{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44536/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44536","id":"gutenberg_44536","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44536","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Tales -- Georgia (Republic)"],"text":"GEORGIAN FOLK TALES\n\n                             Translated by\n\n                            MARJORY WARDROP\n\n\n\n                        Published by David Nutt\n                         in the Strand, London\n                                  1894\n\n\n\n\n\n\n        'I quite understand, my good friend,' said I, 'the contempt\n        you bestow upon the nursery tales with which the Hajee and\n        I have been entertaining each other; but, believe me, he who\n        desires to be well acquainted with a people will not reject\n        their popular stories or local superstitions. Depend upon it,\n        that man is too far advanced into an artificial state of\n        society who is a stranger to the effects which tales and\n        stories like these have upon the feelings of a nation....'\n\n                         Sir John Malcolm's Sketches of Persia, ch. xvi.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                   TO\n\n                          DR. EDWARD B. TYLOR\n\n                          AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF\n                    ADMIRATION FOR HIS GREAT TALENTS\n                         THESE TRANSLATIONS ARE\n                         RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nAs the first attempt to translate into English any part of the\nvaried and interesting secular literature of the Georgian people,\nthis little book may perhaps claim some attention from the public. A\nvolume of sermons by Bishop Gabriel of Kuta\u00efs was published by the\nRev. S. C. Malan in 1867, but, with this single exception, I do not\nknow of any other work in the Iberian tongue which has been offered to\nEnglish readers. The state of comparative neglect into which Oriental\nstudies in general have fallen of late among us, the rulers of the\nEast, accounts, to some extent, for this fact; it is to be hoped that\nan improvement in this respect may soon be apparent.\n\nSome years ago, a book written by my brother [1] first excited my\ninterest in the Caucasus and its brave and beautiful inhabitants. A\nstudy of the classical literature, especially of the great epic poet,\nShota Rusthaveli, of the twelfth century, has profitably occupied\nmuch of my time during the past two years, and it is my intention to\ngive my countrymen an early opportunity of sharing in the pleasure\nI have derived therefrom.\n\nAs a relaxation from these more arduous studies, I amused myself by\nturning into English the originals of the following stories. I showed\nthe manuscript to Dr. E. B. Tylor, who told me that it presented many\nfeatures of interest to folklorists, and advised me to publish it;\nit is, therefore, fitting that I should dedicate the book to the\ncreator of the modern science of anthropology, and he has kindly\ngiven me permission to do so.\n\nThe geographical position of Georgia, a region lying between East\nand West, forming a bridge along which a great part of the traffic in\nideas as well as in commodities must pass, makes it a rich field of\ninquiry for the student. By their religious and political connection\nwith Byzantium on the one hand, and by their constant intercourse\nwith Persia and Turkey on the other, the Iberians have gained much\nfrom both Christendom and Islam, and among them may yet be found lost\nlinks in several chains of historical and literary investigations.\n\nThe sources from which I have taken the stories are the following:--\n\nPart I. is a collection edited by Mr. Aghniashvili, and published in\nTiflis, in 1891, by the Georgian Folklore Society, under the title,\nKhalkhuri Zghaprebi.\n\nPart II. comprises the Mingrelian stories in Professor\nA. A. Tsagareli's Mingrelskie Etyudy, S. Pbg., 1880 (in Mingrelian\nand Russian).\n\nThese were collected by Professor Tsagareli during the years 1876-79,\nchiefly in the districts of Sachichuo and Salipartiano, which lie\nalmost in the centre of Mingrelia, far removed from foreign influence,\nand are famous for the purity of their Mingrelian idiom. The Mingrelian\ndialect is rapidly being replaced by pure Georgian throughout the\ncountry.\n\nPart III. is an anonymous collection, entitled Gruzinskiya Narodnyya\nSkazki. Sobr. Bebur B.* S. Pbg., 1884.\n\n\n\nIt will be found that, besides the differences due to geographical\nposition, the three groups of stories are not of the same\ncharacter. Part II. is more na\u00efve and popular than Part I., and Part\nIII. exhibits more appreciation of the ridiculous than the rest of\nthe book, and is of a more didactic nature.\n\nThe points of resemblance between the following stories and those\nquoted by the late Mr. Ralston, in his well-known Russian Folk Tales,\nare so numerous, and so apparent, that I have not thought it necessary\nto refer to them in the notes.\n\nIn conclusion, I must express my thanks to Prince Ivan\u00e9 Machabeli,\nof Tiflis, the Georgian translator of Shakespeare, for his kindness\nin reading my proofs, and to my brother, who did the Russian part of\nthe work for me.\n\n\n    M. W.\n\n    Chislehurst, April 1894.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nGEORGIAN TALES\n\n                                                      PAGE\n       I. Master and Pupil,                              1\n      II. The Three Sisters and their Stepmother,        5\n     III. The Good-for-Nothing,                         11\n      IV. The Frog's Skin,                              15\n       V. Fate,                                         22\n      VI. Ghvthisavari,                                 25\n     VII. The Serpent and the Peasant,                  39\n    VIII. Gulambara and Sulambara,                      42\n      IX. The Two Brothers,                             49\n       X. The Prince,                                   52\n      XI. Conkiajgharuna,                               63\n     XII. Asphurtzela,                                  68\n    XIII. The Shepherd and the Child of Fortune,        83\n     XIV. The Two Thieves,                              88\n      XV. The Fox and the King's Son,                   97\n     XVI. The King's Son and the Apple,                104\n\n\nMINGRELIAN TALES\n\n       I. The Three Precepts,                          109\n      II. Kazha-ndii,                                  112\n     III. The Story of Geria, the Poor Man's Son,      118\n      IV. The Prince who befriended the Beasts,        124\n       V. The Cunning Old Man and the 'Demi,'          129\n      VI. Sanartia,                                    132\n     VII. The Shepherd Judge,                          138\n    VIII. The Priest's Youngest Son,                   140\n          Mingrelian Proverbs,                         142\n\n\nGURIAN TALES\n\n       I. The Strong Man and the Dwarf,                147\n      II. The Grasshopper and the Ant,                 150\n     III. The Countryman and the Merchant,             153\n      IV. The King and the Sage,                       160\n       V. The King's Son,                              162\n      VI. Teeth and No-Teeth,                          163\n     VII. The Queen's Whim,                            164\n    VIII. The Fool's Good Fortune,                     165\n      IX. Two Losses,                                  167\n       X. The Story of Dervish,                        168\n      XI. The Father's Prophecy,                       171\n     XII. The Hermit Philosopher,                      172\n    XIII. The King's Counsellor,                       173\n     XIV. A Witty Answer,                              174\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\nGEORGIAN FOLK TALES\n\n\nI\n\nMASTER AND PUPIL\n\n(OR THE DEVIL OUTWITTED)\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a poor peasant who had one son. And it\ncame to pass that his wife said to him: 'He should learn some trade,\nfor when he is separated from thee, what will he do if he is left\nignorant like thee?' The wife importuned him; she gave him no rest. So\nthe peasant took his child, and went to seek a master for him. On\nthe way they were thirsty. He saw a rivulet, drank eagerly till his\nthirst was quenched, and when he lifted up his head he cried out:\n'Ah! how good thou art!' [2] On saying this, there came forth from\nthe water a devil in the form of a man, and said to the peasant:\n'What dost thou want, O man! I am Vakhraca; what troubles thee?' The\npeasant told him all his story. The devil, when he learnt this, said:\n'Give me this son of thine: I will teach him for one year, then come\nhither; if thou knowest him, it is well, he will go with thee; if not,\nhe is mine and mine alone, he shall be lost to thee.'\n\nNow this devil had other children to bring up on the same conditions;\nand, since in a year children change so much that their parents may no\nlonger know them, the devil always had the best of it. The peasant knew\nnothing about this; he agreed to the proposal, and went home. A year\npassed by, and the father of the child came to the devil; he did not\nfind the devil at home. He saw in the courtyard a multitude of boys,\nand looked again and again, but could not recognise his boy. He was\nsad. However, his own son came up and knew him. Then the boy said:\n'Presently my instructor will come; he will turn us all into doves,\nand we shall fly away; in the flight I shall fly before all, and\nin the return I shall be behind all; and when my master asks thee\nwhich is thy son, thou wilt point to me.' The peasant rejoiced,\nand awaited the master with a hopeful heart. In a little while the\nmaster appeared. He called his pupils, turned them into doves, and\nordered them to fly away. The peasant's son flew before all, and\nwhen they returned remained behind. The master inquired: 'Now, dost\nthou know which is thy son?' The peasant pointed him out. The devil\nwas enraged when he perceived the trick his pupil had played him,\nbut what did it matter! The boy left him.\n\nThe father went and took his son with him. They came to a place where\nnobles were hunting: some greyhounds were pursuing a hare, but they\ncould not catch it. The boy said to his father: 'Go thou into the wood,\nraise a hare. I will turn into a hound, and will seize it before the\neyes of these nobles. The nobles will follow thee, and will be anxious\nto buy me. Ask a high price, and sell me to them. Then I shall seize\nthe first opportunity to escape, and overtake thee on the road.' The\nfather went into the wood and started a hare; his son turned into\na hound, pursued the hare, and, just before the eyes of the nobles,\nhe pounced on it. They crowded round the peasant, and insisted upon\nbuying the dog. The peasant asked a high price, which they paid\nin exchange for the hound. The nobles attached a cord to the dog,\nand went away. When they had travelled a little way along the road a\nhare started from the thicket. They let the hound loose, and sent him\nafter it. When he had chased the hare a long way, and had lost sight\nof the nobles, he changed again into a boy, and followed his father.\n\nThe father and son went on their way; the money seemed inadequate. 'I\nmust get some more,' said the son. They looked round; another party\nof nobles were pursuing a pheasant; the falcons flew after it, but for\nsome reason could not catch it. The boy changed himself into a falcon,\nand sported with the pheasant in the air, just before the nobles'\neyes. He brought it down; they were frantic with pleasure, and said\nto the peasant: 'Thou must sell this falcon to us.' The peasant again\nfixed a high price, to which the nobles agreed, and this they paid him\nin exchange for the falcon. The peasant went on his way. The nobles,\nafter travelling some distance, sent the falcon in pursuit of another\npheasant. The falcon flew after the bird, and, when he was out of\nthe nobles' sight, changed into a boy and joined his father.\n\nThe father and son went on with their money, but the son was not\ncontent with it. He said to his father: 'Come, I will change into a\nsplendid horse; mount me, go into a town and sell me. But remember\nnot to sell me to a man with variegated eyes; if thou dost, do not\ngive him the bridle, for then, thou knowest, I shall not be able to\nfree myself from his hands.' On saying this, the boy changed into\na splendid, spirited horse, his father mounted and rode into the\ntown. Here he saw many who wanted to buy it, but more eager than any\nwas a man with variegated eyes. Whenever any one added a manethi\n(rouble) to the price, he added a thuman (ten roubles). Love of\nmoney conquered the peasant, and he sold the horse to the man with\nvariegated eyes. He bought the bridle with it, mounted the horse and\nspurred it on. He went, disappeared, and could no longer contain his\njoy that he had his pupil once more in his power. He reached home,\nshut the horse in a dark room, and locked the door. His pupil lay\ndown and was sad; he thought and grieved, but there seemed to be no\nhelp for him; time passed, and he could contrive no means of escape.\n\nOne day he noticed that a sunbeam entered the stable through a hole. He\nchanged himself into a mouse and ran out. His master saw him, however,\nand pursued him as a cat. The mouse ran, the cat followed. Just when\nthe cat was about to seize him in his mouth, the mouse turned into a\nfish swimming in a stream. The master turned into a net and followed\nhim; the fish swam away, but the net came after him. Just when the\nnet was going to cover him, the fish changed into a pheasant and flew\naway. The master pursued him as a falcon. The pheasant flew on and the\nfalcon followed. When the falcon was about to put its claws into him,\nhe turned into a red apple, and rolled into the king's lap. The falcon\nchanged into a knife in the king's hand. Just when the king was going\nto cut the apple, it changed into a codi (80 lbs.) of millet spread\non a cloth. The devil changed himself into a brood-hen, and began\nto eat it. When it had eaten almost all, and only left one grain,\nthis grain turned into a needle, and rolled in front of the hen,\nwhich changed into a thread in the eye of the needle. As it was about\nto hold back the needle, the needle ran into the fire and burned the\nthread. The boy thus escaped from the devil, went home to his father,\nand lived happily ever afterwards. [3]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE THREE SISTERS AND THEIR STEPMOTHER\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a peasant who had three daughters. This\nman's wife was dead, so he took to himself another. The stepmother\nhated the girls like the plague. Every day she bothered her\nhusband, saying: 'Take away these daughters of thine, and get rid of\nthem.' Sometimes she yielded to their father's entreaties, sometimes\nshe gave way to her dislike. At last she could bear it no longer: she\nbecame ill, went to bed, took with her crisp, flat bread, and began to\nmoan. She turned on one side, made the loaves crack, and cried out:\n'My sides are breaking. Oh! turn me on my other side!' The cause of\nall this was her stepdaughters, so her husband, seeing that nothing\nwas to be done, consented to get rid of them.\n\nHe went away into the forest. There he saw a large apple-tree bearing\nfruit; underneath it he dug a deep hole, took an apple for each,\nand went home. When he came in, he gave each her apple. The girls\nliked the taste of the apples, and said to their father: 'Where didst\nthou find these? canst thou not bring some more?' The father replied:\n'There are many of these apples in the forest, but I have not time to\nbring more. If you like, you can come with me; I will shake them down,\nyou can gather them up and bring them away.' The girls were delighted,\nand went with their father.\n\nTheir father had secretly covered up the hole, and said to the girls:\n'Here are the apples. I will shake them down, but until I tell you do\nnot gather them up. Then, when I speak, you can all scramble for them,\nand whoever picks up an apple, it is hers.' The father went up to the\ntree, and when he had shaken it well, called out to his daughters:\n'Now, catch who can!' The girls suddenly rushed on to the covering,\nwhich could not bear their weight; it fell into the hole, taking with\nit the three girls. Their father threw them in a great many apples,\nleft them, and went away.\n\nThe girls could not at first understand their father's conduct, but\nthen they saw that he had brought them into the wood on purpose, and\nsaid: 'Our wicked stepmother is to blame for this!' but there was no\nhelp for it, so these three little maidens sat down and wept. They\nwept and wept until their faces were pale; their tears shook heaven\nabove and the earth beneath. At last the apples were finished. They\nthought and thought, and decided that each should let blood from\nher little finger, and that they should eat her whose blood tasted\nsweetest. They let blood, and it was agreed by all that the youngest\nsister's was sweetest. She said: 'O sisters! do not eat me. I have\nthree apples hidden; eat them, and perhaps God will help us.'\n\nThen she bent on her knees, and prayed to God: 'O God, for Thy name's\nsake, I beseech Thee, let one of my hands turn into a pickaxe, and the\nother into a shovel.' God heard her prayer. One of her hands changed\ninto a pickaxe, and the other into a shovel. With one hand she dug\na hole, and with the other shovelled away the earth. She dug and dug\nuntil she came to a mouse's hole. She took thence nuts, little nuts,\nand gave them to her sisters. She went on digging, and broke down\na stable wall. This stable belonged to the king, and almonds and\nraisins were strewed about in it. The girls used to go to the stable;\nthey stole the almonds and raisins, and ate them. The grooms were\nastonished, and said: 'Who can it be that steals the almonds and\nraisins? The horses are dying of starvation.'\n\nThe little maiden, in her digging, next broke the window of an\nold woman's hut. Every morning the mistress of this hut went to\nmass. Feeling sorry for the old woman, the girls stole into the hut,\ncleaned and tidied everything, put beans on the fire to cook, broke\noff sufficient bread for themselves, and stole away again. When the\nold woman came home she was filled with surprise. Who could have been\nthere and stolen her bread? Perhaps she could find out. She did not go\nto mass next day. She rolled herself in a mat, and stuck herself up,\nlike a stick, near the door. The girls came; they thought the old\nwoman had gone to mass, and stole into the hut one by one. The old\nwoman watched from the mat with both her eyes, and she could scarcely\nbelieve what she saw. She saw the three maidens enter--each more\nbeautiful than the other, all fair, as if the sun had never frowned\nupon them. She gazed and gazed until she could bear it no longer:\nshe threw off the mat, seized one of them in her arms, and said:\n'Who art thou, who art so angelic? Art thou human or an angel?' The\nmaiden replied: 'We are three sisters, we are human. Thus and thus\nhas it befallen us.' And she told their tale to the old woman, who\nwas delighted that she had found the three sisters. She guarded them\nas the light of her eyes, and, when she went out, turned up baskets\nover them, that none should see them and take them away.\n\nOnce the woman went to mass. She left the girls under baskets, and\nshut the doors. Then the idea came into the girls' heads that they\nwould like some raisins. They rose, took off the baskets, and crept\ninto the stable. Just as they were beginning to steal raisins, the\ngroom hastened in, seized the three sisters, and took them before the\nking. The king asked them who they were, and they told him all their\nhistory. The king said: 'Tell me, what can you do?' The eldest sister\nsaid: 'I can weave such a carpet that every man in thy army could sit\non it, and still half of it would not be unrolled.' The second sister\nsaid: 'I can cook enough food in an egg-shell to feed thine army,\nand when they have eaten, half yet shall remain.' The king said to the\nyoungest: 'What canst thou do?' She replied: 'I can bear golden-haired\nboys.' The king was pleased with this answer, and wedded her. He tried\nher sisters' skill, but the eldest could not weave a carpet large\nenough for one man, while the food cooked by the second sister would\nnot have satisfied a bird. The king waxed wroth, and said to his wife:\n'If thou deceivest me too, none of you shall live.'\n\nSome time passed, and the youngest sister was with child. At that\ntime the king's enemy came against him, and he prepared to go forth\nto battle. Before he set out he left this message: 'If my wife bears a\nson, let a sword be suspended over the door; if she bears a daughter,\nlet a spinning-wheel be hung up.' Shortly after this his wife went\nto bed. Her sisters would allow no one to enter the bed-room; they\ntended her and nursed her themselves.\n\nThe king's wife brought forth a golden-haired boy. Her two sisters\nwere angry that their youngest sister should be proved truthful\nin the sight of the king, while they were liars; they wished her\nalso to appear untruthful. They arose, and, without the mother's\nknowledge, took away the golden-haired boy, and put in his place a\npuppy dog. They did not dare to kill the child, so they made a box,\nlaid him in it, and put it in a river. The river carried it away,\nand it stuck in a mill-race. The race was dammed up and the mill\nstopped. The miller came out, and saw the box fixed in the race; he\ntook it up and opened it. Behold, there lay a golden-haired child! He\nwas childless, so he took it home and brought it up. In the meantime\nthe sisters hung up a pestle over the door. The king returned from\nthe battle and saw the pestle. He was very much surprised, and said:\n'What does this mean? what has my wife brought forth?' They said:\n'A puppy.' The king was very angry, but thought: 'Perhaps some one\nhas done this; I will wait and see if she has a son.'\n\nA year passed, and his wife was again with child. One day, when the\nking was out hunting, a golden-haired boy was born. The sisters,\nas before, would allow no one in the room. They took the child away\nsecretly, and put a kitten in its place. They again put the child in\na box in the river, and the miller found it again. The sisters hung\nthe pestle over the door. When the king returned from the chase,\nand saw the pestle, he burned with fires of rage, and sparks shot\nfrom his eyes. He took his wife out, caused her to be wrapped in a\nbullock's skin, and bound to a column in front of the palace. Every\none who passed by was ordered to spit in her face and strike her. Thus\nunjustly did he torture an innocent being! The miller loved the two\ngolden-haired children as if they were the apple of his eye. They\nbecame very wise, brave, and handsome, and grew as much in a day as\nother children grow in a year.\n\nOnce when the king was out hunting, he saw a group of children playing,\nbut among them were two who far excelled the others. The king was very\nmuch taken with these two children, and could not withdraw his eyes\nfrom them. He looked and looked, and would never have been tired of\nlooking; he wished to gaze on them for ever. He noticed how strongly\nthey resembled himself. He was astonished, and said to himself:\n'Who can these children be, who are so like myself?' But he could\nnot guess the truth. Just then, while playing, the cap fell from the\nhead of one of the brothers, and showed his golden hair. The king\nwas struck, and inquired: 'Whose children are these?' He was told\nthey were the miller's sons.\n\nThe next day the king gave a banquet, and invited the miller and his\ngolden-haired sons. When the children came into the king's courtyard,\nthey saw a woman bound to a column, and they looked long, and knew\nthat this must be their mother. The cook was roasting a pheasant. The\nelder brother went inside, took the spit from the cook, sat down by\nthe fireside, and turned the pheasant round. When it became red and\nwas cooked, he began to tell a tale. All ears were pricked up, and\nthe people looked into his face. The boy began to tell his mother's\ntale. After he had told how his mother bore the golden-haired boys,\nand how the sisters were so treacherous, he concluded by saying:\n'If this story is true, the bullock's skin will burst, and my mother\nbe free.' And the bullock's skin burst, and his mother came in.\n\nWhen the story was quite finished, his younger brother came in and\ntook the spit in his hand, and said: 'If all my brother's tale is\ntrue and this is indeed our mother, this roast pheasant will have\nfeathers and fly away.' Feathers appeared on the roast pheasant,\nand it flew off. The people gazed open-mouthed. The astonished king\ncommanded the jealous sisters to be brought, bound them to horses'\ntails, and had them dragged about. The king took his wife and children\ninto the palace, and rejoiced greatly that he had learnt the truth\nand found his golden-haired sons. [4]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE GOOD-FOR-NOTHING\n\n\nThere was once a good-for-nothing man, who had a shrewish wife. This\nwife would give him no rest. She importuned him, saying: 'Thou must\ngo away, travel forth and seek for something; thou seest how poor\nwe are.' At last the husband could no longer bear her reproaches,\nso he arose and went.\n\nHe went forth, he himself knew not whither he was going.\n\nHe travelled on, and when he had ascended the ninth mountain from where\nhe started, he saw a large house, and in this house devis dwelt. He\ncame near and saw in the middle of the room a fire, round which the\ndevis were sitting, warming their hands. He went in and spoke in a\nfriendly manner to them, and sat down by the fire. The devis treated\nhim well, for he had spoken them fair. He stayed with them by day and\nby night; he ate with them, he drank with them, he slept with them;\nhe was like their youngest brother.\n\nThese devis possessed a wishing-stone. When they were assembled\ntogether, they took out the stone: if they wished for dinner, dinner\nappeared; if they wanted supper, they wished for supper, and lo! what\nthey wished for heartily appeared before their eyes. They lived thus\nwithout care, they had no kind of sorrow, and this was just what our\ngood-for-nothing liked; he approved of this life, and wanted to steal\nthe wishing-stone.\n\nOnce when the devis were in a deep sleep, the good-for-nothing\nsilently stole out of the bedroom, took the wishing-stone, and\ncame to the door. He wished the door to open, and sure enough it\nbegan to creak. It creaked and called out: 'The guest has stolen the\nwishing-stone.' The good-for-nothing turned back, put the stone in its\nplace, went into the bedroom, and pretended to be asleep. The creaking\nof the door awoke the devis; they jumped up and looked; they found\nthe wishing-stone in its place, and the good-for-nothing in a sweet\nslumber. They rejoiced, closed the door, and went to sleep again. When\nthey had fallen into a profound sleep, the good-for-nothing rose up,\ntook the stone, came to the door, and, when he wished it to open,\nit began to creak out: 'The guest has stolen the wishing-stone.' The\ngood-for-nothing turned back, again put the wishing-stone in its place,\nwent into the bedroom and began to snore as if he were asleep. The\ndevis awoke and looked, but the stone was in its place, and the\ngood-for-nothing snoring. They were surprised, but shut the door,\nand went to sleep. The good-for-nothing did this trick over and over\nagain. The devis were angry, and furiously jumped up, pulled down the\ndoor, and put it in the fire. When the door was burned, and the devis\nslept again, the good-for-nothing rose up, put the wishing-stone in his\npocket, and left the house. The next morning, when the devis awoke,\nthey saw that neither the good-for-nothing nor the wishing-stone was\nthere any longer. They looked everywhere, but could not tell whether\nheaven or earth had swallowed them, so they learnt nothing.\n\nThe good-for-nothing went on his way joyfully; he no longer had any\ncare or thought; he rejoiced that now he could live without trouble. He\nwent on, and met on the road a man with a big stick. This man said:\n'Brother, give me something to eat.' The good-for-nothing put his\nhand in his pocket, and took out the wishing-stone. He wished, and\nthere appeared before them everything ready for eating. When they\nhad finished their meal, the man with the stick said: 'Come, I will\nexchange my stick with thee for this stone.' 'What is the use of thy\nstick?' inquired the good-for-nothing. 'If any one stretches out his\nhand and calls, \"Out, stick!\" the stick will fall upon the person in\nfront of its master.' The good-for-nothing made the exchange, and went\naway a short distance; then he said, 'Out, stick!' and stretched it\nout towards its former master. It struck him until all his bones were\nmade soft. When he had been well beaten, the good-for-nothing came,\ntook his stone, and went on his way with the stick.\n\nHe went on and saw a man with a sword, who said: 'Brother, give me\nsomething to eat.' The good-for-nothing took out his wishing-stone,\nand immediately meat and drink appeared before them. When he had\neaten sufficiently, the man said: 'Come, I will give thee this sword\nin exchange for the stone.' 'What is the use of thy sword?' inquired\nthe good-for-nothing. 'Whoever possesses it can, if he choose, cut\noff a hundred thousand heads.'\n\nHe exchanged his wishing-stone for the sword, and went away. After\nwaiting a short time, he said, 'Out, stick!' and pointed to the\nformer owner of the sword. The stick approached and beat the man\nmercilessly. Then the good-for-nothing took the wishing-stone and\nwent away.\n\nHe went on again until he met a man with a piece of felt, who said:\n'Brother, give me something to eat.' The good-for-nothing man took\nout his wishing-stone, wished, and immediately a delicious repast\nappeared. When he had eaten all he wanted, the man said: 'Come, I will\ngive thee my felt in exchange for this stone.' 'What is the use of\nthy felt?' inquired the good-for-nothing. 'If a man's head is cut off,\none only has to take a piece of this felt and apply it; his head will\nstick on again, and he will live.' The good-for-nothing gave him the\nstone, took the felt, and went away. When he had gone a little way,\nhe said, 'Out, stick!' and the stick beat the man till he was like a\nwrinkled quince. The good-for-nothing took his stone and travelled on.\n\nAt last he came to his home. He placed the stick behind the door,\ngreeted his wife and spoke thus: 'Wife, see what I have brought,'\nand he showed her the sword, felt, and wishing-stone. His wife\nlooked on him with contempt, opened her mouth, and cast all the\ndirt in the world on his head. The good-for-nothing bore it till he\ncould bear it no longer, so he called, 'Out, stick!' The stick beat\nher wofully. Then he made his little children sit down, took out his\nwishing-stone, wished the table to be laid, and the rarest delicacies\nwere placed on the cloth. They enjoyed their dinner, while the beaten\nwife silently looked down and sulked. She bore it for a time, but at\nlast she could bear it no longer, and came and embraced her husband's\nknees. Her husband forgave her, and they caressed one another lovingly.\n\nAfter some time, this wishing-stone made him quite rich, so that all\ntheir dishes were made of gold. Once the wife said to her husband:\n'Thou must invite the king and give him a great banquet.' Her husband\nsaid: 'Dost thou not know, the king is an envious man; when he sees\nthese things, he will take them from us, and put us in prison.' His\nwife pleaded and whined until her husband consented.\n\nThey invited the king, and made ready a magnificent banquet. When\nthe feast was finished, the king demanded the wishing-stone. The\ngood-for-nothing said he could not spare it. The king was enraged,\nand sent his whole army to take it away by force. 'This will not do\nat all,' said the good-for-nothing to himself; 'since they are going\nto try and force me, I shall show my strength.' While he spoke, he\npointed the sword at the army, and the stick at the king. The heads\nof all the army were cut off, and the stick beat the envious king.\n\nThe king begged and prayed for mercy: 'Only bring my soldiers back\nto life again, and I swear I will leave thee in peace.' Then the\ngood-for-nothing arose, took the felt and laid a piece on the neck of\neach soldier, and the army was restored to life. The king no longer\ndared to show his enmity, the good-for-nothing's wife obeyed him in\neverything, and they lived happily ever afterwards.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE FROG'S SKIN\n\n\nThere were once three brothers who wished to marry. They said:\n'Let us each shoot an arrow, and each shall take his wife from the\nplace where the arrow falls.' They shot their arrows; those of the\ntwo elder brothers fell on noblemen's houses, while the youngest\nbrother's arrow fell in a lake. The two elder brothers led home their\nnoble wives, and the youngest went to the shore of the lake. He saw\na frog creep out of the lake and sit down upon a stone. He took it\nup and carried it back to the house. All the brothers came home with\nwhat fate had given them; the elder brothers with the noble maidens,\nand the youngest with a frog.\n\nThe brothers went out to work, the wives prepared the dinner, and\nattended to all their household duties; the frog sat by the fire\ncroaking, and its eyes glittered. Thus they lived together a long\ntime in love and harmony.\n\nAt last the sisters-in-law wearied of the sight of the frog; when\nthey swept the house, they threw out the frog with the dust. If the\nyoungest brother found it, he took it up in his hand; if not, the\nfrog would leap back to its place by the fire and begin to croak. The\nnoble sisters did not like this, and said to their husbands: 'Drive\nthis frog out, and get a real wife for your brother.' Every day the\nbrothers bothered the youngest. He replied, saying: 'This frog is\ncertainly my fate, I am worthy of no better, I must be faithful to\nit.' His sisters-in-law persisted in telling their husbands that the\nbrother and his frog must be sent away, and at last they agreed.\n\nThe young brother was now left quite desolate: there was no one to\nmake his food, no one to stand watching at the door. For a short\ntime a neighbouring woman came to wait upon him, but she had no time,\nso he was left alone. The man became very melancholy.\n\nOnce when he was thinking sadly of his loneliness, he went to\nwork. When he had finished his day's labour, he went home. He looked\ninto his house and was struck with amazement. The sideboard was well\nreplenished; in one place was spread a cloth, and on the cloth were\nmany different kinds of tempting viands. He looked and saw the frog\nin its place croaking. He said to himself that his sisters-in-law\nmust have done this for him, and went to his work again. He was out\nall day working, and when he came home he always found everything\nprepared for him.\n\nOnce he said to himself: 'I will see for once who is this unseen\nbenefactor, who comes to do good to me and look after me.' That\nday he stayed at home; he seated himself on the roof of the house\nand watched. In a short time the frog leaped out of the fireplace,\njumped over to the doors, and all round the room; seeing no one there,\nit went back and took off the frog's skin, put it near the fire,\nand came forth a beautiful maiden, fair as the sun; so lovely was she\nthat man could not imagine anything prettier. In the twinkling of an\neye she had tidied everything, prepared the food and cooked it. When\neverything was ready, she went to the fire, put on the skin again,\nand began to croak. When the man saw this he was very much astonished;\nhe rejoiced exceedingly that God had granted him such happiness. He\ndescended from the roof, went in, caressed his frog tenderly, and\nthen sat down to his tasty supper.\n\nThe next day the man hid himself in the place where he had been\nthe day before. The frog, having satisfied itself that nobody was\nthere, stripped off its skin and began its good work. This time\nthe man stole silently into the house, seized the frog's skin in\nhis hand and threw it into the fire. When the maiden saw this she\nentreated him, she wept--she said: 'Do not burn it, or thou shalt\nsurely be destroyed'--but the man had burnt it in a moment. 