I'll\ngive thee three days to think about it, and on the evening of the\nfourth day appear before me, and I'll strike thy head from thy\nshoulders if thou dost not obey me!\" Then the priest bowed low and\nwent home.\n\nThe third day was already drawing to a close, and the priest knew not\nwhat to do. It was no great terror to him to die for the faith, but\nwhat would become of his wife and children? He walked about, and wept,\nand wrung his hands: \"Oh, woe is me! woe is me!\" At last he lay down\non his bed, but sleep he could not. Only toward dawn did he doze off,\nthen he saw in a dream an angel standing at his head. \"Fear nothing!\"\nsaid the angel. \"God hath sent me down on earth to protect thee!\" So,\nearly in the morning, the priest rose up full of joy and prayed\ngratefully to God.\n\nThe Tsar also awoke early in the morning, and bawled to his huntsmen\nto gather together and go a-hunting with him in the forest.\n\nSo away they went hunting in the forest, and it was not long before a\nstag leaped out of the thicket beneath the very eyes of the Tsar. Off\nafter it went the Tsar; every moment the stag seemed to be faltering,\nand yet the Tsar could never quite come up with it. Hot with\nexcitement, the Tsar spurred his horse on yet faster. \"Gee up! gee\nup!\" he cried; \"now we've got him!\" But here a stream crossed the\nroad, and the stag plunged into the water. The Tsar was a good\nswimmer. \"I've got him now, at any rate,\" thought he. \"A little\nlonger, and I shall hold him by the horns.\" So the Tsar took off his\nclothes, and into the water he plunged after the stag. But the stag\nswam across to the opposite bank, and the Tsar was extending his hand\nto seize him by the horns--when there was no longer any stag to be\nseen. It was the angel who had taken the form of a stag. The Tsar was\namazed. He looked about him on every side, and wondered where the stag\nhad gone. Then he saw some one on the other side of the river putting\non his clothes, and presently the man mounted his horse and galloped\naway. The Tsar thought it was some evil-doer, but it was the self-same\nangel that had now put on the Tsar's clothes and gone away to collect\nthe huntsmen and take them home. As for the Tsar, he remained all\nnaked and solitary in the forest.\n\nAt last he looked about him and saw, far, far away, smoke rising above\nthe forest, and something like a dark cloud standing in the clear sky.\n\"Maybe,\" thought he, \"that is my hunting-pavilion.\" So he went in the\ndirection of the smoke, and came at last to a brick-kiln. The\nbrick-burners came forth to meet him, and were amazed to see a naked\nman. \"What is he doing here?\" they thought. And they saw that his feet\nwere lame and bruised, and his body covered with scratches. \"Give me\nto drink,\" said he, \"and I would fain eat something also.\" The\nbrick-burners had pity on him; they gave him an old tattered garment\nto wear and a piece of black bread and a gherkin to eat. Never from\nthe day of his birth had the Tsar had such a tasty meal. \"And now\nspeak, O man!\" said they; \"who art thou?\"--\"I'll tell you who I am,\"\nsaid he, when he had eaten his fill; \"I am your Tsar. Lead me to my\ncapital, and there I will reward you!\"--\"What, thou wretched rogue!\"\nthey cried, \"thou dost presume to mock us, thou old ragamuffin, and\nmagnify thyself into a Tsar! Thou reward us, indeed!\" And they looked\nat him in amazement and scorn.--\"Dare to laugh at me again,\" said he,\n\"and I'll have your heads chopped off!\" For he forgot himself, and\nthought he was at home.--\"What! thou!\" Then they fell upon him and\nbeat him. They beat him and hauled him about most unmercifully, and\nthen they drove him away, and off he went bellowing through the\nforest.\n\nHe went on and on till at last he saw once more a smoke rising up out\nof the wood. Again he thought, \"That is surely my hunting-pavilion,\"\nand so he went up to it. And toward evening he came to another\nbrick-kiln. There, too, they had pity upon and kindly entreated him.\nThey gave him to eat and to drink. They also gave him ragged hose and\na tattered shirt, for they were very poor people. They took him to be\na runaway soldier, or some other poor man, but when he had eaten his\nfill and clothed himself, he said to them, \"I am your Tsar!\" They\nlaughed at him, and again he began to talk roughly to the people. Then\nthey fell upon him and thrashed him soundly, and drove him right away.\nAnd he wandered all by himself through the forest till it was night.\nThen he laid him down beneath a tree, and so he passed the night, and\nrising up very early, fared on his way straight before him.\n\nAt last he came to a third brick-kiln, but he did not tell the\nbrick-burners there that he was the Tsar. All he thought of now was\nhow he might reach his capital. The people here, too, treated him\nkindly, and seeing that his feet were lame and bruised, they had\ncompassion upon him, and gave him a pair of very, very old boots. And\nhe asked them, \"Do ye know by which way I can get to the capital?\"\nThey told him, but it was a long, long journey that would take the\nwhole day.\n\nSo he went the way they had told him, and he went on and on till he\ncame to a little town, and there the roadside sentries stopped him.\n\"Halt!\" they cried. He halted. \"Your passport!\"[20]--\"I have\nnone.\"--\"What! no passport? Then thou art a vagabond. Seize him!\" they\ncried. So they seized him and put him in a dungeon. Shortly after they\ncame to examine him, and asked him, \"Whence art thou?\"--\"From such and\nsuch a capital,\" said he. Then they ordered him to be put in irons and\ntaken thither.\n\n  [20] This is a good instance of the modern intrusions in these ancient\n       _kazki_. An angel and a passport in the same tale!\n\nSo they took him back to that capital and put him in another dungeon.\nThen the custodians came round to examine the prisoners, and one said\none thing and one said another, till at last it came to the turn of\nthe Tsar.--\"Who art thou, old man?\" they asked. Then he told them the\nwhole truth. \"Once I was the Tsar,\" said he, and he related all that\nhad befallen him. Then they were much amazed, for he was not at all\nlike a Tsar. For indeed he had been growing thin and haggard for a\nlong time, and his beard was all long and tangled. And yet, for all\nthat, he stood them out that he was the Tsar. So they made up their\nminds that he was crazy, and drove him away. \"Why should we keep this\nfool for ever,\" said they, \"and waste the Tsar's bread upon him?\" So\nthey let him go, and never did any man feel so wretched on God's earth\nas did that wretched Tsar. Willingly would he have done any sort of\nwork if he had only known how, but he had never been used to work, so\nhe had to go along begging his bread, and could scarce beg enough to\nkeep body and soul together. He lay at night at the first place that\ncame to hand, sometimes in the tall grass of the steppes, sometimes\nbeneath a fence. \"That it should ever have come to this!\" he sighed.\n\nBut the angel who had made himself Tsar went home with the huntsmen.\nAnd no man knew that he was not a Tsar, but an angel. The same evening\nthat priest came to him and said, \"Do thy will, O Tsar, and strike off\nmy head, for I cannot blot out one word of Holy Scripture.\"--And the\nTsar said to him, \"Glory be to God, for now I know that there is at\nleast one priest in my tsardom who stands firm for God's Word. I'll\nmake thee the highest bishop in this realm.\" The priest thanked him,\nbowed down to the earth, and departed marvelling. \"What is this\nwonder?\" thought he, \"that the haughty Tsar should have become so just\nand gentle.\"--But all men marvelled at the change that had come over\nthe Tsar. He was now so mild and gracious, nor did he spend all his\ndays in the forest, but went about inquiring of his people if any\nwere wronged or injured by their neighbours, and if justice were done.\nHe took count of all, and rebuked the unjust judges, and saw that\nevery man had his rights. And the people now rejoiced as much as they\nhad grieved heretofore, and justice was done in all the tribunals, and\nno bribes were taken.\n\n[Illustration: THE TSAR WENT ABOUT INQUIRING OF HIS PEOPLE IF ANY WERE\nWRONGED]\n\nBut the Tsar, the real Tsar, grew more and more wretched. Then, after\nthree years, a ukase went forth that on such and such a day all the\npeople were to come together to a great banquet given by the Tsar, all\nwere to be there, both rich and poor, both high and lowly. And all the\npeople came, and the unhappy Tsar came too. And so many long tables\nwere set out in the Tsar's courtyard that all the people praised God\nwhen they saw the glad sight. And they all sat down at table and ate\nand drank, and the Tsar himself and his courtiers distributed the meat\nand drink to the guests as much as they would, but to the unfortunate\nTsar they gave a double portion of everything. And they all ate and\ndrank their fill, and then the Tsar began to inquire of the people\nwhether any had suffered wrong or had not had justice done him. And\nwhen the people began to disperse, the Tsar stood at the gate with a\nbag of money, and gave to every one a _grivna_,[21] but to the unhappy\nTsar he gave three.\n\n  [21] About twopence-halfpenny.\n\nAnd after three years the Tsar gave another banquet, and again\nentertained all the people. And when he had given them both to eat and\nto drink as much as they would, he inquired of them what was being\ndone in his tsardom, and again gave a _grivna_ to each one of them;\nbut to the unlucky Tsar he gave a double portion of meat and drink and\nthree _grivni_.\n\nAnd again, after three years, he made yet another banquet, and\nproclaimed that all should come, both rich and poor, both earls and\nchurls. And all the people came and ate and drank and bowed low before\nthe Tsar and thanked him, and made ready to depart. The unlucky Tsar\nwas also on the point of going, when the angel Tsar stopped him, and\ntook him aside into the palace, and said to him, \"Lo! God hath tried\nthee and chastised thy pride these ten years. But me He sent to teach\nthee that a Tsar must have regard to the complaints of his people. So\nthou wast made poor and a vagabond on the face of the earth that thou\nmightst pick up wisdom, if but a little. Look now, that thou doest\ngood to thy people, and judgest righteous judgment, as from henceforth\nthou shalt be Tsar again, but I must fly back to God in heaven.\"--And\nwhen he had said this he bade them wash and shave him (for his beard\nhad grown right down to his girdle), and put upon him the raiment of a\nTsar. And the angel said further, \"Go now into the inner apartments.\nThere the courtiers of the Tsar are sitting and making merry, and none\nwill recognize in thee the vagabond old man. May God help thee always\nto do good!\" And when the angel had said this he was no more to be\nseen, and only his clothes remained on the floor.\n\nThen the Tsar prayed gratefully to God, and went to the merry-making\nof his courtiers, and henceforth he ruled his people justly, as the\nangel had bidden him.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF IVAN AND THE\nDAUGHTER OF THE SUN\n\n\nThere were once upon a time four brethren, and three of them remained\nat home, while the fourth went out to seek for work. This youngest\nbrother came to a strange land, and hired himself out to a husbandman\nfor three gold pieces a year. For three years he served his master\nfaithfully, so, at the end of his time, he departed with nine gold\npieces in his pocket. The first thing he now did was to go to a\nspring, and into this spring he threw three of his gold pieces. \"Let\nus see now,\" said he, \"if I have been honest, they will come swimming\nback to me.\" Then he lay down by the side of the spring and went fast\nasleep. How long he slept there, who can tell? but at any rate he woke\nup at last and went to the spring, but there was no sign of his money\nto be seen. Then he threw three more of the gold pieces into the\nspring, and again he lay down by the side of it and slept. Then he got\nup and went and looked into the spring, and still there was no sign of\nthe money. So he threw in his three remaining gold pieces, and again\nlay down and slept. The third time he arose and looked into the\nspring, and there, sure enough, was his money: all nine of the gold\npieces were floating on the surface of the water!\n\nAnd now his heart felt lighter, and he gathered up the nine gold\npieces and went on his way. On the road he fell in with three\n_katsapi_[22] with a laden wagon. He asked them concerning their\nwares, and they said they were carrying a load of incense. He begged\nthem straightway to sell him this incense. Then they sold it to him\nfor the gold pieces, and when he had bought it and they had\ndeparted, he kindled fire and burnt the incense, and offered it up\nto God as a sweet-smelling sacrifice. Then an angel flew down to\nhim, and said, \"Oh, thou that hast offered this sweet-smelling\nsacrifice to God, what dost thou want for thine own self? Dost thou\nwant a tsardom, or great riches? Or, perchance, the desire of thy\nheart is a good wife? Speak, for God will give thee whatsoever thou\ndesirest.\" When the man had listened to the angel, he said to him,\n\"Tarry a while! I will go and ask those people who are ploughing\nyonder.\" Now those people who were ploughing there were his own\nbrethren, but he did not know that they were his brethren. So he went\nup and said to the elder brother, \"Tell me, uncle, what shall I ask\nof God? A tsardom, or great riches, or a good wife? Tell me, which of\nthe three is the best gift to ask for?\"--And his eldest brother\nsaid to him, \"I know not, and who does know? Go and ask some one\nelse.\" So he went to the second brother, who was ploughing a little\nfarther on. He asked him the same question, but the man only\nshrugged his shoulders and said he didn't know either. Then he went to\nthe third brother, who was the youngest of the three, and also\nploughing there. And he asked him, saying, \"Tell me, now, which is\nthe best gift to ask of God: a tsardom, or great riches, or a good\nwife?\"--And the third brother said, \"What a question! Thou art too\nyoung for a tsardom, and great riches last but for a little while;\nask God for a good wife, for if it please God to give thee a good\nwife, 'tis a gift that will bless thee all thy life long.\" So he went\nback to the angel and asked for a good wife. Then he went on his way\ntill he came to a certain wood, and, looking about him, he perceived\nthat in this wood was a lake. And while he was looking at it,\nthree wild doves came flying along and lit down upon this lake. They\nthrew off their plumage and plunged into the water, and then he saw\nthat they were not wild doves, but three fair ladies. They bathed in\nthe lake, and in the meantime the youth crept up and took the raiment\nof one of them and hid it behind the bushes. When they came out of\nthe water the third lady missed her clothes. Then the youth said to\nher, \"I know where thy clothes are, but I will not give them to thee\nunless thou wilt be my wife.\"--\"Good!\" cried she, \"thy wife will I\nbe.\" Then she dressed herself, and they went together to the\nnearest village. When they got there, she said to him, \"Now go to\nthe nobleman who owns the land here, and beg him for a place where\nwe may build us a hut.\" So he went right up to the nobleman's castle\nand entered his reception-room, and said, \"Glory be to God!\"--\"For\never and ever!\" replied the nobleman. \"What dost thou want here,\nIvan?\"--\"I have come, sir, to beg of thee a place where I may build me\na hut.\"--\"A place for a hut, eh? Good, very good. Go home, and\nI'll speak to my overseer, and he shall appoint thee a place.\"--So\nhe returned from the nobleman's castle, and his wife said to him, \"Go\nnow into the forest and cut down an oak, a young oak, that thou\ncanst span round with both arms.\" So he cut down such an oak as his\nwife had told him of, and she built a hut of the oak, for the overseer\nhad come and shown them a place where they might build their hut. But\nwhen the overseer returned home he praised loudly to his master the\nwife of this Ivan. \"She is such and such,\" said he. \"Fair she may\nbe,\" replied the nobleman, \"but she is another's.\"--\"She need not be\nanother's for long,\" replied the overseer. \"This Ivan is in our\nhands; let us send him to see why it is the sun grows so red when he\nsets.\"--\"That's just the same as if you sent him to a place whence he\ncan never return.\"--\"All the better.