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                 THE RUSSIAN GRANDMOTHER'S WONDER TALES


                                   BY
                        Louise Seymour Houghton

                             ILLUSTRATED BY
                              W. T. BENDA



                        CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
                                NEW YORK







                                   TO

                         THE FIVE GRANDCHILDREN

                     PHILLIPS, SHERRILL, MARGARET,
                         RUSSELL, AND CAROLINE







PREFACE


The stories which the Russian grandmother told will be found, with
many others, in a German collection of "Tales and Legends of South
Slavonia," put forth in Vienna some twenty years ago by Dr. Friedrich
Kraus, an ardent student of folk-lore. I have sketched in a slight
background of peasant village life as it still exists in some parts of
Southern Russia, because this is the proper setting of these stories;
and I have been careful to clothe them as nearly as I might in the
simple language in which they are told to-day by many a village
fireside in South Slavonia.

I frankly confess to having received from Mr. Joel Chandler Harris
the suggestion which I have thus carried out. It was an unerring
literary instinct which impelled him to put upon the lips of Uncle
Remus and in the environment of a Southern country home of half
a century ago the stories which he had found among the colored
people of the South. Folk-tales, of whatever character, speak the
more directly home to the hearts of children, whatever their own
intellectual environment, in proportion as their setting is most
nearly that which naturally belongs to them. Just as the highest
value of the Homeric poems is their revelation of the heart of man,
showing that in all ages and under all conditions heart answers to
heart as face answers to face in water, so the folk-tales of all
peoples in their native form have a higher function than simply to
amuse, a higher than mere literary value; they are the child's best
introduction to the study of human nature.

The children will not be the less interested in the stories which
the Russian grandmother told to the little peasant boy if they
discover in her wonder-tales some analogies with stories that they
already know. The adventures of Master Reinecke and Mrs. Petz, of
Isegrim and Lampe, will surely remind them of the Uncle Remus tales;
they will find some suggestion of Kamer-es-zaman and the Princess
Budoor in the story of "The Beg and the Fox," a hint of the "City
of Brass," in that of "The Vila in Muhlenberg," a faint reflection
of the "Arabian Nights" story of the Fisherman in the tale of the
"Three Eels," and they will be especially pleased to recognize
their old friend--and Sindbad the Sailor's--the roc, in the bird
Kumrikusha. The transformations which are so enchanting a feature of
the "Arabian Nights" are here suggested in the story of "Steelpacha,"
while the dress of feathers, most universal of folk-fancies, found
among every people in the world, and most perfectly developed in the
Arabian "Story of Hassan of Bassora," here appears in the tale of
"The Golden Apple-tree and the Nine Pea-hens."

That these stories originated in that fountain-head of wonder-tales,
the East, is very evident. They give more than a few suggestions of
biblical story: the servant sent to announce the readiness of the
feast (a courtesy of which I was myself the recipient in Syria last
winter), the Delilah-like importunities by which the youngest sister
lures from Steelpacha the secret of his strength, are perhaps the
most striking instances.

Although this preface is not written for the children, yet as there are
children who occasionally dip into prefaces, let me call the attention
of such to the difference, both in style and point of view, between
these stories and those which they have received from the brothers
Grimm, from Hans Andersen, and from a host of later writers. All of
these drew their material from the same sources as those of the Russian
grandmother; but their cultivated minds have worked this material into
exquisite literary forms. Not so your own nurses, or even your mothers,
who told you wonder-tales before you were old enough to read. Not so
the village story-tellers in far-away parts of the world, who, like
the Russian grandmother, still hand down to the children the stories
they received from parents and grandparents. These sometimes lose the
connection; they add little local touches--sweet wine from Zagorjé,
going home to Varazdin, and the like--they give to certain incidents
the setting with which they are themselves familiar; most artlessly
they interweave such results of modern invention and discovery as are
familiar to them, with such blank ignorance of physical facts as is
shown by bringing in the sun, the moon, the winds, as persons. Many of
you know how beautifully George Macdonald did this sort of thing in his
story "At the Back of the North Wind," and you perfectly well perceive
the difference between that story and such a tale as, for instance,
"So Born, So Die," in this book. When you are older you will recognize
that it is precisely the difference between literature and folk-lore.

That many of these wonder-tales passed through Mohammedan minds on
their way to the Russian grandmother, or her great-grandmother, is
evident. "The Beg and the Fox" is a striking case in point; it almost
seems as if the story ought, like the stories of the "Arabian Nights,"
to close with the exclamation, "There is no God but God, the High,
the Great!"

The humor of these stories, however, is unmistakably Slavonic. There
is a fine pungency--not Oriental, though Oriental humor is very
pungent--in certain of the endings, "I have heard a lie, I have told
a lie, and God give you joy!" or after a peculiarly impossible story,
"Whoever believes it will be blessed!" The underlying pathos of the
story of the Basil-plant suggests the exquisite sentiment of Hans
Andersen's "Steadfast Tin Soldier"; but its excessive simplicity,
its dropped threads of thought, forbid the idea that it has been
worked over by any more sophisticated mind than that of the Russian
grandmother.