'Now,\nif thy happiness be turned to misery, it is not my fault,' said the\nsorrow-stricken woman.\n\nIn a very short time the whole country-side knew that the man who\nhad a frog now possessed in its place a lovely woman, who had come\nto him from heaven.\n\nThe lord of the country heard of this, and wished to take her from\nhim. He called the beautiful woman's husband to him and said: 'Sow a\nbarnful of wheat in a day, or give me thy wife.' When he had spoken\nthus, the man was obliged to consent, and he went home melancholy.\n\nWhen he went in he told his wife what had taken place. She reproached\nhim, saying: 'I told thee what would happen if thou didst burn the\nskin, and thou didst not heed me; but I will not blame thee. Be not\nsad; go in the morning to the edge of the lake from which I came,\nand call out: \"Mother and Father! I pray you, lend me your swift\nbullocks\"--lead them away with thee, and the bullocks will in one\nday plough the fields and sow the grain.' The husband did this.\n\nHe went to the edge of the lake and called out: 'Mother and Father! I\nentreat you, lend me your swift bullocks to-day.' There came forth\nfrom the lake such a team of oxen as was never seen on sea or land.\n\nThe youth drove the bullocks away, came to his lord's fields, and\nploughed and sowed them in one day.\n\nHis lord was very much surprised. He did not know if there was anything\nimpossible to this man, whose wife he wanted. He called him a second\ntime, and said: 'Go and gather up the wheat thou hast sown, that not\na grain may be wanting, and that the barn may be full. If thou dost\nnot this, thy wife is mine.'\n\n'This is impossible,' said the man to himself. He went home to his\nwife, who again reproached him, and then said: 'Go to the lake's edge\nand ask for the jackdaws.'\n\nThe husband went to the edge of the lake and called out: 'Mother and\nFather! I beg you to lend me your jackdaws to-day.' From the lake\ncame forth flocks of jackdaws; they flew to the ploughed ground,\neach gathered up a seed and put it into the barn.\n\nThe lord came and cried out: 'There is one seed short; I know each one,\nand one is missing.' At that moment a jackdaw's caw was heard; it came\nwith the missing seed, but owing to a lame foot it was a little late.\n\nThe lord was very angry that even the impossible was possible to this\nman, and could not think what to give him to do.\n\nHe puzzled his brain until he thought of the following plan. He called\nthe man and said to him: 'My mother, who died in this village, took\nwith her a ring. If thou goest to the other world and bringest that\nring hither to me, it is well; if not, I shall take away thy wife.'\n\nThe man said to himself: 'This is quite impossible.' He went home\nand complained to his wife. She reproached him, and then said:\n'Go to the lake and ask for the ram.'\n\nThe husband went to the lake and called out: 'Mother and Father! give\nme your ram to-day, I pray you.' From the lake there came forth a\nram with twisted horns; from its mouth issued a flame of fire. It\nsaid to the man: 'Mount on my back!'\n\nThe man sat down, and, quick as lightning, the ram descended towards\nthe lower regions. It went on and shot like an arrow through the earth.\n\nThey travelled on, and saw in one place a man and woman sitting on a\nbullock's skin, which was not big enough for them, and they were like\nto fall off. The man called out to them: 'What can be the meaning of\nthis, that this bullock skin is not big enough for two people?' They\nsaid: 'We have seen many pass by like thee, but none has returned. When\nthou comest back we shall answer thy question.'\n\nThey went on their way and saw a man and woman sitting on an\naxe-handle, and they were not afraid of falling. The man called\nout to them: 'Are you not afraid of falling from the handle of an\naxe?' They said to him: 'We have seen many pass by like thee, but\nnone has returned. When thou comest back we shall answer thy question.'\n\nThey went on their way again, until they came to a place where they\nsaw a priest feeding cattle. This priest had such a long beard that it\nspread over the ground, and the cattle, instead of eating grass, fed on\nthe priest's beard, and he could not prevent it. The man called out:\n'Priest, what is the meaning of this? why is thy beard pasture for\nthese cattle?' The priest replied: 'I have seen many pass by like\nthee, but none has returned. When thou comest back I shall answer\nthy question.'\n\nThey journeyed on again until they came to a place where they saw\nnothing but boiling pitch, and a flame came forth from it--and this\nwas hell. The ram said: 'Sit firmly on my back, for we must pass\nthrough this fire.' The man held fast, the ram gave a leap, and they\nescaped through the fire unhurt.\n\nThere they saw a melancholy woman seated on a golden throne. She said:\n'What is it, my child? what troubles thee? what has brought thee\nhere?' He told her everything that had happened to him. She said:\n'I must punish this very wicked child of mine, and thou must take\nhim a casket from me.' She gave him a casket, and said: 'Whatever\nthou dost, do not open this casket thyself, take it with thee, give\nit to thy lord, and run quickly away from him.'\n\nThe man took the casket and went away. He came to the place where the\npriest was feeding the cattle. The priest said: 'I promised thee an\nanswer; hearken unto my words. In life I loved nothing but myself,\nI cared for nought else. My flocks I fed on other pastures than my\nown, and the neighbouring cattle died of starvation; now I am paying\nthe penalty.'\n\nThen he went on to the place where the man and woman were sitting\non the handle of the axe. They said: 'We promised thee an answer;\nhearken unto our words. We loved each other too well on earth, and\nit is the same with us here.' [5]\n\nThen he came to the two seated on the bullock skin, which was not big\nenough for them. They said: 'We promised thee an answer; hearken unto\nour words. We despised each other in life, and we equally despise\neach other here.'\n\nAt last the man came up on earth, descended from the ram, and went\nto his lord. He gave him the casket and quickly ran away. The lord\nopened the casket, and there came forth fire, which swallowed him\nup. Our brother was thus victorious over his enemy, and no one took\nhis wife from him. They lived lovingly together, and blessed God as\ntheir deliverer.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nFATE\n\n\nThere was once a mighty king, who had an only son. When this son grew\nup every princess was in love with him. The king was very desirous that\nhis son should be early settled in life. He chose for him a princess,\nwhom he proposed he should marry. The son objected very much, saying:\n'It is not my fate to be united to this maiden; I shall not marry her.'\n\nSome time after this the youth came to his father and said: 'I entreat\nthee, let me go forth and seek my fortune, and give me three bags of\nmoney.' The king granted his request. The prince prepared everything,\nand set out on his journey.\n\nHe travelled on until he met a stranger; this stranger was an angel,\nclad in the form of a man. He inquired of the prince: 'Whither art\nthou going? what seekest thou?' The prince told him all, and that he\nwished to learn what was written in the book of fate for him. Then\nthis stranger showed him a beautiful palace, and said: 'There thou\nwilt learn thy fate.'\n\nThe prince thanked him, and set out for the palace. When he arrived in\nthe courtyard, he looked round, and saw notes lying about. He began to\nexamine them, but, for a long time, he searched in vain. Then there\ncame from the palace another man, who said to the prince: 'What dost\nthou want, brother? what seekest thou?' The prince answered: 'I am\nseeking for the letter in which my fate is written.' 'Why seekest thou\nthere? those are only poor folks' fates, kings' fortunes are written\ninside. Come with me and I shall show thee thine,' said the unknown.\n\nThe prince entered the house. The unknown searched for his fate, and\ncalled him. Inside was written: 'Such-and-such a prince will marry\na weaver's daughter who has been ill for nine years.' He read this\nout, and the prince was struck with horror. 'I shall change my fate,'\nsaid the prince to himself. He took his letter of fate, and went to\nseek the weaver's daughter.\n\nHe went on and on, and was in a thick forest when the shades of evening\nfell. He wandered on in the hope of finding shelter, and at last he\nsaw the glimmer of a light. He came to a hut, and asked permission\nto remain there during the night. The master of the house replied:\n'Son, thou art a great man, we have nothing befitting thy rank, but\nwe can give thee the best we have, for a guest is a gift of God.' The\nprince stayed there that night, and his host grudged him nothing. When\nthey had finished supper, the prince noticed that somebody was having\na meal in another room. He said to his host: 'I hope that thou wilt\nnot think me inquisitive if I ask who is in the other room, and what\nis the meaning of this?' Then the host told him the following tale:\n\n'I am a weaver, and from day to day can barely live. God has given me\nnobody to help me in my work. I have an only daughter, and she is an\ninvalid. For nine years she has not risen from her bed; I can assure\nthee she gives me no help.' When the prince heard this, he bit his\nlittle finger with vexation, and became melancholy. He did not close\nhis eyes that night. He was thinking all the time how he might get\nrid of his fate.\n\nIn the middle of the night, when every one was snoring and slept like\nthe dead, the prince rose silently, stole from his bedchamber, and\nquietly entered the room of the weaver's daughter. When he saw her\nhe was inwardly troubled, he drew forth his dagger, and plunged it\ninto her. Then he noiselessly went away, left his money behind him,\nand stole forth into the night.\n\nHe went home to his father, and complained of the evil fate written\nfor him. His father was very indignant at this, but hid his anger,\nand comforted his son.\n\nSome time passed. One day the prince went out to hunt. He saw in a\nlonely wood a beautiful palace, and, in the palace, a maiden fair\nas the sun. The prince could have gazed for ever on her beauty. He\nlooked a long time, then looking from a distance would not satisfy\nhim. He spurred his horse, and when he came near he was even more\nstruck with the loveliness of the maiden. He descended from his horse,\ncame to her and asked her to marry him. When he had heard with joy\nher sweet words of consent, he went gaily home.\n\nOn the way, his head swam with pleasure at the thought of the welcome\nchange; instead of the unhappy fate promised him, he was to have such a\nbeautiful wife. He told his father what had happened to him, and asked\nhim to prepare for the wedding. The king rejoiced at the happiness\nof his beloved son, and made preparations for a grand wedding.\n\nSome days after they were married, the prince laid his hand on his\nlovely wife's heart, and felt something hard like a wart. He said:\n'What is this?' His wife replied: 'I am a poor weaver's daughter; for\nnine years I lay in bed, a helpless invalid, yellow as a cucumber. Once\nthere came a youth to my father's house for shelter. He plunged\nhis dagger into me, then fled with haste, and went on his way. I\nwas very sick, but my mother put a plaster on my side and I was\ncompletely cured. The guest left three bags of money behind him, and\nwith these we bought a beautiful palace, my father gave up weaving,\nand we lived without a care.' When the prince heard this, he said:\n'O God! Thy decrees are not vain and futile!' Then he told his beloved\nwife all that had happened to him.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nGHVTHISAVARI (I AM OF GOD)\n\n\nThere was once a king, who had a daughter so beautiful, that he was in\nconstant fear lest some one should carry her away by force and marry\nher. So he had a huge tower built in the sea. He shut his daughter\nup in this tower, with an attendant, and felt relieved.\n\nSome time passed, when one day the attendant noticed something\nfloating on the water. She was surprised when she saw that it was a\nlarge apple. She stretched out her dress, and the sea waves rolled in\nand left the apple in her skirt; she took it in her hand, and ran to\nher mistress. The beautiful maiden had never in her life seen such a\nbig apple, and was very much astonished. After dinner she peeled it,\ngave the skin to her companion, who quickly finished it, and ate the\ninside herself.\n\nIn a short time they both became pregnant. The king was informed of\nthis. On hearing the news, he pressed his head between his hands,\nand could not contain his wrath. He commanded one of his huntsmen,\nsaying: 'Go to the tower in the sea, take thence my daughter and her\ncompanion, and carry them to the wildest and most desert spot in my\nkingdom. Kill them, and bring me their hearts and livers to show me\nthat they are dead. No one must know this story, save thee and me;\nif it becomes known it shall cost thee thy life.'\n\nThe huntsman went to the tower, and declared the king's orders to\nthe princess and her companion. The beautiful maiden said: 'What will\nit avail thee to kill us? Take us to a lonely place, and no one will\nknow whether we are dead or alive.'\n\nThe huntsman was not moved by these entreaties; he took them to\na desert place, drew his dagger and was about to strike the fatal\nblow, but at the last moment he felt sorry for them, and gave up his\nintention. He caught two hares, killed them instead of the women, took\nout their hearts and livers, and returned with them to the king. The\nking believed them to be the hearts and livers of the princess and\nher attendant; he gave the huntsman gifts, and sent him away.\n\nThe princess and her companion were left alone in the wild wood,\nand they had nothing to eat and drink.\n\nIn a short time the princess brought forth a beautiful boy, and\nthe attendant, eight tiny little dogs. The princess called her\nson Ghvthisavari (I am of God). He grew as much in a day as other\nchildren grow in a year; he became so handsome, brave, and strong,\nthat everybody loved him.\n\nGhvthisavari used to go out hunting; he took his dogs with him,\nand provided game for his mother and her companion.\n\nOnce he went into a town to a smith, and asked him to make a bow\nand arrows. The smith made from nine litras of iron (a litra = 9\nlbs.) a bow and arrows. Ghvthisavari bent it. Then the smith added\nmore iron, and made the bow again. Ghvthisavari slung his arrows over\nhis shoulders, his dogs followed him, and he went away. On the way\nhe hunted, and took food home to his mother.\n\nThe next day he went to hunt again. He shot an arrow and killed a\ngoat, he shot another, and killed a stag; he drew his bow a third\ntime, and his arrow stuck in a devis' house. In this house there\nwere five brothers, devis--one two-headed, one three-headed, one\nfive-headed, one nine-headed, and one ten-headed--and their mother,\nwho had only one head. They saw an arrow suddenly fall down and stick\nin the fire. They all jumped up and pulled the arrow to draw it out,\nbut they were not able to move it. The mother helped them, but it was\nof no use. Then all the brothers rose up, they left their mother to\nwatch, and set out to seek him who had shot the arrow. Ghvthisavari\nbethought himself, and set out; he followed the flight of the arrow\nto see where it had fallen.\n\nHe went on and on until he came to the devis' house. He looked in and\nsaw in the middle a fire burning, in which stuck his arrow. He went\nin, and was about to draw the arrow out when the devis' mother cried:\n'Who art thou, wretch, who darest to venture here? Art thou not afraid\nthat I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt not eat me,' said Ghvthisavari,\ndrawing out his arrow and hurling it at the old woman. He cut her\ninto a hundred pieces, gave her to the dogs, and told them to throw\nher into the sea. He lay down in the devis' house and rested.\n\nThe devis wandered far and wide in their search, but nowhere could\nthey learn any tidings of him they sought. Then they said: 'Perhaps\nsome one will enter our house and steal, while we are here. Let one of\nus go home, and the rest watch here.' Each wished to go, and promised\nto run back again as quickly as possible. But the devis chose the\ntwo-headed brother, and sent him.\n\nThe two-headed brother came, and saw that his mother was no longer\nthere, but in her place was a strange youth. He clapped him on the\nshoulder, and cried out: 'Who art thou, wretch, who darest to venture\nhere? For fear of me, bird cannot fly under heaven, nor can ant crawl\non earth. Art thou not afraid that I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt\nnot eat me,' said Ghvthisavari, throwing an arrow. He cut him into\na hundred pieces, gave him to the dogs, and made them throw him into\nthe sea.\n\nThe four remaining devis waited for their two-headed brother, but\nhe did not come. They thought that perhaps he was staying eating him\nwho had shot the arrow, so they sent the three-headed brother.\n\nThe three-headed devi came home, and found neither his mother nor\nbrother, and called out: 'For fear of me bird cannot fly in air, nor\ncan ant creep on earth. Who art thou who darest to venture here? Art\nthou not afraid that I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt not eat me,' said\nGhvthisavari, casting an arrow. He cut him into a hundred pieces,\ngave him to the dogs, and made them throw him into the sea.\n\nThe remaining brothers waited and waited, and then sent the five-headed\ndevi. He too boasted, but Ghvthisavari did unto him that day even as\nhe had done unto the others. Then the nine-headed devi went. The same\nthing befell him as his brothers.\n\nThe ten-headed devi was now the only one left. He thought to himself:\n'My brothers are probably eating, and will not leave anything for\nme.' He rose and went too.\n\nHe went in and saw that his mother and brothers were not\nthere. Instead, there was a strange youth, lying down resting. The devi\ncalled out: 'From fear of me the bird in heaven dare not fly, on earth\nthe ant dare not crawl. Who art thou who darest to venture here? Art\nthou not afraid that I shall eat thee?' 'Thou shalt not eat me,' said\nGhvthisavari, throwing an arrow and killing him. He drew out his sword,\ncut off his heads, and gave him to the dogs to throw into the sea.\n\nGhvthisavari was left master of the field. Then he said to himself:\n'I will go and bring my mother and her companion here, and I shall\nlive as I like.' He went forth and brought them, settled them in the\nhouse, and prepared for the chase.\n\nFrom the sea there staggered forth the last ten-headed devi, and hid\nunder a tree. When Ghvthisavari had cut off his heads, in his haste\nhe had left the tenth on. Now, it was in this head that the soul was\nplaced, so the devi came out on to the shore, full of wrath.\n\nThe next day Ghvthisavari again went out hunting. His mother, wishing\nto see the surroundings, went out of the house into the garden. As she\nwalked about, the devi suddenly appeared at the foot of a tree. The\ndevi pleaded, saying: 'Do not give me up! Do not tell thy son that I\nam hidden here!' Ghvthisavari's mother promised, and when Ghvthisavari\nwent out to the chase, his mother always took food and drink to the\ndevi. And at last she loved him.\n\nOnce the devi said to her: 'Why should we live thus? We see each\nother only in secret, I am continually in terror of thy son. Go home\nnow, lie down in bed and pretend to be ill. When thy son comes home\nand asks thee what is the matter, say to him: \"Go to such and such\na place and bring me some pieces of stag's horns as a remedy.\" When\nthy son goes to the stag, it will butt him with its horns, and then\nthou and I shall remain here alone.'\n\nThe woman agreed to this plan, went in and lay down in her\nbed. Ghvthisavari came home, and seeing his mother sick, he said to\nher: 'What is the matter? Tell me what will cure thee, and I will find\nit, even if it be bird's milk.' [6] His mother said: 'If thou canst\nbring to me a piece of such and such a stag's horn, from a certain\nplace, I shall be well; if not, I shall die.' Ghvthisavari slung his\nbow and arrows over his shoulders, took his dogs and set out.\n\nWhen he had gone some way, he came to an immense wide plain, where\nhe saw a stag feeding. It had such large horns that they reached\nto heaven.\n\nHe sat down and took an arrow. Just as he was about to let it fly,\nthe stag made a sign, and cried out: 'Ghvthisavari! Ghvthisavari! why\nshoot me? What have I done to deserve this of thee? Dost thou not know\nthat thy mother has deceived thee. She seeks thy ruin, therefore has\nshe sent thee hither. Behold, here is a piece of my horn, take it,\nand here is one of my hairs, take it with thee also, and when thou\nart in trouble, think of me, and I shall be there.' Ghvthisavari\nthanked the stag joyfully, and went away.\n\nHe went home with the stag's horn to his mother. She took it, and\nthanked him.\n\nThe next day Ghvthisavari again went to the chase. His mother\nimmediately hastened to the devi and said: 'Ghvthisavari has returned\nunharmed, and has brought the stag's horn.' 'Well,' said the devi,\n'pretend to be ill as before, and tell him that he must bring a wild\nboar's bristle from such and such a place, else there is no cure\nfor thee.'\n\nThe woman ran in, lay down in bed, and began to moan. Ghvthisavari\nreturned, and seeing his mother ill, he asked her: 'What is this,\nmother? What aileth thee? Tell me what will cure thee, and even bird's\nmilk I will not leave unfound.' 'If thou wilt seek in such and such\na place, and bring me a bristle from a certain wild boar, then all\nwill be well, but if not, I shall die.' 'May thy Ghvthisavari die if\nhe find not this!' said Ghvthisavari, slinging his bow and arrows on\nhis shoulders, and taking his dogs, he set forth on the quest.\n\nHe went a long way, and came into a wood. There he found a boar's\nlair, but boar was there none. He went on a little, and saw another\nlair, but again there was no boar in it. He went away once more,\nand saw the boar itself. It had changed its lair twice, and now\nlay in a third. Ghvthisavari approached it, took aim with an\narrow, but, as he was about to let it fly, the boar cried out:\n'Ghvthisavari! Ghvthisavari! what have I done to harm thee? Why\nkill me? Dost thou not know that thy mother has deceived thee? She\nwishes for thy death, therefore has she sent thee hither. But since\nthou wouldst like a bristle, pull out as many as thou wishest, and\ntake them with thee.' Ghvthisavari came up, took a bristle, and was\ngoing away, when the boar took out a hair, gave it to him, and said:\n'Here is also a hair for thee; when thou art in trouble remember me,\nand I shall come to thee.' Ghvthisavari took the hair, thanked the\nboar, and went away.\n\nHe came home, gave his mother the bristle, and again hastened out\nto the chase. His mother ran immediately to the devi, and said\ncomplainingly: 'Ghvthisavari has returned unharmed, and has brought\nme the boar's bristle.' The devi replied: 'Then go, again, pretend to\nbe ill, and say to Ghvthisavari: \"If thou wilt go to a certain place,\nwhere a certain griffin (phascundzi) lives, and bring me the flesh\nof its young, I shall be well; if not, I shall die.\" Thou knowest he\ncannot do that, and thou and I shall stay here together.'\n\nThe woman rejoiced, ran quickly back to bed, and began to\nmoan. Ghvthisavari came in, saw his mother in bed, and asked the\ncause. His mother replied as the devi had commanded. Ghvthisavari\nanswered: 'Then may Ghvthisavari die if he find not what thou\nwishest.' He went away.\n\nHe went on and on, and at last came to a plain, where stood a very big\ntree, whose top stretched to heaven. On a branch there was a nest,\nfrom which fledglings peeped out. Then, from far away in the sky,\nthere appeared a huge, strange bird, something like an eagle. It\nswooped down, and just as it was about to seize the young birds,\nGhvthisavari drew his bow, and killed it. Just then appeared the\ngriffin, mother of the young ones. She thought Ghvthisavari her enemy,\nand was about to seize him, but her fledglings cried out that he had\nkilled the bird that would have drunk their blood, and had saved them.\n\nAlthough the griffin did not bring up more than three birds in a\nyear, yet she was in constant terror until they had learnt to fly,\nbecause this same bird used to seize and eat them.\n\nWhen she learnt that Ghvthisavari had killed their cruel enemy, she\ncame to him, and said: 'Tell me what thou wishest? why art thou come\nhither? and I will immediately satisfy thy desire.' Ghvthisavari said:\n'I have a mother who is ill; unless I take her young griffin's flesh\nshe will die.' The griffin said in reply: 'Thy mother deceives thee,\nand is not ill at all; she seeks thy death. Here are my fledglings,\nif thou wantest them, but do not kill them, take them with thee\nalive.' She pulled out a feather, and gave it to him, saying: 'Take\nthis with thee, and when thou art in trouble think of me, and I shall\nbe there.' Ghvthisavari thanked her heartily, took away a fledgling,\nand went home.\n\nHe came in, gave the young griffin to his mother, who said: 'Now,\nmy child, I am quite well, and shall want nothing else,' and she sent\nhim away. Ghvthisavari went out hunting. The woman went out hastily\nto the devi, and complained, saying: 'Ghvthisavari has brought the\nfledgling, and he himself has returned alive.' The devi was very angry,\nbut calmed down and said: 'When Ghvthisavari comes in, tell him he\nmust be bathed, and when he sits down in the tub, put a cover over\nhim and call for me. I will come and hammer down the lid, and throw\nhim into the sea.' The woman rejoiced at this plan, went in and heated\nwater. When Ghvthisavari came in, his mother said: 'Come, child, I will\nbathe thee, it is some time since thou wert bathed.' Ghvthisavari did\nnot like this, but at last he consented. He sat down in the tub, his\nmother shut the lid, and called the devi. The devi ran in and hammered\ndown the lid. Then he lifted the tub up and rolled it into the sea.\n\nGhvthisavari's dogs saw this; they went to the edge of the water\nand barked. They barked until the very stones might have been moved\nwith pity. Then they said: 'Let us go and seek his friends, they\nmay perchance help us.' Four remained and four went to seek his\nfriends. They came to the stag, then to the boar, and then to the\ngriffin. These all arose and immediately went to the water's edge.\n\nThey thought and planned, and at last decided what to do. They said to\nthe griffin: 'Fly up high, strike and cleave the water with thy wings,\nthe tub will appear, the stag will throw it on to the shore with its\nhorns; then the boar will strike with his tusk, the tub will break,\nand Ghvthisavari will come forth.' They all did as they were told.\n\nThe griffin flew up high in the air, beat with its wings as hard as\nit could; it cleft the sea into three. The tub was seen, and the stag\ndid not let it fall, but threw it with its horns, and let it down\non the shore. Then the boar struck it, crying out: 'Ghvthisavari,\nlie down in the bottom!' He struck with his tusk, broke the tub,\nand Ghvthisavari came forth unharmed.\n\nAfter this the friends went away, each to his own home,\nGhvthisavari remained thinking. Just then a ragged swineherd came\nalong. Ghvthisavari said to this swineherd: 'Come, give me thy clothes,\nand I will put them on.' The swineherd was afraid, and thought:\n'This stranger will take my coat and not give me his,' and he ran\naway. Ghvthisavari pursued him, took off his clothes, and put them\non himself; he gave the man his coat, left with him his dogs, and\nwent away.\n\nHe came home as if he were a beggar, and asked alms of his mother. When\nthe devi saw him, he looked ferociously at him, and said: 'Go back\nto the place whence thou camest, lest I do to thee as thou deservest.'\n\nJust then Ghvthisavari saw his bow and arrow in the corner, and cried\nout: 'We shall see who goes hence! I am Ghvthisavari!' Saying this\nhe drew his bow, shot first the devi and then his mother, killing\nthem both. Then he went to the companion, scolded her well for not\nwarning him, and killed her too. He went away, brought his dogs,\nand returned to the house to rest.\n\nThere came then, no one knows whence, a certain youth; he saw\nhis father, mother, and their servant were all killed, and asked\nGhvthisavari to fight. He was Ghvthisavari's mother's son by the devi;\nGhvthisavari did not know this, and came to the combat. A long time\nthey struggled, a long time they strove, but neither could strike the\nother. Then Ghvthisavari said: 'Come, friend, let us each tell the\nother his story, and afterwards we can fight.' 'Good!' 'Very well,'\nthey said, and each told his tale.\n\nWhen Ghvthisavari learnt that this was his own brother, he said:\n'It is indeed fortunate that we told our tales first, for if we had\nkilled each other there would have been no help for it.' After this\nthe two brothers went into the house, and they lived happily together.\n\nOnce Ghvthisavari said to his younger brother: 'Let us go, brother,\nand seek our fortunes, we shall become like old women if we live\nthus.' 'I am willing,' replied the younger; so they set out.\n\nThey wandered on until they came to a place where two roads met. One\nled to the right and one to the left. In the middle of the roads\nstood a stone pillar, on which was written: 'Whoever goes to\nthe left will come back, but he who goes to the right will never\nreturn.' Ghvthisavari took the road to the right and his brother went\nto the left. Ghvthisavari said: 'Know that if the water on the roof\nchanges into blood I shall be in trouble. Come then to my aid. If the\nwater on my roof turns into blood, I shall come and help thee in thy\ntrouble.' Then they divided the dogs: each took four, said farewell,\nand set out.\n\nGhvthisavari went on until he came to the shore of a sea, so vast that\nthe eye could not measure it. Twelve men were on this side, twelve\non that. Whoever comes to this sea must jump over; if he leaps over\nwithout wetting his feet he may marry the king's daughter, who is\nvery beautiful; if not, he is drowned in the sea; and whoever dares\nnot jump at all is seized by the sentinels, and taken before the king.\n\nGhvthisavari came, and the sentinels told him the\nconditions. Ghvthisavari took a spring with all his might and main,\nand leaped over so that not a drop of water touched him. He saw the\nother sentinels, and they told him that they must take him before\nthe king. When the king saw him he rejoiced, and gave him his fair\ndaughter to wife.\n\nThat night Ghvthisavari asked his wife: 'Where is the best hunting to\nbe had in the kingdom?' She replied: 'If thou goest to the left thou\nwilt return; if thou goest to the right thou wilt never return.' The\nnext morning Ghvthisavari arose at daybreak, took his bow and arrow,\nand went to the right hand.\n\nHe shot an arrow and killed a hare, he tied its feet and left it;\nhe shot another arrow and killed a stag, he bound its feet together\nand left it too. He shot a third arrow, and it stuck in a burning fire.\n\nHe went on and on until he reached this fire. Then he killed a stag,\nput it on the fire, and sat down at the side. He roasted meat,\nate some, and gave some to his dogs. Behold, no one knows whence,\na toothless old woman appeared. She begged Ghvthisavari to give\nher something to eat. He did so; he ate, but the old woman ate\nten times more. For every mouthful Ghvthisavari took she took\na basketful. Ghvthisavari looked on in amazement. The old woman\nfinished all the food. Then she took a little stone and threw it at\nGhvthisavari's bow and arrow. They turned into stone, and fell on\nthe ground. Then she took the little stone and threw it at the dogs,\nwho also became petrified. She took them one by one in her hand and\nswallowed them. Ghvthisavari was stupefied; he seized his bow and\narrow to kill the old woman, but he could not move it; it fell to\nearth. Then the old woman turned her stone towards Ghvthisavari, who\nlost his strength, and became as a corpse. The old woman lifted him\nup in her hand and swallowed him. At that moment the water changed\nto blood, and the younger brother knew that Ghvthisavari had fallen\ninto misfortune, and set out to help him.\n\nWhen he had gone some way he came to the water's edge, on each side of\nwhich stood the twelve sentinels. He leaped across. The sentinels were\nsurprised, they thought it was Ghvthisavari, and asked him whence he\ncame and whither he was going. The youth told them nothing, and did\nnot let them know who he was. He came to the king. That night he was\ngiven his brother's wife, but when he lay down he put a sword between\nthem, and did not touch her. Then he asked her: 'Where is the best\nhunting?' She replied: 'If thou goest to the left thou wilt return,\nif to the right thou wilt never return. Do not go; did I not tell\nthee the same thing yesterday?' 'I asked thee, and I went one way,\nbut did not like it; now I ask thee again,' said the youth. He rose\nthe next morning, and went to the right hand.\n\nWhen he had gone a little way he saw the dead hare with its feet bound;\nhe went on farther and saw the dead stag with its feet bound. He said\nto himself: 'My brother must have come this way; this is some of the\ngame he has killed.' He again went on, and saw the fire burning. Beside\nit lay Ghvthisavari's bow and arrow, and he said to himself: 'Here\nmy brother has met his fate.' Then he killed some game and roasted\nit on the fire.\n\nThere appeared, no one knows whence, the same old woman. She sat down\nand waited for her share of roast meat. In eating, the old woman's\nbehaviour was the same as before. When she had finished the food she\nwas still hungry. She took a little stone, and lifted it to throw\nat the dogs. The youth thought to himself: 'It must have been in\nthis way that this old woman swallowed my brother Ghvthisavari.' He\nseized the old woman by the throat, cleft her breast open, and took out\nGhvthisavari and his dogs. Then he killed the old woman and poured her\nblood over Ghvthisavari, the dogs, and the bow and arrow. Ghvthisavari\nand his dogs came back to life, and the bow and arrow were raised\nfrom the earth. When Ghvthisavari woke to consciousness he said:\n'Ugh! I have had such a dream.' Then his brother said: 'Thou hast\nnot dreamt'; and he told him what had happened.\n\nGhvthisavari rejoiced, and they both went to their new kinsman, the\nking. On the way, Ghvthisavari was very melancholy, for he thought\nthat his brother must have married his wife. His brother looked at him\nand said: 'May this arrow strike me on the part of my body that has\ntouched thy wife, and kill me.' Thus spoke Ghvthisavari's brother,\nand threw up an arrow. It fell, struck him in the little finger,\nand he died. Ghvthisavari left his brother, went in, and, when he\nhad learnt all, was deeply grieved. He went, no one knows where,\nfound immortal water, and brought his brother back to life. Then he\nfound him a fair wife, and they dwelt together, happy in fraternal\naffection and in love.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE SERPENT AND THE PEASANT\n\n\nThere was once a happy king. Great or small, maid or man, every one\nwas happy in his kingdom, every one was joyful and glad.\n\nOnce this monarch saw a vision. In his dream there hung from the\nceiling in his house a fox suspended by the tail. He awoke, he could\nnot see what the dream signified. He assembled his viziers, but they\nalso could not divine what this dream presaged.\n\nThen he said: 'Assemble all my kingdom together, perhaps some one\nmay interpret it.' On the third day all the people of his kingdom\nassembled in the king's palace. Among others came a poor peasant.\n\nIn one place he had to travel along a footpath. The path on both\nsides was shut in by rocky mountains. When the peasant arrived there,\nhe saw a serpent lying on the path, stretching its neck and putting\nout its tongue.