\"--Then they sent for Ivan, and\ngave him this errand, and he returned home to his wife, weeping\nbitterly. Then his wife asked him all about it, and said, \"Well, I\ncan tell thee all about the ways of the sun, for I am the sun's\nown daughter. So now I'll tell thee the whole matter. Go back to this\nnobleman and say to him that the reason why the sun turns so red as\nhe sets is this: Just as the sun is going down into the sea, three\nfair ladies rise out of it, and it is the sight of them which makes\nhim turn so red all over!\" So he went back and told them. \"Oh-ho!\"\ncried they, \"if you can go as far as that, you may now go a little\nfarther\"; so they told him to go to hell and see how it was there.\n\"Yes,\" said his wife, \"I know the road that leads to hell also very\nwell; but the nobleman must let his overseer go with thee, or else\nhe never will believe that thou really didst go to hell.\"--So the\nnobleman told his overseer that he must go to hell too, so they\nwent together; and when they got there the rulers of hell laid\nhands upon the overseer straightway. \"Thou dog!\" roared they,\n\"we've been looking out for thee for some time!\" So Ivan returned\nwithout the overseer, and the nobleman said to him, \"Where's my\noverseer?\"--\"I left him in hell,\" said Ivan, \"and they said there that\nthey were waiting for you, sir, too.\" When the nobleman heard this\nhe hanged himself, but Ivan lived happily with his wife.\n\n  [22] _Lit._ Big billy-goats, the name given by the clean-shaved\n       Ruthenians to their hairy neighbours the Russians.\n\n[Illustration: THE RULERS OF HELL LAID HANDS UPON THE OVERSEER\nSTRAIGHTWAY]\n\n\n\n\nTHE CAT, THE COCK, AND THE FOX\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a cat and a cock, who agreed to live\ntogether, so they built them a hut on an ash-heap, and the cock kept\nhouse while the cat went foraging for sausages.\n\nOne day the fox came running up: \"Open the door, little cock!\" cried\nshe.--\"Pussy told me not to, little fox!\" said the cock.--\"Open the\ndoor, little cock!\" repeated the fox.--\"I tell you, pussy told me not\nto, little fox!\"--At last, however, the cock grew tired of always\nsaying \"No!\" so he opened the door, and in the fox rushed, seized him\nin her jaws, and ran off with him. Then the cock cried:\n\n  \"_Help! pussy-pussy!\n  That foxy hussy\n  Has got me tight\n  With all her might.\n  Across her tail\n  My legs do trail\n  Along the bridge so stony!_\"\n\nThe cat heard it, gave chase to the fox, rescued the cock, brought him\nhome, scolded him well, and said, \"Now keep out of her jaws in the\nfuture, if you don't want to be killed altogether!\"\n\nThen the cat went out foraging for wheat, so that the cock might\nhave something to eat. He had scarcely gone when the sly she-fox\nagain came creeping up. \"Dear little cock!\" said she, \"pray open\nthe door!\"--\"Nay, little fox! Pussy said I wasn't to.\" But the fox\nwent on asking and asking till at last the cock let him in. Then\nthe fox rushed at him, seized him by the neck, and ran off with\nhim. Then the cock cried out:\n\n  \"_Help! pussy-pussy!\n  That foxy hussy\n  Has got me tight\n  With all her might.\n  Across her tail\n  My legs do trail\n  Along the bridge so stony!_\"\n\nThe cat heard it, and again he ran after the fox and rescued the cock,\nand gave the fox a sound drubbing. Then he said to the cock, \"Now,\nmind you never let her come in again, or she'll eat you.\"\n\nBut the next time the cat went out, the she-fox came again, and said,\n\"Dear little cock, open the door!\"--\"No, little fox! Pussy said I\nwasn't to.\" But the fox begged and begged so piteously that, at last,\nthe cock was quite touched, and opened the door. Then the fox caught\nhim by the throat again, and ran away with him, and the cock cried:\n\n  \"_Help! pussy-pussy!\n  That foxy hussy\n  Has got me tight\n  With all her might.\n  Across her tail\n  My legs do trail\n  Along the bridge so stony!_\"\n\nThe cat heard it, and gave chase again. He ran and ran, but this time\nhe couldn't catch the fox up; so he returned home and wept bitterly,\nbecause he was now all alone. At last, however, he dried his tears and\ngot him a little fiddle, a little fiddle-bow, and a big sack, and went\nto the fox's hole and began to play:\n\n  \"_Fiddle-de-dee!\n  The foxy so wee\n  Had daughters twice two,\n  And a little son too,\n  Called Phil.--Fiddle-dee!\n  Come, foxy, and see\n  My sweet minstrelsy!_\"\n\nThen the fox's daughter said, \"Mammy, I'll go out and see who it is\nthat is playing so nicely!\" So out she skipped, but no sooner did\npussy see her than he caught hold of her and popped her into his sack.\nThen he played again:\n\n  \"_Fiddle-de-dee!\n  The foxy so wee\n  Had daughters twice two,\n  And a little son too,\n  Called Phil.--Fiddle-dee!\n  Come, foxy, and see\n  My sweet minstrelsy!_\"\n\nThen the second daughter skipped out, and pussy caught her by the\nforehead, and popped her into his sack, and went on playing and\nsinging till he had got all four daughters into his sack, and the\nlittle son also.\n\nThen the old fox was left all alone, and she waited and waited, but\nnot one of them came back. At last she said to herself, \"I'll go out\nand call them home, for the cock is roasting, and the milk pottage is\nsimmering, and 'tis high time we had something to eat.\" So out she\npopped, and the cat pounced upon her, and killed her too. Then he went\nand drank up all the soup, and gobbled up all the pottage, and then he\nsaw the cock lying on a plate. \"Come, shake yourself, cock!\" said\npuss. So the cock shook himself, and got up, and the cat took the cock\nhome, and the dead foxes too. And when they got home they skinned them\nto make nice beds to lie upon, and lived happily together in peace and\nplenty. And as they laughed over the joke as a good joke, we may laugh\nover it too!\n\n\n\n\nTHE SERPENT-TSAREVICH AND\nHIS TWO WIVES\n\n\nThere was once a Tsaritsa who had no child, and greatly desired one,\nso the soothsayers said to her, \"Bid them catch thee a pike, bid them\nboil its head and nothing but its head, eat it, and thou shalt see\nwhat will happen.\" So she did so. She ate the pike's head and went\nabout as usual for a whole year, and when the year was out she gave\nbirth to a son who was a serpent.\n\nAnd no sooner was he born than he looked about him, and said, \"Mammy\nand daddy! Bid them make me a stone hut, and let there be a little bed\nthere, and a little stove and a fire to warm me, and let me be married\nin a fortnight!\"--So they did as he desired. They shut him up in a\nstone hut, with a little bed and a little stove and fire to warm him,\nand in a fortnight he grew quite big, indeed he grew too big for his\nlittle bed. \"And now,\" said he, \"I want to be married!\" So they\nbrought to him all the fair young damsels of the land that he might\nchoose one to be his own true bride. Exceeding fair were all the\ndamsels they brought him, and yet he would choose none of them. Now\nthere was an old woman there, who had twelve daughters, and eleven of\nthese daughters they brought to the Serpent-Tsarevich, but not the\ntwelfth. \"She is too young!\" said they.--Then the youngest daughter\nsaid, \"Ye fools, not to take me too! Why, if I were brought to the\nSerpent-Tsarevich, he would make me his bride at once.\"\n\nNow this came to the Tsar's ears, and he commanded them to bring her\nto him straightway. And the Tsar said to her, \"Wilt thou be my son's\nbride or not?\"--And she said, \"I will; but before I go to thy son,\ngive me at once a score of chemises, and a score of linen kirtles, and\na score of woollen kirtles, and twenty pairs of shoes--twenty of each,\nI say.\"--So the Tsar gave them to her, and she put on the twenty\nchemises, the twenty linen kirtles, the twenty woollen kirtles, and\nthe twenty pairs of shoes, one after the other, and went to see the\nSerpent-Tsarevich. When she came to the threshold of his hut, she\nstopped and said, \"Hail, O Serpent-Tsarevich!\"--\"Hail, maiden!\" cried\nhe. \"Wilt thou be my bride?\"--\"I will!\"--\"Then take off one of thy\nskins!\" cried he.--\"Yes,\" she said, \"but thou must do the same.\"--So\nhe cast off one of his skins, and she cast off one of her twenty suits\nof clothes. Then he cried out again, \"Cast off another of thy skins,\nmaiden.\"--\"Yes,\" she replied, \"but thou must cast off one too!\"--So he\ndid so. Nineteen times did he cast off one of his serpent's skins, and\nnineteen times did she cast off one of her suits of clothes, till at\nlast she had only her every-day suit left, and he had only his human\nskin left. Then he threw off his last skin also, and it flew about in\nthe air like a gossamer, whereupon she seized hold of it and threw it\ninto the fire that was burning on the hearth till it was all consumed,\nand he stood before her no longer a serpent, but a simple Tsarevich.\nThen they married and lived happily together, but the husband never\nwould go to visit his old father the Tsar, nor would he allow his\nbride to go near the palace.\n\n[Illustration: NINETEEN TIMES DID SHE CAST OFF ONE OF HER SUITS OF\nCLOTHES]\n\nThe old Tsar sent for him again and again, but his son would never go.\nAt last the wife was ashamed, and said to her husband one day, \"Dear\nheart! let me go to thy father! I will only go for my own pastime,\nlest he get angry. Why should I not go?\" Then he let her go, and she\nwent to the court of the old Tsar, and took her pastime there. She\namused herself finely, and ate and drank her fill of all good things.\nNow her husband had laid this command upon her, \"Go and divert thyself\nif thou wilt, but if thou tell my father and my mother what has\nhappened to me, and how I have lost my twenty serpent skins, thou\nshalt never see me more.\" For they did not know that he was now no\nlonger a serpent, but a simple Tsarevich. She vowed she would never\ntell; but for all her promises, she nevertheless told them at last how\nher husband had lost his twenty serpent skins. Then she enjoyed\nherself to her heart's content, but when she returned home she found\nno trace of her husband--he had departed to another kingdom in the\nuttermost parts of the world.\n\nThen the poor bride sat her down and wept and wept, and when she had\nno more tears to weep, she went forth into the wide world to seek her\nhusband. She went on till she came to a lonely little house, and she\nwent and begged a night's lodging from the old woman who dwelt there,\nwho was the Mother of the Winds. But the Mother of the Winds would not\nlet her in. \"God preserve thee, child!\" said she. \"My son is already\nwinging his way hither. In another moment thou wilt hear the rustling\nof his wings, in another moment he will slay thee, and scatter thy\nbones to the four winds.\" But the bride besought the old woman till\nshe had her desire, and the old woman hid her behind a huge chest. A\nmoment afterward the son of the Mother of the Winds came flying up,\nand he smelt out the bride, and said, \"What's this, mother? There is\nan evil smell of Cossack bones about the house!\"--\"No, it is not\nthat,\" said his mother, \"but a young woman has taken shelter here, who\nsays that she is going in search of her husband.\"--\"Then, mother, give\nher the little silver apple, and let her go, for her husband is in\nanother kingdom.\" So they sent her away with the little silver apple.\n\nShe went on and on till night descended upon her, and she came to the\nlonely abode of another old woman, and begged a night's lodging of her\nalso. But the old woman would not let her in. \"My son will be here\npresently,\" said she, \"and he will slay thee.\"--\"Nay, but, granny,\"\nsaid the bride, \"I've already stayed the night with such as thou, for\nI have lodged at the house of the Mother of the Winds.\"--Then the old\nwoman took her in, and hid her, for she was the Mother of the Moon.\nAnd immediately afterward the Moon came flying up. \"What is this,\nlittle mother?\" cried he. \"I smell an evil smell of Cossack\nbones!\"--But she said to him, \"Nay, my dear little son, but a young\nwoman has come hither who is obliged to search for her husband because\nshe told his father and mother the truth.\" Then the Moon said,\n\"'Twould be as well to let her go on farther. Give her the little\ngolden apple, and let her be off as quickly as possible, for her\nhusband is about to marry another wife.\" So she passed the night\nthere, and in the morning they sent her away with the little golden\napple.\n\nShe went on and on. Night again descended upon her, and she came to\nthe house of the Mother of the Sun, and begged her for a night's\nlodging. But the old woman said to her, \"I cannot let thee in. My son\nis flying about the world, but he will fly hither presently, and if he\nfind thee here he will slay thee!\"--Then the bride said, \"Nay, but,\ngranny dear, I have already lodged with the like of thee. I have\nlodged with the Mother of the Winds, and the Mother of the Moon, and\nthey each gave me a little apple.\" Then the Mother of the Sun also let\nher in. Immediately afterward her son, the Sun, came flying up, and he\nsaid, \"Why, what is this, little mother? I smell an evil smell of\nCossack bones!\"--But his mother answered, \"A young woman came hither\nwho begged for a night's lodging.\" She did not tell her son the whole\ntruth, that the bride was in search of her husband, but he knew it\nalready, and said, \"Her husband is about to marry another wife. Let\nher go to the land where now he is, and give her the diamond apple,\nwhich is the best and most precious apple in the whole world, and tell\nher to hasten on to the house where her husband abides. They won't let\nher in there, but she must disguise herself as an old woman, and sit\ndown outside in the courtyard, and spread out a cloth and lay upon it\nher little silver apple, and all the people will come flocking around\nto see the old woman who is selling apples of silver.\" So the bride\ndid as the Sun bade her, and went to that distant empire, and the\nEmpress of that empire, whom her husband had married, came to see what\nshe was selling, and said to her, \"What dost thou want for thy silver\napple?\" And she answered, \"No money do I want for it. Oh, sovereign\nlady, all that I require in exchange therefor is that I may pass the\nnight near my husband.\"--Then the Empress took the apple, and allowed\nher to come into the bedchamber of the Tsarevich to pass the night\nthere; but first of all she gave the Tsarevich a sleeping draught so\nthat he knew nothing, and could speak not a word to her, nor could he\neven recognize what manner of person his true wife was. Then only did\nthe Empress let her come into the room where her husband lay. And she\nwatched over him, she watched over him the live-long night, and with\nthe dawn she departed.\n\nThe next morning he awoke out of his drugged sleep, and said to\nhimself, \"Why, what is this? It is just as if my first wife has been\nweeping over me here, and wetted me with her tears!\" But he told\nnobody what he thought, nor did he say a word about it to his second\nwife. \"Wait a bit!\" thought he, \"to-morrow night I'll not go to sleep.\nI'll watch and watch till I watch the thing out.\"\n\nThe next day the faithful wife spread out her little cloth again, and\nlaid upon it her golden apple. The Empress again came that way, went\nup to her, and said, \"Sell me that apple of thine, and I'll give thee\nfor it as many pence as thou canst hold in thy lap!\"--But she replied,\n\"Nay, my sovereign lady! money for it I will not take, but let me pass\none more night in my own husband's room!\"--And the Empress took the\napple, and let her go there. But first the Empress caressed and kissed\nher husband into a good humour, and then she gave him another sleeping\ndraught. And the faithful wife came again, and watched and wept over\nhim and wetted him with her tears, and with the dawn she departed.\n\nAnd now she had only one apple left, but that was the diamond apple,\nthe most precious apple in the world. And she said to the Empress,\n\"Let me watch by him for this apple but one night more, and I'll never\nask again!\" And she let her. Now this night also her husband was\nasleep. And his first wife came and immediately began to kiss him on\nthe head, but he said nothing. Then she kissed him again, and at last\nhe awoke and started up, and said, \"Who's that?\"--\"It is I, thy first\nwife.\"--\"How hast thou found thy way hither?\"--\"Oh, I have been here\nand there and everywhere. I have lodged with the Mother of the Winds,\nand the Mother of the Moon, and the Mother of the Sun, and they gave\nme three apples, and I gave these apples to thy Empress-wife, and she\nlet me watch over thee, and this is the third night that I have\nwatched by thy side.\"\n\nThen he came to his right mind, and cried aloud that they should bring\nin lights, and he saw that his faithful wife was quite an old woman.