In this simple-hearted story-teller I have tried to reproduce some
lineaments of the peasant mother to whom, he tells us, Dr. Kraus owes
his first impulse to folk-lore research. She was one of nine children
of a poor pedler, brought up in a village of charcoal burners,
deep in a Slavonian forest. She was illiterate, like our Russian
grandmother, but like her intelligent and learned in the wonder-lore
of her people. Her son pays her a lovely tribute in the preface to
the first volume of his collection:

She grew up like a flower in the hedge-row, among the simple peasant
folk whose manners and spirit she made entirely her own. The villagers,
who had a little education, therefore called her, contemptuously,
baba vracana (the little old sorceress), but the illiterate peasants
lovingly named her nasá baba Eva (our little mother Eve). But for once
the villagers were right, my mother is a sorceress; else, how comes it
that I so constantly fall under the spell of her enchantments ... I
solemnly declare that if there is a true word in metempsychosis, and
it is left to our choice to return to the present state of existence,
nothing would so sorely tempt me back, no crown, not even that of
learning--as the simple assurance of the All-Father that he would
give me again the same dear mother, though I were to go begging with
her through the world.


L. S. H.

New York, September 1, 1906.







CONTENTS


    CHAPTER

    I. The Little Boy and the Grandmother
        The Wolf as a Roman

    II. The Mother's Fête-Day
        The Sick Lion

    III. Saturday Afternoon
        Whiteling's War with Isegrim

    IV. The Fire of Shavings
        The Bear, the Boar, and the Fox

    V. Frost-Bitten Toes
        The Man, the Hare, the Fox, and the Bear

    VI. After Supper
        Reinecke's Revenge on Isegrim

    VII. The Snowy Day
        The Bird, the Fox, and the Dog
        The Fox and the Dove

    VIII. The Election Meeting
        The Fox and the Hedgehog
        Master Reinecke and Gockeling, the Cock
        The Disappointed Bear

    IX. Cat and Dog
        Why the Dog Cannot Endure the Cat, nor the Cat the Mouse

    X. A Pleasant Surprise
        The Fox and the Badger
        The Stag and the Hedgehog

    XI. The Patient Little Boy
        The Cock and the Hen

    XII. The Sheep-Play
        The Beg and the Fox

    XIII. Getting Ready
        The Seven Stars

    XIV. Mother's-Mother
        The Vila of Muhlenberg

    XV. The Little Boy Homesick
        A Short Story
        The Golden Apple-Tree and the Nine Peahens
        The Wonderful Story
        The Youth and the Vila

    XVI. The Little Boy Sleepless
        The Vila in the Golden Castle

    XVII. Home Again
        Prince Hedgehog

    XVIII. The Betrothal
        The Deserter

    XIX. In the Fields
        The Hunter
        The Watch-Tower between Earth and Heaven
        The Bridge

    XX. Trinity-Monday
        So Born, So Die
        The Enchanted Lambs
        The Knot-Grass

    XXI. Threshing-Time
        "The Three Eels"

    XXII. The Korowai
        Morning-Dew

    XXIII. The Wedding
        "Young Neverfull"
        The Basil-Plant

    XXIV. After the Wedding
        Steelpacha







THE RUSSIAN GRANDMOTHER'S WONDER-TALES


CHAPTER I

THE LITTLE BOY AND THE GRANDMOTHER


The little boy's father was starosta, that is, Elder of the village,
and the house the little boy lived in was grander than any other,
on whichever side of the long street you might look. For it had
two rooms opening into the court, and all the other houses, even
that of the pop, who said Mass in the church on Sunday, had only
one. And this grand house was not crowded like the other houses,
where the grandparents and the parents and all the married sons and
their wives and children lived in the one room. The starosta was not
a bolshak, or head of a family, of the old-fashioned sort. He did
not consider that he had a right to rule his children like a despot
and make them work for him, however old they might be, as many of the
fathers in the village did. He even approved of young people setting
up housekeeping by themselves. Therefore, though some of the older
bolshaks shook their heads and said harm would come of it, when the
little boy's elder brother married he permitted him to have a house
of his own. It was at the far end of the village.

Thus, in the little boy's house there were only the grandmother, the
father and mother, the three daughters, the half-grown son, and the
little boy. They were not at all crowded, you see, for they had two
rooms. The cowherd woman and the two moujiks who helped the starosta
on the land, slept, of course, in the stalls with the cattle under the
shed that went around three sides of the court. In their warm sheepskin
coats, made with the wool outside, they would not have been at all
cold, even if the cows beside which they slept had not kept them warm.