\n\nWhen the peasant went near, the serpent called out: 'Good day, where\nart thou going, peasant?' The peasant told what was the matter. The\nserpent said: 'Do not fear him, give me thy word that what the king\ngives, thou wilt share with me, and I will teach thee.' The peasant\nrejoiced, gave his word, and swore, saying: 'I will bring thee all\nthat the king presents to me if thou wilt aid me in this matter.' The\nserpent said: 'I shall divide it in halves, half will be thine; when\nthou seest the king, say: \"The fox meant this, that in the kingdom\nthere is cunning, hypocrisy, and treachery.\"'\n\nThe peasant went, he approached the king, and told even what the\nserpent had taught. The king was very much pleased, and gave great\npresents. The peasant did not return by that way, so that he might\nnot share with the serpent, but went by another path.\n\nSome time passed by, the king saw another vision: in his dream a\nnaked sword hung suspended from the roof. The king this time sent a\nman quickly for the peasant, and asked him to come. The peasant was\nvery uneasy in mind. There was nothing for it, the peasant went by\nthe same footpath as before.\n\nHe came to that place where he saw the serpent before, but now he saw\nthe serpent there no more. He cried out: 'O serpent, come here one\nmoment, I need thee.' He ceased not until the serpent came. It said:\n'What dost thou want? what distresses thee?' The peasant answered:\n'Thus and thus is the matter, and I should like some aid.' The serpent\nreplied: 'Go, tell the king that the naked sword means war--now\nenemies are intriguing within and without; he must prepare for battle\nand attack.'\n\nThe peasant thanked the serpent and went. He came and told the king\neven as the serpent had commanded. The king was pleased, he began to\nprepare for war, and gave the peasant great presents. Now the peasant\nwent by that path where the serpent was waiting. The serpent said:\n'Now give me the half thou hast promised.' The peasant replied:\n'Half, certainly not! I shall give thee a black stone and a burning\ncinder.' He drew out his sword and pursued it. The serpent retreated\ninto a hole, but the peasant followed it, and cut off its tail with\nhis sword.\n\nSome time passed, and the king again saw a vision. In this vision a\nslain sheep was hanging from the roof. The king sent a man quickly\nfor the peasant. The peasant was now very much afraid. And he said:\n'How can I approach the king?' Formerly the serpent had taught him,\nbut now it could no longer do this; for its goodness he had wounded\nit with the sword.\n\nNevertheless, he went by that footpath. When he came to the place\nwhere the serpent had been, he cried out: 'O serpent, come here one\nmoment, I want to ask thee something.' The serpent came. The man\ntold his grief. The serpent said: 'If thou givest me half of what\nthe king gives thee, I shall tell thee.' He promised and swore. The\nserpent said: 'This is a sign that now everywhere peace falls on all,\nthe people are become like quiet, gentle sheep.'\n\nThe peasant thanked it, and went his way. When he came to the king,\nhe spoke as the serpent had instructed him. The king was exceedingly\npleased, and gave him greater presents. The peasant returned by\nthe way where the serpent was waiting. He came to the serpent,\ndivided everything he had received from the king, and said: 'Thou\nhast been patient with me, and now I will give thee even what was\ngiven me before by the king.' He humbly asked forgiveness for his\nformer offences. The serpent said: 'Be not grieved nor troubled; it\ncertainly was not thy fault. The first time, when all the people were\nentirely deceitful, and there was treachery and hypocrisy in the land,\nthou too wert a deceiver, for, in spite of thy promise, thou wentest\nhome by another way. The second time, when there was war everywhere,\nquarrels and assassination, thou, too, didst quarrel with me, and\ncut off my tail. But now, when peace and love have fallen on all,\nthou bringest the gifts, and sharest all with me. Go, brother, may\nthe peace of God rest with thee! I do not want thy wealth.' And the\nserpent went away and cast itself into its hole.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nGULAMBARA AND SULAMBARA\n\n\nThere was and there was not at all, there was a blind monarch; all\nthe doctors in the kingdom had been applied to, but the king could\nnot be cured.\n\nAt last one doctor said: 'In a certain sea is a fish red as blood. If\nthis is caught, killed, and its blood sprinkled on your eyes, it may\ndo good--the light will come back into your eyes--if not, there can\nbe no other cure for you.'\n\nThen the king assembled every fisherman in his realm, and commanded:\n'Go wherever it may be or may not be, catch such a fish as this,\nand I shall give you a rich reward.'\n\nSome time passed by. An old fisherman caught just such a crimson fish,\nand took it to the king. The king was asleep, and they did not dare\nto wake him, so they put the fish into a basin full of water.\n\nJust then his son returned from his lessons. He saw the blood-red\nfish swimming in the basin. He took it up in his hands, caressed it,\nand said: 'What do you want with the pretty fish in the basin?' They\nsaid to him: 'This is good for your father, it must be killed, its\nblood sprinkled on his eyes, and he will regain his sight.' 'But is\nit not a sin to kill it?' asked the prince; and he took the fish out\nto a stream in the meadow, and gave it freedom.\n\nA little while after, the king awoke; his viziers said to him:\n'An old fisherman brought to you a blood-red fish, but your son,\nwho had just returned from his lessons, let it away.'\n\nThe king was very angry, and sent his son from the house. 'Go hence,\nI shall be well when thou art no longer remembered in the kingdom;\nwith my eyes I cannot look upon thee, but never let me hear thine\nunpleasant voice again.' The boy was grieved, rose, and went away.\n\nHe went, he went, and he knew not whither he went. On the way he saw a\nstream. He was weary and sat down to rest on the bank. Behold, a boy of\nhis own age came out of the water. He came to the prince, greeted him,\nand said: 'Whence comest thou? and what troubles thee?' The prince went\nto him and told him all that had happened to him. His new acquaintance\nsaid: 'I also am discontented with my lot, so let us become brothers,\nand live together.' The prince agreed, and they went on their way.\n\nThey travelled on some distance, when they came to a town, and they\ndwelt there. When the next day dawned, his adopted brother said to\nthe prince: 'Stay thou at home, do not go out of doors, lest they eat\nthee, for such is the custom here.' The prince promised, and from\nmorning until night he sat indoors. The other boy was away in the\ntown all day. At twilight, when he came home, he had a handkerchief\nquite full of provisions.\n\nSeveral days slipped by. The prince stayed in all day, and his brother\nbrought the food and drink. At last the prince said to himself:\n'This is shameful! My adopted brother goes out and brings in food\nand drink. Why do I not do something? What an idle fellow I am! I\nwill go and do something!'\n\nAnd so it happened that one day the king's son went into the town;\nhe wandered here and there, and in one place saw his brother, who was\nsitting cross-legged on the ground, at his feet was stretched a pocket\nhandkerchief, in his hand he held a chonguri (a stringed instrument),\nwhich he played, and he chanted to it with a sweet voice. Whoever\npassed by placed money in the handkerchief.\n\nThe king's son listened and listened, and said: 'No, this must not be;\nthis is not my business.' So he turned and went back.\n\nNear there he saw a tower. Outside was a wall, and on the top were\narranged in rows men's heads: some were quite shrivelled up, some\nhad an unpleasant odour of decay, and some had just been placed there.\n\nHe looked and looked, and could not understand what it meant. He asked\na man: 'Whose tower is this, and why are men's heads arranged in rows\nin this way?' He was told: 'In this tower dwells a maiden beautiful\nas the sun. Any king's son may ask her in marriage. She asks him a\nquestion: if he cannot answer it his head is cut off, but if he can\nhe may demand her in marriage. No one has yet been able to answer\nher question.'\n\nThe prince thought and thought, and said to himself: 'I will go. I\nwill ask this maiden in marriage: I will know if this is my fate. What\nis to be will be. What can she ask me that I shall not know?' So he\nrose and went.\n\nHe came to the sunlike maiden and asked her in marriage. She answered:\n'It is well, but first I have a question to ask thee; if thou canst\nanswer, then I am thine, if not, I shall cut off thy head.' 'So\nlet it be,' said the prince. 'I ask thee this, Who are Gulambara\nand Sulambara?' enquired the beautiful maiden. The king's son said\nto himself: 'I know indeed that Gulambara and Sulambara are names\nof flowers, but I never heard in all my life of human beings thus\nnamed.' He asked three days grace and went away.\n\nHe went home and told his brother what had happened, and said: 'If thou\ncanst not help me now, in three days I shall lose my head.' His brother\nreproached him, saying: 'Did I not tell thee to stay indoors? This\nis a wicked town.' But then he comforted him, saying: 'Go now, buy\na pennyworth of aromatic gum and a candle. I have a grandmother,\nI shall take thee to her, and she will help thee. But at the moment\nwhen my grandmother looks at us, give her the gum and the candle,\nor she will eat thee.'\n\nHe bought the gum and the candle, and they set out. The grandmother\nwas standing in her doorway; the prince immediately gave her the gum\nand the candle. 'What is it? what is the matter with thee?' enquired\nthe grandmother of the prince's adopted brother. He came forward, and\ntold everything in detail. Then he added: 'This is my good brother,\nand certainly thou shouldst help him.' 'Very well,' said the old woman\nto the prince; 'sit down on my back.' The prince seated himself on\nher back. The old woman flew up high, and then, in the twinkling of\nan eye, she flew down into the depths.\n\nShe took him into a town there, and went to the entrance of a\nbazaar. She pointed out a shopkeeper and said: 'Go and engage thyself\nas assistant to this shopkeeper; but in the evening, when he leaves\nbusiness and goes home, tell him that he must take thee with him,\nand must not leave thee in the shop. Where thou goest with him thou\nwilt learn the story of Gulambara and Sulambara. Then when thou hast\nneed of me, whistle and I shall be there.'\n\nThe prince did exactly as the old woman had instructed him; he went\nto the butcher, as his assistant. At twilight, when the butcher spoke\nof going home, the prince said to him: 'Do not leave me here; I am a\nstranger in this land. I am afraid; take me with thee.' The butcher\nobjected strongly, but the prince entreated him until he agreed.\n\nThe butcher went home, and took the prince with him. They came\nto a wall, opened a door, went in, and it closed. Inside that, was\nanother wall; they went through that, and it closed. They passed thus\nthrough nine walls, and then they entered a house. The butcher opened\na cupboard door, took out a woman's head, and then an iron whip. He\nput down the decaying head and struck it. He struck and struck until\nthe head was completely gone.\n\nWhen the prince saw this he was astonished, and enquired: 'Tell me,\nwhy do you strike this head that is so mutilated, and whose head\nis this?' The butcher made answer: 'I tell this to no one, this is\nmy secret, but if I do tell any one he must then lose his head.' 'I\nstill wish to know,' said the prince. The butcher rose, took a sword,\nprepared himself, and said to the prince. 'I had a wife who was so\nlovely that she excelled the sun; her name was Gulambara. I kept\nher under these nine locks, and I took care of her so that not even\nthe wind of heaven blew on her. Whatever she asked me I gave her\nat once. I loved her to distraction, and trusted her, and she told\nme that she loved no one in the world but me. At that time I had an\nassistant who was called Sulambara, and my wife loved him and deceived\nme. Once I found them together, and seized them. I locked one in one\ncupboard and the other in another. Whenever I came home from business\nI went to the cupboards, and took out first one and then the other,\nand beat them as hard as I could. I struck so hard that Sulambara\ncrumbled away yesterday, and only Gulambara's head remained, and that\nhas just now crumbled away before thine eyes.'\n\nThe story ended, he took his sword and said to the prince: 'Now I\nam going to fulfil my threat, so come here and I shall cut off thy\nhead.' The prince entreated him: 'Give me a little time. I will\ngo to the door and pray to my God, and then do to me even as thou\nwishest.' The butcher thought: 'It can do no harm to let him go to the\ndoor for a short time, for he certainly cannot open the nine doors;\nlet him pray to his God and have his wish.'\n\nThe prince went to the gate and whistled. Immediately the old woman\nflew down, took him on her back, and flew off. The youth went to the\ntown where the beautiful maiden dwelt, and told the sunlike one the\nstory of Gulambara and Sulambara. The maiden was very much surprised;\nwhen she had heard all, she agreed to marry him. They were married;\nshe collected all her worldly possessions, and set out with the prince\nfor his father's kingdom.\n\nWhen he came to the brook, his adopted brother appeared before him,\nand said: 'In thy trouble I befriended thee, and now, when thou art\nhappy, shall this friendship cease? Whatever thou hast obtained has\nbeen by my counsel, therefore thou shouldst share it with me.' The\nprince divided everything in halves, but still his adopted brother\nwas not pleased. 'It is all very well to share this with me, whilst\nthou hast the beautiful maiden.' The prince arose and gave up his\nown share of the goods.\n\nHis adopted brother would not take it, and spoke thus: 'If thou\nholdest fast to our friendship thou shouldst share with me this\nmaiden, the most precious of thy possessions!' As he said this\nhe seized the maiden's hand, bound her to a tree, stretched forth\nhis sword, and, as he was about to strike, a green stream flowed\nfrom the terror-stricken maiden's mouth. Again the youth raised his\nsword. The same thing happened. A third time he prepared to strike,\nwith the same result. Then he came, unbound her from the tree, gave\nher to the prince, and said: 'Although this maiden was beautiful, yet\nshe was venomous, and, sooner or later, would have killed thee. Now\nwhatever poison was in her is completely gone, so do not fear her\nin the slightest degree. [7] Go! and God guide thee. As for these\npossessions, they are thine; I do not want them. May God give thee\nHis peace.' From his pocket he took out a handkerchief, gave it to\nthe prince, and said: 'Take this handkerchief with thee; when thou\nreachest home wipe thy father's eyes with it and he will see. I am\nthe fish that was in the basin, and thou didst set me free. Know,\nthen, that kindness of heart is never lost.' So saying, the prince's\nadopted brother disappeared.\n\nThe prince remained astonished. Before he had time to express his\ngratitude the young man had suddenly disappeared. At last, when he\nhad recovered himself, he took his wife and went to his father. He\nlaid the handkerchief on the king's eyes, and his sight came back to\nhim. When he saw his only son and his beautiful daughter-in-law his\njoy was so great that his eyes filled with tears. His son sat down\nand told him all that had happened since he left him.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE TWO BROTHERS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were two brothers. Each of them possessed ten\nloaves of bread; and they said: 'Let us go and seek our fortune.' So\nthey arose and went forth.\n\nWhen they had gone a little way they were hungry. One brother said\nto the other: 'Come, let us eat thy bread first, then we can eat\nmine.' And he agreed, and they took of his loaves and did eat, and\nthey afterwards went on their way.\n\nAnd they travelled for some time in this manner. At last, when these\nten loaves were finished, the brother who had first spoken said:\n'Now, my brother, thou canst go thy way and I shall go mine. Thou\nhast no loaves left, and I will not let thee eat my bread.' So saying,\nhe left him to continue his journey alone.\n\nHe went on and on, and came to a mill in a thick forest. He saw the\nmiller and said: 'For the love of God, let me stay here to-night.' The\nmiller answered: 'Brother, it is a very terrible thing to be here at\nnight; as thou seest, even I go elsewhere. Presently wild beasts will\nassemble in the wood, and probably come here.' 'Have no fear for me;\nI shall stay here. The beasts cannot kill me,' answered the boy. The\nmiller tried to persuade him not to endanger his life, but when he\nfound his arguments were of no avail he rose and went home. The boy\ncrept inside the hopper of the mill.\n\nThere appeared, from no one knows where, a big bear; he was followed\nby a wolf, then a jackal; and they all made a great noise in the\nmill. They leaped and bounded just as if they were having a dance. He\nwas terrified, and, trembling from fear, he lay down, quaking all\nover, in the hopper. At last the bear said: 'Come, let each of us\ntell something he has seen or heard.' 'We shall tell our tales,\nbut you must begin,' cried his companions. The bear said: 'Well,\non a hill that I know dwells a mouse. This mouse has a great heap of\nmoney, which it spreads out when the sun shines. If any one knew of\nthis mouse's hole, and went there on a sunny day, when the money is\nspread out, and struck the mouse with a twig, and killed it, he would\nbecome possessed of great wealth.'\n\n'That is not wonderful!' said the wolf. 'I know a certain town where\nthere is no water, and every mouthful has to be carried a great\ndistance, and an enormous price is paid for it! The inhabitants do\nnot know that in the centre of their town, under a certain stone,\nis beautiful, pure water. Now, if any one knew of this, and would\nroll away that stone, he would obtain great wealth.'\n\n'That is nothing,' said the jackal. 'I know of a king who has one\nonly daughter, and she has been an invalid for three years. Quite a\nsimple remedy would cure her: if she were bathed in a bath of beech\nleaves she would be healed. You have no idea what a fortune any one\nwould get if he only knew this.'\n\nWhen they had spoken thus, day began to dawn. The bear, the wolf, and\nthe jackal went away into the wood. The boy came out of the hopper,\ngave thanks to God, and went to the mouse's hole, of which the bear\nhad spoken.\n\nHe arrived, and saw that the story was true. There was the mouse with\nthe money spread out. He stole up noiselessly, and, taking twigs in his\nhand, he struck the mouse until he had killed it, and then gathered up\nthe money. Then he went to the waterless town, rolled away the stone,\nand behold! streams of water flowed forth. He received a reward for\nthis, and set out for the kingdom of which the jackal had spoken. He\narrived, and enquired of the king: 'What wilt thou give me if I cure\nthy daughter?' The king replied: 'If thou canst do this I will give\nthee my daughter to wife.' The youth prepared the remedy, made the\nprincess bathe in it, and she was cured. The king rejoiced greatly,\ngave him the maiden in marriage, and appointed him heir to the kingdom.\n\nThis story reached the ears of the youth's brother. He went on and\non, and it came to pass that he found his brother. He asked him:\n'How and by what cunning has this happened?' The fortunate youth told\nhim all in detail. 'I also shall go and stay at that mill a night\nor two.' His brother used many entreaties to dissuade him, and when\nhe would not listen, said: 'Well, go if thou wilt, but I warn thee\nagain it is very dangerous.' However, he would not be persuaded,\nand went away. He crept into the hopper, and was there all night.\n\nFrom some place or other arrived the former guests--the bear, the wolf,\nand the jackal. The bear said: 'That day when I told you my story the\nmouse was killed, and the money all taken away.' The wolf said: 'And\nthe stone was rolled away in the waterless town of which I spoke.' 'And\nthe king's daughter was cured,' added the jackal. 'Then perhaps some\none was listening when we talked here,' said the bear. 'Perhaps some\none is here now,' shrieked his companions. 'Then let us go and look;\ncertainly no one shall listen again,' said the three; and they looked\nin all the corners. They sought and sought everywhere. At last the\nbear looked into the hopper, and saw the trembling boy. He dragged\nhim out and tore him to pieces.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE PRINCE\n\n\nThere was once a king who had great possessions, but his wife had no\nchildren, and he was a prey to grief.\n\nOne day when he was very melancholy a courtier came to him and said:\n'Most mighty monarch! thou hast no son, and thou givest no gifts;\nwhat will thy subjects think of thee? What wilt thou do with this\nwealth stored up by thee?' The king took these words to heart; the\nnext day he gave a great feast, and scattered alms lavishly.\n\nFrom no one knows where there appeared at that time an old woman. She\ncame to the king and said: 'What wilt thou give me if I bring thee a\nson?' The king replied: 'Whatever thou askest of me, that will I give\nthee.' The old woman drew forth from her pocket an apple, which she\ncut in three and gave to the king, saying, 'Let thy wife eat this,\nand she will have three children; but, remember, I shall come back\nin seven years and thou must give me thy youngest son.' The king\nconsented, gave his wife the apple, and she ate it.\n\nSome time passed, and the queen bore three sons, and the youngest\nwas the most beautiful of all. The king could not bear to think that\nhe must give him up. He said to himself: 'I shall put him behind nine\nlocks, and when the old woman comes, I shall tell her that my youngest\nson is dead, but that she can take the two elder if she wishes.'\n\nAfter seven years the old woman came, and demanded of the king his\nyoungest son. He did just as he had planned. He locked up his youngest\nson behind nine locks, and said to the old woman: 'My youngest son\nis dead, but here are the other two, take them.' The old woman would\nnot believe him. She searched every corner of the palace, opened\nthe nine locks, and took away the young prince. She went homeward,\nand took him with her.\n\nWhen they had gone a little way, they came to a brook where they found\nan old woman washing dirty linen. When she saw the beautiful prince she\ncalled him back, and said sadly to him: 'Dost thou know thou art being\nled into misfortune? Why dost thou go with that witch? Thou certainly\ncanst not escape alive from her hands!' When the prince heard this,\nhe went to the witch and said: 'Let me go and have a word with this\nold woman. I shall overtake thee in a minute.' The witch let him go.\n\nThe prince went back to his own home, filled a cup with water,\nand placed it near the fire. Having done this, he said: 'When that\nwater changes to blood, I shall be dead, but as long as it is pure\nI shall be alive.' Then he went away, quickly overtook the witch,\nand they went on together.\n\nAt last they arrived in a dark ravine; the home of the witch was\nthere in a rocky cave. In the house she had three daughters and two\nhorses--one for herself and one for her daughters. The old woman went\nin, entrusted the prince to her daughters' care, and fell asleep.\n\nNow this old witch had a habit of sleeping for seven days and nights,\nand it was impossible to rouse her.\n\nWhen her daughters saw the prince they admired him very much, and said:\n'It is a shame that so handsome a boy should be destroyed! Come,\nour mother shall not have him to eat; we must help him to escape in\nsome way.' 'We will!' cried the sisters; and they thought of a plan\nof escape.\n\nThe eldest sister gave him her comb, and said: 'When my mother\novertakes thee, throw this behind thee and hasten on; a thick forest\nwill spring up between thee and my mother, who will have difficulty\nin passing through it.'\n\nThe second sister gave him a pair of scissors, and said: 'When my\nmother overtakes thee, throw these scissors behind thee--jagged rocks,\nhard as adamant, will rise between thee and my mother, who will have\ndifficulty in crossing them, but hasten thou on.'\n\nThe youngest sister gave him a lump of salt, and said: 'When my mother\novertakes thee, throw this behind thee--between you will roll a sea,\nwhich my mother will never cross.' Then they carefully saddled their\nown steed, gave the youth everything he wanted, and sent him away. He\nthanked them heartily and set out.\n\nSeven days passed. The witch awoke, and looked for her dinner, but\nit was no longer there. She went to her steed and enquired of it,\n'Shall we eat bread or shall we set out at once?' 'Whether we eat bread\nor not we cannot overtake him,' said the steed to the witch. She did\nnot abandon her intention, but, having eaten bread, mounted her horse\nand set off in pursuit of the prince.\n\nAfter riding some distance she overtook him. The prince looked back,\nand, seeing the old woman approach, drew the comb from his pocket and\nthrew it down behind him. Between them, there rose a forest so thick\nthat even a fly could not go through it. The old woman was annoyed\nand hindered, but at last, in some way or other, she passed through it.\n\nWhen she reached the open country she spurred her horse on with might\nand main, and again approached the prince, who looked behind and saw\nthe old woman. He took the scissors from his pocket, and threw them\ndown. Between them appeared a jagged rock, hard as steel, so that no\niron could cut it; the horse cut its feet, and, not being able to go\nany further, fell down; yet the old woman would not give in. She jumped\nfrom the horse's back and went forward on foot. She passed the rocks,\nreached the plain again, and hastened on.\n\nShe flew over the ground as if she had wings. The prince looked back,\nand saw how near the old woman was. He took the piece of salt from\nhis pocket, and threw it behind him. There flowed between them a sea\nso vast that no bird could cross it. The old woman was not daunted,\neven by this, she waded into the sea, determined to cross it, but\nshe was drowned.\n\nThe prince often looked behind, but he could no longer see the old\nwoman. Then his heart was filled with joy, and he went on gaily. He\nhimself knew not whither he went. He grew hungry and more hungry,\nuntil he was ravenous.\n\nAt last he saw a fire: he went up, and there was burning a huge fire,\nover which hung a kettle of arrack, and food cooking; around it lay\nnine devis, who were brothers. They were fast asleep, but there was\na lame one watching as sentinel. The prince did not wait to ask leave\nof the devis; he came up, lifted the pot off the fire, took some food,\nand when he had eaten, put the pot back. He then lay down and began to\nsnore loudly. The lame devi looked on with amazement from a distance.\n\nA short time afterwards a devi awoke. He looked round and saw a\nhuman being sleeping there. He said joyfully: 'This will be a dainty\nmorsel for us,' and went towards the boy. But the lame devi followed\nhim and said: 'Leave him alone, lay not a hand upon him; he is to\nbe feared--just now he took our pot from the fire, ate some food,\nand placed it on the fire again; he has done alone what is difficult\nfor us ten.' The devi thought better of it, and turned away.\n\nA second devi then rose and did the same, but the lame devi prevented\nhim. As each devi awoke he went to the boy, but the lame devi took\ncare of them.\n\nWhen all the devis were roused and had begun to eat, the prince woke\nup too. He came to the devis and asked them to swear brotherhood. The\ndevis said: 'Who art thou, who art so courageous? What brought thee\nhere?' The prince answered: 'I was hungry, I saw the fire and I came\nto the fire.' Then the devis said: 'Very well, if thou wishest us\nto swear brotherhood with thee, first go till thou findest cross\nroads, there a maiden spreads out a handkerchief; if thou seizest\nthis handkerchief and bringest it here, we shall swear brotherhood\nwith thee; if thou failest, thou art none of us. Many have tried to\ntake this handkerchief, but the maiden always kills them.' The devis\nthought that the prince would be killed too, and that they would thus\nget rid of him.\n\nThe prince set out and came to the cross roads, and, behold, a\nbeautiful maiden flew down; a handkerchief was spread out in front\nof her, and hid her from his eyes. The prince came up and seized\nthe handkerchief, but just as he was going away, the maiden attacked\nhim. The prince was victorious in the fight. After the combat a golden\nslipper was left in the prince's hand.\n\nHe came to the devis with the handkerchief, and gave them the golden\nslipper, saying: 'Go to the town, change this for money, and bring\nit home.'\n\nThe devis sent the lame devi with the golden slipper. When he reached\nthe town he met a merchant, to whom he showed the slipper. The merchant\ncomplained and said: 'My wife had golden slippers, thou must have\nstolen this one.' The devi said that they had found the slipper--he\nswore, but the merchant would not believe him. He took the slipper,\nand locked up the lame devi.\n\nFor a long time the other devis waited for their lame brother; they\nwatched, but no lame devi was to be seen. Then they sent the ninth\nbrother to seek him. When he arrived in the town where the devi\nhad gone to exchange the golden slipper, he enquired after his lame\nbrother. Hearing him ask for a lame devi, they said: 'This must be\nan accomplice of the thief,' and they locked him up too.\n\nThe remaining devis waited for their ninth brother, and when they saw\nthat he did not come, the eighth was sent, but he also was taken;\nthen the seventh, sixth, fifth, fourth, third, second, and at last\nthe first devi went, but none of them returned.\n\nThe prince said to himself: 'What can have happened to these devis? I\nwill go and seek them, and perchance find out what misfortune has\novertaken them.' So he arose and went forth.\n\nThe merchant heard some one was again asking for the lame devi, and\nwished to entrap him, but the prince said: 'If I do not find the\nneighbour to the golden slipper, thou mayst call us liars, and do\nwhat thou wilt to the devis and me; but if I find it thou hast lied,\nand we shall do what we wish to thee.' 'Agreed!' said the merchant,\nand the prince went forth to seek the other golden slipper.\n\nHe travelled far, and came at last to a kingdom by the seashore. This\nkingdom was ruled by a maiden, fair as the sun. Whoever came to that\nkingdom to sell wheat was met by the maiden, who cast the wheat and\nits owner into the sea, and there was no escape.\n\nWhen the prince heard of this, he said to himself: 'I shall bring wheat\nto this country, and see what the fair one can do.' He went for the\nwheat, and filled a boat with grain, seated himself in another boat,\nand set out for the kingdom. On nearing the shore there appeared, from\nno one knows where, a beautiful damsel. She stretched out her hand,\nand was about to sink the grain, when the prince struck the boat with\nhis foot and upset it. Then he seized the maiden's hand and drew her\ntowards him. She, seeing that she was outwitted, pulled with all her\nmight, and escaped from his hands, but left her rings behind her.\n\nThus was the maiden defeated. After this, whoever wished to bring\nwheat brought it, and there was plenty in that kingdom.\n\nThe people of the country fell down and kissed the knees of the prince,\nsaying: 'We beseech thee, be our king.' But he would not, and replied:\n'I am come on other business, I wish for nothing but to find a certain\nslipper,' and he told his tale. The slipper could not be found,\nso he arose and left that land.\n\nHe went on again and came into another country. Here he learnt that\na beautiful maiden had killed the king's son, who was buried in a\nvault. Every night the maiden came there and beat him with twigs. When\nshe did this he came back to life, they supped together, and passed the\ntime merrily until morning, when she again beat him with twigs. Then\nhe became a corpse, and she flew away.\n\nWhen the prince heard this tale, he went to aid the unfortunate\nyouth. He entered the tomb and waited. Behold, a lovely damsel flew\ndown, took twigs from her pocket, and beat the king's son until he\ncame back to life; they supped and made merry until morning. As she\nwas about to beat the youth and kill him again, the prince snatched\nthe twigs from her hand; so the king's son lived. Then the prince\ntook him away, and led him to his father.\n\nHere, too, the prince was offered the throne, but he did not wish\nto be king. 'If I could find a certain golden slipper, I should be\nhappy,' said he; 'I must go forth and seek it.' And he set forth on\nhis quest again.\n\nWhen he had gone some way, he came to a wide plain. He presently saw\na beautiful house, and said to himself: 'I wonder who lives there,'\nand he went on towards the house. On the way he saw an Arab feeding\nsome mules, and said: 'Canst thou tell me whose house that is,\nbrother?' The Arab looked round about and replied: 'Shall I swallow\nthee head first or feet first?' 'I asked thee about the house, why\nwilt thou not answer?' said the prince. Again the Arab stared round\nand said: 'Shall I swallow thee by the head or by the feet?' 'As to\nthe matter of swallowing, I shall soon show thee what I shall do,'\nsaid the prince, giving the Arab such a blow that it sent him over\nnine mountains. Then he struck the mules, and went to the house.\n\nHe wandered all round it, and was much delighted with its\nappearance. Then he went inside through a window, and visited every\nroom. In one of these he saw a golden throne, and on it were golden\nslippers like the one he sought. He said to himself: 'Perhaps this\nis the house of the fair damsel who gave me the slipper. I shall wait\nand see what happens.' He sat under the throne and waited.\n\nSoon after, there flew in a beautiful maiden, then another, yet a\nthird, and at last the Arab. They sat down to eat. In the twinkling\nof an eye the Arab laid the cloth for the sisters, and whatever heart\nor soul could wish was spread upon it.\n\nAfter a short time the eldest sister took wine and said: 'May God\ngrant long life to the youth who took from me the handkerchief and\nthe golden slipper.' She drank, and put the bowl down.\n\nThen the second sister took it and said: 'Long life to the youth who\nsnatched the rings from my hand, and gave wheat to a kingdom.' She\ndrank, and put the bowl down.\n\nThen the youngest sister took it and said: 'Long life to the youth\nwho took the twigs from my hand, and restored life to a prince.' She\ndrank, and put the bowl down.\n\nAt last the Arab took the wine and said: 'Long life to the youth who\ngave me a blow, and sent me over nine mountains.' He drank, and put\nthe bowl down.\n\nThen the prince appeared from under the throne, took the wine and\nsaid: 'I have also toasts to propose. May God grant long life to the\nmaiden from whom I took the handkerchief.' He took from his pocket\nthe handkerchief and gave it to the eldest sister. 'May God grant\nlong life to the maiden from whom I took the rings,' and he gave the\nrings to the second sister. 'May God grant long life to the maiden\nfrom whom I took the twigs.' He returned the twigs to the youngest\nsister, and turning to the Arab, he said: 'May God grant long life\nto the Arab whom I struck and sent over nine mountains.' He drank,\nand put down the bowl.\n\nThen the three sisters jumped up and said: 'He will marry\nme.' 'No! me.' And they began to quarrel. The prince said: 'Wherefore\nquarrel one with another? I shall wed the youngest sister, since I\nam the youngest of three brothers, and you elder shall wed my elder\nbrothers.' The maidens asked him: 'What is the object of thy journey\nhither?' 'To seek for the other golden slipper, and lo! I have found it\nhere,' answered the prince. 'Because of this slipper, nine brothers,\ndevis, are imprisoned in a certain town, and if I return without it,\nI, too, shall be imprisoned to-day with them.' 