\nThen he bethought him, and said, \"Was ever the like of this known? My\nfirst and faithful wife goes a-seeking her husband throughout the wide\nworld, while my accursed second wife, Empress though she be, sells her\nhusband for three apples!\"\n\nThen he bade them give his faithful wife rich garments as much as she\nwould, and she stripped off her disguise, and washed her face and grew\nyoung again. But the faithless wife was tied to the tails of four wild\nhorses, and they tore her to pieces in the endless steppe.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF THE MOLE\n\n\nOnce upon a time a rich man and a poor man had a field in common, and\nthey sowed it with the same seed at the same time. But God prospered\nthe poor man's labour and made his seed to grow, but the rich man's\nseed did not grow. Then the rich man claimed that part of the field\nwhere the grain had sprung up, and said to the poor man, \"Look now!\n'tis my seed that has prospered, and not thine!\" The poor man\nprotested, but the rich man would not listen, but said to him, \"If\nthou wilt not believe me, then, poor man, come into the field quite\nearly to-morrow morning, before dawn, and God shall judge betwixt\nus.\"\n\nThen the poor man went home. But the rich man dug a deep trench in the\npoor man's part of the field and placed his son in it, and said to\nhim, \"Look now, my son; when I come hither to-morrow morning and ask\nwhose field this is, say that it is not the poor man's, but the rich\nman's.\"\n\nThen he well covered up his son with straw, and departed to his own\nhouse.\n\nIn the morning all the people assembled together and went to the\nfield, and the rich man cried, \"Speak, O God! whose field is this, the\nrich man's or the poor man's?\"\n\n\"The rich man's, the rich man's,\" cried a voice from the midst of the\nfield.\n\nBut the Lord Himself was among the people gathered together there, and\nHe said, \"Listen not to that voice, for the field is verily the poor\nman's.\"\n\nThen the Lord told all the people how the matter went, and then He\nsaid to the son of the rich man,\n\n\"Stay where thou art, and sit beneath the earth all thy days, so long\nas the sun is in the sky.\"\n\nSo the rich man's son became a mole on the spot, and that is why the\nmole always flies the light of day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO PRINCES\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a King who had two sons, and these sons\nwent a-hunting in the forest and there lost themselves. They wandered\non and on for twelve weeks, and at the end of the twelve weeks they\ncame to a place where three roads met, and the elder brother said to\nthe younger, \"My brother, here our roads part. Take thou the road on\nthat side, and I'll take the road on this.\" Then the elder brother\ntook a knife and stuck it into the trunk of a maple-tree by the\nroadside, and said, \"Look now, brother, should any blood drip from the\nblade of this knife it will be a sign that I am perishing, and thou\nmust go and seek me; but if any blood flow from the handle, it will be\na sign that _thou_ art perishing, and I will then go and seek thee.\"\nThen the brothers embraced each other and parted, and one went in one\ndirection and the other went in the other.\n\nThe elder brother went on and on and on till he came to a mountain so\nhigh that there cannot be a higher, and he began climbing it with his\ndog and his stick. He went on till he came to an apple-tree, and\nbeneath the apple-tree a fire was burning, and he stopped to warm\nhimself, when an old woman came up and said to him, \"Dear little\ngentleman! dear little gentleman! tie up that dog lest he bite me.\" So\nhe took the dog and tied it up, and immediately he was turned to\nstone, and the dog too, for the old woman was a pagan witch.\n\nTime passed, and the younger brother came back to the maple-tree by\nthe cross-roads and saw that blood was dripping from the blade of the\nknife. Then he knew that his brother was perishing, and he went in\nsearch of him, and came at last to the high mountain that was higher\nthan all others, and on the top of this mountain there was a little\ncourtyard, and in the courtyard an old woman, who said to him, \"Little\nPrince, what brings thee hither, and what dost thou seek?\"--\"I seek my\nbrother,\" said he; \"a whole year has passed since I heard of him, and\nI know not whether he be alive or dead.\"--Then she said to him, \"I can\ntell thee that he is dead, and it is of no use seeking for him, though\nthou goest the wide world over. But go up that mountain, and thou wilt\ncome to two other mountains opposite to each other, and there thou\nwilt find an old man, who will put thee on thy way.\" So he went up the\nhigh mountain till he came to two other mountains that were opposite\neach other, and there he saw two old men sitting, and they asked him\nstraightway, \"Little Prince! little Prince! whither dost thou go, and\nwhat dost thou seek?\"--\"I am going in search of my brother,\" said he,\n\"my dear elder brother who is perishing, and I can find him\nnowhere.\"--Then one of the old men said to him, \"If thou canst scale\nthose two mountains yonder without falling, I'll give thee all that\nthou dost want.\" Then he scaled the two mountains as nimbly as a goat,\nand the old man gave him a bast rope, three fathoms long, and bade him\nreturn to the mountain where was the fire and the old woman who had\nasked him to stay and warm himself, and bind this old woman with the\ncord and beat her till she promised to bring his brother back to life\nagain, and not only his brother but a Tsar and a Tsaritsa[23] and a\nTsarivna, who were also turned to stone there. \"Beat her till she has\nbrought them all to life again,\" said they. So he took the cord and\nwent back to where the fire was burning. An apple-tree was there, and\nbeneath the apple-tree was the fire, and the old witch came out to him\nand said, \"Little master! little master! let me come and warm\nmyself.\"--\"Come along, little mother!\" cried he; \"come and warm\nthyself and make thyself comfortable.\" Then she came out, but no\nsooner had she done so, than he threw the cord around her and began\nflogging her. \"Say,\" cried he, \"what hast thou done with my\nbrother?\"--\"Oh, dear little master! dear little master! let me go, let\nme go! I'll tell thee this instant where thy brother is.\" But he\nwouldn't listen, but beat her and beat her, and held her naked feet\nover the fire, and toasted and roasted her till she shrivelled right\nup. Then he let her go, and she went with him to a cave that was on\nthat mountain, and drew from the depths of it some healing and\nlife-giving water, and brought his brother back to life again, but it\nwas as much as she could do, for she was half dead herself. Then his\nbrother said to him, \"Oh, my dear brother, how heavily I must have\nbeen sleeping! But thou must revive my faithful dog too!\" Then she\nrevived the faithful dog, and she also revived the Tsar and the\nTsaritsa and the Tsarivna, who had been turned to stone there. Then\nthey left that place and when they had gone a little distance, the\nelder brother bowed to the ground and went on his way alone.\n\n  [23] The wife of a Tsar.\n\nHe went on and on till he came to a city where all the people were\nweeping and all the houses were hung with black cloth. And he said to\nthem, \"Why do ye weep, and why are all your houses hung with\nblack?\"--And they answered, \"Because there's a Dragon here who eats\nthe people, and it has come to such a pass with us that to-morrow we\nmust give him our Princess for dinner.\"--\"Nay, but ye shall not do\nthis thing,\" said he, and, with that, he set out for the cavern where\nthe Dragon lived, and tethered his horse there and slept by the side\nof the cavern all night. And the next day, sure enough, the Princess\nwas brought to the mouth of the cavern. She came driving thither in a\ncarriage and four and with a heyduck[24] in attendance. But when the\nPrince saw her, he came forth to meet her and led her aside and gave\nher a prayer-book in her hand, and said to her, \"Stay here, Princess,\nand pray to God for me.\" Then she fell down on her knees and began to\npray, and the Dragon popped one of his heads out of the cavern and\nsaid, \"It is time I had my dinner now, and there's not so much as a\nbreakfast here!\" But the Prince also fell down on his knees and read\nout of his prayer-book and prayed to God, and said to the Dragon,\n\"Come forth! come forth! and I'll give thee breakfast and dinner at\nthe same time!\" Then the Dragon darted back again, but when he had\nwaited till midday and still there was neither breakfast nor dinner\nfor him, he popped two of his heads out and cried, \"It is high time I\nhad my dinner, and still there is neither breakfast nor dinner for\nme!\"--\"Come forth, and I'll give thee both at once!\" cried the\nPrince. Then the Dragon wouldn't wait any longer, but stuck out all\nhis six heads and began to wriggle out of the cavern; but the Prince\nattacked him with his huge broadsword, a full fathom long, which the\nLord had given him, and chopped off all the Dragon's six heads, and\nthe rock fell upon the Dragon's body and crushed it to pieces. Then\nthe Prince gathered up the six dragon-heads and laid them on one side,\nand cut out the six lolling tongues and tied them in his handkerchief,\nand told the Princess to go back to her palace, for they could not be\nmarried for a year and twelve weeks, and if by that time he did not\nappear, she was to marry another, and with that he departed. Then the\ncoachman of the Princess came up to the place and saw the six heads of\nthe Dragon, and took them up and said to the Princess, \"I will slay\nthee on the spot if thou dost not swear to me twelve times that thou\nwilt say I slew the Dragon, and wilt take me for thy husband!\" Then\nshe swore to it twelve times, for else he would have slain her. So\nthey returned together to the town, and immediately all the black\ncloth was taken off the houses and the bells fell a-ringing, and all\nthe people rejoiced because the coachman had killed the Dragon. \"Let\nthem be married at once!\" cried they.\n\n  [24] Hungarian soldier.\n\nMeanwhile the King's son went on and on till he came to that town\nwhere he had left his brother, and there he found that the Tsar and\nthe Tsaritsa had given his brother the whole tsardom and the Tsarivna\nto wife as well, and there he tarried for a time; but toward the end\nof a year and twelve weeks he went back to the other city where he had\nleft the Princess, and there he found them making ready for a grand\nwedding. \"What is the meaning of all this?\" asked he. And they\nanswered, \"The Tsar's coachman has slain the Dragon with six heads and\nsaved the Princess, and now he is to be married to her.\"--\"Good Lord!\"\ncried he, \"and I never saw this Dragon! What manner of beast was\nit?\"--Then they took him and showed him the heads of the Dragon, and\nhe cried, \"Good Lord! every other beast hath a tongue, but this Dragon\nhath none!\" Then they told this to the coachman, who had been made a\nPrince, and the coachman was very angry and said, \"Whoever maintains\nthat a Dragon has tongues, him will I order to be tied to four wild\nhorses, and they shall tear him to pieces on the open steppe!\" The\nPrincess, however, recognized the King's son, but she held her peace.\nThen the King's son took out his handkerchief, unrolled it, showed\nthem the six tongues, and put each one into one of the six mouths of\nthe Dragon's six heads, and each of the tongues began to speak and bid\nthe Princess say how the matter went. Then the Princess told how she\nhad knelt down and prayed out of the prayer-book while the King's son\nslew the Dragon, and how the wicked coachman had made her swear twelve\ntimes to that which was false. When the Tsar heard this, he\nimmediately gave the Princess his daughter to the King's son, and they\nasked him what death the wicked coachman should die. And he answered,\n\"Let him be tied to the tails of four wild horses, and drive them into\nthe endless steppe that they may tear him to pieces there, and the\nravens and crows may come and pick his bones.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE UNGRATEFUL CHILDREN AND\nTHE OLD FATHER WHO WENT TO\nSCHOOL AGAIN\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was an old man. He lived to a great age, and\nGod gave him children whom he brought up to man's estate, and he\ndivided all his goods amongst them. \"I will pass my remaining days\namong my children,\" thought he.\n\nSo the old man went to live with his eldest son, and at first the\neldest son treated him properly, and did reverence to his old\nfather. \"'Tis but meet and right that we should give our father to\neat and drink, and see that he has wherewithal to clothe him, and take\ncare to patch up his things from time to time, and let him have\nclean new shirts on festivals,\" said the eldest son. So they did so,\nand at festivals also the old father had his own glass beside him.\nThus the eldest son was a good son to his old father. But when the\neldest son had been keeping his father for some time he began to\nregret his hospitality, and was rough to his father, and sometimes\neven shouted at him. The old man no longer had his own set place\nin the house as heretofore, and there was none to cut up his food\nfor him. So the eldest son repented him that he had said he would\nkeep his father, and he began to grudge him every morsel of bread\nthat he put in his mouth. The old man had nothing for it but to go to\nhis second son. It might be better for him there or worse, but stay\nwith his eldest son any longer he could not. So the father went to\nhis second son. But here the old man soon discovered that he had only\nexchanged wheat for straw. Whenever he began to eat, his second son\nand his daughter-in-law looked sour and murmured something between\ntheir teeth. The woman scolded the old man. \"We had as much as we\ncould do before to make both ends meet,\" cried she, \"and now we\nhave old men to keep into the bargain.\" The old man soon had enough\nof it there also, and went on to his next son. So one after\nanother all four sons took their father to live with them, and he was\nglad to leave them all. Each of the four sons, one after the other,\ncast the burden of supporting him on one of the other brothers. \"It is\nfor him to keep thee, daddy!\" said they; and then the other would\nsay, \"Nay, dad, but it is as much as we can do to keep ourselves.\"\nThus between his four sons he knew not what to do. There was quite\na battle among them as to which of them should _not_ keep their old\nfather. One had one good excuse and another had another, and so none\nof them would keep him. This one had a lot of little children, and\nthat one had a scold for a wife, and this house was too small, and\nthat house was too poor. \"Go where thou wilt, old man,\" said they,\n\"only don't come to us.\" And the old man, grey, grey, grey as a\ndove was he, wept before his sons, and knew not whither to turn.\nWhat could he do? Entreaty was in vain. Not one of the sons would take\nthe old man in, and yet he had to be put somewhere. Then the old\nman strove with them no more, but let them do with him even as\nthey would.\n\nSo all four sons met and took counsel. Time after time they laid their\nheads together, and at last they agreed among themselves that the\nbest thing the old man could do was to go to school. \"There will be a\nbench for him to sit upon there,\" said they; \"and he can take\nsomething to eat in his knapsack.\" Then they told the old man about\nit; but the old man did not want to go to school. He begged his\nchildren not to send him there, and wept before them. \"Now that I\ncannot see the white world,\" said he, \"how can I see a black book?\nMoreover, from my youth upward I have never learnt my letters; how\nshall I begin to do so now? A clerk cannot be fashioned out of an old\nman on the point of death!\" But there was no use talking, his children\nsaid he _must_ go to school, and the voices of his children prevailed\nagainst his feeble old voice. So to school he had to go. Now there was\nno church in that village, so he had to go to the village beyond it to\nschool. A forest lay along the road, and in this forest the old man\nmet a nobleman driving along. When the old man came near to the\nnobleman's carriage, he stepped out of the road to let it pass, took\noff his hat respectfully, and then would have gone on farther. But he\nheard some one calling, and, looking back, saw the nobleman beckoning\nto him; he wanted to ask him something. The nobleman then got out of\nhis carriage and asked the old man whither he was going. The old man\ntook off his hat to the nobleman and told him all his misery, and the\ntears ran down the old man's cheeks. \"Woe is me, gracious sir! If the\nLord had left me without kith and kin, I should not complain; but\nstrange indeed is the woe that has befallen me! I have four sons,\nthank God, and all four have houses of their own, and yet they send\ntheir poor old father to school to learn! Was ever the like of it\nknown before?