The family always slept warm, too, for father, mother, and all the
children slept on the great tile stove which occupied the centre of the
larger room, and in this stove the fire never went entirely out. The
grandmother did not sleep on this stove, however. The starosta greatly
honored his old mother, and to her he gave the second room in the
house for herself alone. She had a stove all to herself, and slept
on it all alone, except when the little boy ran away from the great
room and cuddled down beside his grandmother for the night.

She did not tell him stories then, for night is the time for sleeping,
and grandmother was tired after a long day in the fields. But on rainy
days, when the starosta would not permit his old mother to do field
work, grandmother would sit at home and spin, and then for happy times!

It was growing cold weather; the harvests were all in, the rains had
begun, and grandmother was sitting by the stove, with her distaff
and spindle and a basket of wool by her side. In came the little
boy, settled himself in a snug place on the stove-top, and said,
very coaxingly:

"Tell me a story, little grandmamma!"

The grandmother ceased the song she had been singing, and answered:

"Shall I tell you about the Wolf that wanted to be a Roman?"

"Oh, yes, yes!" exclaimed the little boy. "Tell me about the wolf!"

So the grandmother began.




THE WOLF AS A ROMAN

Once upon a time, Isegrim, the Wolf, sat in the forest and thought
to himself, "Why should I be a wolf and go around devouring the other
beasts? It would be much better for me to go out into the world. What
if I should go to Rome? Yes, that's it, I will be a Roman!"

Off he set in the best of spirits, and on the way he met a Sow. The Sow
bristled up in terror, but Isegrim cried out, "Don't be frightened,
Gruntelind! I am done with Gruntelinds forever. I am going to be
a Roman."

Not long after he met a He-goat. The He-goat was greatly frightened
when he saw Isegrim, but the Wolf cried out, "Don't be frightened,
Longbeard! I'm not bothering myself with Longbeards. I am going to
be a Roman."

Next he met an old Mare. She was horribly frightened, but he quieted
her, saying, "Don't be frightened, Skinny-bones! I don't waste my
time with old jades like you. I am going to be a Roman."

On went the Wolf for two whole days, when he began to feel a mighty
hunger. So he turned back, and presently he came to the pasture where
he had met the old Mare. Now was the Mare terrified. She quaked with
fear, and well she might, for the Wolf said to her, "Mare, I am going
to devour you!"

"How dare you say so!" exclaimed the Mare. "You told me you were
a Roman."

"Roman here or Roman there," snarled Isegrim, "I am going to gnaw
your bones."

"Very well," returned the Mare; "if there is no help for it, come
again by and by, when I am plumper and juicier."

So the Wolf went on his way. Presently he met the He-goat. "Ho,
Longbeard," cried he, "your time has come!"

"I dare you to touch me!" replied the He-goat. "You are not a Wolf;
you are a Roman."

"Roman here or Roman there," retorted the Wolf, "I shall dine on
you to-day."

"What must be, must," replied the He-goat; "but since you are bound
to eat me, just grant me life till the woods are green again."

The Wolf was beguiled, and on he went till he met the Sow. "Listen to
me, Gruntelind," said he; "I am going to make short work with you now."

"You daren't do it," replied the Sow. "You are no Wolf; you are a
noble Roman."

"Roman here or Roman there," said the Wolf, "I am bound to eat you."

"Very well," replied the Sow; "since you insist, come another day,
when I am fatter."

The Wolf consented, and away he went to look for that Mare again.

"Listen now, Skinny-bones," said he; "you are to die on the spot."

"If your mind is really made up," replied the Mare, "I have nothing to
say; but first look at my left hind hoof, for my master had me shod
the other day, and the smith marked my age upon the horseshoe. Read
how old I am, and then you will be able to boast what an old Mare
you have eaten."

The Wolf thought this a fine plan, and he drew near. Then the Mare
raised her hoof and dealt Isegrim so smart a blow on the head that
he ran off with a cracked crown, as fast as his heels could carry him.

On the way he met the Sow. "See here, Gruntelind," he said to her,
"there is no escape this time."

"Very well," replied the Sow; "since there is no help for it, just
lead me around by the ear until I say good-by to all my kith and kin."

Isegrim seized her by the ear, when she set up so shrill and piteous
a squealing that the Swine all rushed to the spot from far and near,
and falling upon Cousin Isegrim they almost tore him in pieces. Mangled
and bleeding, he made his escape, and meeting the He-goat, he said,
"Your time has come."

"If that is the case," replied the He-goat, "just stand in the middle
of the field, with your mouth wide open, and my brothers and I will
jump down your throat, one after the other. Then you won't be hungry
again for many a long day."

This plan greatly pleased Isegrim, and he took his place in the middle
of the field, with his mouth wide open. Then all the He-goats ran
against him, butting at him, before and behind, till he could neither
hear nor see, and it was all he could do to escape to the nearest wood.

There he spied a Cock, and said to him, "Now, see here, Gockeling,
I am not to be fooled by you, at any rate."