'This slipper is thine,\nand as many more as thou wishest, take them with thee, seat thyself\non the Arab's back, and in three hours thou wilt be in the town,'\nsaid the sisters.\n\nThe prince did as they told him. He filled a bag with golden slippers,\nsat on the Arab's back, and in three hours he was in the town.\n\nThe devis rejoiced greatly. They called the merchant, and he brought\nslippers. He took one by one his own slippers, but, behold, not one\nof them would fit the golden slipper. Then, when the prince produced\nhis bagful of golden slippers, the merchant was proved a liar.\n\nThe prince gave the merchant into the hands of the devis, and said:\n'Do to him what ye please, sell all his possessions, but I must go\nat once on my way.' When the devis heard this, they begged him to\nstay with them. But he would not consent.\n\nThe prince came to the three beautiful sisters, and married the\nyoungest. The sisters gave the Arab a saddle bag in which was\neverything for the journey, placed in his hand a tree, and said:\n'Go to the kingdom of the prince's father, and when thou art near the\npalace, in such and such a place, plant this tree. It will turn into a\ngreat plane tree, and underneath, a beautiful stream will flow; there,\non the banks of the stream, lay the cloth, and prepare everything\nfor our coming.'\n\nThe Arab did everything as he was commanded. Then the maidens\ncame. Every man and woman in the kingdom heard of this, and went out\nto look at them. The parents were mourning for their long-lost son.\n\nThe cup of water had not changed to blood, but they had given up all\nhope of finding him. At last they could stand it no longer, and they\ntoo went to see the maidens.\n\nWhen the prince saw his mother and father approach, he feigned\nsurprise, and asked why they mourned. They answered that they had\nlost a son, and therefore they mourned. The prince said: 'I am your\nlong-lost son.' The king and queen rejoiced, and took him home. They\nprepared such a wedding that the roof of the palace resounded with\nmerriment.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nCONKIAJGHARUNA [8]\n\n\nThere was and there was not, there was a miserable peasant. He had a\nwife and a little daughter. So poor was this peasant that his daughter\nwas called Conkiajgharuna (the little girl in rags).\n\nSome time passed, and his wife died. He was unhappy before, but\nnow a greater misfortune had befallen him. He grieved and grieved,\nand at last he said to himself: 'I will go and take another wife;\nshe will mind the house, and tend my orphan child.' So he arose and\ntook a second wife, but this wife brought with her a daughter of her\nown. When this woman came into her husband's house and saw his child,\nshe was angry in heart.\n\nShe treated Conkiajgharuna badly. She petted her own daughter, but\nscolded her stepdaughter, and tried to get rid of her. Every day she\ngave her a piece of badly-cooked bread, and sent her out to watch\nthe cow, saying: 'Here is a loaf; eat of it, give to every wayfarer,\nand bring the loaf home whole.' The girl went, and felt very miserable.\n\nOnce she was sitting sadly in the field, and began to weep\nbitterly. The cow listened, and then opened its mouth, and said: 'Why\nart thou weeping? what troubles thee?' The girl told her sad tale. The\ncow said: 'In one of my horns is honey, and in the other is butter,\nwhich thou canst take if thou wilt, so why be unhappy?' The girl took\nthe butter and the honey, and in a short time she grew plump. When\nthe stepmother noticed this she did not know what to do for rage. She\nrose, and after that every day she gave her a basket of wool with her;\nthis wool was to be spun and brought home in the evening finished. The\nstepmother wished to tire the girl out with toil, so that she should\ngrow thin and ugly.\n\nOnce when Conkiajgharuna was tending the cow, it ran away on to a\nroof. [9] The girl pursued it, and wished to drive it back to the\nroad, but she dropped her spindle on the roof. Looking inside she\nsaw an old woman seated, and said to her: 'Good mother, wilt thou\ngive me my spindle?' The old dame replied: 'I am not able, my child,\ncome and take it thyself.' This old woman was a devi.\n\nThe girl went in and was lifting up her spindle, when the old dame\ncalled out: 'Daughter, daughter, come and look at my head a moment,\nI am almost eaten up.'\n\nThe girl came and looked at her head. She was filled with horror; all\nthe worms in the earth seemed to be crawling there. The little girl\nstroked her head and removed some, and then said: 'Thou hast a clean\nhead, why should I look at it?' This conduct pleased the old woman very\nmuch, and she said: 'When thou goest hence, go along such and such a\nroad, and in a certain place thou wilt see three springs--one white,\none black, and one yellow. Pass by the white and black, and put thy\nhead in the yellow and lave it with thy hands.'\n\nThe girl did this. She went on her way, and came to the three\nsprings. She passed by the white and black, and bathed her head with\nher hands in the yellow fountain. When she looked up she saw that\nher hair was quite golden, and her hands, too, shone like gold. In\nthe evening, when she went home, her stepmother was filled with\nfury. After this she sent her own daughter with the cow. Perhaps the\nsame good fortune would visit her!\n\nSo Conkiajgharuna stayed at home while her stepsister drove out the\ncow. Once more the cow ran on to the roof. The girl pursued it, and her\nspindle fell down. She looked in, and, seeing the devi woman, called\nout: 'Dog of an old woman! here! come and give me my spindle!' The old\nwoman replied: 'I am not able, child, come and take it thyself.' When\nthe girl came near, the old woman said: 'Come, child, and look at my\nhead.' The girl came and looked at her head, and cried out: 'Ugh! what\na horrid head thou hast! Thou art a disgusting old woman!' The old\nwoman said: 'I thank thee, my child; when thou goest on thy way thou\nwilt see a yellow, a white, and a black spring. Pass by the yellow and\nthe white springs, and lave thy head with thy hands in the black one.'\n\nThe girl did this. She passed by the yellow and white springs, and\nbathed her head in the black one. When she looked at herself she was\nblack as a negro, and on her head there was a horn. She cut it off\nagain and again, but it grew larger and larger.\n\nShe went home and complained to her mother, who was almost frenzied,\nbut there was no help for it. Her mother said to herself: 'This is\nall the cow's fault, so it shall be killed.'\n\nThis cow knew the future. When it learned that it was to be killed,\nit went to Conkiajgharuna and said: 'When I am dead, gather my\nbones together and bury them in the earth. When thou art in trouble\ncome to my grave, and cry aloud: \"Bring my steed and my royal\nrobes!\"' Conkiajgharuna did exactly as the cow had told her. When it\nwas dead she took its bones and buried them in the earth.\n\nAfter this, some time passed. One holiday the stepmother took her\ndaughter, and they went to church. She placed a trough in front of\nConkiajgharuna, spread a codi (80 lbs.) of millet in the courtyard,\nand said: 'Before we come home from church fill this trough with tears,\nand gather up this millet, so that not one grain is left.' Then they\nwent to church.\n\nConkiajgharuna sat down and began to weep. While she was crying\na neighbour came in and said: 'Why art thou in tears? what is the\nmatter?' The little girl told her tale. The woman brought all the\nbrood-hens and chickens, and they picked up every grain of millet, then\nshe put a lump of salt in the trough and poured water over it. 'There,\nchild,' said she, 'these are thy tears! Now go and enjoy thyself.'\n\nConkiajgharuna then thought of the cow. She went to its grave and\ncalled out: 'Bring me my steed and my royal robes!' There appeared at\nonce a horse and beautiful clothes. Conkiajgharuna put on the garments,\nmounted the horse, and went to the church.\n\nThere all the folk began to stare at her. They were amazed at her\ngrandeur. Her stepsister whispered to her mother when she saw her:\n'This girl is very much like our Conkiajgharuna!' Her mother smiled\nscornfully and said: 'Who would give that sun-darkener such robes?'\n\nConkiajgharuna left the church before any one else; she changed her\nclothes in time to appear before her stepmother in rags. On the way\nhome, as she was leaping over a stream, in her haste she let her\nslipper fall in.\n\nA long time passed. Once when the king's horses were drinking water\nin this stream, they saw the shining slipper, and were so afraid\nthat they would drink no more water. The king was told that there\nwas something shining in the stream, and that the horses were afraid.\n\nThe king commanded his divers to find out what it was. They found\nthe golden slipper, and presented it to the king. When he saw it he\ncommanded his viziers, saying: 'Go and seek the owner of this slipper,\nfor I will wed none but her.' His viziers sought the maiden, but they\ncould find no one whom the slipper would fit.\n\nConkiajgharuna's stepmother heard this, adorned her daughter, and\nplaced her on a throne. Then she went and told the king that she had\na daughter whose foot he might look at, it was exactly the model for\nthe shoe. She put Conkiajgharuna in a corner, with a big basket over\nher. When the king came into the house he sat down on the basket,\nin order to try on the slipper.\n\nConkiajgharuna took a needle and pricked the king from under the\nbasket. He jumped up, stinging with pain, and asked the stepmother what\nshe had under the basket. The stepmother replied: ''Tis only a turkey I\nhave there.' The king sat down on the basket again, and Conkiajgharuna\nagain stuck the needle into him. The king jumped up, and cried out:\n'Lift the basket, I will see underneath!' The stepmother entreated\nhim, saying: 'Do not blame me, your majesty, it is only a turkey,\nand it will run away.'\n\nBut the king would not listen to her entreaties. He lifted the basket\nup, and Conkiajgharuna came forth, and said: 'This slipper is mine,\nand fits me well.' She sat down, and the king found that it was indeed\na perfect fit. Conkiajgharuna became the king's wife, and her shameless\nstepmother was left with a dry throat.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nASPHURTZELA [10]\n\n\nThere was, and there was not at all (of God's best may it be!), there\nwas once a woman. This woman's husband had died young, and left her\nfour little children: three boys and one girl.\n\nWhen the children were grown up, their mother said: 'Children,\nwhy do you not look after your patrimony? why do you leave it thus\nabandoned?' The children did not know anything about this patrimony,\nand asked their mother where it was. The mother told them that it\nwas in such and such a place, but the children would have to go a\nlong way. They asked their mother: 'Since it is so far, when we go\nto work, who will bring us our food and drink?' The mother answered:\n'I shall send your sister with your food.'\n\nThe brothers were pleased with their mother's proposal, and made ready\nto start. Their mother gave them onion and garlic with them, and said:\n'As you are going along, cut the skin off and drop it: when your\nsister brings your food she will see it, and know where to find you.'\n\nThe brothers went to work, and on the path they threw down the skins\nas their mother had suggested.\n\nNear this path there lived a devi with a hundred heads. Once the devi's\nmother saw the onion peelings strewed on the path; she collected\nthem all, and put them on the road leading to her house. Three days\npassed, and the mother thought that her sons' food must be nearly\nfinished. She prepared some more for them, put it in a bag, gave it\nto her daughter, and sent her to her brothers. The girl set out and\nfollowed the onion peelings.\n\nShe went on and on and came to a house. In the house was seated an\nold woman. The girl cried out: 'Mother, mother, canst thou tell me if\nmy brothers are working here?' 'What dost thou want with thy brothers\nhere?' said the old woman. 'This is the house of a devi with a hundred\nheads; he will soon be coming home, so I had better hide thee, for\nif he sees thee he will eat thee.'\n\nThe devi's mother took the maiden and hid her. The devi appeared,\nno one knows whence. He carried dead game and firewood. He unbound\nthem from his back, went in, and said: 'Mother, I smell a man! Who\nhas come hither?' 'Why dost thou ask?' said the old woman; 'for fear\nof thee bird cannot fly in heaven, nor can worm creep on earth.' The\ndevi insisted, and his mother at last gave way, and said: 'I have\nhere a maiden whom I wish thee to marry; if thou wilt not eat her,\nI will let thee see her.' The son promised, and his mother brought\nthe girl out. When the devi saw her, he liked her very much, and did\nnot eat her.\n\nThe brothers waited and waited for their sister, and when she did\nnot come they rose and went home. They reproached their mother,\nsaying: 'Why hast thou not sent us food?' When their mother heard\nthem say this, she began to weep, and said: 'Near the road dwells\na hundred-headed devi, and I fear that he--may he be cursed!--has\neaten her.' The brothers did not know of this devi, and when they\nheard about him they arose and went forth to deliver their sister.\n\nWhen they had gone a good way, they neared the house of the devi. At\nthat time their sister and the devi's mother were sitting on the\nroof. The devi's mother saw them coming in the distance, and said to\nher daughter-in-law: 'Look there! dost thou see nothing coming?' Her\ndaughter-in-law replied: 'I see something like a swarm of flies.' 'Woe\nto their mother and to my son's mother!' said the devi's mother,\nand asked her again, in a short time, what she saw. The devi's wife\nanswered: 'I see three men.' 'Woe to their mother and to my son's\nmother!' moaned the old woman.\n\nThe three brothers came at last to the devi's house. There they saw\nwater, but they could not cross it by any means. They threw in stones,\nand stepped over in this way. Then the girl saw that they were her\nbrothers; she came down and embraced them. When the devi's mother\nlearnt who they were, she took them in, gave them food, and then hid\nthem, saying: 'If my son comes home and sees you he will eat you.'\n\nThen the hundred-headed devi came, no one knows whence. On one shoulder\nhe had firewood, and on the other dead game. At the door he undid\nhis burden, and, when he came in, said: 'I smell a man; who has come\nhither?' His mother tried to hide the truth, but her son would not\nleave her alone, so at last she said: 'If thou wilt promise not to\neat thy wife's brothers, I will show them to thee.' The devi promised,\nand the old woman brought in the three brothers.\n\nA little while after, the devi said to his wife's brothers: 'Come,\nlet us prepare supper.' They all came and began to skin the game the\ndevi had brought. Whilst the three brothers skinned one stag, the devi\nskinned sixty, cut them up and threw them into the pot. Then he came,\nseized the stag his brothers-in-law were skinning, and threw it also\ninto the pot.\n\nWhen they sat down to supper, the devi asked his wife's brothers:\n'Are you eaters of bone or eaters of flesh?' They answered: 'What\nhave we to do with flesh? Bones are good enough for us.' The devi\nfilled his mouth, tore off the flesh, and threw the bones to the three\nbrothers. Then he again inquired: 'Will you drink out of a doki [11]\nor out of a qantsi?' [12] 'From a qantsi,' replied the brothers. The\ndevi poured out a doki of wine for himself, while he filled the qantsi\nfor them.\n\nWhen they had finished supper, and were preparing to go to bed,\nthe devi again inquired: 'Do you wish to sleep in a bed or in the\nstable?' 'What have we to do with a bed? put us in the stable!' replied\nthe brothers. The devi lay down in his bed, and the brothers slept\nin the stable. In the morning, when the devi awoke, he said to his\nmother: 'Mother, I am hungry!' The mother saw his meaning, and not\nwishing to let her daughter-in-law understand, she thus replied: 'Go,\nson, to the stable; there, in the bread-box, are three badly-cooked\nloaves. Take them and eat them.'\n\nThe devi went into the stable where the brothers lay. He swallowed\none of them in the doorway, put the other two in his pocket, and went\ninto the wood.\n\nIn the meantime the mother of the brothers waited and waited, and\nwhen they did not come back, she thought: 'The devi must have eaten\nmy sons.' She wept bitterly, her tears flowed until they reached\nto heaven. At that moment a man was passing by. He asked the cause\nof the tears, and the woman told him that they were for the loss of\nher children.\n\nThen the man gave her an apple, and said: 'Cut this apple into a\nhundred pieces, and every day eat three; when the apple is finished,\nthou shalt have a son, and thou shalt call his name Asphurtzela.'\n\nThe woman did as he said. She cut the apple into a hundred pieces,\nand every day ate three. When the apple was finished, she brought\nforth a son, and called him by the name of Asphurtzela. Asphurtzela\ngrew as much in a day as other children grow in a year.\n\nOnce when Asphurtzela was playing with a group of little boys, a\nwoman passed by with a coca [13] full of water on her shoulder. Just\nthen Asphurtzela threw his codchi; [14] the codchi whirled through\nthe air, struck the woman's coca and broke it. The woman was angry,\nand called out: 'Mayst thou be cursed! But how can I curse thee,\nonly son of thy mother? For this trick may thy brothers and sister\nnever be delivered from the claws of the devi!'\n\nAsphurtzela did not understand this. He hastened inside, and said\nto his mother: 'Give me to suck, mother!' 'What a time to ask such\na thing,' said his mother. But the boy would not wait, so his mother\ngave him his wish.\n\nAsphurtzela bit his mother's breast, and said: 'Tell me, mother, have\nI any brothers?' His mother did not wish him to know, but she was in\nsuch pain that she told him everything. When Asphurtzela heard her\ntale, he prepared to go away. His mother entreated him not to leave\nher, but the boy would not be persuaded, and set out.\n\nHe wandered far and near, and came to an open field, where he saw\nmen ploughing the ground. He shouted out to them: 'Take care, save\nyourselves, a hundred-headed devi is coming!' The men were filled\nwith terror, and fled in all directions.\n\nAsphurtzela slung the plough over his back, took it to a smith,\nand said: 'Make me out of this iron a pair of shoes and a bow and\narrow.' The smith did so; Asphurtzela put on the iron shoes, took\nthe bow and arrow, and went in quest of the hundred-headed devi.\n\nHe went some distance and approached the devi's house. At that time the\ndevi's mother was sitting on the roof, and, seeing some one coming,\nshe said to her daughter-in-law: 'Dost thou see any one, or do my\neyes deceive me?' When her daughter-in-law assured her that it was\nsome one, the devi's mother moaned: 'Woe to his mother's breast,\nand woe to my son's mother's breast!'\n\nIn the meantime Asphurtzela arrived quite near the house, leaped over\nthe stream, and came to the door. He saw there a young girl, and said:\n'Surely thou art my sister!' The girl only knew her three brothers,\nand would not admit this, but when Asphurtzela told her his tale,\nshe believed him.\n\nThen the devi's mother came and said: 'Come, child, I will put thee in\nsafety and hide thee, lest my son eat thee when he comes home.' 'Go\nin there, dog of an old woman! May God bring thee and thy son to\nshame!' said Asphurtzela, and he waited impatiently for the return\nof the devi.\n\nJust then the devi appeared, with game slung over his shoulder, and\ntree roots thrust under his arm. When he saw a strange boy standing\nboldly in front of his house, he said to himself: 'For fear of me\nbird dare not fly in heaven nor worm creep on earth. Who can this\nboy be who is strutting about so carelessly?'\n\nThe devi was mad with fury when he saw him. Flames shot from his eyes;\nhe cast an angry glance at him, and shouted out: 'Who art thou? and\nwhat art thou doing here?' 'Shall I tell thee who I am? I am thy\nwife's brother; I am come to be thy guest, so thou must be my host,'\nsaid Asphurtzela. 'Very well,' returned the devi, 'come in and let us\nprepare supper. We must skin the game and cook it.' They began to skin\nthe game, but by the time the devi had skinned one beast, Asphurtzela\nhad finished all the game, thrown it into the pot and cooked it.\n\nThe devi gazed on Asphurtzela in unfeigned astonishment. When the food\nwas cooked, and they sat down to supper, the devi, according to his\ncustom, put the question to his guest: 'Art thou an eater of bones or\nof flesh?' 'Pass me over the flesh, why should I eat bones? am I a dog\nthat I should do this?' answered Asphurtzela. The devi gave him flesh,\nand inquired: 'Wilt thou drink out of a qantsi or out of a doki?' 'Pass\nover the doki, why should I take a qantsi?' The devi gave him the doki,\nand sank into deep thought. When it was time to go to bed, the devi\ninquired: 'Wilt thou sleep in the stable or in a bed?' 'I am a man,\nwhat should I do in the stable? Give me a bed,' said Asphurtzela.\n\nSo it came to pass that Asphurtzela slept in the bed, and the devi lay\ndown in the stable. He lay down, but, alas! he could not sleep. His\none idea was how he could rid himself of this disagreeable guest. When\nhe thought that Asphurtzela must be asleep, he took a huge sword and\nbegan to sharpen it. The noise of the sharpening awoke Asphurtzela,\nand he, guessing the devi's design, jumped out of bed, and put a log\nof wood under the coverlet. Then he hid in the room. When the devi\nhad made his sword as bright as a diamond, he stole out quietly,\nopened the door, and went noiselessly towards Asphurtzela's bed. He\nraised his sword with all his might and main, and struck with such\nforce that all the dust in the bed was raised, and the log was cleft\nthrough the middle. Then the devi went away and closed the door.\n\nAsphurtzela shook down his bed and slept peacefully. In the morning,\nwhen the devi awoke and saw his brother-in-law, he gazed on him in\namazement, and said: 'Didst thou feel any pain in the night?' 'Oh,\nno!' said Asphurtzela. 'Not even a flea-bite?' 'No.' 'Then let us\nwrestle.' 'Very well,' said Asphurtzela, and the combat began.\n\nThe devi struggled and struggled, but could not move his\nbrother-in-law. Then Asphurtzela attacked him, and buried him in the\nground up to the neck. He took his bow and arrow, aimed at the devi,\nand cried out: 'Tell me quickly what thou hast done with my brothers,\nor I shall shoot thee.' The devi was afraid, and said: 'Do not kill\nme and I shall tell thee. In my breast is a little coffer, in it\nthey are lying dead; there too is a handkerchief, place it on them,\nand they will become alive again.'\n\nWhen Asphurtzela heard this, he cut open the devi's breast, took\nout the coffer, brought out his brothers, placed a handkerchief\non them, and they came back to life. Then he shot his arrow at the\nhundred-headed devi and killed him. When he had cut him into small\npieces, he went to the devi's mother and killed her too. Then he\nlearnt his brothers' story, and told them his in return.\n\nThe brothers believed Asphurtzela, but envy entered their hearts\nwhen they found how much braver he was than they. At last they all\narose and went towards home. On the way they had to pass through an\nopen field, where there grew a tree, so large that all the field was\nunder its shade. Asphurtzela said to his brothers and sister: 'Let\nus rest here, I am very tired and would close my eyes a little.' The\nbrothers consented.\n\nAsphurtzela lay down at the foot of the tree and slept like the\ndead. His brothers sat down near him, and began to whisper one to\nanother: 'Now that he has killed the hundred-headed devi, what good can\nhe do us? Come, let us bind him to this tree and leave him here.' They\ntook withs, twisted them round and round, and bound him to the tree,\nso hard that blood poured from his fingers. When his sister saw this,\nshe entreated them to spare him, but they would not listen to her. They\nbound him tight, took their sister and went home.\n\nAs soon as they were in the house, the girl told their mother\neverything. The mother called down curses on her three sons.\n\nWhen Asphurtzela woke and saw that he was bound to the tree, he\ntried hard to get away, but could not move. He looked round, and\nsaw that his brothers were no longer there. He looked everywhere,\nand then prayed to God: 'O God, if I have deceived my brothers,\nmay this tree become stronger, but if they have deceived me, may\nI pull it up by the roots.' When he had said this he tried again,\nand the tree came up by the roots.\n\nThen Asphurtzela arose and went home, bearing the tree with him. He\ncame to the house, and called to his brothers: 'Come out at once\nand loose my hands!' His brothers grew pale and faint from fear, but\nthey came out and set him free. After this Asphurtzela did not wish\nto live with his brothers, and made ready to leave home. His sister\nand mother entreated him to stay, but Asphurtzela would not yield.\n\nHe went away, and wandered on until he came to a field where a man\nwas ploughing; when he turned up a clod he threw it into his mouth\nand swallowed it. Asphurtzela gazed and gazed, and at last said: 'Man,\nwhy dost thou swallow these clods?' 'There is no cause for surprise in\nthat; Asphurtzela has killed the hundred-headed devi, what is there\nremarkable in my swallowing clods?' said the clod-swallower. 'I am\nAsphurtzela, so let us be as brothers,' said Asphurtzela. They went\non together.\n\nWhen they had gone some distance they came to another field, where\nthere was a man with mill wheels tied to his feet, and in his pocket\nwere two hares. He let both the hares away, and then caught both\nagain. Asphurtzela gazed and gazed at the man, and then said: 'Man,\nwhat art thou doing? how canst thou catch these hares?' 'Asphurtzela\nkilled the hundred-headed devi, what is there remarkable in catching\ntwo hares?' said the hare-catcher. [15] 'Why, this is Asphurtzela,\nand he will be as a brother to thee, if thou wilt,' said the\nclod-swallower. So they all went on together.\n\nOn the way, the comrades arranged that each should shoot his arrow\nin turn, and in the place where it stuck they should eat their\nrepast. First of all the clod-swallower shot. His arrow stuck in a\nvery awkward place, but they came and took their supper there.\n\nThen the hare-catcher shot his arrow, which also stuck in an awkward\nplace. They came to it and ate their mid-day meal.\n\nLast of all Asphurtzela cast his arrow, and it stuck on the shelf of\na house where dwelt three devis. At that time the devis were being\nmarried to three fair maidens. They saw the arrow stick in their\nshelf, and stopped the weddings. They tried to pull the arrow out,\nthey struggled and struggled, but could not move it. Then they said:\n'Since we cannot pull this arrow out, let us go away, in case he who\nshot it comes and takes up his abode here.' They left in the house\nonly one lame devi, whom they hid in the chimney.\n\nThe three friends came in, laid the cloth, and made ready their\nsupper. They threw up their caps for joy. Then they said: 'Come,\nlet each of us, in turn, remain at home and prepare the food.'\n\nThe first day the clod-swallower stayed in. He had prepared the food\nand dressed it, when, behold! the lame devi came down from the chimney,\nand said to the clod-swallower: 'Give me to eat and drink.' He gave\nhim food. 'Give me to eat and drink,' said the devi again. He gave\nhim food once more. When he made the same demand a third time, the\nclod-swallower answered: 'If thou eatest and drinkest everything,\nwhat shall I say to my comrades?' The devi said: 'Give me to eat and\ndrink, or I shall eat thee and thy provisions too.' The clod-swallower\nwas afraid, and ran to the door. The devi sat down and finished all\nthe food.\n\nThe companions came home and saw that there was no food, but what\ndid it matter? They managed for that day, and the next morning left\nthe hare-catcher at home. The same thing happened to him as to the\nclod-swallower. Then it was Asphurtzela's turn.\n\nHe prepared a quantity of different kinds of food and drink for his\ncompanions. Then the lame devi came out of the chimney, and said:\n'Give me to eat and drink.' Asphurtzela did so. 'Give me to eat\nand drink,' again said the devi. Asphurtzela did so. When he asked\na third time, Asphurtzela said: 'If I give thee all, what will my\ncomrades do?' 'If thou wilt not give me to eat, I shall eat thee and\nthy food too.' Asphurtzela smiled to himself, took his bow and arrow,\nshot the devi through the heart, and cut him in halves.\n\nThe devi's head rolled one way and his body another. The head\ncried out: 'Happy is he who will follow me.' The body cried: 'Woe\nto the man who follows me.' In the meantime Asphurtzela's companions\nreturned. They ate, and then said: 'Let us go and see what the devi's\nhead promised.'\n\nThe devi's head rolled and fell into a hole. Asphurtzela looked in\nand saw three lovely maidens. He was pleased, and said: 'Let us bring\nthem out and marry them.' The clod-swallower slipped in, but before he\nhad reached the bottom he called out: 'I burn, I burn, draw me up,'\nand they took him out. Then the hare-catcher slipped down, and the\nsame thing happened to him. Then came Asphurtzela's turn.\n\nHe said to his companions: 'When I call out \"I burn, I burn,\" let\nme down lower into the hole.' He called out many times: 'I burn,'\nbut his companions only lowered him farther. [16]\n\nHe went down the hole and saw the maidens, each excelled the other,\nbut the youngest was certainly the most beautiful of all. He took the\neldest, and called out to the clod-swallower: 'This is thine!' Then he\nsent up the second sister, calling out to the hare-catcher: 'This is\nthine!' Last of all he was about to send the youngest, as his wife,\nbut she objected, saying: 'Go thou first, then I will come, for I\nfear that thy comrades will betray thee.' Asphurtzela was obstinate,\nand insisted upon her going first. 'Very well,' said the maiden, 'I\nwill go, since thou wishest me to do so, but know this, thy companions\nwill not draw thee up, they will shut down the covering of the hole,\nand thou wilt be left here. Three streams will flow here; one black,\none blue, and one white; do not put thy head under any except white\nwater, lest thou be drowned.'\n\nIt was as she had said. When all three maidens were up, the two men\nput stones at the mouth of the hole, and left Asphurtzela. He was so\nindignant that he at once put his head under the black spring, and\nwas immediately carried to the lower regions. He wandered about here\nand there, and came at last to an old woman's hut. He called out:\n'Mother, mother, give me some water to drink.' 'Ah, child,' said\nthe old woman, 'at present there is none, we shall have it again\nwhen the dragon has carried away our princess.' 'What dragon?' said\nAsphurtzela. The old woman replied: 'Our water is withheld by a dragon\n(gvelashapi), and if we do not offer him a human victim to eat, the\nwater will not flow. We have all paid this debt save the king, and\nto-day his daughter is to be offered up.' 'Fetch me a water-vessel,\nmother, I must hasten this minute to the well,' said Asphurtzela.\n\nThe woman prayed him not to go, but he would not hear her. The old\nwoman arose, and brought him vessels. Asphurtzela broke up these\nsmall water-jars, and said: 'Hast thou no kvevris? [17] bring them\nto me.' The old woman showed him where the kvevris were. Asphurtzela\ntook them and went away.\n\nWhen he came to the edge of the stream, he saw a richly dressed maiden\nseated, shedding bitter tears. He asked her the cause, and when he\nlearnt that this was the king's daughter, he said: 'I will sleep here;\nwhen the dragon comes, wake me up.' He laid his head on the maiden's\nlap, and fell asleep.\n\nThe dragon soon appeared. The maiden was afraid to wake Asphurtzela,\nand she wept more than ever. One of her tears fell on Asphurtzela's\ncheek, and he woke. When he saw the dragon he rose up, shot an arrow,\nand cut it in pieces. [18] The maiden, overjoyed, immediately hastened\nhome to her father, and said: 'Thus and thus has it come to pass, the\ndragon is dead.' The king at first would not believe this, but when\nothers put faith in the story, he sent to seek the youth. He wished\nhim to marry the princess, and decided to give him half of the kingdom.\n\nThey sought, and sought, but could not find him. Then the old woman\ncame to the palace and said: 'Mighty sovereign! have mercy upon\nme and upon my son.' The king knew that she had no son, and said:\n'Thou hadst formerly no son, where hast thou found this one?' 'God\nhas given me for my son a youth who has killed our enemy the dragon,'\nanswered the old woman.\n\nThe king was rejoiced that the youth was found. He sent his ministers\nto bring him to the palace. When Asphurtzela came, the king offered\nhim great presents, but he would not take them, and said: 'If thou\nwilt send me back to my own land of light, I shall be happy, this\nis all I desire.' The king was very melancholy, he entreated him,\nbut it was of no avail, so he promised.\n\nAfter this, Asphurtzela went again to his adopted mother. On the way\nhe saw a great tree, and on the top there was a griffin's (phascundzi)\nnest. There flew down from on high a dragon, and the little birds set\nup a terrified scream. When Asphurtzela saw what was about to happen,\nhe drew his bow, and, in the twinkling of an eye, the dragon was dead.\n\nThe mother griffin flew down, and her fledglings told her what had\nhappened. Then the grateful griffin came to Asphurtzela and said:\n'Tell me what thou wishest, that I may do thee a service.' Asphurtzela\nsaid: 'I wish for nought, save to be taken again into the land of\nlight.' 'It will be difficult for me, but why should I not do this\nfor thy sake?' said the griffin, and directed him to get food and\nprepare for the journey. Asphurtzela returned to the king, and asked\nhim for provisions.\n\nWhen everything was ready, the griffin put Asphurtzela on her back and\nflew off. On the way, when the griffin cried out, Asphurtzela put food\nin her mouth. Just as they were about to enter the world of light,\nthe griffin again cried aloud. Asphurtzela had no more food left,\nbut he cut off the calf of his leg, and threw it into the griffin's\nmouth. This morsel was so very tasty that the griffin did not eat it,\nbut kept it on the tip of her tongue.\n\nWhen they had arrived, the griffin said: 'Now farewell! leap down and\ngo away.' Asphurtzela descended and went away, but he walked like\none who is lame. The griffin said: 'What aileth thee that thou art\nlame?' He told her. Then the griffin took the piece of flesh she had\nkept on her tongue, put it in its place, made it whole, and went away.\n\nAsphurtzela went to seek his comrades. He went on and on until he came\nto a certain place. There he saw his two companions about to marry the\nbeautiful maidens. He took aim with his bow and arrow, and called out:\n'Were the men or the women to blame?' The youngest sister replied:\n'How could it be the women's fault? It was the men's.' Asphurtzela shot\nhis arrow and killed his two companions. Then he took the beautiful\nmaidens with him, married the youngest, and gave the two elder to\nhis brothers. [19]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE SHEPHERD AND THE CHILD OF FORTUNE\n\n\nThere was and there was not at all, there was a man who had a\nwife. They possessed great wealth, but had no child. Once the\nwoman said to her husband: 'Come, let us place young bullocks in\nour churches, and at night let some one watch, perhaps God will look\ndown upon us and give us a child.' The husband approved of this idea,\nand placed bullocks in five churches.\n\nThen they went into one of the churches, killed a bullock, gave it to\ntheir shepherd, and said: 'Go, take this bullock's flesh and give it\nto the poor; do thou remain in the church all night and watch. Listen\nvery carefully.' The shepherd went away and gave the bullock's flesh\nto the poor; then he went into the church, and remained the whole\nnight watching, but he heard not a word relating to his master's\nchildlessness.