\" So the old man told the nobleman his whole story, and\nthe nobleman was full of compassion for the old man. \"Well, old man,\"\nsaid he, \"'tis no use for thee to go to school, that's plain. Return\nhome. I'll tell thee what to do so that thy children shall never send\nthee to school again. Fear not, old man, weep no more, and let not thy\nsoul be troubled! God shall bless thee, and all will be well. I know\nwell what ought to be done here.\" So the nobleman comforted the old\nman, and the old man began to be merry. Then the nobleman took out his\npurse, it was a real nobleman's purse, with a little sack in the\nmiddle of it to hold small change. Lord! what a lovely thing it was!\nThe more he looked at it, the more the old man marvelled at it. The\nnobleman took this purse and began filling it full with something.\nWhen he had well filled it, he gave it to the old man. \"Take this and\ngo home to thy children,\" said he, \"and when thou hast got home, call\ntogether all thy four sons and say to them, 'My dear children, long\nlong ago, when I was younger than I am now, and knocked about in the\nworld a bit, I made a little money. \"I won't spend it,\" I said to\nmyself, \"for one never knows what may happen.\" So I went into a\nforest, my children, and dug a hole beneath an oak, and there I hid my\nlittle store of money. I did not bother much about the money\nafterward, because I had such good children; but when you sent me to\nschool I came to this self-same oak, and I said to myself, \"I wonder\nif these few silver pieces have been waiting for their master all\nthis time! Let us dig and see.\" So I dug and found them, and have\nbrought them home to you, my children. I shall keep them till I die;\nbut after my death consult together, and whosoever shall be found to\nhave cherished me most and taken care of me and not grudged me a clean\nshirt now and then, or a crust of bread when I'm hungry, to him shall\nbe given the greater part of my money. So now, my dear children,\nreceive me back again, and my thanks shall be yours. You can manage it\namongst you, and surely 'tis not right that I should seek a home among\nstrangers! Which of you will be kind to your old father--for money?'\"\n\nSo the old man returned to his children with the purse in a casket,\nand when he came to the village with the casket under his arm, one\ncould see at once that he had been in a _good forest_.[25] When one\ncomes home with a heavy casket under one's arm, depend upon it there's\nsomething in it! So, no sooner did the old man appear than his eldest\ndaughter-in-law came running out to meet him, and bade him welcome in\nGod's name. \"Things don't seem to get on at all without thee, dad!\"\ncried she, \"and the house is quite dreary. Come in and rest, dad,\" she\nwent on; \"thou hast gone a long way and must be weary.\" Then all the\nbrothers came together, and the old man told them what God had done\nfor him. All their faces brightened as they looked at the casket, and\nthey thought to themselves, \"If we keep him we shall have the money.\"\nThen the four brothers could not make too much of their dear old\nfather. They took care of him and the old man was happy, but he took\nheed to the counsel of the nobleman, and never let the casket out of\nhis hand. \"After my death you shall have everything, but I won't give\nit you now, for who knows what may happen? I have seen already how you\ntreated your old father when he had nothing. It shall all be yours, I\nsay, only wait; and when I die, take it and divide it as I have said.\"\nSo the brothers tended their father, and the old man lived in clover,\nand was somebody. He had his own way and did nothing.\n\n  [25] _I.e._ a forest where treasure is hidden.\n\nSo the old man was no longer ill-treated by his children, but lived\namong them like an emperor in his own empire, but no sooner did he die\nthan his children made what haste they could to lay hands upon the\ncasket. All the people were called together and bore witness that they\nhad treated their father well since he came back to them, so it was\nadjudged that they should divide the treasure amongst them. But first\nthey took the old man's body to church and the casket along with it.\nThey buried him as God commands. They made a rich banquet of funeral\nmeats that all might know how much they mourned the old man; it was a\nsplendid funeral. When the priest got up from the table, the people\nall began to thank their hosts, and the eldest son begged the priest\nto say the _sorokoust_[26] in the church for the repose of the dead\nman's soul. \"Such a dear old fellow as he was!\" said he; \"was there\never any one like him? Take this money for the _sorokoust_, reverend\nfather!\" so horribly grieved was that eldest son. So the eldest son\ngave the priest money, and the second son gave him the like. Nay,\neach one gave him money for an extra half _sorokoust_, all four gave\nhim requiem money. \"We'll have prayers in church for our father though\nwe sell our last sheep to pay for them,\" cried they. Then, when all\nwas over, they hastened as fast as they could to the money. The coffer\nwas brought forth. They shook it. There was a fine rattling inside it.\nEvery one of them felt and handled the coffer. That was something like\na treasure! Then they unsealed it and opened it and scattered the\ncontents--and it was full of nothing but glass! They wouldn't believe\ntheir eyes. They rummaged among the glass, but there was no money. It\nwas horrible! Surely it could not be that their father had dug up a\ncoffer from beneath an oak of the forest and it was full of nothing\nbut glass! \"Why!\" cried the brothers, \"our father has left us nothing\nbut glass!\" But for the crowds of people there, the brothers would\nhave fallen upon and beaten each other in their wrath. So the children\nof the old man saw that their father had made fools of them. Then all\nthe people mocked them: \"You see what you have gained by sending your\nfather to school! You see he learned something at school after all! He\nwas a long time before he _began_ learning, but better late than\nnever. It appears to us 'twas a right good school you sent him to. No\ndoubt they whipped him into learning so much. Never mind, you can keep\nthe money and the casket!\" Then the brothers were full of lamentation\nand rage. But what could they do? Their father was already dead and\nburied.\n\n  [26] Prayers lasting forty days.\n\n\n\n\nIVAN THE FOOL AND ST PETER'S\nFIFE\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a man who had three sons, and two were\nclever, but the third, called Ivan, was a fool. Their father divided\nall his goods among them and died, and the three brothers went out\ninto the world to seek their fortunes. Now the two wise brothers left\nall their goods at home, but Ivan the fool, who had only inherited a\nlarge millstone, took it along with him. They went on and on and on\ntill it began to grow dark, when they came to a large forest. Then the\nwise brothers said, \"Let us climb up to the top of this oak and pass\nthe night there, and then robbers will not fall upon us.\"--\"But what\nwill this silly donkey do with his millstone?\" asked one of\nthem.--\"You look to yourselves,\" said Ivan, \"for I mean to pass the\nnight in this tree also.\" Then the wise brothers climbed to the very\ntip-top of the tree and there sat down, and then Ivan dragged himself\nup too, and the millstone after him. He tried to get up as high as his\nbrothers, but the thin boughs broke beneath him, so he had to be\ncontent with staying in the lower part of the tree on the thicker\nboughs; so there he sat, hugging the millstone in his arms. Presently\nsome robbers came along that way, red-handed from their work, and they\ntoo prepared to pass the night under the tree. So they cut them down\nfirewood, and made them a roaring fire beneath a huge cauldron, and in\nthis cauldron they began to boil their supper. They boiled and boiled\ntill their mess of pottage was ready, and then they all sat down round\nthe cauldron and took out their large ladles, and were just about to\nfall to--in fact they were blowing their food because it was so\nboiling hot--when Ivan let his big millstone plump down into the\nmiddle of the cauldron, so that the pottage flew right into their\neyes. The robbers were so terrified that they all sprang to their feet\nstraightway and scampered off through the forest, forgetting all the\nbooty of which they had robbed the merchantmen. Then Ivan came down\nfrom the oak and cried to his brothers, \"You come down here and divide\nthe spoil!\" So the wise brothers came down, put all the merchandise on\nthe backs of the robbers' horses, and went home with it; but the only\nthing that Ivan was able to secure for himself was a bag of incense.\nThis he immediately took to the nearest churchyard, placed it on the\ntop of a tomb, and began to pound away at it with his millstone.\nSuddenly St Peter appeared to him and said, \"What art thou doing, good\nman?\"--\"I am pounding up this incense to make bread of it.\"--\"Nay,\ngood man, I will advise thee better: give me the incense and take from\nme whatever thou wilt.\"--\"Very well, St Peter,\" said the fool; \"thou\nmust give me a little fife, but a fife of such a sort that whenever I\nplay upon it, every one will be obliged to dance.\"--\"But dost thou\nknow how to play upon a fife?\"--\"No, but I can soon learn.\" Then St\nPeter drew forth a little fife from his bosom and gave it to him, and\ntook away the incense, and who can say where he went with it? But Ivan\nstood up and gazed at the sky and said, \"Look now! if St Peter hath\nnot already burnt my incense and made of it that large white cloud\nthat is sailing above my head!\" Then he took up his fife and began to\nplay, and the moment he began to play, everything around him began to\ndance; the wolves, and the hares, and the foxes, and the bears, nay,\nthe very birds lit down upon the ground and began to dance, and Ivan\nwent on laughing and playing all the time. Even the savage, surly\nbears danced and danced till their legs tottered beneath them. Then\nthey clutched tight hold of the trees to stop themselves from dancing;\nbut it was of no use, dance they must. At last Ivan himself was tired,\nand lay down to rest, and when he had rested a little, he got up again\nand went on into the town. There all the people were in the bazaars,\nbuying and selling. Some were buying pancakes, others baskets of\nbright-coloured eggs, others again pitchers of _kvas_. Ivan began\nplaying on his fife, and forthwith they all fell a-dancing. One man\nwho had a whole basket of eggs on his head danced them into bits, and\ndanced and danced till he looked like the yolk of an egg himself.\nThose who were asleep got up and gave themselves up to dancing\nstraightway; there were some who danced without trousers, and some who\ndanced without smocks or shirts, and there were some who danced with\nnothing on at all, for dance they must when Ivan began a-playing. The\nwhole town was turned upside down: the dogs, the swine, the cocks and\nhens, everything that had life came out and danced. At last Ivan was\ntired, so he left off playing and went into the town to seek service.\nThe parson there took a fancy to him, and said to him, \"Good man! wilt\nenter my service?\"--\"That will I, gladly,\" said Ivan.--\"How much wages\ndost thou want by the year then?\"--\"It won't come dear; five\n_karbovantsya_[27] are all I ask.\"--\"Good, I agree,\" said the parson.\nSo he engaged Ivan as his servant, and the next day he sent him out\ninto the fields to tend his cattle. Ivan drove the cattle into the\npastures, but he himself perched on the top of a haystack while the\ncattle grazed. He sat there, and sat and sat till he grew quite dull,\nand then he said to himself, \"I'll play a bit on my fife, I haven't\nplayed for a long time.\" So he began to play, and immediately all the\ncattle fell a-dancing; and not only the cattle, but all the foxes, and\nthe hares, and the wolves, and everything in the hedges and ditches\nfell a-dancing too. They danced and danced till the poor cattle were\nclean worn out and at the last gasp. In the evening Ivan drove them\nhome, but they were so famished that they tugged at the dirty straw\nroofs of the huts they passed, and so got a chance mouthful or two.\nBut Ivan went in and had supper and a comfortable night's rest\nafterward. The next day he again drove the cattle into the pastures.\nThey began grazing till he took out his fife again, when they all fell\na-dancing like mad. He played on and on till evening, when he drove\nthe cattle home again, and they were all as hungry as could be, and\nwearied to death from dancing.\n\n  [27] A _karbovanets_ is about four shillings.\n\n[Illustration: SUDDENLY ST PETER APPEARED TO HIM]\n\nNow the parson was not a little astonished when he saw his cattle.\n\"Where on earth has he been feeding them?\" thought he; \"they are quite\ntired out and almost famished! I'll take care to go myself to-morrow,\nand see exactly whither he takes them, and what he does with them.\" On\nthe third day the neat-herd again drove the cattle into the pastures,\nbut this time the parson followed after them, and went and hid himself\nbehind the hedge near to which Ivan was watching the cattle graze.\nThere he sat then, and watched to see what the man would do. Presently\nIvan mounted on to the haystack and began to play. And immediately all\nthe cattle fell a-dancing, and everything in the hedge, and the parson\nbehind the hedge danced too. Now the hedge was a quickset hedge, and\nas the parson began capering about in it, he tore to shreds his\ncassock and his breeches, and his under-coat, and his shirt, and\nscratched his skin and wrenched out his beard as if he had been very\nbadly shaved, and still the poor parson had to go on dancing in the\nmidst of the prickly hedge till there were great weals and wounds all\nover his body, and the red blood began to flow. Then the parson saw he\nwas in evil case, and shrieked to his herdsman to leave off playing;\nbut the herdsman was so wrapped up in his music that he did not hear\nhim; but at last he looked in the direction of the hedge, and when he\nsaw the poor parson skipping about like a lunatic, he stopped. The\nparson darted away as fast as his legs could carry him toward the\nvillage, and oh! what a sight he looked as he dashed through the\nstreets! The people didn't know him, and--scandalized that anybody\nshould run about in rags and tatters so that his whole body could be\nseen--began to hoot him. Then the poor man turned aside from the\npublic road, crawled off through the woods, and dashed off through the\ntall reeds of the gardens, with the dogs after him. For wherever he\nwent they took him for a robber, and hounded on the dogs. At last the\nparson got home, all rags and tatters, so that when his wife saw him\nshe did not know him, but called to the labourers, \"Help, help! here's\na robber, turn him out!\" They came rushing up with sticks and cudgels,\nbut he began talking to them, and at last they recognized him, led him\nhome, and he told his wife all about Ivan. The parson's wife was so\namazed she could scarce believe it. In the evening Ivan drove home the\noxen, put them into their stalls, gave them straw to eat, and then\ncame into the house himself to have supper. He came into the house,\nand the parson said to him, \"Come now, Ivan, when thou hast rested a\nbit, play my wife a little song!\" But as for the parson, he took good\ncare to tie himself first of all to the pillar which held up the roof\nof the house. Ivan sat down on the ground near to the threshold and\nbegan to play. The parson's wife sat down on the bench to listen to\nhim while he played; but immediately she leaped up from the bench and\nbegan to dance, and she danced with such hearty good-will that the\nplace became too small for her. Then the Devil seemed to take\npossession of the cat too, for pussy leaped from under the stove and\nbegan to spring and bound about also. The parson held on and held on\nto the pillar with all his might, but it was of no use. He had no\npower to resist; he let go with his hands, and tugged and tugged till\nthe rope that held him grew slacker and slacker, and then he went\ndancing round and round the pillar at a furious rate, with the rope\nchafing his hands and feet all the time. At last he could endure it no\nlonger, and bawled to Ivan to stop. \"The deuce is in thee!