The Cock replied, "Just look at me once, how thin I am and what big
feathers I have. Why should you bother to pluck me? It would save
you a world of trouble if I got up into this tree and just flew down
your throat."

Isegrim thought this a fine idea. So Gockeling flew up into the
tree. He hopped from branch to branch until he was in perfect safety,
and then crowed loud and lustily to proclaim his escape.

At this the Wolf sank into deep thought. "My father lived comfortably,"
he said to himself, "and was never a Roman; neither should I have
been one--it has served me right. My father was no expert in Mares'
paces, yet he lived in peace and happiness; neither should I have
been one--it has served me right. My father was no Swine musician,
but he lived well for all that; neither should I have been one--it
has served me right. My father never measured a field with He-goats,
but he grew gray honorably for all that; only one thing rankles--that
this scoundrel up in the tree crows over me so. It would be none too
good for me if some one should jump from behind the tree and knock
me over the head."

As luck would have it, a moujik was standing behind the tree, and he
fetched the Wolf a blow on the head with his axe. Then Isegrim cried
out with his last breath, "Well, I vow, on this blessed day one can't
even talk to himself without being made sorry for it!"



The little boy was thoughtful for a few minutes. "Did you know that
Wolf, little grandma?" he asked at length.

"No, not I," replied the grandmother; "it was my
great-great-grandmother who knew him."







CHAPTER II

THE MOTHER'S FÊTE-DAY


It was the fête-day of the little boy's mother, and she was dressed in
the beautiful clothes that had been her mother's and her grandmother's
festival clothes. Her gown, which she called her sarafam, was of
a lovely light-blue stuff, and on her head she wore a diadem of
gold, all studded with little pearls. Many of the village people
came to kiss the baboushka's hand and to bring her gifts, so that
the house was quite crowded with people drinking coffee and talking
loudly. When the baboushka went to church to offer thanks she put on
her long fur-trimmed chougaii (we should call it a coat), and over
that a thick, wadded duchegreika, or hug-me-tight. It was a cold day,
and she was not too warmly clothed, but if her fête-day had come in
the heat of summer she would have worn these things just the same.

The little boy went to church with his mother, and when they came
back he was very hungry. But the feast-table was not yet spread, for
the starosta and the older children were still in the fields pulling
stubble. The grandmother was not in the fields, for the day was too
cold, so the little boy went into her room. She had on her festival
clothes in honor of the feast, but she was spinning as usual and
humming a little song.

"I'm so hungry, grandmother," said the little boy.

"Would you spoil the feast by eating now?" asked the grandmother. "The
best way is to forget all about being hungry till the feast begins."

"How can I forget?" asked the little boy. "My mouth cries 'food!'"

"If little grandmother puts a story in your ears will your mouth
cease crying?" asked the grandmother.

"Oh, yes, yes!" cried the little boy.

So grandmother told the story of




THE SICK LION

Once upon a time a Lion lay sick in his den. Master Petz, the Bear,
called to pay his respects; whereupon the Lion thus spoke:

"Dear Bruin, tell me the honest truth--is it, or is it not very close
in this den?"

"Yes, indeed!" replied Petz, "it does smell horribly here." Upon this
the Lion flew into a rage and tore the Bear into a thousand pieces.

Lampe, the Hare, was standing near the door of the den, and observed
this mishap. Tremblingly he approached the Lion, who asked him,
"Tell me, dear Lampe, is it not close in my den?"

"Oh, dear, no!" replied the Hare; "why should it be close? On the
contrary, the air seems to me delightfully fresh."

"You lie!" retorted the Lion, in high dudgeon; "it is not delightfully
fresh; on the contrary, it is disgustingly close," and he tore the
Hare limb from limb.

Isegrim, the Wolf, saw and heard all this, for he was standing near
the door of the den. He stepped in, and bowed low before the Lion,
who immediately put the same question to him, "See here, Isegrim,
tell me truly and honestly, is it close in my den or not?"

"Neither, sire!" replied the obsequious Wolf.

"Oh, you good-for-nothing liar!" roared the Lion, "it must be either
one or the other; either it is close or it is not," and he seized
him and tore him to pieces.

Reinecke, the Fox, was looking in from outside, and now he drew near
to pay his respects. So the Lion asked him, "See here, Master Reinecke,
do you tell me now, is it close in my den or not?"

"Pardon me, august monarch," replied Reinecke very humbly, "but by
all I hold blessed I am not able to tell you, for I have taken such
a cold that, upon honor, I cannot smell. But I do hate a lie from
the bottom of my heart."

And the Lion spared Reinecke's life because he had such a clever wit.



"Will the Báby and the little boy graciously come to supper?" asked
the cow-herd woman, opening the door. "The gracious baboushka's feast
is ready."

So the little boy and his grandmother, whom they call the Báby in
Russia, gayly went in to the feast.