\n\nDay dawned, and the shepherd went and told his master: 'I have watched\nthe whole night, and have not heard a sound.' Then this man went into\nthe second chapel. He killed the bullock there, and gave it to his\nshepherd, who distributed it even as he had the first. In the morning,\nwhen he went home, he brought the same answer as before. Then they\nwent to the third and fourth chapels, but still they learnt nothing.\n\nOnly the fifth chapel remained. Here also the shepherd distributed\nbullock's flesh to the poor, and hid himself in the church. In the\nmiddle of the night, behold there flew down the five angels of the\nchurches, and began to talk together. They said: 'We must do something\nfor this man. He is childless; let us give him a son.' 'Yes,' said\nthe first angel, 'but when he reaches the age of twenty let him die\nand return to us.' 'No,' said the second angel, 'when the priest\nshall lead him into the cathedral and place a crown on his head,\nthen he shall die.' 'When he has a wife and children, then he shall\ndie,' said the third. 'He shall live a long time, he shall grow old,\nbut shall be a worthless fellow,' said the fourth. 'If we are to\ngive the man a child, let us give him something better,' said the\nfifth angel. 'We have spoken, now it is thy turn; what dost thou\nsay?' answered the others. 'Then,' said the fifth angel, 'let him be\nendowed with immortal youth, and whatever he asks of God may it come\nto pass.' 'Good, good!' assented the others, and they went away each\nto his own place.\n\nThe shepherd heard all this. At daybreak he came back to his master,\nwho inquired of him: 'Well, didst thou hear nothing last night?' The\nshepherd replied: 'The five angels of the churches assembled, and they\nsaid that thou shouldst have a son at the end of a year, but it is\nordained that thy shepherd shall be present at the birth.' 'Thank the\nLord! If we have a son thou mayst be present,' answered the husband\nand wife.\n\nAfter this the shepherd went to his sheep, and the man and woman\nwent in. A year passed; the shepherd delayed some time, put in his\npocket a little goat, and went away. The woman was in bed, and the\nshepherd put her child in his pocket, and wrapped the young goat up\nin the bedclothes. Then the shepherd opened the bedroom door and went\naway. When he had gone for one or two weeks the child would not stay\nin his pocket any longer, and asked to be put down. The shepherd put\nhim down, and he walked by himself.\n\nThey went on and on, and at last they became hungry. The shepherd said\nto himself: 'Come, I will try if the prophecy of the angels be true\nor not,' and he said to the boy: 'Wish that God will give us bread,\nthat we may eat.' The boy wished, and God gave them bread. They\nsat down and ate, but they had no water. He wished for water, and,\nby their side, there murmured a beautiful spring.\n\nThe shepherd now believed in his heart that all his desires would\nbe fulfilled, and said: 'Wish that in this plain a house completely\nfurnished may arise, and that outside there may be a village over\nwhich I may rule, and that I may have such and such a princess for my\nwife.' The boy wished this, and everything was according to his desire.\n\nSome time passed. Once the princess asked the shepherd, saying: 'How\nhas it happened that an illustrious princess like me has married a\nsimple shepherd?' Her husband replied: 'Heat the spit and put it on\nthe sole of the boy's foot to see if he is asleep. If he is, then I\nwill tell thee all.' The child heard this conversation, and wished\nin his heart: 'O God! may my foot be hardened, so that I cannot feel\nanything.' The woman heated the spit, put it on the sole of the boy's\nfoot, but he did not move. The shepherd thought that he was really\nasleep, and told his wife everything in detail. The child lay quiet\nand listened. He now learnt for the first time whose son he was,\nand how he had fallen into the hands of the shepherd.\n\nNext morning at daybreak he arose and went to seek his parents. He\nwent on and on, and everywhere asked news of his village. He came to\nhis father's house, and said: 'Do you want a guest?' 'Truly, child,\na guest is of God!' And they led him in. Then the boy asked them:\n'Have you lost anything?' The master of the house replied: 'Well,\nchild, I have lost a shepherd, and I still owe him four years'\nwages.' 'I saw him just now coming to you with great wealth, and with\na wife and family,' said the boy.\n\nAt night, when all were asleep, the boy wished in his heart: 'O\nGod! may the shepherd, with his house, his family, and his town,\nbe in our courtyard to-night.'\n\nThe next morning the master of the house came to the door, and was\nstruck with surprise. 'My God!' said he, 'how was this town built\nin our courtyard?' His wife said: 'What art thou talking about,\nhusband? This our courtyard, indeed! We are somewhere else.' The man\nreplied: 'No, wife, this is our own home; that is our house, but these\nare certainly not the usual surroundings.' 'Well, let me look inside;\nif there is a boy sleeping there it must be our house.' The boy was\nawake, but pretended to be asleep.\n\nThe man and woman went in and saw the boy sleeping there. They awoke\nhim and said: 'Who art thou who hast appeared here? We pray thee to\ntell us what thou hast done that we no longer know our own house.' The\nboy smiled and said: 'I told you yesterday that your shepherd was\ncoming to you with his possessions. Behold! he came yesterday,\nand has taken up his abode in your courtyard. Let us call this your\nshepherd here.'\n\nAt that moment the shepherd awoke. When he jumped out of bed and\nsaw the courtyard, he said to himself: 'Great art thou, O Lord! I\nwas settled in my home, and now I am here!' He went in to his master,\nbent his knee, and said: 'Thus and thus have I done; I have done evil,\nand now I am in thy hands, do to me as thou wilt.' When the man and\nwoman heard this tale they did not know what to do to show their\njoy. First one embraced the child, then the other. At length the boy\nsaid: 'I am in truth your son, but this man is also your child. He\nhas done wrong, but you will forgive all, and give him his hire.' His\nfather gave the shepherd his hire, and forgave him.\n\nBut still the boy was not satisfied. He said to his parents: 'This\nshepherd, at least, left a goat in exchange for me; if my mother\nbrought up the goat, he brought me up. If you wish, keep the goat and I\nwill go with him; if, however, you keep me, you ought to give him back\nhis goat.' 'Not only will I do that, but I will also give him half of\nmy flocks,' said the boy's father. He divided his flocks into two parts\nand gave one to his shepherd, and took him into his house. The boy\nremained with his father and mother, and they lived happily together.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE TWO THIEVES\n\n\nThere was once a thief called the Big Thief. Now this Big Thief\nwent into a town to steal. When he had gone some little distance\nhe met an unknown man. 'God give thee victory! [20] Mayst thou be\nvictorious!'1 said they one to another. 'Who art thou, and what is\nthy trade?' inquired the Big Thief. 'My trade is thieving, and my\nname is Little Thief,' said the unknown. 'I, too, am a thief, so let\nus join partnership.' He agreed, and they became partners.\n\nAnd they went on together to steal. On the way, the Big Thief said to\nthe Little Thief: 'Now give me a proof of thy skill in thieving.' But\nthe latter said: 'Thou art the Big Thief, thou must show me thy skill;\nwhat can I do compared with thee?' The Big Thief consented.\n\nThey saw, just at that moment, a pigeon sitting on a plane tree. The\nBig Thief said: 'Now you shall see me pull out the tail of that\npigeon on the plane tree without its knowledge.' Having said this,\nhe went up the tree.\n\nWhen he had gone about half way, the Little Thief silently stole under\nthe plane tree, climbed up, and while the Big Thief pulled out the\ntail of the pigeon, the Little Thief took off his companion's drawers,\nand promptly descended the tree.\n\nWhen the Big Thief came down and proudly showed the pigeon's tail,\nthe Little Thief thrust his hand into his pocket and showed him the\ndrawers. When the Big Thief saw this, he was struck with amazement,\nand said: 'Although I am famous I do not think thou art at all inferior\nto me.' They had tried each other's skill, and went on.\n\nOn the way, the Little Thief enquired of the Big Thief: 'What shall\nwe steal to-night?' 'Let us go to-night and break into the king's\ntreasury,' said the Big Thief. 'Very well,' agreed his comrade,\nand they set out for the town.\n\nAt nightfall, when the tread of people's feet had ceased, the thieves\ntook two bags, and went to break into the king's treasury. The Little\nThief said: 'Climb thou into the treasury, gather up the money, I shall\nfill the bags, then we can take them up, and make off.' The Big Thief\nwould not consent. 'No,' said he; 'thou art the smaller, go inside,\nand I shall stay here.' He insisted until he gained his point.\n\nAt last the Little Thief got in, and collected the money. The Big\nThief stayed outside and filled the bags. When the two bags were full,\nhe made a sign, the Little Thief came out of the treasury, they took\nthe bags and went home.\n\nNext morning the king went into his treasury. He looked in and saw\nwhat had happened. Then he called his council together, and made\nhis complaint. They planned and planned, and at last thought of\nthe following scheme. They took a big barrel, filled it with pitch,\nand placed it at the entrance to the treasury.\n\nThe thieves knew nothing of this. When night came again, they\nreturned to steal. The Little Thief said: 'Yesterday I went into the\ntreasury, to-day it is thy turn, I will watch for thee.' The Big Thief\nconsented. He went into the treasury, and suddenly was caught fast. The\nLittle Thief pulled hard, but his companion could not get away; nothing\nbut his head was visible; he was up to the neck in pitch. When day\ndawned, the Little Thief saw that nothing could be done, so he took\nhis dagger and cut off his comrade's head. Then he hid it in a place\nwhere no human being could possibly find a trace of it.\n\nHe went home and told his late companion's wife. He warned her to be\nvery careful, and not to go out, for if it was discovered that they\nwere interested in the dead man, they would most certainly be seized\nand killed.\n\nWhen day dawned, they told the king: 'A thief is caught in the trap,\nbut he has no head.' The king went himself, and saw that in truth\nthe thief had no head, and he was amazed. How could a headless man\nthieve? Then he commanded them, saying: 'Take his body and put it in\nthe market place, with sentinels to guard it. Whoever passes by and\nweeps at the sight of it will be guilty, because it will be a sign\nof pity for the thief; bring such persons to me immediately.'\n\nWhen the Little Thief heard this, he went home, and instructed\nhis companion's wife how to act. 'Take good care not to go out,\nlest they discover thee'; and he told her what orders the king had\ngiven. The Big Thief's wife could not bear this, and entreated him\nto let her go, saying: 'I will stand far away and weep quietly, no\none will recognise me.' 'Very well, but be careful. Take a water jug\nwith thee as if to carry water, and when near thy husband's body,\nstrike thy foot against a stone, break the jar, and then sit down\nand weep as if thou art mourning for the broken pitcher.'\n\nThe woman did exactly as she was told. She took the jar on her shoulder\nand went for water. When she came near the place where her husband's\nbody was lying, she struck her foot on a stone, let the jar fall,\nand it broke. Then she sat down by the fragments and began to weep\nbitterly, apparently for the pitcher, but really for her husband. When\nshe had wailed enough she rose and went away. The sentinels were\namazed: 'What a miserable woman to cry thus for a broken pitcher!'\n\nNight came on. The sentinels returned to the palace with the body of\nthe thief, and said to the king: 'We saw no one who wept except one\nwoman, who struck her foot against a stone and broke her water jar,\nand for this she cried bitterly.' The king was very angry, for he\nsaw the trick the woman had played. He was enraged because they had\nnot seized her and brought her to him, but had let her escape. Then\nthe king ordered the sentinels' heads to be cut off.\n\nAs this ruse had not succeeded, the king thought of another. He sent\nthe thief's corpse outside the town, and left it there. Perhaps the\nright person will see it and come to steal it. Sentinels were posted,\nand told that if any one came to steal the corpse they should seize\nhim and bring him.\n\nOn hearing this news the Little Thief drove an ass before him into a\nneighbouring village. There he had some cakes baked and turkeys and\nfowls roasted, put them in the saddle bag, and hung it on the ass. Then\nhe bought some of the best wine and went on his way. He came to the\nplace where the sentinels were posted, and cried out: 'Do you not\nwant a guest? I have come from afar, and must stay here to-night;\nI fear some one may steal the ass. Let us have a good supper.' The\nmention of supper delighted the sentinels. They sat down and began\nto eat. The Little Thief poured them out wine. The sentinels drank,\nbut the thief did not drink a drop.\n\nWhen they had eaten well, he said to them: 'I am going to sleep. As I\nam sleepy, you may watch the ass and see that no one steals him, lest\nif he be lost I accuse you to the king.' 'Lie down and make thyself\neasy. This ass of thine is not so attractive that thou needst fear\nfor him,' said the sentinels. The Little Thief lay down and pretended\nto go to sleep, but he kept a sharp look out. A short time afterwards\nthe sentinels lay in a deep sleep, they slept as if they were dead.\n\nThen the Little Thief arose and lifted the body of his late companion\non his back. He brought forward his ass, put the corpse on it,\nand turned its head towards home. He himself lay down again and\nfell asleep.\n\nThe ass was accustomed to find his way home, he lowered his head as\nif meditating, went straight home and knocked against the door. The\nBig Thief's wife came and took down the dead body, put it on a couch\nand wept. When her heart was solaced by tears, she buried him in the\nearth under the couch.\n\nWhen morning came, the sentries awoke and roused their false host. The\nLittle Thief looked round and called his ass. He saw that it was not\nthere, and set up a fearful howl: 'I will go and accuse you to the\nking.' The sentinels were terrified, and completely lost their heads\nwhen they saw that the corpse was gone. They drew money from their\npockets, and offered it to silence their noisy host. This was what\nhe wanted; he had not only stolen the body but gained some money.\n\nThe sentinels went to the king. When he heard their tale he was\nextremely irritated, and ordered their heads to be cut off.\n\nThis new plan having failed, he thought of another. A street was\nstrewed with money; sentinels were placed here and there, and ordered\nto seize any passer-by who gathered up the money, for he would be\nthe thief's master and companion.\n\nThe Little Thief heard this news with joy. He got a pair of boots\ntarred, and went out with them under his arm.\n\nWhen he came to the street that was strewed with money he sat down,\ntook off his boots, and put on the newly-tarred boots. Then he walked\nalong the street boldly, singing a song. When he had got to the end of\nthe street, he took off the money that had stuck to his tarred boots,\nmade a hole in the earth and poured it in. Then he walked back to\nthe other end of the street, cleaned his boots again and buried the\nmoney. He did this the whole day, and by the evening he had picked\nup almost half of the money.\n\nThe sentinels gathered up what was left, went to the king, and said:\n'No one has taken the money, but a man was walking in the street from\nmorning till night.' The king was enraged that they had not taken\nthis man, and ordered the sentinels to be beheaded.\n\nThen he assembled his counsellors and asked their advice. Now the king\nhad a hind, if they were to let this animal loose it would fall on\nits knees before the house of him who was guilty against the king. And\nthe viziers said: 'Let the hind go, and it will fall on its knees in\nfront of the house of the thief.'\n\nThe king took this advice, and they let the hind loose.\n\nIt raced along the streets, and fell on its knees just in front of\nthe Little Thief's house.\n\nIn the morning, when the Little Thief awoke, he looked out of his\nwindow, and saw the king's hind kneeling in front of his house. He\nhad heard of this hind before, so, when he saw it, he knew what it\nmeant. He went outside, seized hold of the hind and drew it in; he\nkilled it and skinned it, then he hid the skin carefully, and kept\nthe flesh in the house.\n\nThe king was mad with rage when they sought his hind and could not\nfind it. He assembled his viziers, and told the story of the lost\nhind. The viziers' resources were at an end now, they could think of\nno other trap for the thief.\n\nBut there appeared, from no one knows where, an old woman. She\napproached the king and said: 'What wilt thou give me if I find the\nlost hind?' 'Whatever thou askest me,' said the king. 'Then give me\nmy freedom.' 'I shall not only give thee thy freedom, but shall raise\nthee to the rank of princess,' replied the king. The old woman rose\nand went forth to seek the hind.\n\nShe wandered till at last she came to the Little Thief's house. The\nLittle Thief was not at home, and she saw the Big Thief's wife. She\nsaid: 'Daughter, if thou hast a piece of hind's flesh do not grudge\nit to me, it will cure a sick one of his illness.' The thief's wife\ndid not know of the cunning of the old woman, went into her house,\nand brought out a piece of hind's flesh. The old woman was joyful,\nand did not wait. She rose and went away.\n\nWhen she had gone a little way, she met the Little Thief, who said:\n'What is that, old dame?' 'A piece of hind's flesh, as a remedy for my\ntrouble! The woman in that house gave it to me,' said the beldam. The\nLittle Thief understood her; he saw through her cunning, and said:\n'What is the use of this morsel of flesh? Come with me and I can give\nthee a whole dishful. Thou canst eat and give to thy friends; it will\nbe of service to thee.' The old woman's head swam with pleasure. She\nturned back and went with the Little Thief. Whenever the deceitful\nold woman was enticed into the house, he drew out his dagger and cut\noff her head. Then he took her body, and buried it also under the\ncouch. The king waited for news, but the old woman never came.\n\nSome time passed by, but still the old woman did not come, and the\nking was enraged. He assembled his counsellors, and said: 'What is\nthe use of all this? Is there no way of trapping this thief?' The\nviziers said: 'This fellow is so brave, and such a clever thief,\nthat we cannot entrap him.'\n\nThen the king rose up and said: 'Let the thief come to me. I shall\nnot harm him, but shall give him my daughter to wife. He is so clever\nthat I cannot take him by trickery.'\n\nWhen the Little Thief heard this he came to the king and said: 'I am\nthat thief, and I am come to do your majesty's will.' The king could\nnot break his word, so he gave him his daughter in marriage.\n\nA neighbouring monarch heard this story. Every day he wrote irritating\nletters to the thief's father-in-law, the king, saying: 'Are you\nnot ashamed to have anything to do with a low thief, to marry him\nto your daughter, and call him son-in-law?...' The king was very\nmuch annoyed at these scornful reproaches, and at last fell ill,\nbeing able to bear them no longer.\n\nThen the king's son-in-law came to him and said: 'What is the\nmatter? Why art thou ill?' His father-in-law told him everything,\nand he replied: 'Why distress thyself? Give me a few days' leave,\nand I shall show thee a sight. Only on such and such a day prepare\na grand festival, and I shall be here.' He fixed a date, and went away.\n\nHe travelled on until he came to the kingdom of the mocking monarch,\nand he went into a house and rested. The next day he saw a tailor\nand said: 'I want a robe cut out of pieces of skin; it must be all of\ndifferent colours, and I want little bells put in it.' When the tailor\nhad finished the garment, the thief gave him money and sent him away.\n\nThen he clad himself in the robe, took a glittering, naked sword in\nhis hand, and went to the palace. The porters did not want to let\nhim in, but the thief said: 'I am Michael Gabriel, sent from God! I\nam commanded to take the souls of your king and queen to Paradise,\nand if you trouble me I shall take your souls too, and shall send\nthem into hell.' He moved towards one of them, and the bells began\nto ring. The porters' hearts were fearful, and they hid themselves.\n\nThe thief went in to the king. When he saw the man he became\npale. Michael Gabriel said: 'I give you a term of three days. In these\nthree days put all your affairs in order; appoint your successor. Strip\noff everything, put yourselves in coffins, and set the keys on the\ntop. In three days I shall come again, lock the coffins, and take\nthem away with me.' When he had said this he went away, returned to\nthe house, took off the robe of skins, and waited three days.\n\nOn the third day he clothed himself as before, and went again to the\npalace. The king and queen had stripped off everything, and were in\nthe coffins waiting. He called out: 'When you get to Paradise you\nwill hear a noise, then the coffins will open, and your eyes will\nview a glorious scene.' He took the keys, locked both the coffins,\ntook them on his back, and carried them out.\n\nHe put them on his ass, went behind it, and called gently, 'Gee-up!' On\nthe appointed day he came to the court of his father-in-law, who had\ninvited the whole of his kingdom and many neighbouring princes to a\ngreat feast. The thief came, and, as he lifted the coffins off the ass,\nbeautiful music was heard.\n\nThe thief opened the coffins, and the king and queen jumped out naked\nand began to dance. The people saw their stupidity, and were ready to\ndie with laughing. Then the king came, clothed them in royal robes,\nand said: 'Now you can go back to your own country, and rule your\nkingdom, but do not mock me any more.' After this the king loved his\nson-in-law very much, and, when he died, left him the kingdom.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE FOX AND THE KING'S SON\n\n\nThere was once a king who had a son. Every one treated him badly, and\nchased him away. Even passers-by looked upon him with disfavour. The\nprince thought and thought, and at last he mounted his horse, took\nhis bow and arrow, and departed from his father's palace.\n\nWhen he had gone some distance he came into a sheltered wood. He\nwandered about until he found a suitable nook. He built for himself\na mud hut, and dwelt there.\n\nEvery day the prince went out to hunt. He would shoot a stag or a\nroebuck, and bring it home. After he had eaten as much as he wanted,\nthere was always enough meat left for the next day, but he never ate\nit the next day, as he went hunting again, and there was thus always\na quantity of food left over.\n\nA fox perceived this, and every day, when the prince had gone out to\nthe chase, he stole into the hut and ate all the food that was left;\nthen he stole away again. Some time passed thus. Then the fox said:\n'There is no bravery in this! I carry away all his meat secretly,\nyet there is plenty. I will show myself to him.'\n\nOnce when the prince was hunting, the fox stole in, and, when his\nhunger was satisfied, he went about arranging everything. When the\nprince came home, the fox leaped out in front of him. The prince drew\nhis bow, and was just about to shoot him, when the fox cried out:\n'Do not kill me, and I will help to make thy fortune!' The prince did\nnot kill him, and the fox attended to the horse, and led it about,\nuntil the sweat dried off its coat. They lived thus for some time. The\nfox lighted the fire, tidied the hut, and did all the work.\n\nBut, in spite of this, there was still meat left. 'I will go and find\nsome one who will help to eat it,' said the fox. He went out, and saw\na wolf hardly able to walk from want of food. It could scarcely move\nfrom the spot where it was. The fox said: 'Come home with me, and thou\nshalt have plenty of everything.' The wolf followed him. They both went\ninto the hut, where the fox told his companion: 'I will tidy the house,\nthou must stay here, and when the master comes in attend to his horse.'\n\nThe master came, and on the saddle of his horse was slung a stag. The\nwolf sprang out to attend to the horse; the youth drew his bow, and\nwas about to shoot the wolf, when the fox cried out: 'Do not kill him,\nhe is a friend!' The prince did not kill him, but jumped down from his\nhorse, took the stag, and went in. The wolf attended to the horse,\nand led him up and down, while the fox himself saw to the inside of\nthe house; thus they lived for some time.\n\nThe fox noticed that there was much meat left even now. He ran out\nand brought in a famished bear. The wolf was sent for grass, the bear\ncommanded to tend the horse, while the fox arranged the house. In a\nlittle time the prince came in, and when the bear jumped out to look\nafter his horse he drew his bow to shoot him, but the fox cried out:\n'Do not kill him, he is a friend!' The youth did not kill the bear,\nand he tended the horse and led it about; then the wolf came in with\nthe grass, and gave it to the horse.\n\nSome time passed. The fox saw that even yet there was meat to spare. He\nwent out and sought until he found an eagle, which he brought home. He\ncommanded the eagle to attend to the horse, sent the bear for grass,\nand the wolf for wood to burn, while he saw to household affairs. Thus\neach had his business to do. When the master returned, the eagle flew\nout to tend the horse. The prince was about to shoot him, when the fox\ncried out: 'Do not kill him, he is a friend!' The prince did not kill\nhim, but thought to himself: 'What will this vile fox bring in next? I\nshall see all the game in the country here.' They lived thus some time.\n\nOnce the fox said to his master: 'Give us leave to go away for two\nweeks; at the end of that time we shall return to thee.' The master\ngave them leave, and thought to himself: 'I do not mind if I never see\nyou again, for I am afraid of you all.' The fox, the wolf, the bear,\nand the eagle went away. They saw a glade in the wood, and rested\nthere. The fox said to his companions: 'Now, let us build a good house\nfor our master.' They all agreed, and set to work. The wolf cut down\ntrees, the bear cut the wood into shape, and did the joiner work,\nthe eagle carried it, and the fox gave orders. When the wood was\nready, they set to and built the house. They built so beautiful a\nhouse that the prince could not have imagined one like it, even in\nhis dreams. Everything was finished, but there was no furniture in it.\n\nThe fox arose and took his companions into a neighbouring town. They\nwent into the bazaar, and looked at the house-furniture. Each one had\nhis work to do again. The fox chose the goods, the wolf was ordered\nto break the shutters, the bear to carry the things to the door, and\nthe eagle to take everything to the palace. They seized everything\nnecessary for furnishing a house--domestic utensils, carpets, and\nvessels. They carried them to the palace, and placed them there;\nso now all was finished, and there was nothing more left to wish for.\n\nTwo weeks had expired, so the four went home. The prince was hunting,\nbut they went to meet him. They surrounded him, and would not let him\npass. The fox cried out: 'I command thee to come with us whither we\nlead thee.' The prince was afraid, he did not know what it could mean,\nbut went with them. In a little while they arrived in the glade. It\nwas girt by a wall over which no bird could fly. They opened the\ngates and went inside. When the king's son saw, he was stupefied\nwith surprise. Inside the wall was laid out a beautiful garden, with\nfountains playing, and there stood a magnificent palace. Then they\nsaid: 'We have made all this ready in two weeks, now live happily in\nit.' The prince rejoiced greatly, and gave hearty thanks to his fox.\n\nSome time passed after this. The fox said: 'I must see if I can find\na good wife for my master.' He came to the prince, and again asked a\nfortnight's absence. Then he went away and made a sledge. He harnessed\nthe wolf and bear to it, and said to the eagle: 'Fly up high, and keep\na watch; when thou seest a beautiful princess, seize her in thy claws\nand carry her off.' He himself sat down and acted as coachman. Thus\nthey travelled from place to place.\n\nIn the villages, the fox played the trumpet, and the bear and the\nwolf leaped and danced along. Crowds of people came out to look. When\nthey came to the capital, a maiden, fair as the sun, looked from her\nwindow, the eagle seized her in his claws, and flew off. The bear and\nthe wolf turned round and started for home. When the people saw this,\nthey all set off in pursuit. The fox was behind his companions, and\nthe dogs came nearer, and almost touched his cloak, but in some way\nor other they all escaped, and brought the fair one to their master.\n\nThe king's son could scarcely stand on his feet for joy. The princess's\nfather was in the greatest consternation, and said: 'To him who finds\nand brings back my daughter will I give the half of my kingdom.' But\nnone was able to find trace of her. At last an old woman appeared,\nand said to the king: 'I will find thy daughter.' She arose and went\nforth. At last she came to the prince's house, and asked: 'Do ye not\nwant an attendant? I will come for small wages.' The fox, wolf, bear,\nand even the beautiful princess herself, said: 'We do not want thee,\nwe shall not take thee.' But the prince did not agree with them,\nand engaged her as servant.\n\nThe old woman served them faithfully for a long time, and did not\nharm them. Then one day, when the prince was asleep, the old woman\nwanted the princess to go out into the garden with her. She did not\nwish to go, but the old woman pressed her until she consented. When\nthey came to the fountains, the old woman offered her some water. The\nprincess refused it, but the old woman insisted. She placed a litra\n(large jar) full of water to her lips, and it suddenly swallowed\nup the princess. Then the old woman put it to her own mouth, and\nit swallowed her. The litra rolled away. The fox saw and pursued,\nbut that which he sought was soon lost to sight.\n\nThe fox reproached his master, but it was no use saying anything\nnow. He asked again for a fortnight's leave, made another sledge like\nthe former, and harnessed the bear and wolf to it. He sat up on the\nseat, and held tambourines in his paws. He struck them, and the wolf\nand bear pranced and danced along. The eagle flew up high, and looked\nround. All the people in the land came out to gaze at the sight. The\nking was angry with his beautiful daughter, and said, 'Do not go\nout! Do not even look out.' The eagle watched for a long time, but\ncould not see her. At last he caught a glimpse of the princess through\na little window; he struck against it, broke it, seized the princess,\nand flew away. He rejoined his companions, and all hastened off.\n\nThey brought the princess to their master. The king collected all his\narmy, and sent the old woman with it to the prince's palace. The fox\nsaw them appearing in the distance like a swarm of flies. He ordered\nthe eagle to carry stones up high in the air. When the army approached,\nthe eagle let the stones fall on the men; the fox, the bear, and the\nwolf attacked them, and completely exterminated them. There escaped\nonly one single man; they fell upon him too, gnawed one of his feet,\nand said: 'Go and tell thy king what has befallen his hosts.'\n\nWhen the king saw his man, and heard the sad end of his army, he\nwas out of his mind with grief. He assembled all the chief priests\nin his kingdom, went in front of them, and they all came on bended\nknees. When they were near, the fox saw them, and told his master. The\nprince ran out to meet them, raised them all on their feet, and took\nthem into his house. The father and son-in-law became reconciled,\nand lived happily together. Then the fox said to his master: 'I am\ngetting old now, and the day of my death will soon be here, promise\nto bury me in a fowl-house.' The prince promised. The fox said to\nhimself: 'Come, I will see if my master means to keep his promise,'\nand he stretched himself out as if he were dead. When the prince saw\nthe corpse, he ordered it to be taken away and thrown into the earth.\n\nThe fox was enraged, jumped up and cried out: 'Is this the way thou\nrememberest my goodness to thee? Well, since thou hast done thus,\nwhen I die you will all be cursed, and there will not remain a trace\nof you.' Some time after this the fox died. After his death, his\nword came to pass, and they were all destroyed. The wolf, the bear,\nand the eagle remained masters of the field. [21]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE KING AND THE APPLE [22]\n\n\nThere was and there was not at all (of God's best may it be!), there\nwas a king. When the day of his death was drawing nigh, he called his\nson to him, and said: 'In the day when thou goest to hunt in the east,\ntake this coffer, but only open it when thou art in dire distress.'\n\nThe king died, and was buried in the manner he had wished. The prince\nfell into a state of grief, and would not go outside the door. At\nlast the ministers of state came to the new king, and proposed to him\nthat he should go out hunting. The king was delighted with the idea,\nand set out for the chase with his suite.\n\nThey went eastwards, and killed a great quantity of game. On their\nway home, the young monarch saw a tower near the road, and wished\nto know what was in it. He asked one of his viziers to go and try to\nfind out about it. He obeyed, but first said:\n\n'I hope to return in three days, and if I do not I shall be dead.'\n\nThree days passed, and the vizier did not return. The king sent a\nsecond, a third, a fourth, but not one of them came back. Then he\nrose and went himself. When he arrived, he saw written over the door:\n'Enter and thou wilt repent; enter not and thou wilt repent.'\n\n'I must do one or the other,' said the king to himself, 'so I shall\ngo in.'\n\nHe opened the door and went in. Behold! there stood twelve men with\ndrawn swords. They took his hand and led him into twelve rooms. When\nhe was come into the twelfth, he saw a golden couch, on which was\nstretched a boy of eight or nine years of age. His eyes were closed,\nand he did not utter a word. The king was told:\n\n'Thou mayst ask him three questions, but if he does not understand\nand answer all of them, thou must lose thy head.'\n\nThe king became very sad, but at last remembered the coffer his\nfather had given him. 'What greater misfortune can I have than to lose\nmy head?' said he to himself. He took out the coffer and opened it;\nfrom it there fell out an apple, which rolled towards the couch. 'What\nhelp can this be to me?' said the king.\n\nBut the apple began to speak, and told the following tale to the\nboy:--'A certain man was travelling with his wife and brother, when\nnight fell, and they had no food. The woman's brother-in-law went\ninto a neighbouring village to buy bread; on the way he met brigands,\nwho robbed him and cut off his head. When his brother did not return,\nthe man went to look for him; he met the same fate. The next day the\nunhappy woman went to seek them, and there she saw her husband and\nbrother-in-law lying in one place with their heads cut off; around was\na pool of blood. The woman sat down, tore her hair, and began to weep\nbitterly. At that moment there jumped out a little mouse. It began\nto lick the blood, but the woman took a stone, threw it at the mouse,\nand killed it. Then the mouse's mother came out and said: \"Look at me,\nI can bring my child back to life, but what canst thou do for thy\nhusband and his brother?\" She pulled up an herb, applied it to the\nlittle mouse, and it was restored to life. Then they both disappeared\nin their hole. The woman rejoiced greatly when she saw this; she also\nplucked of the same herb, put the heads on the bodies, and applied\nit to them. Her husband and brother-in-law both came back to life,\nbut alas! she had put the wrong heads on the bodies. Now, my sage\nyouth! tell me, which was the woman's husband?' concluded the apple.