\" cried he.\nThen Ivan stopped playing, put his fife into his breast-pocket, and\nwent and lay down to sleep. But the parson said to his wife, \"We must\nturn away this Ivan to-morrow, for he will be the death of ourselves\nand our cattle!\" Ivan, however, overheard what the parson said to his\nwife, and getting up early in the morning, he went straight to the\nparson, and said to him, \"Give me one hundred _karbovantsya_, and I'll\nbe off; but if you won't give them to me, I'll play and play till you\nand your wife have danced yourselves to death, and then I'll take your\nplace and live at mine ease.\" The parson scratched himself behind the\nears and hesitated; but at last he thought he had better give the\nmoney and be quit of him. So he took the hundred _karbovantsya_ out of\nhis satchel and gave them to Ivan. Then Ivan played them a parting\nsong, till the parson and his wife fell down to the ground, dead-beat,\nwith their tongues lolling out of their mouths; and then he put his\nfife into his breast-pocket, and wandered forth into the wide world.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MAGIC EGG\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a lark who was the Tsar among the birds,\nand he took unto himself as his Tsaritsa a little shrew-mouse. They\nhad a field all to themselves, which they sowed with wheat, and when\nthe wheat grew up they divided it between them, when they found that\nthere was one grain over! The mouse said, \"Let me have it!\" But the\nlark said, \"No, let me have it!\"--\"What's to be done?\" thought they.\nThey would have liked to take counsel of some one, but they had no\nparents or kinsmen, nobody at all to whom they could go and ask advice\nin the matter. At last the mouse said, \"At any rate, let me have the\nfirst nibble!\" The lark Tsar agreed to this; but the little mouse\nfastened her teeth in it and ran off into her hole with it, and there\nate it all up. At this the Tsar lark was wrath, and collected all the\nbirds of the air to make war upon the mouse Tsaritsa; but the Tsaritsa\ncalled together all the beasts to defend her, and so the war began.\nWhenever the beasts came rushing out of the wood to tear the birds to\npieces, the birds flew up into the trees; but the birds kept in the\nair, and hacked and pecked the beasts wherever they could. Thus they\nfought the whole day, and in the evening they lay down to rest. Now\nwhen the Tsaritsa looked around upon her forces, she saw that the ant\nwas taking no part in the war. She immediately went and commanded the\nant to be there by evening, and when the ant came, the Tsaritsa\nordered her to climb up the trees with her kinsmen and bite off the\nfeathers round the birds' wings.\n\nNext day, when there was light enough to see by, the mouse Tsaritsa\ncried, \"Up, up, my warriors!\" Thereupon the birds also rose up, and\nimmediately fell to the ground, where the beasts tore them to bits. So\nthe Tsaritsa overcame the Tsar. But there was one eagle who saw there\nwas something wrong, so he did not try to fly, but remained sitting on\nthe tree. And lo! there came an archer along that way, and seeing the\neagle on the tree, he took aim at it; but the eagle besought him and\nsaid, \"Do not kill me, and I'll be of great service to thee!\" The\narcher aimed a second time, but the eagle besought him still more and\nsaid, \"Take me down rather and keep me, and thou shalt see that it\nwill be to thy advantage.\" The archer, however, took aim a third time,\nbut the eagle began to beg of him most piteously, \"Nay, kill me not,\nbut take me home with thee, and thou shalt see what great advantage it\nwill be to thee!\" The archer believed the bird. He climbed up the\ntree, took the eagle down, and carried it home. Then the eagle said to\nhim, \"Put me in a hut, and feed me with flesh till my wings have grown\nagain.\"\n\nNow this archer had two cows and a steer, and he at once killed and\ncut up one of the cows for the eagle. The eagle fed upon this cow for\na full year, and then he said to the archer, \"Let me go, that I may\nfly. I see that my wings have already grown again!\" Then the archer\nlet him loose from the hut. The eagle flew round and round, he flew\nabout for half a day, and then he returned to the archer and said, \"I\nfeel I have but little strength in me, slay me another cow!\" And the\narcher obeyed him, and slew the second cow, and the eagle lived upon\nthat for yet another year. Again the eagle flew round and round in the\nair. He flew round and about the whole day till evening, when he\nreturned to the archer and said, \"I am stronger than I was, but I have\nstill but little strength in me, slay me the steer also!\" Then the man\nthought to himself, \"What shall I do? Shall I slay it, or shall I not\nslay it?\" At last he said, \"Well! I've sacrificed more than this\nbefore, so let this go too!\" and he took the steer and slaughtered it\nfor the eagle. Then the eagle lived upon this for another whole year\nlonger, and after that he took to flight, and flew high up right to\nthe very clouds. Then he flew down again to the man and said to him,\n\"I thank thee, brother, for that thou hast been the saving of me! Come\nnow and sit upon me!\"--\"Nay, but,\" said the man, \"what if some evil\nbefall me?\"--\"Sit on me, I say!\" cried the eagle. So the archer sat\ndown upon the bird.\n\nThen the eagle bore him nearly as high as the big clouds, and then let\nhim fall. Down plumped the man; but the eagle did not let him fall to\nthe earth, but swiftly flew beneath him and upheld him, and said to\nhim, \"How dost thou feel now?\"--\"I feel,\" said the man, \"as if I had\nno life in me.\"--Then the eagle replied, \"That was just how I felt\nwhen thou didst aim at me the first time.\" Then he said to him, \"Sit\non my back again!\" The man did not want to sit on him, but what could\nhe do? Sit he must. Then the eagle flew with him quite as high as the\nbig clouds, and shook him off, and down he fell headlong till he was\nabout two fathoms from the ground, when the bird again flew beneath\nhim and held him up. Again the eagle asked him, \"How dost thou feel?\"\nAnd the man replied, \"I feel just as if all my bones were already\nbroken to bits!\"--\"That is just how I felt when thou didst take aim at\nme the second time,\" replied the eagle. \"But now sit on my back once\nmore.\" The man did so, and the eagle flew with him as high as the\nsmall fleecy clouds, and then he shook him off, and down he fell\nheadlong; but when he was but a hand's-breadth from the earth, the\neagle again flew beneath him and held him up, and said to him, \"How\ndost thou feel now?\" And he replied, \"I feel as if I no longer\nbelonged to this world!\"--\"That is just how I felt when thou didst aim\nat me the third time,\" replied the eagle. \"But now,\" continued the\nbird, \"thou art guilty no more. We are quits. I owe thee naught, and\nthou owest naught to me; so sit on my back again, and I'll take thee\nto my master.\"\n\nThey flew on and on, they flew till they came to the eagle's uncle.\nAnd the eagle said to the archer, \"Go to my house, and when they ask\nthee, 'Hast thou not seen our poor child?' reply, 'Give me the magic\negg, and I'll bring him before your eyes!'\" So he went to the house,\nand there they said to him, \"Hast thou heard of our poor child with\nthine ears, or seen him with thine eyes, and hast thou come hither\nwillingly or unwillingly?\"--And he answered, \"I have come hither\nwillingly!\"--Then they asked, \"Hast thou smelt out anything of our\npoor youngster? for it is three years now since he went to the wars,\nand there's neither sight nor sound of him more!\"--And he answered,\n\"Give me the magic egg, and I'll bring him straightway before your\neyes!\"--Then they replied, \"'Twere better we never saw him than that\nwe should give thee the magic egg!\"--Then he went back to the eagle\nand said to him, \"They said, ''Twere better we never saw him than that\nwe should give thee the magic egg.'\"--Then the eagle answered, \"Let us\nfly on farther!\"\n\nThey flew on and on till they came to the eagle's brother, and the\narcher said just the same to him as he had said to the eagle's uncle,\nand still he didn't get the egg. Then they flew to the eagle's father,\nand the eagle said to him, \"Go up to the hut, and if they ask for me,\nsay that thou hast seen me and will bring me before their eyes.\"--So\nhe went up to the hut, and they said to him, \"O Tsarevich, we hear\nthee with our ears and see thee with our eyes, but hast thou come\nhither of thine own free will or by the will of another?\"--And the\narcher answered, \"I have come hither of my own free will!\"--Then they\nasked him, \"Hast thou seen our son? Lo, these four years we have not\nhad news of him. He went off to the wars, and perchance he has been\nslain there.\"--And he answered them, \"I have seen him, and if you will\ngive me the magic egg, I will bring him before your eyes.\"--And the\neagle's father said to him, \"What good will such a thing do thee? We\nhad better give thee the lucky penny!\"--But he answered, \"I don't want\nthe lucky penny, give me the magic egg!\"--\"Come hither then,\" said he,\n\"and thou shalt have it.\" So he went into the hut. Then the eagle's\nfather rejoiced and gave him the egg, and said to him, \"Take heed\nthou dost not break it anywhere on the road, and when thou gettest\nhome, hedge it round and build a strong fence about it, and it will do\nthee good.\"\n\nSo he went homeward. He went on and on till a great thirst came upon\nhim. So he stopped at the first spring he came to, and as he stooped\nto drink he stumbled and the magic egg was broken. Then he perceived\nthat an ox had come out of the egg and was rolling away. He gave chase\nto the ox, but whenever he was getting close to one side of it, the\nother side of it got farther away from him. Then the poor fellow\ncried, \"I shall do nothing with it myself, I see.\"--At that moment an\nold she-dragon came up to him and said, \"What wilt thou give me, O\nman, if I chase this ox back again into the egg for thee?\"--And the\narcher replied, \"What _can_ I give?\"--The dragon said to him, \"Give me\nwhat thou hast at home without thy will and wit!\"--\"Done!\" said the\narcher. Then the dragon chased the ox nicely into the egg again,\npatched it up prettily and gave it into the man's hand. Then the\narcher went home, and when he got home he found a son had been born to\nhim there, and his son said to him, \"Why didst thou give me to the old\nshe-dragon, dad? But never mind, I'll manage to live in spite of her.\"\nThen the father was very grieved for a time, but what could he do? Now\nthe name of this son was Ivan.\n\nSo Ivan lost no time in going to the dragon, and the dragon said to\nhim, \"Go to my house and do me three tasks, and if thou dost them not,\nI'll devour thee.\" Now, round the dragon's house was a large meadow\nas far as the eye could reach. And the dragon said to him, \"Thou must\nin a single night weed out this field and sow wheat in it, and reap\nthe wheat and store it, all in this very night; and thou must bake me\na roll out of this self-same wheat, and the roll must be lying ready\nfor me on my table in the morning.\"\n\nThen Ivan went and leaned over the fence, and his heart within him was\nsore troubled. Now near to him there was a post, and on this post was\nthe dragon's starveling daughter. So when he came thither and fell\na-weeping, she asked him, \"Wherefore dost thou weep?\"--And he said,\n\"How can I help weeping? The dragon has bidden me do something I can\nnever, never do; and what is more, she has bidden me do it in a single\nnight.\"--\"What is it, pray?\" asked the dragon's daughter. Then he told\nher. \"Not every bush bears a berry!\" cried she. \"Promise to take me to\nwife, and I'll do all she has bidden thee do.\" He promised, and then\nshe said to him again, \"Now go and lie down, but see that thou art up\nearly in the morning to bring her her roll.\" Then she went to the\nfield, and before one could whistle she had cleaned it of weeds and\nharrowed it and sown it with wheat, and by dawn she had reaped the\nwheat and cooked the roll and brought it to him, and said, \"Now, take\nit to her hut and put it on her table.\"\n\nThen the old she-dragon awoke and came to the door, and was amazed at\nthe sight of the field, which was now all stubble, for the corn had\nbeen cut. Then she said to Ivan, \"Yes, thou hast done the work well.\nBut now, see that thou doest my second task.\" Then she gave him her\nsecond command. \"Dig up that mountain yonder and let the Dnieper flow\nover the site of it, and there build a store-house, and in the\nstore-house stack the wheat that thou hast reaped, and sell this wheat\nto the merchant barques that sail by, and everything must be done by\nthe time I get up early next morning!\" Then he again went to the fence\nand wept, and the maiden said to him, \"Why dost thou weep?\" and he\ntold her all that the she-dragon had bidden him do. \"There are lots of\nbushes, but where are the berries? Go and lie down, and I'll do it all\nfor thee.\" Then she whistled, and the mountain was levelled and the\nDnieper flowed over the site of it, and round about the Dnieper\nstore-houses rose up, and then she came and woke him that he might go\nand sell the wheat to the merchant barques that sailed by that way,\nand when the she-dragon rose up early in the morning she was amazed to\nsee that everything had been done which she had commanded him.\n\nThen she gave him her third command. \"This night thou must catch the\ngolden hare, and bring it to me by the morning light.\" Again he went\nto the fence and fell a-weeping. And the girl asked him, \"Why art thou\nweeping?\"--He said to her, \"She has ordered me to catch her the golden\nhare.\"--\"Oh, oh!\" cried the she-dragon's daughter, \"the berries are\nripening now; only her father knows how to catch such a hare as that.\nNevertheless, I'll go to a rocky place I know of, and there perchance\nwe shall be able to catch it.\" So they went to this rocky place\ntogether, and she said to him, \"Stand over that hole. I'll go in and\nchase him out of the hole, and do thou catch him as he comes out; but\nmind, whatever comes out of the hole, seize it, for it will be the\ngolden hare.\"\n\nSo she went and began beating up, and all at once out came a snake and\nhissed, and he let it go. Then she came out of the hole and said to\nhim, \"What! has nothing come out?\"--\"Well,\" said he, \"only a snake,\nand I was afraid it would bite me, so I let it go.\"--\"What hast thou\ndone?\" said she; \"that was the very hare itself. Look now!\" said she,\n\"I'll go in again, and if any one comes out and tells you that the\ngolden hare is not here, don't believe it, but hold him fast.\" So she\ncrept into the hole again and began to beat for game, and out came an\nold woman, who said to the youth, \"What art thou poking about there\nfor?\"--And he said to her, \"For the golden hare.\"--She said to him,\n\"It is not here, for this is a snake's hole,\" and when she had said\nthis she went away. Presently the girl also came out and said to him,\n\"What! hast thou not got the hare? Did nothing come out then?\"--\"No,\"\nsaid he, \"nothing but an old woman who asked me what I was seeking,\nand I told her the golden hare, and she said, 'It is not here,' so I\nlet her go.\"--Then the girl replied, \"Why didst thou not lay hold of\nher? for she was the very golden hare itself, and now thou never wilt\ncatch it unless I turn myself into a hare and thou take and lay me on\nthe table, and give me into my mother's, the she-dragon's hands, and\ngo away, for if she find out all about it she will tear the pair of us\nto pieces.\"\n\nSo she changed herself into a hare, and he took and laid her on the\ntable, and said to the she-dragon, \"There's thy hare for thee, and\nnow let me go away!\" She said to him, \"Very well--be off!\" Then he set\noff running, and he ran and ran as hard as he could. Soon after, the\nold she-dragon discovered that it was not the golden hare, but her own\ndaughter, so she set about chasing after them to destroy them both,\nfor the daughter had made haste in the meantime to join Ivan. But as\nthe she-dragon couldn't run herself, she sent her husband, and he\nbegan chasing them, and they knew he was coming, for they felt the\nearth trembling beneath his tread. Then the she-dragon's daughter said\nto Ivan, \"I hear him running after us. I'll turn myself into standing\nwheat and thee into an old man guarding me, and if he ask thee, 'Hast\nthou seen a lad and a lass pass by this way?' say to him, 'Yes, they\npassed by this way while I was sowing this wheat!'