CHAPTER III

SATURDAY AFTERNOON


It was Saturday afternoon, and the little boy had been with his
mother to the village vapor-bath. After that he had been dressed in
his Sunday clothes. His white shirt, which he called his roubachka,
hung outside of his best portki, or loose, colored trousers. His legs
were wound round with many bands of colored cloth, called onontchi,
and on his feet he wore bachmaki, or shoes. When he grew to be a man he
would wear very high, large-topped sapoghi, with his trousers tucked
into them, like his father, and then he would not need onontchi on
his legs. But he was only a little boy yet.

The popod'ya had come to call on his mother. She was the priest's
wife, and was very old, and the little boy did not care for what
she and his mother were talking about. So he stole away into his
grandmother's room. The grandmother was kneeling before the ikon,
the sacred picture of the Virgin and Child, which hung on the wall
with a tiny lamp lighted before it. The little boy would not disturb
his grandmother while she was saying her Saturday evening prayer, but
he hoped she would not be long. Perhaps she was almost through, for
presently she rose from her knees, lifting herself by her stick. The
little boy ran to help her, and led her to the stove. She sat down
upon it, for her knees were cold from the clay floor, and the little
boy climbed up beside her.

"Now the work is all done, little grandma," he said, putting his
hands on either side of her face, "and you can tell me a long story,
can't you?"

"Hum, hum!" said the grandmother, pretending to look cross. "Why
should I tell you a long story?"

"Oh, because I have my Sunday clothes on, and must not play in the
dirt!" replied the little boy. "Don't you know a long story, grandma?"

"Would you like to hear about




"WHITELING'S WAR WITH ISEGRIM?"

asked the Báby.

"Yes, indeed, that I should!" cried the little boy.

So the grandmother began:

Once upon a time there was a moujik who had a perfectly white Dog,
which he called Whiteling. Now Whiteling had struck up a great
friendship with Isegrim, the Wolf, and one day each made a solemn
compact never to betray the other in any of their stealings.

Not long after, Isegrim said to Whiteling one day, "I intend to make
a call upon your master's swine to-night; so do you keep no watch,
but just lie as still as possible, and don't wake up the whole family
with your barking, as you usually do, for you know that they will
move heaven and earth to capture me."

"Kill all the swine, if you like," replied Whiteling; "I won't
betray you."

"A word is enough, brother; I shall be there," said Isegrim; and so
the friends parted.

Punctually at nightfall Isegrim appeared and greeted Whiteling
heartily, saying, "I gave you my word, and as you see, here I am."

"Get to work, then," replied Whiteling; "you have nothing to fear
from me."

Isegrim crept cautiously to the swine-pen. He had all the work in
the world to get in, and once in, he had hardly begun his meal when
the swine broke out in fearful squealings and gruntings. Whiteling,
at the house-door, no sooner heard the noise than he began to bark
and whine with all his might, waking all the family with his noise.

"What makes our Whiteling howl so?" they said. "We must go out and
see what the trouble is."

So all the family went out, and hearing the squealing of the swine,
they hastened to the pigpen. Peeping in, they saw the Wolf and set
upon him with clubs and fists, belaboring him so soundly that he
barely escaped with a whole skin.

Waiting till the family had returned to bed, Isegrim crept back,
and seizing Whiteling by the throat, "Aha!" he cried, "I have caught
you now. You pledged me your word not to bark, and you broke your
promise. No, I'll never forgive you. Just look at me once, what a
plight I'm in."

Whiteling began to beg. "Ah, let me go, let me go, dear, sweet brother
Isegrim; forgive me just this once; I'll never do it again; come
again and steal whenever you like; you may be perfectly sure of me!"

"Will you ever play me another such trick?" asked Isegrim.

"Never, never again!" said Whiteling.

"Very well, then," said the Wolf, "you may go free this once; but
next time, remember, hold your tongue!"

A few days later Isegrim paid the swine a second visit, but he had
hardly crept into the pen when Whiteling set up a howl so loud and
clear that all the household sprang out of bed to see what was the
matter. A second time they found the Wolf, fell upon him, and beat
him half-dead. The unlucky visitor barely escaped with his life, and
full of wrath, he hid behind the hedge and waited till the household
were asleep. Then, seeing Whiteling before the house-door, he cried to
him, "Just wait once, Whiteling; your last half-hour strikes when you
fall into my clutches! If you weren't just where you are, safe at the
house-door, I'd soon pay you off; but my time will come before long."

Again Whiteling began to beg. "Dearest Isegrim, it is indeed true
that I have brought you into a terrible pickle, but don't kill me;
let me go this time. I'll never do it again."

But the Wolf replied, "Neither now nor ever; you cheated me out of
that meal of swine's flesh, and three days from now you must meet me
in battle. I will summon my forces, and do you summon yours--that is,
if you can muster any. If you don't show up, I'll soon know where to
find you, and I'll drag you there myself!"

"All right," returned Whiteling, "come what may, I'll be there
without fail."

So Isegrim hastened away to get his troops together, and meeting the
Wild Boar he said to him, "Will you be on my side? There is going to
be war between me and Whiteling three days from now."