\n\nHe opened his eyes, and said: 'Certainly it was he who had the\nright head.'\n\nThe king was very glad.\n\n'A joiner, a tailor, and a priest were travelling together at one\ntime,' began the apple. 'Night came on when they were in a wood; they\nlighted a huge fire, had their supper, and then said: \"Do not let\nus be deprived of employment, each of us shall in turn watch, and do\nsomething in his trade.\" The joiner's turn came first. He cut down a\ntree, and out of it he fashioned a man. Then he lay down, and went to\nsleep, while the tailor mounted guard. When he saw the wooden man, he\ntook off his clothes and put them on it. Last of all, the priest acted\nas sentinel. When he saw the man he said: \"I will pray to God that\nHe may give this man a soul.\" He prayed, and his wish was granted.'\n\n'Now, my boy, canst thou tell me who made the man?'\n\n'He who gave him the soul.'\n\nThe king was pleased, and said to himself: 'That is two.' The apple\nagain went on: 'There were a diviner, a physician, and a swift\nrunner. The diviner said: \"There is a certain prince who is ill\nwith such and such a disease.\" The physician said: \"I know a cure\nfor it.\" \"I will run with it,\" said the swift runner. The physician\nprepared the medicine, and the man ran with it. Now tell me who cured\nthe king's son?' said the apple.\n\n'He who made the medicine,' replied the boy. When he had given the\nthree answers, the apple rolled back into the casket, and the king put\nit in his pocket. The boy arose, embraced the king, and kissed him:\n'Many men have been here, but I have not been able to speak before:\nnow tell me what thou wishest, and I will do it.' The king asked that\nhis viziers might be restored to life, and they all went away with\nrich presents.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\nMINGRELIAN TALES [23]\n\n\nI\n\nTHE THREE PRECEPTS\n\n\nThere was, there was, there was, there was, and nothing there\nwas. [24] In a certain country, a certain realm, a certain region,\na certain village, there was an orphan so poor, so poor, that 'tween\nheaven and earth nought could be found that was his. Being in such\na plight to-day, to-morrow, the day after to-morrow, this week,\nnext week, this month, next month, sad and thoughtful he became;\nhe thought, he thought, he thought, and at last made up his mind:\n'I will arise and try my luck,' quoth he. He rose betimes in the\nmorning, called on the name of God, turned himself to the right hand,\n[25] and set forth from the house.\n\nHe went, he went, he went, beyond the sky, across the earth, across\nthe forest, across the field, across the plain, over the mountains,\nhe went as far as he could, and when he looked he saw a man of graceful\nmien coming towards him. The youth quickened his step and they met. 'I\nwish thee victory, good youth!' [26] said the stranger, 'whither goest\nthou?' 'May God send thee victory, my master,' answered the young man,\n'I go to seek a livelihood.' 'Be my servant for three years, and I\nshall teach thee three things that will afterwards be helpful,' said\nthis clever man to the youth. The youth agreed, and went away with him.\n\nAt the end of a year's service, the clever man said to the youth:\n'Whatever thou seest outside thy yard, throw it into the yard.' When\nthe second year had passed, he again spoke to the youth, and said:\n'Lend nothing to anybody unless thou art much pressed to do so.' The\nthird year came to an end, and it was time for the young man to\ndepart; the clever man called him and said: 'Tell not thy secret\nto a woman.' Then he bade him farewell, blessed him, and sent him\nhome. The youth set out: he went, he went, he went by day, he went\nby night, over land, over water, and when he reached home he began\nto establish himself, he made a fence round his yard and, as he had\nbeen instructed, threw into the yard all he found outside the yard.\n\nOne morning he went out and found on the road a red snake; he\nremembered the instruction of the clever man and threw the snake\ninto the yard. A week later, the young man noticed that on the place\nwhere he had thrown the snake, it had laid a multitude of precious\nstones. [27] It is no wonder that the youth was greatly pleased at\nthis. He gathered up the snake and the precious stones in the skirt\nof his garment, and put the snake in a nest in his own house. Every\nday the snake laid him a precious stone. The youth became wealthy: he\nbuilt himself a fine house, took a wife, and lived like a lord. Still\nthe snake went on laying precious stones, the youth became richer\nand richer, and gave himself up to gladness. One day his wife said to\nhim: 'Young man! who has made thee so fabulously rich, for thou wast\nformerly poorer than any one on earth.' 'Who? God gave me wealth,'\nsaid the husband, following the clever man's advice, not revealing\nhis secret. But the woman gave him no peace; day and night she always\nasked the same thing: 'How didst thou become wealthy?--thou must tell\nme, thou must.' The youth had no way of escape, she wearied him out,\nand at last made him tell her all about the snake. Since there was\nnothing else to be done, the young man took his wife and showed her\nthe snake that laid precious stones. After this, it happened that the\nsnake ceased to lay precious stones; the young man's wealth began to\ndiminish, and nothing was added to it.\n\nWhen he was in this state, a certain man came and asked him for the\nloan of a knife. Of course, being utterly cast down with grief and\nsorrow, he remembered not the words the clever man had spoken to him,\nand lent the knife. May it happen to thine enemy as it happened to\nhim! It happened that this wretched man was a thief. When he had got\nthe knife he went and broke into a house to steal; there he thrust\nthe knife into the belly of a sleeping man, slew him, and left the\nknife in the dead man's body, then pillaged the house. Afterwards an\nenquiry was made into the matter. They found the knife in the man who\nhad been killed and robbed, and it turned out to be the knife of the\nyoung man. Of course he was taken and bound, all his goods were seized,\nand he was treated as a thief ought to be treated. Thus did it happen\nto the wretched youth who disobeyed the instructions of the clever man.\n\n\n        Yester eve I was there,\n        This evening I am here....\n        Three apples, [28] three pomegranates,\n        May God send thee,\n        Ripe in thy hands.\n\n        The tale, the tale is ended....\n        Thou hast eaten maize-bread with ashes, [29]\n        Thou hast drunk bad, stale wine,\n        And eaten a rotten walnut. [30]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nKAZHA-NDII\n\n\nThere was once a king who had three sons and three daughters. When\nthe day of his death was come, he called all his children, and said\nto his sons: 'Hearken to my will, and see that ye fulfil it. When I\ndie, let each of you watch my tomb for one week, give these maidens\nto the suitors who ask for their hands.' After he had said farewell,\nthe king died.\n\nHe was buried, and on the first night the eldest brother went to\nguard the grave. But in a short time something began to approach\nwith a mighty noise, and when it came near, it was so strong that it\ndrove the prince out of the enclosure. From a distance, the prince\nsaw how the being that had come with noise went to the king's grave,\ndug up the corpse, and wept over it till morning; when morning came,\nit buried the corpse in the earth again, and went away. When the prince\nreached home, he was ashamed to say anything about what had happened.\n\nAt that time, both the elder brothers set out for the chase; the\nyoungest brother was left at home, he heard a voice and looked\nround. It turned out to be a suitor for the hand of his sister. He\ntook and gave him the eldest sister. Soon after, he again heard\na voice. The prince looked round--another suitor had come. The\nabsence of his brothers somewhat disturbed him, but, according to\nhis father's will, he married his second sister also. A little later,\na third voice was heard, and to him he gave his third sister.\n\nIn the evening, when the two elder brothers came home, they did not\nsee their sisters; they asked the youngest, and he told them what\nhad happened. They were not pleased, and sent him out to feed the\nsheep. That night the middle brother went to guard the king's grave;\nthe same thing happened to him as to his elder brother, but he too was\nsilent on the subject. When he reached home, the youngest brother began\nto entreat his elder brothers, saying: 'Be just, let me also watch my\nfather's grave.' But they were angry, and answered: 'Get thee gone,\nhow couldst thou guard the grave when we are not able to do it!' But\nafterwards they said one to the other: 'Let us allow him to go.'\n\nSo the youth went, came to the tomb of his father, lighted a\ncandle, and, as soon as he sat down, an uproar began, but he was\nnot affrighted. At the approach of the monster an earthquake began,\nbut the youth was not afraid, he swung his sword round his head,\nand cleft the monster in twain, but the monster's blood put out the\ncandle. Looking round, the youth saw, some way off, the blaze of a\nfire. He arose and went thither. On his way he said to the cock: 'Crow\nnot, so that dawn break not till I come back again, or I shall slay\nthee.' When he came near, he met with a vast river like a sea. When\nhe had swum over and reached the other side, the youth saw that the\nfire was burning among the demis, [31] who were sitting round it--so he\nstopped and bethought himself seriously; but, at last, he took a leap,\njumped into the middle of them, seized a burning brand, and ran away.\n\nThe burning cinders and ashes were showered over the demis, but they\ndid not see the youth. The youth went back, but as he crossed the\nriver the burning log went out. He was angry at this, but what could\nhe do? He went back again, and when he threw himself upon the fire the\ndemis caught him, and asked what he wanted. He told them. The demis\nsaid to him: 'In yonder castle there dwell three maidens unseen by the\nsun, [32] thou must bring them to us or we will not let thee go.' The\nyouth asked them: 'Is there a ladder up to the castle?' They answered:\n'Yes.' 'Then let us go,' said he.\n\nHe took all the demis with him, and said: 'I shall climb up first,\nthen you must come one by one.' They agreed. The youth went up, one\ndemi came after him. As soon as the first demi reached the top, the\nyouth brandished his sword, slew him, and laid down his body. When\nthe second came up, he did likewise unto him. Thus he slew them all,\none by one, and left their bodies there.\n\nThen he went in, saluted the maidens, and gave each of them a ring--to\nthe youngest for himself, to the others for his brothers. The youth\nwent out, thrust his sword into a stone, and left it there, took fire\nwith him, and went back. When he had crossed the river, he cried to\nthe cock: 'Now crow!' Then he went to his father's grave. Till dawn\nhe stayed there, and then he went home.\n\nThe beautiful maidens told the king what had happened. The king\nordered all his subjects to be summoned, and asked: 'Who is able to\ndraw this sword out of the stone?' But nobody could draw it out. Then\nthe king made a proclamation: 'To him that can draw out this sword I\nwill give my daughter.' The princes, as soon as they heard of this,\ndecided to go thither. When they were making ready for the journey,\nthe youngest asked his brothers to take him too. At last they consented\nto take him. When they arrived, they found a great uproar: people\nfrom all parts of the world were, in turn, laying hold of the sword,\nbut could not draw it out. Last of all, the youngest brother came up,\npulled out his sword, put it in the scabbard, and said to the king:\n'All three daughters are ours now, for I have two brothers.' He\ncalled his brothers, and they took the three maidens to wife. Great\nmerry-making began.\n\nThe king gave to the wife of the youngest prince a flying carpet,\nwhich carried away any one who sat on it. The princess sat on it, and\nfollowed her suite. The groomsmen and youths set out with them. When\nthey had gone half way, a monster swooped down on the princess and\ncarried her off. A sad uproar began, but what was to be done? The\nyoung prince said to his brothers: 'Farewell! I must perish with her,'\nand went away.\n\nHe went, he went, he went, he went as far as he could, and in a field\nhe found a spring, beside which he lay down. There came a boy with a\nwater jug. The prince asked: 'Whose village is this?' The boy replied:\n'Here dwell three brother demis, all married to daughters of one king.'\n\nWhen the youth heard this he was glad, for it turned out that his\nsisters dwelt here. When he came near, the sisters went out to meet\nhim. It is easy to imagine how glad they were to see him. When it\nwas dark, the three demis returned. One of the sisters went out\nto meet them, and said: 'My brother is come.' The demis answered:\n'If the elder brothers are come, we can make roast meat of them, if\nit be the youngest, we shall know how to do him honour.' The demis\nwent in, and kissed the youth for joy at meeting him.\n\nAs they were all sitting round the hearth, the demis began to sigh\ndeeply. The youth asked them: 'Why do you sigh?' 'Why?--we are sorry\nfor that poor damsel! Kazha-Ndii-Kerkun (i.e. the swift, flint-like\ndemi) was carrying through the air a golden-haired woman; we pursued,\nbut only succeeded in pulling off a lock of the woman's hair.' They\nshowed the hair to the youth. As soon as he saw it he fainted, crying:\n'Ah! woe is me! woe is me!' The demis asked him what was wrong. He\ntold them all. As soon as day dawned, the youth arose, and made ready\nto depart. The demis were very sorry at this, but what could they\ndo? They gave him a horse and a little dog.\n\nThe youth set out, and came to the house of Kazha-Ndii; but Kazha-Ndii\nwas not at home. He dismounted, and went in to the princess; when\nthey saw each other, their joy was so great that they fell to the\nground. The princess said to him: 'O youth, why hast thou sought thy\ndoom? Against Kazha-Ndii thou canst do nothing.' But the young man\nwould not hearken, and lifted her on to his horse.\n\nAs soon as they reached the gate, it creaked so loudly that a star\nfell from heaven. The door cried: 'Kazha-Ndii-Kerkun, where art\nthou? they have carried off thy wife.' Kazha-Ndii heard this, and\npursued them. When he was overtaking them, Kazha-Ndii's horse neighed\nso loudly that it stopped the princess's horse. The princess said\nto him: 'O youth, did I not tell thee how it would be? Save thyself\nat least.' Then Kazha-Ndii rode up, cut the youth into pieces, and\ncarried his wife back. The little dog came up, gathered the scattered\nfragments of the young man's body, put them in a bag, tied it to the\nsaddle, mounted the horse, and took the body to the demis.\n\nWhen the demis saw it they wept greatly, but their youngest brother\nblew the soul back into the pieces, and raised the youth to life. The\nprince arose, and again made ready to depart; the youngest demi said\nto him: 'Here is my three-legged horse, [33] take him with thee; if\nhe do not help thee there is no help to hope for.' The youth mounted\nthe horse, came again to his princess, took her and put her on the\nhorse. When he was riding out of the gate it creaked more loudly than\nbefore. Kazha-Ndii heard it and pursued them. As he was overtaking\nthem, Kazha-Ndii's horse neighed, and the youth's horse slackened its\nspeed. The young prince said to his horse: 'Why doest thou this?' 'What\ncan I do? If I had a fourth leg I might be victorious.' When Kazha-Ndii\ncame near, the three-legged horse neighed so loudly that it stopped\nKazha-Ndii's horse. Then the youth came up to him, brandished his\nsword, cut Kazha-Ndii into halves, put the princess on his horse,\nand they rode merrily away. They visited the demis and then went home.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE STORY OF GERIA, THE POOR MAN'S SON\n\n\nThere was once a poor married man who had only one son; but this son\nwas very handsome and strong, and his name was Geria. [34] Once the\nyouth went out to hunt, and when he was coming home in the evening\nhe met a woman with a jar going to the spring for water; he aimed an\narrow at her, and broke the jar. The woman turned to him and said:\n'If thou art so warlike, instead of breaking my pot why dost thou not\ngo and fetch the only sister of the twelve demis that dwell beyond\nthe twelve mountains?' When he heard this, the youth's heart began\nto beat wildly for eagerness to see the maiden.\n\nHe went home and said to his parents: 'Get ready food to last me a\nyear, and if I do not come back in that time set out to seek for\nme.' His parents would not consent, but said: 'We have no child\nbut thee, wilt thou go away from us and perish?' They wept with one\naccord, but Geria heeded them not. So they got him provisions. They\nbade him farewell with sobs. Such wailing was there that the parting\nwas known throughout the country side, yea, even to sun and moon,\nto heaven and earth, to the sea and the sands thereof. At last they\nblessed their son and let him go. He took with him a little dog,\nwhose name was Mathicochi. [35] When they took leave one of another,\nthey embraced, they kissed, and the youth sped on his way.\n\nHe went, he went, he went, he went as much as he could--week and week,\nweek and fortnight, a year and three months, [36]--he went over six\nmountains. When he had crossed these six mountains everything round\nabout him began to reel: trees and stones fell down and clattered\ninto the valleys, but Geria was not hurt by them. Then, from beneath,\nthere came to him a voice, saying: 'What kind of man art thou to\nstand thus against me. Who can resist me but Geria, the poor man's\nson.' ''Tis I--Geria, the poor man's son.'\n\nWhen she heard this, the Rokapi [37] went out to meet him, bowed\nherself, did great honour to him, and said: 'Whither wilt thou go?' The\nyouth told her all. The Rokapi was moved with sorrow. Geria asked her:\n'Why dost thou grieve?'--'For that I have seen many go thither, but\nI have seen none come back.' But Geria heeded her not, and went on\nhis way.\n\nHe went, he went, he went more than he could, and when he had crossed\nthe other six mountains a still greater earthquake began. It turned\nout that this region belonged to the eldest sister of the Rokapis; but\nGeria showed no sign of fear. The Rokapi cried to him: 'What manner of\nman art thou to resist my witchcraft? Art thou Geria, the poor man's\nson?' He cried out to her: 'I am he.' The Rokapi at once went out to\nmeet him, bowed herself, treated him with respect, and asked him:\n'Whither art thou going?' Geria told her his plan, and this Rokapi\ntoo was distressed. Geria asked her why she grieved. She answered:\n'Because I have seen many on their way thither, but I have never\nseen one come back; albeit, I will do thee one service, I give thee\nmy three-legged horse.' She called the horse, and said to him: 'As\nlong as Geria lives serve him faithfully.' Geria bade her farewell,\nmounted the horse, and rode away with his little dog Mathicochi.\n\nHe rode out into a great meadow, and came near the abode of the\ndemis. When he looked upon the mead his heart was glad, and his eyes\nfilled with tears, he bethought him of his home and its beautiful\nfields, he uttered a blessing to God the merciful. Then he urged his\nhorse onward, at such speed that clouds of dust rose behind him. The\nyouth said to himself: 'Lo, I am now in the unknown land!' Up he rode\nto the demis' gate, leaped from his horse, and tied it there.\n\nHe walked away a little, and then cried: 'Methinks I have not fastened\nmy horse securely!' Back he went, tore up an oak by the roots, planted\nit with its branches downwards in the earth, and firmly tied his horse\nto it. Then the horse said: 'If thou hadst not done this I should\nhave fled home, but now do as I tell thee, and all will be well. The\ndemis are indoors; go to the meadow, there thou wilt find a kettle,\noverturn it. Then betake thyself to the damsel, and get her to plight\nher troth to thee.'\n\nGeria went, kicked the kettle, turned it over three times, and left\nit upside down, then he went to the maiden, broke all the locks, and\ncame to the room where she was. She was astonished, but the youth's\nbravery pleased her, and, to make a long story short, she promised\nto marry him. The youth went out merrily to the place where he had\nleft his horse. There he quietly spent the night, and next morning the\nhorse said: 'The demis have now gone out to the meadow; when they saw\nthe kettle turned over they marvelled, for it usually takes all the\ntwelve demis to turn over that kettle, and they said one to another:\n\"Whatever we are commanded by him that turned over the kettle that\nmust we do,\"--now it is time for thee to go thither.' Geria went to\nthe meadow.\n\nAs soon as the demis saw him, they all arose hastily, went to meet him,\nbowed themselves, and said: 'What dost thou ask of us?' He answered:\n'You must give me your sister to wife.' The demis said: 'We give her to\nthee, but the Black King will not let thee take her.' Geria answered:\n'I fear no man,' so (not to lengthen unduly a long story) they made\nready a banquet.\n\nWhile the feast was still going on, in the morning, Geria looked out\nof the door, and saw a host of men in black apparel, who had been sent\nby the Black King. Geria mounted his horse, dashed into the midst\nand defeated them all; three only did he save alive, as messengers,\nand sent them to say to the Black King: ''Tis I that have done this,\nGeria, the poor man's son.'\n\nThe King was very wroth, and sent almost all his army against him. When\nGeria saw them, he bethought himself a little, but the horse said to\nhim: 'Youth! this is nothing, look for still worse.' Geria struck\nthe horse with his whip, attacked the host, and slew all but one;\nhim he sent to bear the news. Upon this, the king went out of himself\nwith rage: he summoned his devoted and loyal slave to whom he was\nwont to apply in all his difficulties, by name Qvamuritz Khami; [38]\nto him he committed all that was left of the army, and sent him out.\n\nGeria arose and saw a sight, such a sight as I wish thine enemy\nmay see. It pleased him not to see Qvamuritz Khami; but what could\nbe done? The horse said to him: 'Youth! yonder is he of whom I\nspake.' Geria crossed himself, gave thanks to God, bade his wife\nfarewell, for he thought to die, and went out. First of all he slew\nthe army, and then he began a single combat with Qvamuritz Khami.\n\nMounted they fought with maces, but the battle was not to the strong,\nfor Qvamuritz Khami's soul was safe in other hands--how could he\nbe killed? Qvamuritz Khami cried: 'O young man! thus shouldst thou\nshoot!' and slew him. When Geria was dead, the victor slaughtered\nall the demis, took Geria's wife, put her on her husband's horse,\nand carried her off to his master.\n\nBut she said to the king: 'I am the widow of such a man that I will\nnot belong to a man like thee; either do battle with me, and let\nthe conqueror have his will, or give me leave to wear mourning for\nthree months.' The king feared to fight with her, for she was of the\ndemi race, so he gave her a respite of three months. When Geria was\nkilled, his head rolled one way and his body another; his faithful\ndog Mathicochi went and put the two pieces together, and lay down to\nguard them.\n\nWhile all these things had been happening, a year had passed, and\nwhen Geria's parents saw that he did not return, they set out to seek\nhim. When they came to a narrow road, they saw that several snakes had\nmet and were fighting, and all fell dead; then two great snakes crawled\nout, threw themselves into the river, swam out again and began to crawl\nover the dead snakes in various directions. They were all restored to\nlife. Geria's parents wondered at the sight, and said one to the other:\n'Let us take a little of this water.' They took a thimblefull of it.\n\nWhen they approached, the little dog, Mathicochi, saw them, and ran\nto meet them; sadly he took them to the dead body. When the unhappy\nparents saw Geria dead, they both fell to the ground and sobbed\nbitterly; then they remembered that the mother of the unfortunate\nyouth had the wonderful water with her. As soon as they sprinkled\nGeria with it he came to life, and said: 'Woe is me! what a long time\nI have slept!' When he saw his parents, he was glad, but, remembering\nall that had befallen him, he again grew sad, and bade his parents\nfarewell once more. They wept much, but, putting their trust in God,\narmed themselves with patience.\n\nGeria set out for the land of the Black King, and when he came near,\nwent into a great forest; as he entered, he heard a very great\nnoise. He stopped, and there, on the road, he saw some one coming\nalong, destroying all the forest as he went, tree fell on tree;\nhe looked steadily, and saw a great boar rushing straight towards\nhim; he threw himself on it, lifted it, and cast it three shoulders'\nlengths [39] away from him; but they wrestled again, they wrestled,\nthey wrestled, three whole days they wrestled. At last the youth was\nvictorious, and tore the wild boar into halves. From the lacerated\nboar there leaped out a wild goat. When the youth killed the wild goat,\nthere fell from it a little box; when he broke the box, three swallows\nflew from it,--two of them he killed, the third he caught and kept.\n\nAt that time Qvamuritz Khami fell ill, the agony of death came upon\nhim, for it turned out that this swallow was his soul. Geria killed\nthe swallow, and Qvamuritz Khami died. [40]\n\nAfter this, Geria went into the king's palace, and slew all therein\nexcepting his wife. Her he took to his parents, whose patience and\ngrief were exchanged for great joy. They all went home together.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE PRINCE WHO BEFRIENDED THE BEASTS\n\n\nThere was a king, and he had three sons. Once he fell ill, and became\nblind in both eyes. He sent his sons for a surgeon. All the surgeons\nagreed that there was a fish of a rare kind by the help of which the\nking might be cured. [41] They made a sketch of the fish, and left\nit with the sick monarch.\n\nThe king commanded his eldest son to go and catch that fish in the\nsea. A hundred men with their nets were lost in the sea, but nought\ncould they find like the fish they sought. The eldest son came home\nto his father and said: 'I have found nothing.' This displeased the\nking, but what could he do? Then the second son set out, taking with\nhim a hundred men also, but all his men were lost too, and he brought\nback nothing.\n\nAfter this, the youngest brother went. He had recourse to cunning;\nhe took with him a hundred kilas [42] of flour and one man. He came to\nthe sea, and every day he strewed flour in the water, near the shore,\nuntil all the flour was used up; the fishes grew fat on the flour,\nand said: 'Let us do a service to this youth since he has enabled\nus to grow fat'; so, as soon as the youth threw a net into the sea,\nhe at once drew out the rare fish he sought. He wrapped it up in the\nskirt of his robe, and went his way.\n\nAs he rode along, some distance from his companion, he heard a voice\nthat said: 'O youth, I am dying!' But on looking round he saw no man,\nand continued his journey. After a short time, he again heard the same\nwords. He looked round more carefully, but saw nothing. Then he glanced\nat the skirt of his robe, and saw that the fish had its mouth open,\nand was dying. The youth said to it: 'What dost thou want?' The fish\nanswered: 'It will be better for thee if thou wilt let me go, some\nday I shall be of use to thee.' The youth took it and threw it into\nthe water, saying to his comrade: 'I hope thou wilt not betray me.'\n\nWhen he reached home, he told his father that he had been\nunsuccessful. Some time passed. Once the prince quarrelled with his\ncomrade, and the latter ran off and told the king how his son had\ndeceived him. When the king heard this, he ordered his son to be\ntaken away and killed. He was taken out, but when they were about\nto kill him, the youth entreated them, saying: 'What doth it profit\nyou if you slay me? If you let me go, 'twill be a good deed, and\nI shall flee to foreign lands.' The executioners took pity on him,\nand set him free; he thanked them, and departed.\n\nHe went, he went, he went, he went farther than anybody ever went--he\ncame to a great forest. As he went through the forest, he saw a deer\nrunning, in a great state of alarm. The youth stopped, and fixed his\ngaze on it; then the deer came up and fell on its face before him. The\nyouth asked: 'What ails thee?' 'The prince pursues me, and on thee\ndepends my safety.' The youth took the deer with him and went on. A\nhuntsman met him, and asked: 'Whither art thou leading the deer?' The\nyouth replied: 'One king has sent it as a gift to another king, and,\nlo! I am taking it.' The youth thus saved the deer from death, and\nthe deer said: 'A time will come when I shall save thy life.'\n\nThe youth went on his way: he went, he went, he went, so far he went,\ngood sir, that the 'three day colt' (of fable) could not go so far. He\nlooked, and, lo! a frightened eagle perched on his shoulder, and said:\n'Youth, on thee depends my safety!' The youth protected it also from\nits pursuer. Then the eagle said to him: 'Some day I shall do thee\na service.'\n\nThe youth went on: he went through the forest, he went, he went,\nhe went, he went farther than he could, he went a week, two weeks,\na year and three months. Then he heard some fearful rumbling,\nroaring, thunder and lightning--something was coming through the\nforest, breaking down all the trees. A great jackal appeared, and\nran up to the youth, saying: 'If thou wilt thou canst protect me;\nthe prince is pursuing me with all his army.' The youth saved the\njackal, as he had saved the other animals. Then the jackal said:\n'Some day I shall help thee.'\n\nThe youth went on his way, and, when he was out of the wood, came to\na town. In this town he found a castle of crystal, in the courtyard of\nwhich he saw a great number of young men, some dying and some dead. He\nasked the meaning of this, and was told: 'The king of this land has a\ndaughter, a maiden queen; she has made a proclamation that she will\nwed him that can hide himself from her; but no man can hide himself\nfrom her, and all these men has she slain, for he that cannot hide\nhimself from her is cast down from the top of the castle.'\n\nWhen the youth heard this, he at once arose, and went to the\nmaiden. They bowed themselves each to the other. The maiden asked him:\n'Wherefore art thou come hither?' The youth answered: 'I come for\nthat which others have come for.' She immediately called her viziers\ntogether, and they wrote out the usual contract.\n\nThe youth went out from the castle, came to the seashore, sat down,\nand was soon buried in thought. Just then, something made a great\nsplash in the sea, came and swallowed the youth, carried him into\nthe Red Sea, there they were hidden in the depths of the sea, near\nthe shore. The youth remained there all that night.\n\nWhen the maiden arose next morning she brought her mirror and looked\nin it, but she found nothing in the sky, she looked on the dry land,\nand found nothing there, she looked at the sea--and then she saw\nthe youth in the belly of the fish, which was hiding in the deep\nwaters. After a short time, the fish threw up the youth on the place\nwhere it had found him. He went merrily to the maiden. She asked:\n'Well, then, didst thou hide thyself?' 'Yes, I hid myself.' But the\nmaiden told him where he had been, and how he got there, and added:\n'This time I forgive thee, for the cleverness thou hast shown.'\n\nThe youth set out again, and sat down in a field. Then something fell\nupon him, and took him up into the air, lifted him up into the sky,\nand covered him with its wing. When the maiden arose next morning,\nshe looked in her mirror, she gazed at the mountain, she gazed at the\nearth, but she found nothing, she looked at the sky, and there she saw\nhow the eagle was covering the youth. The eagle carried the youth down,\nand put him on the ground. He was joyful, thinking that the maiden\ncould not have seen him; but when he came to her she told him all.\n\nThen he fell into deep melancholy, but the maiden, being struck with\nwonder at his cunning in hiding himself, told him that she again\nforgave him. He went out again, and, as he was walking in the field,\nthe deer came to him and said: 'Mount on my back.' He mounted, and the\ndeer carried him away, away, away over all the mountains that were\nthere, and put him in a lair. When the maiden arose next morning,\nshe found him, and when he came back to her she said: 'Young man,\nit seems that thou hast many friends, but thou canst not hide thyself\nfrom me; yet this day also I forgive thee.' The youth went sadly away;\nhe had lost confidence.\n\nWhen he sat down in the field, an earthquake began, the town shook,\nlightning flashed, thunder rolled, and when a thunderbolt had fallen,\nthere leapt out from it his friend the gigantic jackal, and said\nto him: 'Fear not, O youth!' The jackal had recourse to its wonted\ncunning, it began to scrape at the earth: it dug, it dug, it dug,\nand burrowed right up to the place where the maiden dwelt, and then\nit said to the youth: 'Stay thou here, she will look at the sky,\nthe mountain, the sea, and when she cannot find thee she will break\nher mirror; when thou hearest this, then strike thy head through the\nground and come out.'\n\nThis advice, of course, pleased the youth. When the maiden arose in\nthe morning, she looked at the sea, she found him not, she looked\nat the mountain, she looked at the sky, and still she could not see\nhim, so she broke her mirror. Then the youth pushed his head through\nthe floor, bowed, and said to the maiden: 'Thou art mine and I am\nthine!' They summoned the viziers, sent the news to the king, and a\ngreat feast began.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE CUNNING OLD MAN AND THE DEMI\n\n\nThere was once an old man. He might have worked but he was lazy. His\nchildren went out to the fields, but this old man sat by the fire,\nand if they did not show him great respect, he kept them out of the\nhouse. His daughters-in-law quarrelled with him, and ended by turning\nhim out of the house. He begged of his eldest daughter-in-law, saying:\n'Give me a jar of flour, an egg, [43] and an awl, then I shall go\naway.' She gave him these things.\n\nThe old man went on day and night, and came to the bank of a stream;\nhe looked over, and saw on the other side a demi, to whom he cried:\n'Carry me across this river.' The demi answered: 'I shall not carry\nthee, but thou shalt carry me across, or I shall turn thee into\ndust.' The demi seized a stone, struck it on the rocky bank, and\nturned the great stone into powder. The old man also took his jar of\nflour, struck it on the rock, and dust arose. The demi was astonished,\nand said: 'How has he turned this stone into powder?' The demi took\nanother stone, squeezed it in his hand, and said: 'I shall crush thee\nlike this stone.' Then the old man took out the egg, squeezed it, and\nwhen the moisture began to ooze out, the demi was alarmed: he came over\nthe stream, took the old man on his shoulder, and carried him across.\n\nIn the middle of the stream, the demi said to the old man: 'How light\nthou art!' The old man answered: 'I am holding on to the sky with\none hand, if I let go, thou wouldst fall under my weight.' The demi\nsaid: 'Just leave go for a moment.' The old man took out the awl,\nand stuck it in the demi's neck. The demi cried: 'Lay hold of the\nsky again!' The old man put the awl in his pocket.\n\nWhen they had reached the other side, the demi said to the old man:\n'I shall drive in game, and thou canst meet it here.' So the demi\nwent and drove in the game. The old man was afraid of wild beasts,\nand hid himself in the forest, where he found a dead red-breast. [44]\nWhen the demi returned, he asked: 'What hast thou done with the\ngame?' The old man replied: 'Thou didst not drive the game properly,\nor how could any beast that walks on earth escape from me, that could\ncatch this bird on the wing?'