\"\n\nA little while afterward the she-dragon's husband came flying up.\n\"Have a lad and a lass passed by this way?\" said he. \"Yes,\" replied\nthe old man, \"they have.\"--\"Was it long ago?\" asked the she-dragon's\nhusband.--\"It was while this wheat was being sown,\" replied the old\nman.--\"Oh!\" thought the dragon, \"this wheat is ready for the sickle,\nthey couldn't have been this way yesterday,\" so he turned back. Then\nthe she-dragon's daughter turned herself back into a maiden and the\nold man into a youth, and off they set again. But the dragon returned\nhome, and the she-dragon asked him, \"What! hast thou not caught them\nor met them on the road?\"--\"Met them, no!\" said he. \"I did, indeed,\npass on the road some standing wheat and an old man watching it, and\nI asked the old man if he had seen a lad and a lass pass by that way,\nand he said, 'Yes, while this wheat was being sown,' but the wheat was\nquite ripe for the sickle, so I knew it was a long while ago and\nturned back.\"--\"Why didst thou not tear that old man and the wheat to\npieces?\" cried the she-dragon; \"it was they! Be off after them again,\nand mind, this time tear them to pieces without fail.\"\n\nSo the dragon set off after them again, and they heard him coming from\nafar, for the earth trembled beneath him, so the damsel said to Ivan,\n\"He's coming again, I hear him; now I'll change myself into a\nmonastery, so old that it will be almost falling to pieces, and I'll\nchange thee into an old black monk at the gate, and when he comes up\nand asks, 'Hast thou seen a lad and a lass pass this way?' say to him,\n'Yes, they passed by this way when this monastery was being built.'\"\nSoon afterward the dragon came flying past, and asked the monk, \"Hast\nthou seen a lad and a lass pass by this way?\"--\"Yes,\" he replied, \"I\nsaw them what time the holy fathers began to build this monastery.\"\nThe dragon thought to himself, \"That was not yesterday! This monastery\nhas stood a hundred years if it has stood a day, and won't stand much\nlonger either,\" and with that he turned him back. When he got home, he\nsaid to the she-dragon, his wife, \"I met a black monk who serves in a\nmonastery, and I asked him about them, and he told me that a lad and a\nlass had run past that way when the monastery was being built, but\nthat was not yesterday, for the monastery is a hundred years old at\nthe very least.\"--\"Why didst thou not tear the black monk to pieces\nand pull down the monastery? for 'twas they. But I see I must go after\nthem myself, thou art no good at all.\"\n\nSo off she set and ran and ran, and they knew she was coming, for the\nearth quaked and yawned beneath her. Then the damsel said to Ivan, \"I\nfear me 'tis all over, for she is coming herself! Look now! I'll\nchange thee into a stream and myself into a fish--a perch.\"\nImmediately after the she-dragon came up and said to the perch, \"Oh,\noh! so thou wouldst run away from me, eh!\" Then she turned herself\ninto a pike and began chasing the perch, but every time she drew near\nto it, the perch turned its prickly fins toward her, so that she could\nnot catch hold of it. So she kept on chasing it and chasing it, but\nfinding she could not catch it, she tried to drink up the stream, till\nshe drank so much of it that she burst.\n\nThen the maiden who had become a fish said to the youth who had become\na river, \"Now that we are alive and not dead, go back to thy\nlord-father and thy father's house and see them, and kiss them all\nexcept the daughter of thy uncle, for if thou kiss that damsel thou\nwilt forget me, and I shall go to the land of Nowhere.\" So he went\nhome and greeted them all, and as he did so he thought to himself,\n\"Why should I not greet my uncle's daughter like the rest of them?\nWhy, they'll think me a mere pagan if I don't!\" So he kissed her, and\nthe moment he did so he forgot all about the girl who had saved him.\n\nSo he remained there half a year, and then bethought him of taking\nto himself a wife. So they betrothed him to a very pretty girl, and\nhe accepted her and forgot all about the other girl who had saved\nhim from the dragon, though she herself was the she-dragon's daughter.\nNow the evening before the wedding they heard a young damsel crying\n_Shishki_[28] in the streets. They called to the young damsel to go\naway, or say who she was, for nobody knew her. But the damsel\nanswered never a word, but began to knead more cakes, and made a\ncock-dove and a hen-dove out of the dough and put them down on the\nground, and they became alive. And the hen-dove said to the\ncock-dove, \"Hast thou forgotten how I cleared the field for thee, and\nsowed it with wheat, and thou mad'st a roll from the corn which thou\ngavest to the she-dragon?\"--But the cock-dove answered, \"Forgotten!\nforgotten!\"--Then she said to him again, \"And hast thou forgotten how\nI dug away the mountain for thee, and let the Dnieper flow by it that\nthe merchant barques might come to thy store-houses, and that thou\nmightst sell thy wheat to the merchant barques?\" But the cock-dove\nreplied, \"Forgotten! forgotten!\"--Then the hen-dove said to him\nagain, \"And hast thou forgotten how we two went together in search of\nthe golden hare? Hast thou forgotten me then altogether?\"--And the\ncock-dove answered again, \"Forgotten! forgotten!\" Then the good\nyouth Ivan bethought him who this damsel was that had made the doves,\nand he took her to his arms and made her his wife, and they lived\nhappily ever afterward.\n\n  [28] Wedding-cakes of the shape of pine-cones.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE FORTY-FIRST\nBROTHER\n\n\nThere was once upon a time an old man who had forty-one sons. Now\nwhen this old man was at the point of death, he divided all he had\namong his sons, and gave to each of the forty a horse; but when he\ncame to the forty-first he found he had no more horses left, so the\nforty-first brother had to be content with a foal. When their father\nwas dead, the brothers said to each other, \"Let us go to Friday and\nget married!\"--But the eldest brother said, \"No, Friday has only\nforty daughters, so one of us would be left without a bride.\"--Then\nthe second brother said, \"Let us go then to Wednesday--Wednesday has\nforty-one daughters, and so the whole lot of us can pair off with the\nwhole lot of them.\" So they went and chose their brides. The eldest\nbrother took the eldest sister, and the youngest the youngest,\ntill they were all suited. And the youngest brother of all said,\n\"I'll take that little damsel who is sitting on the stove in the\ncorner and has the nice kerchief in her hand.\" Then they all drank\na bumper together to seal the bargain, and after that the forty-one\nbridegrooms and the forty-one brides laid them down to sleep side by\nside. But the youngest brother of all said to himself, \"I will\nbring my foal into the room.\" So he brought in the foal, and then\nwent to his bedchamber and laid him down to sleep also. Now his\nbride lay down with her kerchief in her hand, and he took a great\nfancy to it, and he begged and prayed her for it again and again,\nuntil at last she gave it to him. Now, when Wednesday thought that\nall the people were asleep, he went out into the courtyard to sharpen\nhis sabre. Then the foal said, \"Oh, my dear little master, come\nhere, come here!\" He came, and the foal said to him, \"Take off the\nnight-dresses of the forty sleeping bridegrooms and put them on the\nforty sleeping brides, and put the night-dresses of the brides on\nthe bridegrooms, for a great woe is nigh!\" And he did so. When\nWednesday had sharpened his sabre he came into the room and began\nfeeling for the stiff collars of the bridegrooms' night-dresses, and\nstraightway cut off the forty heads above the collars. Then he carried\noff the heads of his forty daughters in a bunch (for the brides\nnow had on the night-dresses of their bridegrooms), and went and\nlay down to sleep. Then the foal said, \"My dear little father! awake\nthe bridegrooms, and we'll set off.\" So he awoke the bridegrooms\nand sent them on before, while he followed after on his own little\nnag. They trotted on and on, and at last the foal said to him, \"Look\nbehind, and see whether Wednesday is not pursuing.\" He looked round:\n\"Yes, little brother,\" said he, \"Wednesday _is_ pursuing!\"--\"Shake\nthy kerchief then!\" said the foal. He shook his kerchief, and\nimmediately a vast sea was between him and the pursuer. Then they\nwent on and on till the foal said to him again, \"Look behind, and\nsee if Wednesday is still pursuing!\"--He looked round. \"Yes, little\nbrother, he _is_ pursuing!\"--\"Wave thy handkerchief on the left\nside!\" said the foal. He waved it on the left side, and immediately\nbetween them and the pursuer stood a forest so thick that not\neven a little mouse could have squeezed through it. Then they went on\nstill farther, till the foal said again, \"Look behind, and see\nwhether Wednesday is still pursuing!\"--He looked behind, and\nthere, sure enough, was Wednesday running after them, and he was not\nvery far off either.--\"Wave thy kerchief!\" said the foal. He waved\nhis kerchief, and immediately a steep mountain--oh, so steep!--lay\nbetwixt them. They went on and on, until the foal said again, \"Look\nbehind, is Wednesday still pursuing?\"--So he looked behind him and\nsaid, \"No, now he is not there.\" Then they went on and on again,\nand soon they were not very far from home. Then the youngest brother\nsaid, \"You go home now, but I am going to seek a bride!\" So he went\non and on till he came to a place where lay a feather of the bird\nZhar. \"Look!\" cried he, \"what I've found!\"--But the foal said to\nhim, \"Pick not up that feather, for it will bring thee evil as well\nas good!\"--But his master said, \"Why, I should be a fool not to pick\nup a feather like that!\" So he turned back and picked up the\nfeather. Then he went on farther and farther, until he came to a\nclay hut. He went into this clay hut, and there sat an old woman.\n\"Give me a night's lodging, granny!\" said he.--\"I have neither bed\nnor light to offer thee,\" said she. Nevertheless he entered the hut\nand put the feather on the window-corner, and it lit up the whole\nhut. So he went to sleep. But the old woman ran off to the Tsar, and\nsaid to him, \"A certain man has come to me and laid a certain\nfeather on the window-sill, and it shines like fire!\" Then the\nTsar guessed that it was a feather of the bird Zhar, and said to his\nsoldiers, \"Go and fetch that man hither!\" And the Tsar said to him,\n\"Wilt thou enter my service?\"--\"Yes,\" he replied, \"but you must give\nme all your keys.\" So the Tsar gave him all the keys and a hut of his\nown to live in besides. But one day the Tsar said to his servants,\n\"Boil me now a vat of milk!\" So they boiled it. Then he took off his\ngold ring, and said to the man, \"Thou didst get the feather of the\nbird Zhar, get me also this golden ring of mine out of the vat of\nboiling milk!\"--\"Bring hither, then, my faithful horse,\" said he,\n\"that he may see his master plunge into the vat of boiling milk and\ndie!\" So they brought his horse, and, taking off his clothes, he\nplunged into the vat, but as he did so the horse snorted so\nviolently that all the boiling milk leaped up in the air and the\nman seized the ring and gave it back to the Tsar. Now when the Tsar\nsaw that the man had come out of the vat younger and handsomer than\never, he said, \"I'll try and fish up the ring in like manner.\" So he\nflung his ring into the vat of boiling milk and plunged after it\nto get it. The people waited and waited and wondered and wondered\nthat he was so long about it, and at last they drained off the\nmilk and found the Tsar at the bottom of the vat boiled quite red.\nThen the man said, \"Now, Tsaritsa, thou art mine and I am thine.\" And\nthey lived together happily ever afterward.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF THE UNLUCKY DAYS\n\n\nAt the end of a village on the verge of the steppe dwelt two brothers,\none rich and the other poor. One day the poor brother came to the rich\nbrother's house and sat down at his table; but the rich brother drove\nhim away and said, \"How durst thou sit at my table? Be off! Thy proper\nplace is in the fields to scare away the crows!\" So the poor brother\nwent into the fields to scare away the crows. The crows all flew away\nwhen they saw him, but among them was a raven that flew back again and\nsaid to him, \"O man! in this village thou wilt never be able to live,\nfor here there is neither luck nor happiness for thee, but go into\nanother village and thou shalt do well!\" Then the man went home,\ncalled together his wife and children, put up the few old clothes that\nstill remained in his wardrobe, and went on to the next village,\ncarrying his water-skin on his shoulders. On and on they tramped along\nthe road, but the Unlucky Days clung on to the man behind, and said,\n\"Why dost thou not take us with thee? We will never leave thee, for\nthou art ours!\" So they went on with him till they came to a river,\nand the man, who was thirsty, went down to the water's edge for a\ndrink. He undid his water-skin, persuaded the Unlucky Days to get into\nit, tied it fast again and buried it on the bank close by the river.\nThen he and his family went on farther. They went on and on till they\ncame to another village, and at the very end of it was an empty\nhut--the people who had lived there had died of hunger. There the\nwhole family settled down. One day they were all sitting down there\nwhen they heard something in the mountain crying, \"Catch hold! catch\nhold! catch hold!\" The man went at once into his stable, took down the\nbit and reins that remained to him, and climbed up into the mountain.\nHe looked all about him as he went, and at last he saw, sitting down,\nan old goat with two large horns--it was the Devil himself, but of\ncourse he didn't know that. So he made a lasso of the reins, threw\nthem round the old goat, and began to drag it gently down the\nmountain-side. He dragged it all the way up the ladder of his barn,\nwhen the goat disappeared, but showers and showers of money came\ntumbling through the ceiling. He collected them all together, and they\nfilled two large coffers. Then the poor man made the most of his\nmoney, and in no very long time he was well-to-do. Then he sent some\nof his people to his rich brother, and invited him to come and live\nwith him. The rich brother pondered the matter over. \"Maybe he has\nnothing to eat,\" thought he, \"and that is why he sends for me.\" So he\nbade them bake him a good store of fat pancakes, and set out\naccordingly. On the way he heard that his brother had grown rich, and\nthe farther he went the more he heard of his brother's wealth. Then he\nregretted that he had brought all the pancakes with him, so he threw\nthem away into the ditch. At last he came to his brother's house, and\nhis brother showed him first one of the coffers full of money and then\nthe other. Then envy seized upon the rich brother, and he grew quite\ngreen in the face. But his brother said to him, \"Look now! I have\nburied a lot more money in a water-skin, hard by the river; you may\ndig it up and keep it if you like, for I have lots of my own here!\"\nThe rich brother did not wait to be told twice. Off he went to the\nriver, and began digging up the water-skin straightway. He unfastened\nit with greedy, trembling hands; but he had no sooner opened it than\nthe Unlucky Days all popped out and clung on to him. \"Thou art ours!\"\nsaid they. He went home, and when he got there he found that all his\nwealth was consumed, and a heap of ashes stood where his house had\nbeen. So he went and lived in the place where his brother had lived,\nand the Unlucky Days lived with him ever afterward.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WONDROUS STORY OF IVAN\nGOLIK AND THE SERPENTS\n\n\nSomewhere, nowhere, in another kingdom, in the Empire of Thrice-ten,\nlived--whether 'twas a Tsar and a Tsaritsa, or only a Prince and a\nPrincess, I know not, but anyhow they had two sons. One day this\nprince said to his sons, \"Let us go down to the seashore and listen to\nthe songs of the sea-folk!\" So they went. Now the prince wanted to\ntest the wits of his two sons; he wanted to see which of the twain was\nfit for ruling his empire, and which should stand aside and make way\nfor better men. So they went on together till they came to where three\noaks stood all in a row. The prince looked at the trees, and said to\nhis eldest son, \"My dear son, what wouldst thou make of those trees?