"Oh," replied the Wild Boar, "indeed I will be on your side!"

A little farther Isegrim met Master Petz, the Bear, told him the
whole matter, and begged him to be on his side. Petz most cheerfully
promised his help.

Later, he met Reinecke, the Fox, and told him the whole story. Reinecke
assured him that he might certainly count upon his help--how could
he ever hesitate to stand by his old crony against the common enemy?

Then said Isegrim, "Now we are quite enough; but I must spy out
Whiteling and learn what forces he has. Then I will let you know that
we are all ready for war."

Isegrim betook himself to Whiteling's house, and standing in the lane
looked over the hedge. "Are you ready, Whiteling?" he asked. "To-morrow
is the day."

"I shall be ready," replied Whiteling in a tone of deepest dejection;
"but tell me precisely, where is the battle to be?"

"You know very well," replied Isegrim; "yonder, under the tree we
agreed upon."

"Very well," said the Dog, and slunk sorrowfully away to the other
side of the farm-yard. There the Tomcat met him and said, "Why,
my dear Whiteling, what can be the matter, what makes you so sad?"

And Whiteling answered, "My dear Grimalkin, you don't know where the
shoe pinches. Will you come to my aid?"

"Why, what are you talking about?" asked the surprised Cat.

"Just think of it," replied the Dog, "to-morrow I have to fight
Isegrim; we have declared war to the knife."

"Oh, oh, my Whiteling, cheer up! I'll stand by you to the death. Just
you go to friend Quacker, the Drake, and engage his help."

With a lighter heart Whiteling sought friend Quacker and begged his
friendly aid.

"To be sure, to be sure; I am your comrade. Why should I leave a
friend in the lurch? Go to friend Ganner, the Gander, and ask him if
he feels like having a part in the war."

So said and so done. Whiteling found the Gander, explained the affair
and begged for his help. "Of course, why should I not be ready to
help? Aren't you our guard every night to keep Reinecke from making
off with us?"

"Now," said Whiteling, "I think we are strong enough."

Early next morning Isegrim met his allies upon the battle-field under
the appointed tree. He hid the Wild Boar beneath a thick bed of moss
which grew upon the ground, and bade Reinecke climb into the tree,
saying, "You must be our sentinel, Master. Keep watch when Whiteling
appears with his troop, and give us secret intelligence. You, too,
Petz, must scramble up the tree, but I will crouch down in ambush
behind the trunk."

Meanwhile Whiteling was also disposing his forces. "Grimalkin and
Ganner, you are the infantry. I see that your weapon is ready,
Grimalkin" (for Grimalkin held his tail upright, by way of musket);
"and you, Ganner, must hiss your very best. Quacker, you shall be the
drummer. I reserve to myself the command. March according to orders,
and fall to when I give the word."

So Whiteling and his comrades went gayly to the battle--Whiteling
and his drummer in front, Grimalkin and Ganner bringing up the
rear. Quacker drummed his prettiest--"Quack-quack, quack-quack,
quack-quack!" The Gander hissed and the Tomcat strutted along in
dignified silence, carrying his tail straight upright like a musket.

When Reinecke perceived the approaching company he cried to Isegrim,
"Cousin, cousin, here come two soldiers with a drummer and a captain!"

"What's that you say?" asked Isegrim in dismay.

"I say, here come two soldiers with a drummer and a captain," replied
Reinecke. "The soldier is loading his gun, he takes aim, he is about
to fire----"

"Alas! woe be to us poor fellows," moaned the Wild Boar from under
the moss. "It's all over with us! We fight with unequal forces!"

"Courage, courage, fellows," cried Isegrim, trying to rally his troops;
"just bear yourselves bravely; all is not lost; we'll make short work
of them yet!"

In the midst of all this confusion Whiteling and his troops reached
the spot unperceived. Grimalkin, catching a glimpse of the Wild Boar's
ear sticking out of the moss, took it for a mouse, and springing
upon it, bit into it with his sharp teeth. The Wild Boar sprang
up in terror and took wildly to flight, while Grimalkin, no less
terrified, scrambled frantically up the tree into the very face of
Master Petz. The Bear, not prepared for this unexpected encounter,
lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, half-killing himself by
the fall. More frightened than ever, the Tomcat scrambled blindly up
to the tree-top.

"Now, it's my turn," thought Reinecke to himself, and immediately
tumbled down in affright. Grimalkin tumbled after, while the Drake
kept drumming, "Quack-quack, quack-quack, quack-quack," and Ganner
hissed with all his might. Thus was Isegrim's host ignominiously
routed. The Wolf himself, however, still cowered behind the tree,
his head buried in the moss.

When the besiegers had withdrawn, Isegrim's scattered forces drew
together and began to count their honorable scars. Said Master Petz,
"More dead than alive from my heavy fall, I barely managed to make
my escape."