\n\nThe demi went and killed two deer, two wild goats, two boars, two\nhares; some he boiled, some he roasted, he made ready two measures\n(kilas of 36 to 40 pounds) of millet, two cocas (a coca=25 bottles)\nof wine, and said: 'Let us sit down and eat.' The old man said:\n'Make me a bridge over this river, there will I sup.' The demi built\nhim a little bridge, on which he seated himself. The demi gave him\none deer, one wild goat, one boar, one hare, one kila of millet,\none coca of wine, and then sat down near him in the field. The demi\nate, but the old man threw the food into the river. The demi thought\nthe old man was eating everything, and was afraid, thinking: 'It\nwould seem that he can eat more than I can.' Lower down the stream,\nwolves caught and ate the meat the old man threw away. The old man\nasked for another deer. The demi brought it, and the old man threw\nit in the water. The demi did not know this. The old man said:\n'I have had a snack this evening.'\n\nNext day, the demi invited the old man to his house. They went\nthere. The demi went out alone to hunt. He met a wolf and a jackal,\nand said to them: 'Come and hunt with me. To my house there has\ncome a guest who can eat ten deer and wild goats; yesterday evening\nwe had two deer, but they were a mere snack to him.' The wolf and\nthe jackal said to the demi: 'Thy guest did not eat one of them,\nhe threw everything into the river, we caught it and ate it, the\nold man ate nothing.' The demi said to the wolf and the jackal:\n'Then let us go and expose this old man's fraud.'\n\nThere went with the demi nine wolves and jackals, to give evidence\nagainst the old man. The old man looked out, and saw the demi coming\nalong in front, with the wolves and jackals behind him. The old\nman cried to the demi: 'Dost thou not owe me more than ten wolves\nand jackals?' The wolves and jackals exchanged glances, and said:\n'It would seem that this demi has betrayed us.' They threw themselves\non the demi and turned him into dust. [45]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nSANARTIA\n\n\nThere was once a king who reached old age without having a son. When\nhe was very old, his wife at last bore him a son. The child was called\nSanartia (i.e. desired, longed for); he grew up, and became very good\nand very clever, so that he understood everything that took place\namong earthly beings, wherever they were; but he did not obey his\nmother. She therefore hated him, and said to the king, her husband:\n'Since this boy will not obey his mother in anything, take him and\nthrow him into the great deep sea.'\n\nThe king was much distressed, but he did as his wife asked. The\nyouth guessed what his parents were talking about, but he showed no\nresistance. After this, his father said: 'Let us go and look at the\ntown.' Then the youth said: 'Papa, give me a little money.' His father\ngave him money, and they went to see the town. When they arrived,\nthe boy bought a little axe, knives, needle, thread, flint and tinder.\n\nWhen they were on their way home, they came near the sea; the boy\npulled up an oak tree, and carried it on his shoulder. The father\nwas the first to see the sea, and when they were on the shore he\nsaid to his son: 'Come hither, and see what a big fish I shall show\nthee.' When the son came up to look, his father cast him into the\ngreat sea, together with the tree he carried. A fish swallowed the\nyouth; his father turned and went home.\n\nIn the sea, the youth kindled a fire in the fish's belly, cut caviar\nout of it, roasted and ate it. On the caviar from this fish the youth\nlived thirty years, in the belly of that fish. Then, his firewood,\nflint and tinder being well-nigh exhausted, he made a very big\nfire. When the fish felt the heat, it leaped up and fell on the dry\nland. The youth said: 'I will cut open the fish's belly, and see--if\nit is in the water, I shall sew it up again, if it is ashore, I shall\nmake a hole and get out.' He cut a little, and saw that it was on\nland. Then he cut a large opening, came out of the fish, made a fire,\ncut flesh from the fish, roasted it, and ate it.\n\nJust then, there passed a prince, on his way to marry a maiden, and\nhe saw the other prince coming out of the fish. The prince who was\ngoing to seek his bride, sent a man to the youth to ask him to make\nway, for he was sitting in the road, and there was no other road for\nhorsemen. But Sanartia would not move. Then the prince himself rode up,\nand asked: 'Who art thou?' Sanartia told him the name of the king,\nhis father. Then the prince invited him, saying: 'I go to marry a\nwife; ride with me.' Sanartia agreed, and they went together to the\nappointed place.\n\nWhen they came near, they sent on a man to the king, who was master\nof the country, asking him to give his daughter in marriage to the\nprince. The king agreed, and sent to say: 'If the prince succeeds\nin performing two exploits, I shall fulfil his wish; but to do these\ndeeds is both hard and perilous: the princess throws a great lump of\nlead as far as a gun will carry a bullet, the suitor must throw it\nback again to the place where the princess is standing.' The suitor\nfor the maiden's hand sent and said: 'I will do this.'\n\nHe went and stood in the place the maiden pointed out to him. She\nthrew a piece of lead which fell at the place where the prince stood;\nhe was not only unable to throw the lead, but could not even lift\nit from the ground; then his comrade, the other prince, Sanartia,\ntook up the lead and threw it for him. The piece of lead went much\nfarther than the maiden had thrown it.\n\nThis exploit having been performed, the prince had another to do:\nmistaking Sanartia for the suitor, they took him to a wilderness where\nthere was a castle, and in it dwelt Ocho-Kochi. [46] They opened the\ndoor of the castle, and let in the prince, saying: 'This Ocho-Kochi\nwill kill the young man.' He spent that night in the castle.\n\nWhen he was preparing to sleep, Ocho-Kochi came to him and wished\nto kill him, but Sanartia was very strong, he seized Ocho-Kochi,\nthrew him on the ground, and beat him with all his might. When he\nhad thrashed him soundly, he said to him: 'Go and stand at the gate\nas watchman.' So he went and watched till dawn.\n\nIn the morning, the king, the maiden's father, sent his vizier,\nsaying: 'Find out what the prince and Ocho-Kochi are doing.' When\nthe vizier came to the door, Ocho-Kochi called out from the inside:\n'Master sleeps, wake him not, or he will beat me.' The vizier made no\nreply to Ocho-Kochi, but went back and told the king what he had heard.\n\nThe king was amazed, he set out for the castle, and said to\nOcho-Kochi: 'Open the door to me.' But Ocho-Kochi replied: 'Master\nwill kill me.' Just then, Sanartia awoke, and said to Ocho-Kochi:\n'Open the door for him.' He immediately opened the door, and let in\nthe king. Then the king and Sanartia went away together. The king\nwished to marry him to his daughter, but Sanartia went away secretly;\nhe dressed the prince, his companion, in his clothes, and sent him\nin his place to the king; as soon as he arrived he was wedded to the\nprincess. Afterwards Sanartia visited him as a friend.\n\nIf they had known that Sanartia had performed these exploits they would\nnot have given the princess to the other prince. But a handmaiden at\nthe court found out the secret somehow, that Sanartia had done the\ndeeds, and the princess's husband had done nothing. One evening the\nhandmaiden told the princess how Sanartia had cheated her and married\nher to another man; she was angry, and that same night, after Sanartia\nhad lain down to sleep, she went and cut off his leg at the knee.\n\nSanartia did not die of the wound, but went away to another land,\nand became friendly with a one-handed man, and they lived together\nin the house of the latter. Afterwards they built a house in common,\nand moved into it. Sanartia took a maiden, and kept her with him\nas nurse. [47] The two friends went out to hunt, and stayed in the\nforest all night. At home there was nobody but the maiden.\n\nMeantime there came a demi, who sucked the maiden's breast and then\nwent away. When Sanartia and his friend came home, the girl told\nthem what had happened. Sanartia left his friend and the girl at\nhome, and said to them: 'If the demi comes, take him and keep him\ntill I come back.' The demi came, but the man was afraid to lay hold\nof him; and the demi went away again. As soon as Sanartia came in,\nhe asked his friend and his nurse: 'What did you do?' They answered:\n'The demi came, but we could not take him, and he went away again.'\n\nNext day Sanartia stayed at home, and sent his friend to hunt. The\ndemi came that night also, but as soon as Sanartia saw him he met\nhim at the door, and when the demi came in, Sanartia seized him and\nthrew him to the ground, then he told the nurse to bring a rope, with\nwhich he bound him tightly. He took out his dagger, and was about to\ncut him in pieces, but the demi entreated him, saying: 'Slay me not,\nand I will heal thee of all infirmities.' Sanartia hearkened to the\ndemi's prayers, and said: 'If thou wilt restore my leg which was cut\noff I will let thee go, otherwise I slay thee.'\n\nThe demi pledged his word to heal him, and led him to a great river,\nsaying: 'Put thy leg therein and it will be sound.' But Sanartia did\nnot yet believe the demi, so he ordered him to bring a dry stick,\nand said: 'Put this stick in the water, and if it becomes green and\nbears leaves then will I put in my leg, otherwise I will not.' The\nstick was put in the water, but it came out as dry as before.\n\nThen Sanartia was angry, and wished to kill the demi, but again he\nentreated, saying: 'There is still another healing stream.' So he\ntook him to the other stream, and as soon as Sanartia put in his leg\nit was made whole and sound like the other leg. After this, he did\nnot kill the demi, but let him go free; he made the demi heal his\none-handed friend, whom he wedded to his nurse. He left them there,\nand set out for his father's house.\n\nBut when he reached it, nobody knew him. Next day he secretly mounted\nhis father's horse, and went to the place where he had married the\nprince to the princess. On the road he saw a swineherd; when he\napproached, he recognised in him his old friend the prince. When he\nquestioned him, the swineherd replied: 'As soon as thou hadst gone\nhence they made me a swineherd.' Sanartia drew out his sword, gave it\nto him, and said: 'Kill all the swine but three, and wound those three;\nthen drive the three home, I shall be there, ready to punish anybody\nwho is angry with thee.' The swineherd did as Sanartia told him,\nand in the evening drove the three swine into the king's courtyard.\n\nSanartia came to the palace earlier, but they did not recognise\nhim. When the swineherd drove in his swine, his wife was about to\nbeat him, saying: 'Why hast thou lost the swine.' But at that moment\nSanartia appeared before the princess, was angry with her, and said:\n'If thou wert a good woman thou wouldst not make thy husband feed\nswine.'... They knew at once that it was Sanartia, and were much\namazed, saying: 'His leg was cut off at the knee, how has he replaced\nhis leg?' Sanartia ordered them to bring the princess's husband: he\nmade her wash him well with her own hands, bring clothes, and dress\nhim in noble apparel. When Sanartia was leaving for home, he called\nthe princess and her parents, and said to them: 'If you do not treat\nthe prince as becomes his rank, I shall come at once, and it will\nfare ill with you.' He took leave of them all and went home.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE SHEPHERD JUDGE\n\n\nIn a certain land, there was once a king who had four viziers to\njudge the people. Once these judges uttered a remarkable sentence. At\nthat time there came to the king a certain shepherd, who spoke in\na manner that pleased the king, so he commanded the viziers: 'Show\nthis shepherd the sentence you pronounced.' When the shepherd had\nexamined the decree of the viziers, it did not please him; he took\nit and altered it from beginning to end.\n\nWhen the king saw this, he said to the shepherd: 'Since thou art so\nskilled in judging, be thou a judge.' The shepherd refused, and said:\n'As long as I have eyes I cannot judge, if you put out both my eyes\nthen I will be a judge.' Finally he persuaded them to put out his\neyes. They built him a great, fine house, they gave him scribes,\nfurnished him with everything befitting his office, and made the\nshepherd supreme judge.\n\nHe began to do justice in such an upright manner that people flocked\nto him from every side. Everybody went to him for justice: great and\nsmall, master and servant, old and young, clergy and laity, friend\nand enemy--in a word, all who had suits with anybody came to him,\nevery one praised and blessed his decisions.\n\nOnce there came to him a man and a woman. The man said to the judge: 'I\ncame to this woman's house on a mule; a calf accompanied my mule. When\nI tied up the mule, the calf began to suck its breast. The woman,\nseeing this, ran out, seized the calf, and began to grumble at me,\nsaying it was her calf, and asking how it came to be with my mule. I\nwithstood her with all my might, but it was of no avail. She wished\nto drag away the calf, but I would not allow it, I would not give\nup my property to her; we quarrelled, and now we have come before\nthee--in God's name judge between us!' Thus he spoke in person to the\njudge, but secretly he sent him a large bribe and a message, saying:\n'Take this money, and put me not to shame before this woman.'\n\nBut the judge would not tamper with the scales of justice, and sent\nto tell the man: 'How can I take the calf from the woman by force,\nif justice do not demand it?' The judge asked the woman: 'What sayest\nthou?' The woman replied: 'My lord, this man rode up to my house\non a mule; I had nothing in the world but one calf and its mother,\nwhich I loved; my calf went up to this man's mule, caressed it,\nand took hold of it with its snout, as if it were going to suck its\nbreast. The man, seeing this, thought: 'I shall certainly take away\nthis calf with me.' He dragged it home, but, of course, I could not\nallow this--all extol thine equity, I too am come to thy door, and\ntrust thou wilt not suffer me to be trampled down by injustice.'\n\nWhen the judge had heard both sides, he pronounced the following\ndecision: 'Since a mule never bore offspring and never will, it is\nstill less possible that a mule should bring forth a calf. Let the\ncalf therefore be taken from the man, and given to the woman who owns\nthe cow, the mother of the calf.' This judgment pleased everybody\nin the highest degree. And God was merciful to this good judge:\nby means of the kerchief of that woman his eyes were made whole,\nand he saw. After this he saw with both eyes, but till the day of\nhis death he judged uprightly; when he died he went to heaven.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE PRIEST'S YOUNGEST SON\n\n\nThere was once a priest who had three sons. On the day of his death,\nthe priest said to his sons: 'When I die, let each of you read the\npsalter over me for one night.' But the elder sons did not do as\ntheir father had bidden them, only the youngest read the psalter over\nhim. That night his father appeared, and gave him a horse. Next night\nhe again read the psalter over his father in his brothers' place. His\nfather again appeared, and gave him another horse, which he resolved\nto give to his younger brother. On the third night he again read the\npsalter. His father brought him a third horse, gave the young man\nhis blessing, and departed.\n\nAt that time, a princess was to be married to any man whose horse\ncould jump up to the castle, so that its rider could kiss that\nmaiden-queen. Many princes came to woo, but none of their horses could\nleap up to the castle. Then the priest's youngest son mounted the horse\nhis father had given him, and rode up to the royal palace; he struck\nthe horse with his switch, and made it jump, but it could only go one\nthird of the way up to the castle. Next day he mounted another horse,\nand made it jump, it went two thirds of the height of the castle. The\nthird day he came on the third horse, and made it jump; it jumped\nright up to the top of the castle; the youth kissed the princess,\nand they married him to her. After this the priest's son went home.\n\nAt this time the queen, his mother-in-law, fell ill; she sent for her\nson-in-law, and said to him: 'Between the white sea and the black\nsea there feeds a doe, they tell me that its milk will do me good;\nif thou canst get it for me I shall recover, if not, I must die.' Then\nthe youth mounted his horse and went forth. He rode between the seas,\nmilked the doe, brought its milk to his mother-in-law, gave it to\nher to drink, and healed her.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMINGRELIAN PROVERBS\n\n\n1. Turn to the right, or turn to the left,\n'Twill all be one in the end. [48]\n\n2. The rat that came from outside,\nDrove out the house-born rat.\n\n3. Fight for the outlying village,\nIf thou wantest the one nearer home.\n\n4. Wish thy neighbour to have an ox,\nAnd God will send it to thee.\n\n5. The wolf was abused as wolfish,\nWhile the jackal ate up the flock.\n\n6. The hen scratched and scratched till she dug up a knife,\nWith which her own throat was afterwards cut.\n\n7. The road runs where an old road ran,\nThe river flows in the bed of a former river.\n\n8. 'Give me room to stand,' quoth the bull, 'and I\nShall make myself enough room to lie.'\n\n9. If the bear overcome thee--then call him Papa. [49]\n\n10. The dog took fright at a wolf,\nAnd barked all the year round at a stump.\n\n11. Who ever heard of a fish being prized\nAs long as it stayed in the stream?\n\n12. They shot at the ripe--but the green fruit fell.\n\n13. Leave a good deed on a stone by the way,\nThou'lt find it again after many a day (i.e. Cast thy bread on the\nwaters).\n\n14. I say it--but whether it happen or no\n'Tis nothing to do with me.\n\n15. Eat and drink up whatever is thine,\nBut cross thyself over all that's mine.\n\n16. Who slew me?--My brother.\nWho brought me back to life?--My brother.\n\n17. The well-doer receives not good in return.\n\n18. The truthful man is always duped.\n\n19. My father I love, my mother I love--\nBut myself I prefer before all.\n\n20. A heart-kiss is better than a lip-kiss.\n\n21. If thou hast not eaten pepper, why does thy mouth burn?\n\n22. A disease that one sees, will not kill;\n'Tis hidden sores do the most ill.\n\n23. Our granny has no teeth, so she\nLikes not others' teeth to see.\n\n24. He has forgotten the soul of his father, so he swears by the soul\nof his grandsire.\n\n25. Gold is good, but if thou have it not, of what use is it to thee?\n\n26. Better is copper of thine own than gold that is another's.\n\n27. Of what use is light to him that is blind?\n\n28. If thou art brave, do not bewail\nThe bluntness of thy sword.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\nGURIAN FOLK TALES\n\n\nI\n\nTHE STRONG MAN AND THE DWARF\n\n\nThere came from far-off lands a strong man who had nowhere met\nhis match, and challenged any one in the whole kingdom to wrestle\nwith him. The king gathered his folk together, but, to his wonder,\ncould not for a long time find anybody ready to face the strong man,\ntill, at last, there stood forth a weak insignificant-looking dwarf,\nwho offered to wrestle with the giant.\n\nHaughtily looking down on his adversary, the giant carelessly turned\naway, thinking that he was befooled. But the dwarf asked that his\nstrength should be put to the proof before the struggle began.\n\nThe giant angrily seized a stone, and, clasping it in his fingers,\nsqueezed moisture out of it.\n\nThe dwarf cunningly replaced the stone by a sponge of the same\nappearance, and squeezed still more moisture out of it.\n\nThe giant then took another stone, and threw it so violently on the\nground that it became dust.\n\nThe dwarf took a stone, hid it under the ground, and threw on the\nground a handful of flour, to the great astonishment of the giant.\n\nStretching forth his hand to the dwarf, the giant said: 'I never\nexpected to find so much strength in such a small man, I will not\nwrestle with you; but give me your hand in token of friendship and\nbrotherhood.'\n\nAfter this, the giant asked the dwarf to go home with him. But first\nhe asked the dwarf why he had not pressed his hand in a brotherly\nmanner. The dwarf replied that he was unable to moderate the force\nof his pressure, and that more than one man had already died from the\nfearful force of his hand. The new brothers then set out together. On\ntheir way to the giant's house, they came to a stream which had to\nbe forded.\n\nThe dwarf, fearing to be carried away by the current, told the strong\nman that he was suffering from belly-ache, and did not therefore wish\nto go into the cold water, so he asked to be carried over.\n\nIn the midst of the stream, the strong man, with the dwarf on his\nshoulders, suddenly stopped and said: 'I have heard that strong people\nare heavy, but I do not feel you on my shoulders. Tell me how this is,\nfor God's sake.'\n\n'Since we have become brothers,' replied the dwarf, 'I have no right\nto press with all my weight upon you, and did I not support myself\nby holding on to the sky with one hand, you could never carry me.'\n\nBut the strong man, wishing to test his strength, asked the dwarf to\ndrop his hand for a moment, whereupon the dwarf took from his pocket\ntwo nails, and stuck the sharp points of them in the shoulders of\nthe strong man.\n\nThe giant could not endure the pain, and begged the dwarf to lighten\nhis burden at once, i.e. to lay hold of heaven with one hand again.\n\nWhen they had reached the other side, the two new friends soon came\nto the strong man's house. The giant, wishing to give a dinner to the\ndwarf, proposed that they should share the work of getting it ready,\nthat one of them should take the bread out of the oven, while the\nother went to the cellar for wine.\n\nThe dwarf saw in the oven an immense loaf which he could never have\nlifted, so he chose to go to the cellar for wine. But when he had\ndescended, he was unable even to lift the weights on the top of the\njars, so, thinking that by this time the giant would have taken the\nloaf out of the oven, he cried: 'Shall I bring up all the jars?'\n\nThe giant, alarmed lest the dwarf should spoil his whole year's stock\nof wine, by digging the jars out of the ground, where they were buried,\nrushed down into the cellar, and the dwarf went upstairs.\n\nBut great was the astonishment of the dwarf when he found that\nthe bread was still in the oven, and that he must take it out,\nwilly-nilly. He succeeded with difficulty in dragging a loaf to the\nedge of the oven, but then he fell with the hot bread on top of him,\nand, being unable to free himself, was almost smothered.\n\nJust then the giant came in, and asked what had happened. The\ndwarf replied: 'As I told you this morning, I am suffering from a\nstomach-ache, and, in order to soothe the pain, I applied the hot\nloaf as a plaster.' ... Then the giant came up, and said: 'Poor\nfellow! How do you feel now, after your plaster?' 'Better, thank\nGod,' replied the dwarf, 'I feel so much better that you can take\noff the loaf.' ... The giant lifted the loaf, and the two then sat\ndown to dinner. Suddenly the giant sneezed so hard that the dwarf\nwas blown up to the roof, and seized a beam, so that he should not\nfall down again. The giant looked up with astonishment, and asked:\n'What does this mean?' The dwarf angrily replied: 'If you do such\na vulgar thing again I shall pull this beam out and break it over\nyour stupid head.' The giant made humble excuses, and promised that\nhe would never sneeze again during dinner time; he then brought a\nladder by which the dwarf came down.... [50]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT [51]\n\n\nThe grasshopper and the ant became friends, and entered into a compact\nof brotherhood, promising never to separate. They then set out on a\njourney, forgetful of the proverb that 'footman and horseman can never\nbe comrades.' Of the truth of this they had a proof on the very first\nday of their travels, for, chancing to come to a brook which they had\nto ford, the grasshopper jumped over, while the poor ant was carried\naway by the stream.\n\nThe grasshopper thought, for a moment, how he could save his drowning\ncompanion, and then cried: 'Catch hold of something, and I shall run\nand get help.'\n\nThe bright idea struck him of applying to the sow for one of her\nbristles, to which the ant could attach herself while he pulled her\nout of the water.\n\nThe sow answered: 'Brother grasshopper, you know the proverb, \"hand\nwashes hand\"; for three days I have eaten nothing, and am I to let\npeople pull bristles out of me for nothing? Feed me with acorns,\nand then you can have as many bristles as you like.'\n\nThe grasshopper hurried off to the oak and said: 'Oak, oak, give me\nacorns, I give the acorns to the sow, the sow gives me a bristle,\nand with the bristle I save my drowning comrade.'\n\nThe oak answered:\n\n'Those thievish jays give me no rest, they pull off my acorns; keep\nthem off.'\n\nThe grasshopper ran to the jays, and said:\n\n'Jays! leave the oak, and the oak will give me acorns, the acorns I\ngive to the sow, the sow gives me a bristle, and with the bristle I\nsave my drowning comrade.'\n\nThe jays answered:\n\n'The kites pursue us; go and drive them off.'\n\nThe grasshopper ran to the kites, and said:\n\n'Kites! leave the jays, and the jays will leave the oak, the oak\nwill give me acorns, the acorns I give to the sow, the sow gives me\na bristle, and with the bristle I save my drowning comrade.'\n\nThe kites answered:\n\n'We are hungry; bring us chickens.'\n\nThe grasshopper ran to the hen, and said:\n\n'Hen, give me chickens. The chickens I shall give to the kites, the\nkites leave the jays, the jays leave the oak, the oak gives acorns,\nthe acorns I give to the sow, the sow gives me a bristle, with the\nbristle I save my drowning comrade.'\n\nThe hen replied:\n\n'Feed me with millet.'\n\nThe grasshopper hastened to the barn:\n\n'Barn, give me millet, the millet I give to the hen, the hen gives me\nchickens, the chickens I give to the kites, the kites leave the jays,\nthe jays leave the oak, the oak gives acorns, the acorns I give to\nthe sow, the sow gives me a bristle, and with the bristle I save my\ndrowning comrade.'\n\nThe barn replied:\n\n'The rats have the mastery over me, they gnaw me on every side;\nsend them away.'\n\nThe grasshopper ran to the rats:\n\n'Rats! go away from the barn, and the barn will give me millet, the\nmillet I give to the hen, the hen gives me chickens, the chickens I\ngive to the kites, the kites leave the jays, the jays leave the oak,\nthe oak gives acorns, the acorns I give to the sow, the sow gives me\na bristle, and with the bristle I save my drowning friend.'\n\nThe rats replied:\n\n'The cats give us no peace; send them away.'\n\nThe grasshopper went to the cats:\n\n'Cats! go away from the rats, and the rats will leave the barn, the\nbarn will give millet, the millet I give to the hen, the hen gives me\nchickens, the chickens I give to the kites, the kites leave the jays,\nthe jays leave the oak, the oak gives acorns, the acorns I give to\nthe sow, the sow gives me a bristle, and with this bristle I shall\nsave my drowning comrade.'\n\nThe cats replied:\n\n'Feed us with milk.'\n\nThe grasshopper ran to the cow:\n\n'Cow! give me milk, the milk I shall give to the cats, the cats will\nleave the rats alone, the rats will leave the barn,' etc., etc.\n\nThe cow replied:\n\n'Feed me with grass.'\n\nThe grasshopper applied to the earth, and said:\n\n'O earth! give me grass, the grass I shall give to the cow, the\ncow will give me milk, the milk I shall give to the cats, then the\ncats will leave the rats alone, and the rats will leave the barn,\nthe barn will give me millet, the millet I shall give to the hen,\nthe hen will give me chickens, the chickens I shall give to the kites,\nthen the kites will leave the jays, and the jays will leave the oak,\nthe oak will give me acorns, the acorns I shall give to the sow,\nthe sow will give me a bristle, and with this bristle I shall save\nmy drowning friend.'\n\nThe earth gave the grass ... and finally the grasshopper obtained the\nbristle, and hastened with it to his drowning friend, but, to his\nastonishment, the ant was quite dead when he pulled him out. This\nstory teaches that help is only valuable when it is given in time,\nthat the earth alone refuses not to yield her gifts to him that asks,\nand that all other things exist only by reciprocal services.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE COUNTRYMAN AND THE MERCHANT\n\n\nA countryman caught a pheasant, and was carrying it home to cook it\nfor himself and his wife.\n\nSuddenly the pheasant spoke like a man, and said: 'Let me go, goodman,\nand I shall repay you.'\n\nThe countryman was astonished, and asked:\n\n'What could you do for me?'\n\nThe pheasant replied: 'You are an old man, and must soon die; when\nyou are dead, I shall gather together all the birds of the air, and\nfollow you to the grave. Since the world began, no king ever had such\nan honour paid to him at his funeral.'\n\nThe countryman was pleased at the offer, and set the pheasant\nfree. When he reached home, he told his wife what had happened, and,\nalthough she scolded him at first for letting the bird go, yet she\nwas pleased when the pheasant sent, every morning, birds to ask after\nthe old man's health.\n\nA happy thought soon occurred to the wife, and she said to her\nhusband: 'Listen to me, we are almost dying of hunger, and we have\na good chance of getting plenty of food. Pretend that you are dead;\nI shall begin to cry, and all the birds will come to your funeral,\nI shall entice them into our cottage, shut the doors and windows;\nwe can knock them down with sticks, and thus lay in a store of food\nto last us for a long time.'\n\nSo the countryman covered himself with a sheet, and lay down, while\nhis wife went outside and wept loudly.\n\nA hoopoe flew down, and asked after her husband's health; when the\nwife announced his death, the hoopoe at once flew away, and, within\nan hour, there flew into the yard, in long lines, some thousands of\npheasants, the same number of doves, snipe, quails, woodcock, etc.,\nand even eagles, kites, hawks, etc.\n\nSome of the birds settled in the cottage, some in the barn, some in\nthe stable, some in the yard, and the rest, for which there was no\nroom, remained in serried ranks in the air.\n\nThen the wife shut the doors, and, with her husband, set about killing\nthe birds; only those that were outside escaped.\n\nIn the evening, there came a merchant, and asked to be allowed to\nspend the night in the cottage. At supper, the merchant saw a great\nabundance of game of all kinds, and asked the countryman how such\nluxury was within the reach of a poor man. The countryman replied:\n'I have a cat of a famous breed, which has never yet failed me. When\nI want game for my table, I tell her what kind of birds I should like,\nand how many, and she goes into the forest and gets them. I do not know\nwhat was the matter with her last night, but see! she went into the\nwood of her own will, and killed all the birds in the neighbourhood,\nand brought them to us.' The countryman then showed a whole heap of\ndead game.\n\nThe merchant at once began to bargain with the countryman for the cat,\nand finally purchased it for a large sum.\n\nWhen the merchant reached home, he went about his business, and told\nhis wife that he would not leave her any money for housekeeping,\nfor she had only to give her orders, and the cat would bring all\nsorts of game for food. But when he came in, he was astonished to\nfind that his wife had eaten nothing, the cat had brought no birds,\nbut had even stolen what was in the house already. So he went back\nto ask the countryman about it.\n\nThe countryman saw him coming, filled a pot with millet and hung\nit over the fire. He then sat down near it, put a grain of millet\nin the palm of his hand, and began to wash it. The merchant came in\nand stood by him; the countryman pretended not to see the merchant,\nmuttered an incantation, and dropped the grain into the pot. Then he\nstirred it with a spoon, and behold the pot was full. The merchant\ndid not know whether to quarrel with the countryman or to get this\nmagic pot from him.\n\n'What is this you have done to me?' said he. 'Your cat is useless,\nit brings nothing, and steals what we have.'\n\n'Have you been feeding it with roast meat? I forgot to warn you that\nyou must not do this.'\n\n'Well, it is my fault then,' said the merchant. 'But will you sell\nme that pot?'\n\n'I have already lost my famous cat. It is not likely that I shall\nnow let you have this pot, in which I can make a dish of porridge\nwith only one grain.'\n\nHowever, they began bargaining, and at last the countryman sold his\npot for a large sum. When the merchant reached home, he consoled his\nwife by telling her that from one barleycorn she could now make as\nmuch porridge as she wanted; he then set out again. When he returned,\nhis wife complained that the pot was of no use. So he called again\non the countryman, to ask for an explanation.\n\nThe countryman, foreseeing that the merchant would come, got two\nhares exactly alike, and tied ribbons of the same colour round their\nnecks. He left one hare at home, and took the other out into the fields\nwith him. He told his wife that if the merchant came, she was to send\nhim out to the field, and in an hour bring him a dinner consisting\nof two boiled fowls, a roast turkey, ten eggs, wine, and bread.\n\nThe merchant came, and the woman sent him to the field where her\nhusband was working. In reply to the reproaches of the merchant, the\ncountryman said: 'You have probably made some stupid mistake with the\npot as you did with the cat. But let us sit down and dine while we\ntalk it over, for I cannot suffer you to come to me without feeding\nyou.' The merchant looked round and said: 'How can we get anything\nto eat out here in the fields?'\n\nThe peasant went to a bush, untied the hare, and said to it: 'Run\nat once, little hare, to my wife, and tell her to come with you and\nbring us a pair of fowls, a roast turkey, ten eggs, wine, and bread.'\n\nThe hare ran off as fast as it could. It is easy to understand the\nastonishment of the merchant when the woman came with the hare,\nbringing all that the man had ordered. When they had eaten, the\nmerchant said: 'You have cheated me about the cat and the pot, but I\nforgive you if you let me have the hare.' The countryman refused at\nfirst, but finally agreed to sell the hare for a large sum. [52]\n\nOn his way home with the hare, the merchant met some friends whom he\nasked to sup with him, but seeing that he would not arrive until it\nwas late, he ordered the hare to run and tell his wife that he was\ncoming with some guests, and that she was to prepare supper. When\nhe and his friends reached home, they found the house quite dark,\nand had difficulty in rousing the wife from her sleep. She told him\nthat no hare had been there, and that she did not know what he was\ntalking about.\n\nThe merchant was now furious, and determined to punish the countryman\nseverely. But the countryman guessed what would happen, and arranged\nwith his wife what should be done. He took the intestine of a small\ncalf, filled it with blood, and tied it round his wife's neck,\ntelling her to cover it up with a kerchief. The merchant came in,\nand without saying a word rushed at the countryman, who, in his turn,\nattacked his wife, accusing her of being the guilty party, and with a\nknife pierced the intestine under her throat. She fell on the ground,\nand pretended that she was dying. The merchant was alarmed, and cried:\n'What have you done, you wretched man? I would willingly have lost\nthe money rather than have this innocent blood shed.' The countryman\nanswered: 'That is my affair. Though I have killed my wife I can raise\nher to life again.' 