\"\n\n\"What would I make of them, dear father? I would make me good barns\nand store-houses out of them. I would cut them down and plane the\ntimber well, and goodly should be the planks I should make of them.\"\n\n\"Good, my son!\" replied the prince, \"thou wilt make a careful\nhouseholder.\"\n\nThen he asked his younger son, \"And what wouldst thou make out of\nthese oaks, my son?\"\n\n\"Well, dear father,\" said he, \"had I only as much power as will, I\nwould cut down the middle oak, lay it across the other two, and hang\nup every prince and every noble in the wide world.\"\n\nThen the prince shook his head and was silent.\n\nPresently they came to the sea, and all three stood still and looked\nat it, and watched the fishes play. Then, suddenly, the prince caught\nhold of his younger son, and pitched him right into the sea. \"Perish!\"\ncried he, \"for 'tis but just that such a wretch as thou shouldst\nperish!\"\n\nNow, just as the father pitched his younger son into the sea, a great\nwhale-fish was coming along and swallowed him, and into its maw he\nwent. There he found wagons with horses and oxen harnessed to them,\nall of which the fish had also gobbled. So he went rummaging about\nthese wagons to see what was in them, and he found that one of the\nwagons was full of tobacco-pipes and tobacco, and flints and steels.\nSo he took up a pipe, filled it with tobacco, lit it, and began to\nsmoke. He smoked out one pipe, filled another, and smoked that too;\nthen he filled a third, and began smoking that. At last the smoke\ninside the whale made it feel so uncomfortable that it opened its\nmouth, swam ashore, and went asleep on the beach. Now some huntsmen\nhappened to be going along the beach at that time, and one of them saw\nthe whale, and said, \"Look, my brethren! we have been hunting jays and\ncrows and shot nothing, and lo! what a monstrous fish lies all about\nthe shore! Let us shoot it!\"\n\nSo they shot at it and shot at it, and then they fell upon it with\ntheir axes and began to cut it to pieces. They cut and hacked at it\ntill suddenly they heard something calling to them from the middle of\nthe fish, \"Ho! my brothers! hack fish if you like, but hack not that\nflesh which is full of Christian blood!\"\n\nThey fell down to the ground for fright, and were like dead men, but\nthe prince's younger son crept out of the hole in the fish that the\nhuntsmen had made, went out upon the shore, and sat down. He sat down\nthere quite naked, for all his clothes had rotted and dropped off\ninside the fish. Maybe he had been a whole year in the whale without\nknowing it, and he thought to himself, \"How shall I now manage to live\nin the wide, wide world?\"\n\nMeanwhile the elder brother had become a great nobleman. His father\nhad died, and he was lord over his whole inheritance. Then, as is the\nwont of princes, he called together his senators and his servants, and\nthey counselled their young prince to marry; so out he went to seek a\nbride, and a great retinue followed after him. They went on and on\ntill they came to where a naked man was sitting. Then the prince said\nto one of his servants, \"Go and see what manner of man that is!\"\n\nSo the servant went up to the man, and said, \"Hail!\"\n\n\"Hail to thee!\"\n\n\"Who art thou, prythee?\"\n\n\"I am Ivan Golik.[29] Who art thou?\"\n\n  [29] Naked.\n\n\"We are from such and such a land, and we are going with our prince to\nseek him a bride.\"\n\n\"Go, tell thy prince that he must take me with him, for he'll make no\ngood match without me.\"\n\nSo the messenger returned to the prince and told him. Then the prince\nbade his servants open his trunk and take out a shirt and pantaloons\nand all manner of raiment, whereupon the naked man went into the water\nand washed, and after that he dressed himself. Then they brought him\nto the prince, and he said to him, \"If you take me with you, you must\nall obey me. If you listen to me, you shall remain in the land of\nRussia; but if not, you shall all perish.\"\n\n\"Be it so!\" said the prince, and he bade all his suite obey him.\n\nThey went on and on till they overtook the hosts of the mice. The\nprince wanted to go hunting after the mice, but Ivan Golik said, \"Nay,\nstep aside and give place to the mice, so that not a single one of\nthem lose a single hair!\"\n\nSo they turned aside, and the mice swept by in their hosts, but the\nhindmost mouse turned round and said, \"Thanks to thee, Ivan Golik,\nthou hast saved my host from perishing; I will save thine also.\"\n\nThen they went on farther, and lo! the gnat was marching with his\nhost, and so vast was it that no eye could take it all in. Then the\nlieutenant-general of the gnats came flying up and said, \"Oh, Ivan\nGolik! let my host drink of thy blood. If thou dost consent, 'twill be\nto thy profit; but if thou dost not consent, thou shalt not remain in\nthe land of Russia.\"\n\nThen he stripped off his shirt and bade them tie him up so that he\ncould not beat off a single gnat, and the gnats drank their fill of\nhim and flew off again.\n\nAfter that they went along by the seashore till they came to a man who\nhad caught two pike. Then Ivan Golik said to the prince, \"Buy those\ntwo pike of the man, and let them go into the sea again.\"\n\n\"But wherefore?\"\n\n\"Ask not wherefore, but buy them!\"\n\nSo they bought the pike, and let them go into the sea again. But as\nthey swam away, the pike turned round and said, \"We thank thee, Ivan\nGolik, that thou hast not let us perish, and it shall be to thy weal\nand welfare!\"\n\nSwiftly they moved on their way, but the story that tells thereof\nmoves still swifter. They went on and on, for more than a month maybe,\ntill they came to another land and to another tsardom, to the Empire\nof Thrice-ten. And the serpent was the Tsar of that tsardom. Vast were\nhis palaces, iron railings surrounded his courtyards, and the railings\nwere covered with the heads of various warriors; only on the twenty\nhuge pillars in front of the gate were there no heads. As they drew\nnigh, deadly fear oppressed the heart of the prince, and he said to\nIvan, \"Mark me, Ivan! those pillars yonder are meant for _our_\nheads!\"--\"That remains to be seen,\" replied Ivan Golik.\n\nWhen they arrived there, the serpent at first treated them hospitably\nas welcome guests. They were all to come in and make merry, he said,\nbut the prince he took to his own house. So they ate and drank\ntogether, and the thoughts of their hearts were joyous. Now the\nserpent had twenty-one daughters, and he brought them to the prince,\nand told him which was the eldest, and which the next eldest, down to\nthe very last one. But it was the youngest daughter of all that the\nprince's fancy fed upon more than on any of the others. Thus they\ndiverted themselves till evening, and in the evening they made ready\nto go to sleep. But the serpent said to the prince, \"Well, which of\nmy daughters dost thou think the loveliest?\"\n\n\"The youngest is the most beautiful,\" said the prince, \"and her will I\nwed.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said the serpent, \"but I will not let thee have my daughter\ntill thou hast done all my tasks. If thou doest my tasks, thou shalt\nhave my daughter; but if thou doest them not, thou shalt lose thy\nhead, and all thy suite shall perish with thee.\"\n\nThen he gave him his first task: \"In my barn are three hundred ricks\nof corn; by the morning light thou shalt have threshed and sifted them\nso that stalk lies by stalk, chaff by chaff, and grain by grain.\"\n\nThen the prince went to his own place to pass the night there, and\nbitterly he wept. But Ivan Golik saw that he was weeping, and said to\nhim, \"Why dost thou weep, O prince?\"\n\n\"Why should I not weep, seeing the task that the serpent has given me\nis impossible?\"\n\n\"Nay, weep not, my prince, but lie down to sleep, and by the morning\nlight it will all be done!\"\n\nNo sooner had Ivan Golik left the prince than he went outside and\nwhistled for the mice. Then the mice assembled round them in their\nhosts: \"Why dost thou whistle, and what dost thou want of us, O Ivan\nGolik?\" said they.\n\n\"Why should I not whistle, seeing that the serpent has bidden us\nthresh out his barn by the morning light, so that straw lies by straw,\nchaff by chaff, and grain by grain?\"\n\nNo sooner did the mice hear this than they began scampering all about\nthe barn! There were so many of them that there was not room to move.\nThey set to work with a will, and long before dawn it was quite\nfinished. Then they went and awoke Ivan Golik. He went and looked, and\nlo! all the chaff was by itself, and all the grain was by itself, and\nall the straw by itself! Then Ivan bade them be quite sure that there\nwas not a single grain remaining in a single ear of corn. So they\nscampered all about, and there was not a mouse which did not look\nunder every stalk of straw. Then they ran up to him, and said, \"Fear\nnot! there is not a single loose grain anywhere. And now we have\nrequited thee thy service, Ivan Golik, farewell!\"\n\nNext morning the prince came to seek Ivan, and marvelled to find that\neverything had been done as the serpent had commanded. So he thanked\nIvan Golik, and went off to the serpent. Then they both went together,\nand the serpent himself was amazed. He called to his twenty-one\ndaughters to search the ears of corn well to see whether one single\ngrain might not be found therein, and his daughters searched and\nsearched, but there was not a single loose grain to be found. Then\nsaid the serpent, \"'Tis well, let us go! We will eat and drink and\nmake merry till evening, and in the evening I will give thee thy\nto-morrow's task.\" So they made merry till evening, and then the\nserpent said, \"Early this morning, my youngest daughter went bathing\nin the sea and lost her ring in the water. She searched and searched\nfor it, but could find it nowhere. If thou canst find it to-morrow,\nand bring it hither while we are sitting down to meat, thou shalt\nremain alive; if not, 'tis all over with thee!\"\n\nThe prince returned to his own people and fell a-weeping. Ivan Golik\nperceived it, and said to him, \"Wherefore dost thou weep?\"\n\n\"For such and such a reason,\" said he; \"dost thou not see that I am\nruined?\"\n\nThen said Ivan Golik, \"The serpent lies. He himself it was who took\nhis daughter's ring and flew over the sea early this morning, and\ndropped it in the water. But lie down and sleep! I myself will go to\nthe sea to-morrow, haply I may find the ring.\"\n\nSo, very early next morning, Ivan Golik went down to the sea. He\nshouted with an heroic voice, and whistled with an heroic whistle,\ntill the whole sea was troubled by a storm. Then the two pike he had\nthrown back into the sea came swimming to the shore. \"Why dost thou\ncall us, O Ivan Golik?\" said they.\n\n\"Why should I not call you? The serpent flew over the sea early\nyesterday morning and dropped in it his daughter's ring. Search for it\neverywhere. If you find it, I shall remain alive, but if you find it\nnot, know that the serpent will remove me from the face of the\nearth!\"\n\nThen they swam off and searched, nor was there a single corner of the\nsea where they searched not. Yet they found nothing. At last they swam\noff to their mother, and told her what a great woe was about to\nbefall. Their mother said to them, \"The ring is with me. I am sorry\nfor him, and still more sorry for you, so you may have it.\" And with\nthat she drew off the ring, and they swam with it to Ivan Golik, and\nsaid, \"Now we have requited thy service. We have found it, but 'twas a\nhard task.\"\n\nThen Ivan Golik thanked the two pike and went on his way. He found the\nprince weeping, for the serpent had already sent for him twice, and\nthere was no ring. The moment he saw Ivan Golik he sprang to his feet,\nand said, \"Hast thou the ring?\"\n\n\"Yes, here it is! But look! the serpent himself is coming!\"\n\n\"Let him come!\"\n\nThe serpent was already on the threshold as the prince was going out.\nThey ran against each other with their foreheads, and the serpent was\nvery angry. \"Where's the ring?\" cried he.\n\n\"There it is! But I will not give it to thee, but to her from whom\nthou didst take it.\"\n\nThe serpent laughed. \"Very good!\" said he, \"but now let us go to\ndinner, for my guests are many, and we have been waiting for thee this\nlong time.\"\n\nSo they went. The prince arrived at the house, where eleven serpents\nwere sitting down to dinner. He saluted them, and then went on to the\ndaughters, and said, as he drew off the ring, \"To which of you does\nthis belong?\"\n\nThen the youngest daughter blushed and said, \"To me!\"\n\n\"If it be thine, take it, for I sounded all the depths of the sea in\nsearching for it.\"\n\nAll the others laughed, but the youngest daughter thanked him.\n\nThen they all went to dine. After dinner the serpent said to him, in\nthe presence of all the guests, \"Well, prince, now that thou hast\ndined and rested, to thy tasks again! I have a bow of one hundred\npoods[30] weight. If thou canst bend this bow in the presence of these\nmy guests, thou shalt have my daughter!\"\n\n  [30] A pood = forty pounds.\n\nWhen dinner was over they all lay down to rest, but the prince\nhastened off as quickly as he could to Ivan Golik, and said, \"Now\nindeed it is all over with us, for he has given me such and such a\ntask.\"\n\n\"Simpleton!\" cried Ivan Golik, \"when they bring forth this bow, look\nat it, and say to the serpent, 'I should be ashamed to bend a bow that\nthe least of my servants can bend!' Then call me, and I'll bend the\nbow so that none other will be able to bend it again.\"\n\nWith that the prince went straight off to the serpent again, and the\nserpent commanded and they brought the bow, together with an arrow\nweighing fifty poods. When the prince saw it, he was like to have died\nof fright; but they put the bow down in the middle of the courtyard,\nand all the guests came out to look at it. The prince walked all round\nthe bow and looked at it. \"Why,\" said he, \"I would not deign to touch\na bow like that. I'll call one of my servants, for any one of them can\nbend such a bow as that!\"\n\nThen the serpent looked at the prince's servants one after the other,\nand said, \"Well, let them try!\"\n\n\"Come forward thou, Ivan Golik!\" cried the prince.\n\nAnd the prince said to him, \"Take me up that bow and bend it!\"\n\nIvan Golik took up the bow, placed the arrow across it, and drew the\nbow so that the arrow split into twelve pieces and the bow burst.\nThen the prince said, \"Did I not tell you? and was I to put myself to\nshame by touching a bow that one of my servants can draw?\"\n\n[Illustration: IVAN GOLIK DREW THE BOW]\n\nAfter that Ivan Golik returned to his fellow-servants, and put the\npieces of the broken bow behind his shin-bone; but the prince returned\nwith the serpents into the guest-chamber, and they all rejoiced\nbecause he had done his appointed task. But the serpent whispered\nsomething in the ear of his youngest daughter, and she went out, and\nhe after her. They remained outside a long time, and then the serpent\ncame in again, and said to the prince, \"There is no time for anything\nmore to-day, but we'll begin again early to-morrow morning. I have a\nhorse behind twelve doors; if thou canst mount it, thou shalt have my\ndaughter.\"\n\nThen they made merry again till evening and lay down to sleep, but the\nprince went and told Golik. Golik listened to the prince, and said,\n\"Now thou knowest, I suppose, why I took up those pieces of the broken\nbow, for I could see what was coming. When they lead forth this horse,\nlook at it and say, 'I will not mount that horse lest I put myself to\nshame. 'Tis with the horse as with the bow, any one of my servants can\nmount it!' But that horse is no horse at all, but the serpent's\nyoungest daughter! Thou must not sit upon her back, but I will trounce\nher finely.\"\n\nEarly in the morning they all arose, and the prince went to the\nserpent's house to greet them all, and there he saw twenty of the\nserpent's daughters, but where was the twenty-first? Then the serpent\ngot up and said, \"Well, prince, now let us come down into the\ncourtyard; they'll soon bring out the horse, and we'll see what thou\ndost make of it.\"\n\nSo they all went out and saw two serpents bringing out the horse, and\nit was as much as the pair of them could do to hold its head, so\nfierce and strong it was. They led it out in front of the gallery, and\nthe prince walked round it and looked at it. Then said he, \"What! did\nyou not say you would bring out a _horse_? Why, this is no horse, but\na mare. I will not sit on this mare, for 'twould be to my shame. I\nwill call one of my servants, and he shall mount her.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said the serpent, \"let him try!