"A piece of my ear is gone," said the Boar. "He cut it off with
his sword."

"Let us be thankful, fellows," concluded Reinecke, "that we are no
worse off, for if they had been able to fire off one more cannon we
should have been hopelessly lost!"



"I wish I knew that Dog," said the little boy. "I think he is wiser
than our Watch."

"The beasts were wiser those days," replied the grandmother. "That
was my great-great-grandmother's time."







CHAPTER IV

THE FIRE OF SHAVINGS


The snow had fallen heavily, and some of the sheep were missing. The
two moujiks put on their warm sheepskin clothes and went to look for
them, taking Watch, the sheep-dog, with them. The starosta sat in
the house, making a plough-handle out of a tree-branch which he had
cut down one day long ago because he saw it was the right shape for a
plough-handle in case he should ever need a new one. The little boy
gathered up the shavings that fell from under the long, two-handled
knife. He played with them until he was tired of them, and then he
gathered them all in the skirt of his shirt and carried them to his
grandmother's room.

"I have brought you some shavings to make you warm, grandmother,"
he said.

His grandmother opened the stove-door, where the fire was smouldering,
carefully covered up, for fuel is dear. The little boy put his
shavings in, one by one, and watched them as they slowly caught fire
and broke into a blaze. When they were all burned up he went and
stood by his grandmother.

"Did they make you warm, little grandma?" he asked.

"Nice and warm," answered the grandmother. "Now, what can I do for
you in thanks?"

"A story, a story!" cried the little boy, climbing upon the stove to
be comfortable. And the grandmother told the story of




THE BEAR, THE BOAR, AND THE FOX

A Bear, a Boar, and a Fox once went into partnership to till a field
and raise some wheat, that they might earn their bread honestly. Said
the Boar, "I will break into a granary and steal the seed, and with
my snout I will plough up the field."

"I will be the sower," said the Bear; and Reinecke added, "I will
spread the earth over the seed with my tail."

So the field was ploughed and the seed sown. By and by came
harvest-time, and the friends took counsel together as to the
reaping. Said the Boar, "I will cut the grain." Said the Bear, "I will
bind the sheaves." And the Fox said, "I will glean the scattered ears."

The grain was cut and the sheaves set up. The next thing was the
threshing. Said the Boar, "I will provide the threshing-floor." "I
will carry the sheaves," said the Bear, "and will do the threshing
into the bargain." "I'll shake out the sheaves," said the Boar,
"and break off the ears from the stalks." "I will clear away the
chaff with my tail," said the Fox.

"I will winnow the grain," said the Boar, "and separate the straw from
the wheat;" and Gossip Petz added, "And I will attend to the dividing."

And so the grain was threshed.

Next came the Bear to do the dividing, but he was neither fair nor
honest, for he gave the Boar all the straw and kept all the grain for
himself, not leaving the least thing for the Fox. At this Reinecke
flew into a rage and threatened them both with the law, saying he
would bring the emperor's officer to divide it all fairly and squarely.

Away he went for the officer, leaving the Boar and the Bear greatly
terrified. Said Master Petz to the Boar, "Just bury yourself in the
straw, my child, while I clamber up into yonder pear-tree." The Boar
at once vanished under the straw, while the Bear scrambled up into
the pear-tree.

Meanwhile Reinecke set out, and on the way he met a Cat, whom he
invited to come and hunt mice with him upon a certain threshing-floor.

The Cat gladly accepted the invitation, for she full well knew that
there are plenty of mice in a threshing-floor; but on the way she
kept hunting birds in the bushes along the roadside. The Bear, who
was watching from the pear-tree, espied her from afar, and called
down to the Boar:

"We are in a pretty scrape, dear Boar, for here comes Master Reinecke
and a fearful monster with him. He wears the fur coat of a Marten
and is killing birds upon the wing all along the way."

By this time the Bear lost sight of the Cat, which had reached the
threshing-floor under cover of the grass, and was creeping about
in the straw in search of mice. Full of curiosity, the Boar stuck
his head out a little way to see what was going on; when the Cat,
mistaking his snout for a mouse, sprang forward and buried her claws
in it. At this the Boar gave a fearful grunt, and rushed frantically
into a neighboring stream, while the Bear, who, from the uproar,
concluded that the Cat had killed the Boar and would seize him next,
tumbled headlong from the pear-tree in terror, and breaking his neck
by the fall, perished miserably.

So Master Reinecke got all the grain and the straw into the bargain.



"I am glad he got it all," said the little boy. "It wasn't fair of
Petz and the Boar to serve Reinecke that way."

"Master Reinecke is generally able to look out for himself," said
the grandmother.







CHAPTER V

FROST-BITTEN TOES


There was a great shouting and hurrahing in the court, for the moujiks
had found the sheep and were driving them home. The little boy ran
out to see them come in. They were trembling with cold and looked
very weak, for they had had nothing to eat for two days. They had
been buried under the snow, and it had taken all that time to find
them. They were glad to go into their pen, and the little boy was glad
when his father gave him a pail with food in it and let him help the
moujiks feed them.