'I believe you no longer,' said the merchant, 'but\nif you perform this miracle I shall forgive you all.' The countryman\napproached his wife with the knife in his hand, muttered something,\nand his wife opened her eyes, and, to the surprise of the merchant,\nrose up.\n\nThe merchant bought the wonderful knife, saying that his wife, too,\nneeded a lesson sometimes. When the merchant reached home, his wife\nasked where he had been. He told her to be silent and mind her own\nbusiness. 'If you are not quiet I will cut your throat.' The woman\nlooked at him with astonishment, and wondered whether he had gone out\nof his mind. The merchant threw down his wife, and cut her throat. All\nthe neighbours flocked in, and raised a great cry. The merchant said:\n'What if I have killed my wife? I can bring her to life again.' The\nneighbours stood by while he muttered the invocations he had learnt,\nbut he could not raise her. Then he flew to the countryman, tied his\nhands, and dragged him into the forest, saying: 'I wish to prolong your\nsufferings, and will not kill you at once. I shall starve you, drag\nyou about in the woods, and, when I have worn you out with tortures, I\nshall throw you into the sea.' On the road there was a town, in which a\nking had just died, and his funeral was then taking place. Having bound\nthe countryman to a tree in the depths of the forest, the merchant\nreturned to the town to see the royal funeral. Just then, a shepherd\nhappened to drive his flock near the tree to which the countryman\nwas tied. Seeing the shepherd a little way off, the countryman began\nto shout: 'I will not be king! I will not be king! No! No! No!' The\nshepherd came up and asked what was wrong. The countryman replied:\n'You know, brother, that the king is dead in the town: they want\nme to take his place, but I will not, for I have been king twice,\nand know what it is. Ah, brother! one has so many cares, so much\nwork, that one's head swims. I had rather be tied to this tree than\nconsent to be king.' The shepherd thought for a moment, and replied:\n'I, brother, would give anything in the world to have a trial of the\nlife of a king.' 'I gladly give you my place, but, so that people\nmay not know, put on my clothes, and I shall bind you to the tree,\nand by to-morrow you shall be king.' The shepherd gladly gave him\nhis flock, and took his place at the tree.\n\nAs soon as the countryman was free, he drove away the flock.\n\nWhen it was quite dark, the merchant appeared, loosed his victim, and\ndrove him on. When they came to the steep seashore, the shepherd saw\nthat the merchant wished to drown him, and cried: 'Do not drown me! I\nhad rather consent to be king.' The merchant thought his prisoner had\nlost his wits through fatigue and ill-treatment; without more ado he\nthrew him into the sea.\n\nA fortnight later, the merchant was travelling on business, when\nhe met on the road the same countryman whom he, as he thought, had\ndrowned, and who was now driving a flock. 'What do I see!' cried the\nmerchant. 'Are you there? Did I not drown you in the sea?'\n\n'My benefactor!' replied the countryman. 'I wish you would drown me\nagain. You cannot imagine what a quantity of cattle there is down\nthere at the bottom of the sea. It is a pity I had no stick with me,\nfor I could not drive out more than these with my hands.'\n\nThe merchant besought the countryman, saying: 'You have ruined me. The\ncat, the pot, the hare, the knife, have all cost money; thanks to you,\nI am a beggar and a widower. If you remember the place where I threw\nyou into the sea, drown me there, but let me have a stick, so that\nI may repair my fortune.' To get rid of the troublesome merchant,\nthe countryman agreed to fulfil his request, and so drowned him with\na very long switch in his hand. [53]\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE KING AND THE SAGE\n\n\nOnce upon a time, there reigned in one of the realms of the East a\nshah named Ali, a man of amiable and merry character. Ali was much\nbeloved by his subjects, and he too loved them with all his heart. The\nshah played with them as if they had been his children; he gave them\nfestivals, arranged competitions, and gave prizes for the best poetical\nproductions, etc. The shah was skilled in the famous literature of\nArabia, and was thought to be a learned man; besides this, he was a\nwit and a joker, and loved to set his folk merry riddles to guess:\nprizes were given to the successful. Once the ferashes (or servants)\nof the shah made known to the people, that Ali had promised three\nhundred pieces of gold to him who should ask his majesty such a\nquestion that the answer must inevitably be: That is Impossible.\n\nThis announcement created great excitement, and men, women, and\nchildren all alike set themselves to think out such a question. The\nday of the competition dawned at last, and the vast square before the\npalace was crowded with a curious throng. At the appointed hour, Shah\nAli appeared, surrounded by a brilliant guard, and music filled the\nair. After greeting his folk, the shah sat down on a throne, opposite\nthe platform on which the candidates were to stand while they asked the\nshah their questions. Heralds gave out the challenge, and a wit of the\ntown mounted the rostrum and loudly said: 'Shah! a courier has just\ngalloped into the town and told me a most astonishing piece of news,\nto wit, that at dawn this morning, twenty versts from your capital,\nthe moon fell from the sky to the ground, and burned two and twenty\nvillages to ashes.' The shah meditated a moment, and then replied:\n'That is possible.' The town wit got down, amid the laughter of\nthe people.\n\nHis place was taken by a courtier, the shah's body-surgeon, who\nshouted: 'Most illustrious Shah! In your harem a most astounding\nevent has just happened--your first wife, your beloved Zuleika, has\njust given birth to a sucking-pig covered with bristles.' The shah\nconsidered, and then replied: 'That is possible.' The doctor fled in\nshame, and the people laughed more loudly than before.\n\nAfter the doctor came an astrologer, who said: 'Most noble Shah! In\nobserving the courses of the stars I have discovered a woful piece of\nnews; an awful fate awaits you. O King, you will soon have horns like\na goat, and claws like a panther, you will lose the power of speech,\nand flee from us into the woods, where you will dwell exactly seven\nyears and three months.' To him likewise the shah replied: 'That is\npossible,' and he too disappeared, amid the jeers of the mob.\n\nThe competition lasted throughout the whole of that day and the next,\nto the delight of the people, until at last they thought of getting\na certain Nasr-Eddin, a wit well known throughout the East, to oppose\nto the shah. [54]\n\nOn the third, and last, day appeared Nasr-Eddin, tattered and\nalmost naked, dragging with him two great clay jars. Addressing\nthe shah, he said: 'Hail to the commander of the faithful, blessed\nbe thy name! Thou shalt reign yet a hundred years, and the love and\nconfidence of thy subjects will increase yearly.' 'That is possible,'\nsaid the shah. 'That the confidence your subjects repose in you\nis unbounded is evident from a fact which I am about to relate;\nyou will doubtless deign to listen.' 'That is possible.' 'Your\nlate father (God rest his soul!) was very friendly with my late\nfather (may the Prophet give him a place in Paradise!)...' 'That\nis possible.' 'Listen to me, O Shah! When your father went forth to\nwar with the unbelievers, he was so poor that he could not raise an\narmy.' ... 'That is possible.' 'Not only is it possible but true, for,\nowing to his want of money, he borrowed from my father these two jars\nfull of gold pieces, and promised on his royal word that you, O Shah,\nwould pay your father's debt to me.' Shah Ali burst into laughter,\nand said: 'That is impossible! Your father was a tatterdemalion like\nyourself, and never saw two jars of gold even in his dreams. Take\nyour three hundred gold pieces, and the devil take you. You rascal,\nyou have outwitted me.'\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE KING'S SON\n\n\nA certain king had a son, and sent him out to be nursed by a smith's\nwife. This crafty woman put the king's child in a common cradle,\nand her own son in the gorgeous royal cradle. Some years afterwards,\nthe king took the changeling to court, and brought his foster-brother\nwith him. One fine day, the king set out for his favourite forest\nto hunt, and took his pretended son with him. When they arrived,\nthe king asked: 'How do you like this place, my son? Is it not a\nmagnificent wood?' The boy replied: 'O father, if we could only burn\nit all somehow, what a fine lot of charcoal we should have!'\n\nThen the king sent for the other boy, and asked him the same\nquestion. 'There could not be a better forest, your Majesty!' 'But what\nwould you do with it if it were yours?' 'Nothing, your Majesty. I would\ndouble the guards, so that it should not be injured.' Then the king\nsaw how the smith's wife had tried to cheat him, and put her in prison.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTEETH AND NO-TEETH\n\n\nShah Ali desired to see the hungriest man in his kingdom, and find out\nhow much of the daintiest food such a man could eat at a meal. So he\nlet it be known that on a certain day he would dine with his courtiers\nin the open air, in front of the palace. At the appointed hour,\ntables were laid and dinner was served, in the presence of a vast\ncrowd. After the first course, the shah mounted a da\u00efs, and said:\n'My loyal subjects! you see what a splendid dinner I have. I should\nlike to share it with those among you who are really hungry, and have\nnot eaten for a long time, so tell me truly which is the hungriest\nof you all, and bid him come forward.'\n\nTwo men appeared from the crowd: an old man of fifty and a young man\nof twenty-seven. The former was grey-haired and feeble, the latter\nwas fresh and of athletic build.\n\n'How is it that you are hungry?' asked the shah of the old man. 'I\nam old, my children are dead, toil has worn me out, and I have eaten\nnothing for three days.' 'And you?' said the shah, turning to the\nyoung man. 'I could not find work, and as I am a hearty young man I\nam ashamed to beg, so I too have not eaten for three days.' The shah\nordered them to be given food, on one plate, and in small portions. The\nhungry men eagerly ate, watching each other intently. Suddenly the\nold man and the young one both stopped and began to weep. 'Why do\nyou weep?' asked the shah in astonishment. 'I have no teeth,' said\nthe old man, 'and while I am mumbling my food this young man eats\nup everything.' 'And why are you weeping?' 'He is telling lies,\nyour majesty; while I am chewing my meat the old man gulps down\neverything whole....'\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE QUEEN'S WHIM\n\n\nA certain queen wished to have a palace built of the bones of\nall kinds of birds. The king ordered birds to be caught, and the\nbuilding was begun. Bones of all kinds were brought and cleaned,\nand the walls were rising, but they could not find a hedge-sparrow,\nand, as the queen wanted all sorts of birds, a search was made for the\nmissing one. At last the hedge-sparrow was found, and brought before\nthe king, who asked where she had been. 'Mighty monarch! I have been\nflying all over the kingdom counting the men and women; unfortunately\nthere are twice as many women as men.' The king ordered the bird\nto be punished for telling him such a shameless falsehood. 'King of\nkings,' said the hedge-sparrow, 'perhaps I did not count in the same\nway as you do.' 'How did you count, then?' 'I counted all those men\nwho are under the slipper of women as old women.' The hedge-sparrow\nthus hinted that the king himself was an old woman, because he had\nnot strength of mind enough to resist the foolish whims of his wife.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE FOOL'S GOOD FORTUNE\n\n\nA certain man died and left three sons. One was altogether a fool,\nanother was fairly intelligent, and the third was rather clever. This\nbeing so, it was of course difficult for them to live together. In\ndividing the inheritance among them, the fool was cheated, and in\nregard to the cattle he was thus cozened: There were three entrances\nto the penfold, two open and one very narrow. The two clever brothers\nproposed to drive the beasts out of all three at once; those that\nissued from the small gap were to belong to the fool. In this way the\nlatter's share was only one young bull out of the whole flock. But\nto his feeble mind the division seemed fair enough, so he contentedly\ndrove his bull out into the forest, and tied it with a stout rope to\na young tree, whilst he himself wandered aimlessly about.\n\nThree days later, the fool went to see his beast. It had eaten and\ndrunk nothing, but had pulled the tree up by the roots, and laid bare\na jar full of old gold coins. The fool was delighted, and played with\nthe money for a time, then he resolved to take the jar and present it\nto the king. As he passed along the road, every wayfarer looked into\nthe pot, took out the gold in handfuls, and so that he should not\nnotice their thefts, filled it up with stones and blocks of wood. On\nreaching the palace, the fool asked for an audience of the king, and\nit was granted. He emptied out the contents of the jar at the feet of\nthe king. When the courtiers saw the wrath of the king, they took the\nfool away and beat him. When he had recovered himself he asked why\nhe had been thrashed. One of the bystanders, for fun, cried to him:\n'You have been beaten because you labour in vain.' The fool went\nhis way, muttering the words: 'You labour in vain.' As he passed a\npeasant who was reaping, he repeated his phrase again and again, until\nthe peasant grew angry, and thrashed him. The fool asked why he had\nbeen beaten, and what he ought to have said. 'You ought to have said:\n\"God give you a good harvest!\"' The fool went on saying, 'God give you\na good harvest!' and met a funeral. Again he was beaten, and again\nhe asked what he should say. They replied that he should have said:\n'Heaven rest your soul!' He then came to a wedding, and saluted the\nnewly-married couple with this funereal phrase. Again he was beaten,\nand then told that he should say: 'Be fruitful and multiply!' His\nnext visit was to a monastery, and he accosted every monk with his\nnew salutation. They too gave him a thrashing, with such vigour that\nthe fool determined to have his revenge by stealing one of the bells\nfrom their belfry. So he hid himself until the monks had gone to rest,\nand then carried off a bell of moderate size. He went into the forest,\nclimbed a tree, and hung the bell on the branches, ringing it from\ntime to time, partly to amuse himself and partly to frighten away wild\nbeasts. In the forest there was a gang of robbers, who were assembled\nto share their booty, and had just ended a merry banquet. Suddenly\nthey heard the sound of the bell, and were much afraid. They took\ncounsel as to what was to be done, and most of them were for flight,\nbut the oldest of the band advised them to send a scout to see what\nwas wrong. The bravest among them was sent to get information, and\nthe rest remained as quiet as possible. The brigand went on tiptoe\nthrough the bushes to the tree where the fool was, and respectfully\nasked: 'Who are you? If you are an angel sent by God to punish our\nwickedness, pray spare us and we shall repent; if you are a devil\nfrom hell, come and share with us.' The fool was not so stupid that\nhe did not see he had to deal with robbers, so he took out a knife,\ntolled the bell, and then said with a grave air: 'If you wish to know\nwho I am, climb the tree and show me your tongue, so that I may mark\non it who I am and what I ask of you.' The robber obediently climbed\nthe tree, and put out his tongue as far as he could. The fool cut off\nhis tongue, and kicked him to the ground. The robber, mad with pain,\nand frightened by his sudden fall, ran off howling. His comrades had\ncome out to meet him, and when they saw the plight he was in they\nran off in terror, leaving their wealth. Next morning the fool found\nthe booty, and without saying anything to anybody, took it home and\nbecame much richer than his brothers. The fool built three palaces:\none for himself, one for me, and one for you. There is merrymaking\nin the fool's palace--come and be one of the guests!\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTWO LOSSES\n\n\nDuring a great storm at sea, a learned man heard the skipper giving his\norders, but could not understand a word. When the danger was past, he\nasked the skipper in what language he had spoken. The sailor replied:\n'In my mother tongue, of course!' The scholar expressed his regret\nthat a man should have wasted half his life without learning to speak\ngrammatically and intelligibly. A few hours later the storm arose\nagain, and this time the ship sprang a leak and began to founder. Then\nthe captain went to the scholar and asked if he could swim. The man\nof books replied that he had never learned. 'I am sorry, sir, for you\nwill lose your whole life. The ship will go to the bottom in a minute,\nand my crew and I shall swim ashore. You would have done well if you\nhad spent a little of your time in learning to swim.'\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE STORY OF DERVISH\n\n\nA hunter killed in the mountains a stag, and began to skin it. He\nthen hung the skin on a bush, and went down to a stream to wash the\nblood from his hands. When he came back, he found to his surprise that\nthe dead stag had come to life, and was bounding away. When he had\nrecovered from his astonishment, he chased the beast, but could not\novertake it, and it was soon lost to sight. He met a wayfarer, briefly\ntold him the story, and asked if he had ever seen a stag without a\nskin. 'I have never seen a stag without a skin, but I do not wonder\nat your story. Near here there is a healing spring where any beast,\neven if wounded unto death, can be cured by bathing. Your stag probably\nbathed there, and is now sound and well. But if you want to know more\nabout this wonderful country of ours, seek out a man called Dervish,\nand he will tell you things that will soon make you forget all about\nthe stag.' 'Where can I find this Dervish?' asked the hunter. 'Go\nfrom village to village, and look into every courtyard, and when you\nsee a man smoking a pipe, with an ass and a she-ass bound before him,\nask him.'\n\nThe hunter went away, and, after a long search, found Dervish, who\ntold him the following story:--\n\n'I was married,' said Dervish, 'and loved my wife, but she deceived\nme with my next-door neighbour. When I heard of this I questioned my\nwife, but, instead of answering, she struck me with a whip, and, to my\nhorror, I was turned into a dog. My wife drove me out into the yard,\nand for shame I ran away. On the road I suffered hunger, thirst, and\ndespair, and, for the first time in my life, I knew what it was to be\npowerless, and realised what a great difference there is between man\nand beast. When I opened my mouth and tried to speak, I only barked\nand howled. I tried to stand on my hind legs, and walk like a man,\nbut I fell either backwards or forwards. Then I jumped about, and did\nthis so easily and briskly that I regained my spirits, and came to\nthink that even a dog's life had its pleasures. While I was merrily\njumping, I unexpectedly saw a man. He looked at me and I at him. The\nman smiled, and I ran up to him, but he was afraid, and lifted his\nstick to strike me. We both moved away from each other. I wanted to\nspeak, but I barked, and the man raised his stick again. I then began\nto frolic and jump, and the man smiled again, and let me come up to\nhim. I understood how dog and man are always the best of friends, and\nin my mind I thanked my wicked wife that she had turned me into a dog,\nand not some other beast, a pig, for instance. The man who beckoned\nme to come to him was a good village priest, and we soon became great\nfriends. He caressed me, gave me something to eat, and I went away\nwith him. The kind-hearted priest, overcome by the heat, lay down to\nrest under a tree, and I wished to do the same, but the priest said:\n\"Watch over me!\" so I did not go to sleep, rightly thinking that if\nthe priest woke and found me asleep he would give me no more bread,\nand perhaps would drive me away. Ah! the beginning of my dog life\nwas grievous. In the evening, the priest stopped to sleep with some\nshepherds who were watching their flocks. The shepherds, to show\nhonour to their pastor, killed a lamb for supper, got wine, and made\nmerry. Though I took no direct part in the feast, I kept close behind\nmy master. After supper, one of the shepherds looked at me, and said:\n\"This dog must be fond of wine, for he never takes his eyes from the\nglass, and now and then he licks his lips.\" I nodded my head several\ntimes. Then the shepherds poured me out some wine in a plate, and I\nlapped it up with pleasure. When they were all asleep, wolves came and\nattacked the sheep. The shepherds' dogs barked, but did not dare to\nattack the wolves; I rose and killed three wolves on the spot. When the\nshepherds saw this, they offered the priest a good price for me, and\nhe finally sold me. Before long I had killed a vast number of wolves,\nand the fame of me reached the ears of the king of the country. I was\nbrought and taken to the palace, to the sick daughter of the king,\nwho was tormented at night by brownies. Every morning the princess\nwoke exhausted and enfeebled. On the first night of my watch, I saw\nswans enter the bedchamber through the closed doors, they choked and\ntrampled upon the sleeping princess. I was chained up, and could do\nnothing to help the poor maiden. In the morning, I was scolded for not\nhaving done anything, but one of the courtiers defended me, saying:\n\"He is a good dog, but he must be unchained, and then we shall see\nwhat he can do.\" Next night the swans came again. I killed ten of\nthem, but the eleventh asked me to spare her, saying she would help\nme in the matter of my wife and our neighbour. I trusted the swan,\nand let her go. To my delight, the princess rose healthy and merry\nnext morning. The king was exceedingly pleased with me, and ordered\nme to have a heavy gold chain, and to be fed right royally. I lived\nwell in the palace, but I longed to see my home and wife again, so I\nsoon ran away. When I entered my own house, my wife took off my gold\nchain, struck me with her whip, and turned me into a duck. I flew into\na field near by, where millet had been sown, and, being inexperienced,\nwas caught at once in nets laid by a peasant. The peasant took me under\nhis arm, and gave me to his wife, telling her to cook me for dinner. As\nsoon as the peasant had gone out, the woman looked at me intently,\nand then took down from the wall a whip, with which she struck me,\nand turned me into a man again, saying: \"Have I helped you or not? We\nwere twelve sisters, you killed ten of us, I am the eleventh, and your\nwife is the twelfth. Now go home, take the whip which hangs over your\nwife's bed, strike her and your neighbour with it, and you can turn\nthem into any kind of beasts that you wish.\" I went in late at night,\nwhen my wife and the neighbour were both asleep, I struck them with\nthe whip, and turned my wife into an ass, and the man into a she-ass,\nand here they are.' The hunter was terrified when he heard this story\nof Dervish, he ran away from the enchanted mountain realm as fast as\nhe could, and resolved never to go back there again.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE FATHER'S PROPHECY\n\n\nA certain man was wont to tell his son, while thrashing him,\nthat he would never come to any good. The boy grew tired of these\nrebukes, and ran away from home. Ten years later he had risen to\nthe rank of pasha, and was set over the very pashalik where his\nfather lived. On his way to his post, the new pasha stopped at a\nplace twenty miles off, and said to the Bashi-Bazouks of his guard:\n'Ride to such and such a village, seize so and so, and bring him to\nme.' The Bashi-Bazouks arrived at night, dragged the sick old man out\nof bed, and took him to the pasha. The pasha stretched himself to his\nfull height, and, ordering the old man to look him in the face, said:\n'Do you know me?' The old man fixed his gaze on the pasha, and cried:\n'Ah, pasha! you are surely my son.' 'Did you not tell me in my boyhood\nthat I should never come to any good? Now look at me,' and the pasha\npointed to his epaulets. 'Well, was I wrong? You are no man, but only\na pasha. What man worthy the name would send for his father in the\nway you have done? I repeat it, you have gained the rank of pasha,\nbut you have not become a good man.'\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE HERMIT PHILOSOPHER\n\n\nThere was once a wise man who loved solitude, and dwelt far away from\nother men, meditating on the vanities of the world. He spent nearly all\nhis time in the open air, and he could easily do this, for he lived\nin a lovely southern land where there is no winter and but little\nrain. As he wandered once among the verdure of his garden, the sage\nstopped before an aged walnut tree covered with ripening nuts, and\nsaid: 'Why is there such a strange want of symmetry in nature? Here,\nfor instance, is a walnut tree a hundred years old, hiding its top\nin the clouds, and yet how small is its fruit: itself it grows from\nyear to year, but its fruit is always of the same size. Now, on the\nbeds at the foot of the tree there grow great pumpkins and melons on\nvery small creeping plants. It would be more fitting if the pumpkins\ngrew on the walnut trees and the walnuts on the pumpkin beds. Why\nthis want of symmetry in nature?' The sage thought deeply on the\nsubject, and walked in the garden for a long time, till at last he\nfelt sleepy. He lay down under the shady walnut tree, and was soon\nslumbering peacefully. In a short time, he felt a slight blow on\nthe face, then a second, and then a third. As he opened his eyes, a\nripe walnut fell on his nose. The sage leaped to his feet, and said:\n'Now I understand the secret of nature. If this tree had borne melons\nor pumpkins, my head would have been broken. Henceforth let no one\npresume to find fault with Providence!'\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE KING'S COUNSELLOR [55]\n\n\nThe counsellor of an Arabian king once bethought himself that, though\nhe had lived so many years, and knew so much, he had never yet found\nout how much the king valued his services, and to what extent his\nwife and friends really loved him. He decided to try them all at once,\nso he went to the palace and stole a goat of which the king was very\nfond, and of which he was the keeper. He then went home, told this\nsecret to his wife, and in her presence ordered the cook to roast the\ngoat. But afterwards he privately told the cook to hide the royal\ngoat, and roast a kid in its place. At supper his wife praised the\ndish very highly. As soon as the king heard of the loss of his goat,\nhe was very angry, and cried in his wrath: 'If any man finds the\nthief I shall load him with gold, if a woman finds him I shall marry\nher!' The counsellor's wife, thinking it better to be a king's wife,\nbetrayed her husband. The king ordered his counsellor to be executed,\nand married the woman. When the execution was about to take place,\nthe victim's old friends succeeded in saving him by a large bribe,\nand another criminal was executed instead. The counsellor was hidden\nin a neighbouring realm. Some years afterwards, troublesome questions\nof state arose, and none of the council could solve them. The king\noften longed for his old counsellor, and said: 'For the sake of a\ngoat I sacrificed a clever man, if he were alive he would get me\nout of all my trouble in a day.' The counsellor's old friends at\nlast resolved to acknowledge the trick they had played. So one day,\nwhen the king was in a good humour, they went and said: 'Pardon us,\nO king! Your first counsellor is alive!' and they told him all. The\nking was heartily glad, and ordered the exile to be brought back. He\nwas well received, and restored the goat to the king. The king said:\n'My friend! we thus see that the greatest scourge of all is false\nwitness, and that we must beware, above all things, of our wives.'\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nA WITTY ANSWER\n\n\nA certain king was angry with one of his lords, and put him in prison;\nwishing to keep him there, he said he would only set him free if he\ncould bring to the court a horse which was neither grey, nor black,\nbrown nor bay, white nor roan, dun, chestnut, nor piebald--and, in\nshort, the king enumerated every possible colour that a horse could\nbe. The imprisoned lord promised to get such a horse if the king would\nset him free at once. As soon as he was at liberty, the lord asked\nthe king to send a groom for the horse, but begged that the groom\nmight come neither on Monday nor Tuesday, Wednesday nor Thursday,\nFriday, Saturday, nor Sunday, but on any other day of the week that\nsuited His Majesty.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n[1] The Kingdom of Georgia: Notes of Travel in a Land of Women,\nWine, and Song. To which are appended Historical, Literary, and\nPolitical Sketches, Specimens of the National Music, and a Compendious\nBibliography, with Illustrations and Maps. By Oliver Wardrop. London:\nSampson Low, 1888.\n\n[2] In Georgian: Vakh ra cargi kharo!\n\n[3] Cf. Lady Charlotte Guest's Mabinogion (1877), p. 472. Taliesin.\n\n[4] Cf. Lady Charlotte Guest's Mabinogion, p. 353. Pwll.\n\n[5] Cf. Talmud (Polano's translation), p. 290.--'While our love was\nstrong we lay on the edge of a sword, now a couch sixty yards wide\nis too narrow for us.'\n\n[6] The expression 'bird's milk' is often used in Georgian to signify\na great rarity.\n\n[7] Cf. Paspati, \u00c9tudes sur les Tchinghian\u00e9s (Constantinople, 1870),\np. 605, Conte 2me.\n\n[8] The Georgian Cinderella or Tattercoats. Cf. Miss Roalfe Cox's\nStory-Variants of Cinderella for parallels.\n\n[9] In some parts of the Caucasus the houses of the peasantry are\nbuilt in the ground, and it is quite possible to walk on to a roof\nunwittingly.\n\n[10] Asphurtzela = hundred leaves: this name refers to the manner of\nhis birth.\n\n[11] Doki = an Imeretian measure for wine, holding 5 bottles.\n\n[12] Qantsi = a drinking-horn.\n\n[13] Coca = a large measure for water or wine (about 25 bottles).\n\n[14] Codchi = knuckle-bones, with which children play.\n\n[15] This obscure incident will be better understood by referring to\np. 50 of Carnoy et Nicola\u00efdes (Traditions de l'Asie Mineure).\n\n[16] Cf. Carnoy et Nicola\u00efdes, p. 77.\n\n[17] Kvevri = a large wine-jar which is kept buried in the earth up\nto the neck.\n\n[18] Cf. Carnoy et Nicola\u00efdes, p. 81.\n\n[19] Cf. Carnoy et Nicola\u00efdes: Traditions de l'Asie Mineure, p. 43,\n'Le Fils du Laboureur,' and p. 75, 'Les trois Robes.'\n\n[20] The usual greeting between Georgians.\n\n[21] Cf. Carnoy et Nicola\u00efdes: Traditions Populaires de l'Asie Mineure,\np. 1, 'Le Roman du Renard.'\n\n[22] From Karthuli Kristomatia (Tiflis, 1885), p. 85.\n\n[23] Mingrelskie etyudy. Pervyi vypusk. Mingrelskie teksty s perevodom\ni obyasneniyami, sobr. i izd. Al. Tsagareli. S. Pbg. 1880.\n\n[24] The Mingrelian Tales usually begin thus; sometimes the formula\nused is: 'there was, there was, there was, and nothing there was,\nbut nevertheless there was.'\n\n[25] When a Mingrelian undertakes a journey, he turns to the right\nseveral times before his door and then sets out. This is held to be\na favourable omen.\n\n[26] The usual salutation in Georgia.\n\n[27] The word Khvitho in Mingrelian signifies a precious stone laid by\na snake or a fowl, which turns into gold or precious stones whatever\nit touches.\n\n[28] Cf. Carnoy et Nicola\u00efdes: Traditions de l'Asie Mineure, p. 42.\n\n[29] Chkidi, bread made of Indian corn, is generally used in\nMingrelia. It is cooked on the ashes, and the latter are often found\nsticking to it.\n\n[30] These verses form the concluding formula of Mingrelian\nfolk-tales. The second couplet is not so frequently used as the first.\n\n[31] demi, dii, ndii in Mingrelian, devi, mdevi in Georgian (connected\nwith Pers. div), a representative of the principle of evil, but with\ncertain limitations, neither incorporeal nor immortal, but half\ndemon half man, i.e. an unclean spirit in the form of a giant. He\nis subject to death, even a man can kill, cheat, terrify him; he can\nmarry a woman, etc.\n\n[32] This phrase is continually applied to beautiful girls in Georgian\npoetry. It has three meanings: (1) A girl strictly kept, and not seen\nout of doors; (2) One who is not sunburnt, fair complexioned; (3)\nA maiden such as the sun has never seen the like of for beauty. The\nlast meaning is the most frequent.\n\n[33] Cf. No. III. 'Geria's faithful dog and three-legged horse.'\n\n[34] Geria means little wolf. In Mingrelia there are many such\nnicknames,--e.g. Joghoria, little dog; Lomikia, little lion; Tholiorko,\ngolden-eyed, etc.\n\n[35] Meaning: 'I also am a human being.'\n\n[36] Three years, three months, and three weeks are the usual measures\nof time in Mingrelian tales.\n\n[37] Rokapi in Georgian tales is an old woman of a demoniacal\ncharacter, possessing enchanted castles and domains; sometimes the\nword simply means witch, and in ordinary conversation it is applied\nto an ugly, ill-natured, toothless old hag.\n\n[38] i.e. he that has a star in his brow.\n\n[39] The orgia, i.e. shoulder, is a measure of length equal to the\nspace from finger-tips to finger-tips of the hands when extended\nhorizontally.\n\n[40] Cf. with this the end of 'Master and Pupil' on p. 5.\n\n[41] Cf. the beginning of 'Gulambara and Sulambara' on p. 42; also\nthe Biblical story of Tobit and the Angel.\n\n[42] Kila, a measure of flour = about 36 to 40 pounds.\n\n[43] A variant substitutes a cheese for an egg.\n\n[44] ? Finch.\n\n[45] Another Mingrelian version of this story tells that the demi took\nthe old man home, and left him his house, wife and children. As he was\ngoing away, the jackal met him, and asked whither he was going. The\ndemi replied that the old man had almost killed him, and he was going\nto hide himself. The jackal told him to go home, and have no fear\nof the old man, for it would choke him. The demi tied the jackal to\nhimself, with a stout rope, and went back. The old man met them with\nthe following words: 'This is splendid, my jackal--thou wast to bring\nme nine demis, thou hast brought eight already, and this will make\nthe ninth.' The demi was alarmed, he rushed off, dragging after him\nthe jackal, whom he knocked against twenty trees, and disappeared. The\nold man stayed in the demi's house all the days of his life.\n\nCf. also 'The Strong Man and the Dwarf,' p. 147; Sir John Malcolm's\nSketches of Persia, ch. xvi. 'The Story of Ameen Beg of Ispahan,'\nand 'The Goat and the Lion' in the Panchatantra.\n\n[46] Ocho-Kochi, literally, 'the goat-man,' occupies an important\nplace in Mingrelian mythology. He is a satyr, a wild man of the\nwoods, represented as an old man with a long beard, his body covered\nwith hair.\n\n[47] The word translated 'nurse' is dzidze, which means not only a\nnurse but any woman, married or single, who has been adopted into\nrelationship by the ceremony of a man taking her breast between his\nteeth. This creates a degree of kinship inferior only to that between\nmother and son. The custom still exists in Mingrelia.\n\n[48] Cf. note 3 on p. 109.\n\n[49] Cf. The Talmud (Polano's Selections, p. 287). 'If the fox is\nking bow before him.'\n\n[50] Cf. Malcolm: Sketches of Persia, ch. xvi. 'Ameen and the\nGhool. Jacobs: More English Fairy Tales, p. 173, and note on p. 239.\n\n[51] Cf. The House that Jack built.\n\n[52] Cf. Jacobs: More English Fairy Tales, p. 209, and note on p. 242.\n\n[53] Cf. the last incident with the end of 'Little Fairly,' in Samuel\nLover's Legends and Stories of Ireland.\n\n[54] The Mullah Nasr-Eddin is the hero of hundreds of witty tales. A\nFrench translation of some of them (from the Turkish) was published,\nby Decourdemanche, in 1878.\n\n[55] Francesco Strapparola's story of Salardo and the Falcon is\npractically the same as this.","title":"Georgian Folk Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":54418}