\"\n\nThe prince called forth Ivan Golik. \"Sit on that mare,\" said he, \"and\ntrot her about!\"\n\nIvan mounted the mare, and the two serpents let go. She carried him\nright up among the clouds, and then down again upon the ground she\ncame, with a ringing of hoofs that made the earth tremble. But Ivan\nGolik took out a fragment of the broken bow, fifty pounds in weight,\nand trounced her finely. She reared and bucked and carried him hither\nand thither, but he flogged her between the ears without ceasing. So\nwhen she saw that all her prancing and curveting was in vain, she fell\nto piteously beseeching him, and cried, \"Ivan Golik! Ivan Golik! beat\nme not, and I'll do all thy behests!\"\n\n\"I have nothing to do with thee at all,\" said he, \"but when thou dost\ncome up to the prince, fall down before him, and stretch out thy legs\ntoward him!\"\n\nAt this she bethought her for a long time. \"Well,\" cried she at last,\n\"it must be so, there is no doing anything with thee!\" So she carried\nhim all over the courtyard, fell down before the prince, and stretched\nout her legs toward him.\n\nThen said the prince, \"Thou seest what a sorry jade it is! And ye\nwould have had me mount such a mare!\"\n\nAt this the serpent was full of shame, but there was nothing to be\nsaid or done. So they went into the garden and sat them down to\ndinner. The youngest daughter met them there, and they greeted her.\nThe prince could not refrain from looking at her, so fair was she, and\nnow she seemed fairer than ever. Then they sat down and ate, and when\nthe meal was over the serpent said, \"Well, prince, after dinner I'll\nbring all my daughters into the courtyard, and if you can find out the\nyoungest, you may be happy together.\"\n\nSo after dinner the serpent bade his daughters go and dress\nthemselves, but the prince took counsel of Ivan Golik. Ivan whistled,\nand immediately the gnat came flying up. He told the gnat all about\nit, and the gnat said, \"Thou didst help me, so now I will help thee.\nWhen the serpent brings out his daughters, let the prince keep his\neyes open, for I will fly on her head. Let him walk round them once,\nand I will fly round them too. Let him walk round them a second time,\nand I will fly round them twice also. Let him walk round them a third\ntime, and then I'll settle on her nose, and she will not be able to\nendure my bite, but will strike at me with her right hand.\" And with\nthese words the gnat flew off into the house.\n\nSoon afterward the serpent sent for the prince. He went, and there in\nthe courtyard stood the twenty-one daughters. They were as like as\npeas, their faces, their hair, and their raiment were exactly the\nsame. He looked and looked, but could not tell one from the other. He\nwalked round them the first time, but there was no sign of the gnat.\nHe walked round them the second time, and the gnat came and lit upon\nher head. Henceforth he never took his eyes off the gnat, and when he\nhad begun to walk round the twenty-one daughters for the third time,\nthe gnat sat on the nose of the youngest, and began to bite her. She\nbrushed it off with her right hand, whereupon the prince said, \"She is\nmine!\" and led her to the serpent.\n\nThe serpent was amazed, but said, \"Since thou hast found out thy\nbride, we'll wed thee to-day, and all be merry together.\"\n\nSo they made them merry, and that very evening the young couple got\ntheir bridal crowns. And they feasted and fired guns, and what else\ndid they not do? But at night, Ivan Golik took the prince aside, and\nsaid to him, \"Now, prince, see that we go home to-morrow, for they\nmean us no good here. And now, listen to me! I beg thee tell not thy\nwife the truth of the matter for seven years. However caressing she\nmay be, thou shalt not let her ears know the truth, for if thou _dost_\ntell her the truth, both thou and I shall perish!\"\n\n\"Good!\" said he. \"I will not tell my wife the truth.\"\n\nNext morning the young men arose and went to the serpent, and the\nprince took leave of his father-in-law, and said he must be going\nhome.\n\n\"But why off so soon?\" said the serpent.\n\n\"Nay, but I must go,\" said he.\n\nThen the serpent gave the youth a banquet, and they sat down and ate\nand made merry, and after that he departed to his own tsardom. And the\nprince thanked Ivan Golik for all that he had done for him, and made\nhim the first of his counsellors. Whatever Ivan Golik said was\nperformed throughout the realm, while the Tsar had only to sit on his\nthrone and do nothing.\n\nSo the young prince dwelt with his wife for a year or two, and in the\nthird year a son was added to them, and the heart of the prince was\nglad. Now one day he took his little son in his arms, and said, \"Is\nthere anything in the wide world that I like better than this child?\"\nWhen the princess saw that the heart of her spouse was tender, she\nfell a-kissing and caressing him, and began asking him all about the\ntime when they were first married, and how he had been able to do her\nfather's commands. And the prince said to her, \"My head would long ago\nhave been mouldering on the posts of thy father's palace had it not\nbeen for Ivan Golik. 'Twas he who did it all and not I.\"\n\nThen she was very wrath. But she never changed countenance, and\nshortly afterward she went out.\n\nIvan Golik was sitting in his own house at his ease, when the princess\ncame flying in to him. And immediately she drew out of the ground a\nhandkerchief with gold borders, and no sooner had she waved this\nserpentine handkerchief, than Ivan fell asunder into two pieces. His\nlegs remained where they were, but his trunk with his head disappeared\nthrough the roof, and fell seven miles away from the house. And as he\nfell he cried, \"Oh, accursed one! did I not charge thee not to\nconfess! Did I not implore thee not to tell thy wife the truth for\nseven years! And now I perish and thou also!\"\n\nHe raised his head and found himself sitting in a wood, and there he\nsaw an armless man pursuing a hare. He pursued and pursued it, but\nthough he caught it up, he couldn't catch it, for he had no arms. Then\nIvan Golik caught it and they fell out about it. The armless one said,\n\"The hare is mine!\"--\"No,\" said Ivan Golik, \"it is mine!\" So they\nquarrelled over it, but as one had no legs and the other had no arms,\nthey couldn't hurt one another. At last the armless one said, \"What is\nthe use of our quarrelling? Let us pull up that oak, and whichever of\nus pitches it farthest shall have the hare.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said Legless.\n\nThen Armless kicked Legless up to the oak, and Legless pulled it up\nand gave it to Armless. Then Armless lay down on the ground and kicked\nthe oak with his feet three miles off. But Legless threw it seven\nmiles. Then Armless said, \"Take the hare and be my elder brother!\"\n\nSo they became brothers, and made a wagon between them, and fastened\nropes to it, and while Armless dragged it along Legless drove it. On\nthey went till they came to a town where a Tsar lived. There they went\nup to the church, and planted themselves with their wagon in the place\nof beggars, and waited till the Tsarivna came up. And the Tsarivna\nsaid to her court lady, \"Take this money, and give it to those poor\ncripples.\"\n\nThe lady was about to go with it when Legless said, \"Nay, but let the\nTsarivna give it to us with her own hands.\"\n\nThen the Tsarivna took the money from her court lady and gave it to\nLegless. But he said to her, \"Be not angry, but tell me, now,\nwherefore art thou so yellow?\"\n\n\"God made me so,\" answered she, and then she sighed.\n\n\"No,\" replied Legless. \"I know why thou art so yellow. But I can make\nthee once more just as God made thee.\"\n\nNow the Tsar had heard them speaking, and the words of the cripples\nmoved him strangely. So he had the armless man and the legless man in\nthe wagon brought to him, and said to them, \"Do as you are able.\"\n\nBut Legless said, \"O Tsar! let the Tsarivna speak the truth, and\nconfess openly how she became so yellow!\"\n\nThen the father turned to his daughter, and she confessed and said,\n\"The serpent flew to me, and drew my blood out of my breast.\"\n\n\"When did he fly to thee?\" they asked.\n\n\"Just before dawn, when the guards were sleeping, he came flying down\nmy chimney. In he came flying, and lay down beneath the cushions of my\ncouch.\"\n\n\"Stop!\" cried Legless; \"we'll hide in the straw in thy room, and when\nthe serpent comes flying in again, thou must cough and wake us.\"\n\nSo they hid them in the straw, and just as the guards had ceased\nknocking at the doors as they went their rounds, sparks began to flash\nbeneath the straw roof, and the Tsarivna coughed. They rushed up to\nher, and saw the serpent already nestling beneath the cushions. Then\nthe Tsarivna leaped out of bed; but Armless lay down on the floor and\nkicked Legless on to the cushions, and Legless took the serpent in his\narms and began to throttle it. \"Let me go! let me go!\" begged the\nserpent, \"and I'll never fly here again, but will renounce my\ntithes.\"\n\nBut Legless said, \"That is but a small thing. Thou must carry us to\nthe place of healing waters, that I may get back my legs and my\nbrother here his arms.\"\n\n\"Catch hold of me,\" said the serpent, \"and I'll take you, only torture\nme no more.\"\n\nSo Legless clung on to him with his arms and Armless with his feet,\nand the serpent flew away with them till he came to a spring. \"There's\nyour healing water!\" cried he.\n\nArmless wanted to plunge in straightway, but Legless shrieked, \"Wait,\nbrother! Hold the serpent tight with your legs while I thrust a dry\nstick into the spring, and then we shall see whether it really is\nhealing water.\"\n\nSo he thrust a stick in, and no sooner had it touched the water than\nit was consumed as though by fire. Then the pair of them, in their\nrage, fell upon that false serpent and almost killed him. They beat\nhim and beat him till he cried for mercy. \"Beat me no more!\" cried he;\n\"the spring of healing water is not very far off!\" Then he took them\nto another spring. Into this they also dipped a dry stick, and\nimmediately it burst into flower. Then Armless leaped into the spring\nand leaped out again with arms, whereupon he pitched in Legless, who\nimmediately leaped out again with legs of his own. So they let the\nserpent go, first making him promise never to fly to the Tsarivna\nagain, and then each thanked the other for his friendship, and so they\nparted.\n\nBut Ivan Golik went again to his brother the prince, to see what had\nbecome of him. \"I wonder what the princess has done to him?\" thought\nhe. So he went toward that tsardom, and presently he saw not very far\nfrom the roadside, a swineherd tending swine; he was tending swine,\nbut he himself sat upon a tomb. \"I'll go and ask that swineherd what\nhe's doing there,\" thought Ivan Golik.\n\nSo he went up to the swineherd, and, looking straight into his eyes,\nrecognized his own brother. And the swineherd looked at him, and\nrecognized Ivan Golik. There they stood for a long time looking into\neach other's eyes, but neither of them spoke a word. At last Ivan\nGolik found his voice: \"What!\" cried he. \"Is it thou, O prince, who\nart feeding swine? Thou art rightly served! Did I not bid thee, 'Tell\nnot thy wife the truth for seven years'?\"\n\nAt this the prince flung himself down at the other's feet, and cried,\n\"O Ivan Golik! forgive me, and have mercy!\"\n\nThen Ivan Golik raised him up by the shoulders and said, \"'Tis well\nfor thee that thou art still in God's fair world! Yet wait a little\nwhile, and thou shalt be Tsar again!\"\n\nThe prince thereupon asked Ivan Golik how he had got his legs back\nagain, for the princess had told him how she had cut Ivan Golik in\ntwo. Then Ivan Golik confessed to him that he was his younger brother,\nand told him the whole story of his life. So they embraced and kissed\neach other, and then the prince said, \"'Tis high time I drove these\nswine home, for the princess doesn't like being kept waiting for her\ntea.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Ivan Golik, \"we'll drive them back together.\"\n\n\"The worst of it, brother, is this,\" said the prince. \"Dost thou see\nthat accursed pig that leads the others? Well, he will go only up to\nthe gate of the sty, and there he stands fast as if rooted to the\nground, and until I kiss his bristles he will not move from the spot.\nAnd all the time the princess and the serpents are sitting in the\ngallery at tea, and they look on and laugh!\"\n\nBut Ivan Golik said, \"It needs must be so! Kiss it again to-day, and\nto-morrow thou shalt kiss it no more!\"\n\nThen they drove the swine up to the gates, and Ivan Golik looked to\nsee what would happen. He saw the princess sitting in the gallery with\nsix serpents drinking tea, and the accursed pig stuck fast in the\ngate, and stretched out its legs and wouldn't go in. The princess\nlooked on and said, \"Look at my fool driving the swine, and now he is\ngoing to kiss the big boar!\"\n\nSo the poor fellow stooped down and kissed its bristles, and the pig\nran grunting into the courtyard. Then the princess said, \"Look! he has\npicked up from somewhere an under-herdsman to help him!\"\n\nThe prince and Ivan Golik drove the pigs into their sty, and then Ivan\nGolik said, \"Brother, get me twenty poods of hemp and twenty poods of\npitch, and bring them to me in the garden.\" And he did so. Then Ivan\nGolik made him a huge whip of the twenty poods of hemp and the twenty\npoods of tar. First he twined tightly a pood of hemp, and tarred it\nwell with a pood of pitch; round this he plaited another pood of hemp,\nand tarred that also with another pood of pitch, till he had used up\nthe whole forty. By midnight his task was done, and then he laid him\ndown to sleep. But the prince had gone to sleep long before in the\npig-sty.\n\nEarly in the morning they rose up again, and Ivan Golik said to him,\n\"Up till to-day thou hast been a swineherd, and after to-day thou\nshalt be a prince again; but first let us drive the swine into the\nfield.\"\n\n\"Nay, but,\" said the prince, \"the princess has not yet come out upon\nthe balcony to drink tea with the serpents, and see me kiss the pig\nbefore it goes out, as is her wont.\" Ivan Golik said to him, \"We will\ndrive the swine out this time too, but it will not be thou but I who\nshall kiss the big boar.\"\n\n\"Good!\" said the prince.\n\nAnd now the time came for the swine to be driven away, and the\nprincess came out on the balcony to drink tea. They took the swine out\nof the sty, and the pair of them drove the beasts before them. When\nthey reached the gate the leading pig stuck fast in the gateway, and\nwouldn't budge an inch. The princess and the serpents grinned and\nlooked on, but Ivan Golik flicked his heroic whip, and struck the pig\none blow that made it fly to pieces. Then all the serpents wriggled\noff as fast as they could. But she, the accursed one, was in no way\nfrightened, but caught Ivan by the hair of his head. He, however,\ncaught her also by her long locks, and flicked her with his whip till\nhe had flicked all the serpent-blood out of her, and she walked the\nearth in human guise. So she cast off her serpent nature, and lived\nhappily with her husband. And that's the end of the _kazka_.\n\n\n\n\n                  *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\n  Illustrations have been moved closer to their relevant paragraphs.\n\n  The page numbers in the List of Illustrations do not reflect the new\n  placement of the illustrations, but are as in the original.\n\n  Author's archaic and variable spelling and hyphenation is\n  preserved.\n\n  Author's punctuation style is preserved.\n\n  Passages in italics indicated by _underscores_.\n\n  Typographical problems have been changed and are listed below.\n\n\nTranscriber's Changes:\n\n  =Equals signs= are used to highlight changes made in the following\n  passages.\n\n  Page  18: Was '\"Oh!\".' (in the self-same forest, sat him down, and\n            said, =\"Oh!\"= Oh immediately came out of the charred\n            stump)\n\n  Page  64: Added closing double-quote (handkerchief thou findest\n            there, and throw it in front of =me.\"= He drew it out and\n            flung it)\n\n  Page 115: Added closing double-quote (carried off his daughter, and\n            worries him to =death.\"=--\"Show me the way to your\n            Tsar,\")\n\n  Page 161: Added opening double-quote (\"Have no fear of that!\"\n            replied the old couple. =\"We= have a dog called Chutko)","title":"Cossack Fairy Tales and Folk Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":61290}