The cow-herd woman came to watch. "You should not have come out in
bare feet," she said to the little boy. "Where are your bachmaki?"

"Your feet are bare," replied the little boy.

"I am old and am used to it," said the cow-herd woman. "You will
freeze your toes."

When the sheep were all fed the little boy's toes began to ache, and
he ran into the house. "Keep away from the fire," said his eldest
sister, who was weaving at the loom in the corner. "If you go near
the fire your toes will sting."

The little boy's toes were stinging already, and he began to cry.

"Run away to grandmother," said the eldest sister. "She will warm
your toes with her hands."

The grandmother heard the little boy crying and she came to the door
to see what was the matter, for it makes a grandmother's heart ache
to hear a child's cries. When she saw the bare toes, white with cold,
she gathered the little boy up in her arms and carried him to her
room. There she sat down, far away from the fire, took the cold feet
in her hands and rubbed them to make them warm. Then the little boy
stopped crying.

"They are warm now," he said. "But I don't want to get down. It is
nice in your lap."

"You may sit here while I tell you a story," said the
grandmother. "Then you must get down, for I haven't finished my stint
of spinning."

"I will," said the little boy; and the grandmother told him the
story of




THE MAN, THE HARE, THE FOX, AND THE BEAR

Not far from a Hare's form a Bear once had her den, and Master Lampe
often gave himself the treat of visiting the den in Petz's absence
and teasing the little Petzes.

"You dear little birds," he would say, "do let me hear your enchanting
songs!" And he would spit at them, and make all manner of game of
them into the bargain.

Whenever Mrs. Petz came home the young ones would bitterly complain
how a little Hare had been there making game of them. At this old
Petz waxed very angry, and growled, "Just wait once, wait, Master
Lampe! I'll catch you yet and fling you into a hole."

So Mrs. Petz hid herself in the back of the den, and sure enough
along came Master Lampe and began to tease the young bears. No
sooner did Mrs. Petz hear him than she sprang upon him from her
hiding-place. But, quick as lightning, Lampe was off in the woods,
with Mrs. Petz after him. Lampe fled through bush and brier, Petz
always close upon his heels.

At last Lampe sprang through a cloven tree and Petz followed
him. Unluckily she stuck fast in the narrow cleft and, do what she
would, she could not escape from her prison.

Presently a Man came along, and Mrs. Petz implored him thus:

"Ah, Man, do set me free! I know where there is a hollow tree full
of honey in the forest; you could bring a great cask and fill it as
full as you like."

"Are you telling the honest truth?" asked the Man.

"The honest truth," replied Mrs. Petz. "I can make you rich in honey,
and all I have to say is to give you this warning: Never, if you love
your own life, do you tell a living soul how a miserable little Hare
made a fool of a strong She-bear."

The Man promised her, trust and true, and lifting his axe he struck
a blow at the cloven tree. The tree fell apart, Petz was again free,
and she at once led the Man to the honey-tree. The Man returned home,
yoked up his oxen, put a cask in the cart, and went to the wood for
the honey. When he had filled the cask he returned home.

Meantime it had grown dark, and Petz crept noiselessly behind the
cart and crouched down under the peasant's window, saying to herself,
"Just wait, you fellow, till I listen a little!"

The Man brought the cask of honey into the house, and the children,
seeing the prize, crowded around the father with questions. "O little
father, where did you get that honey?"

"I found it in the forest, dear children."

Then the wife put in her word. "Tell me, father, how did you come by
so much honey?"

And the Man replied, "Oh, don't bother me! It was an old trotter
of a Bear that was chasing a little Hare and got stuck fast in the
cleft of a tree. Then I came along and helped her out of the scrape,
and for thanks she showed me the hollow tree where the honey was. So
I brought it home. But it served her right, the lazy old fat tramper;
what business had she chasing a Hare?"

Mrs. Petz did not lose a word of all this, and she growled to herself,
"Just wait once, wait! I'll be even with you with a vengeance for
jeering at me."

She went away home, and presently the Man, wife, and children all
went to bed. Early next morning the Man got up and went out to till
his field. He yoked his oxen, filled a sack with grain, put it and
a plough into the cart, and with a "Gee-up, you oxen!" set out for
his field, which lay on the edge of the forest. He was just about to
begin ploughing when Mrs. Petz came along.

"Oho, cousin, so there you are! Didn't you promise me, trust and true,
not to say a word to mortal soul of what had happened to me, and didn't
you go home and tell the whole story to your wife and children? Hey?"

But the Man replied, "Friend, what an idea! I haven't said a word to
any one."

"Silence!" interrupted the Bear. "I was listening under your window."

Then the Man thought to himself, "Well, the cat is out of the bag,
sure enough. She knows the whole story."

"And now," said Mrs. Petz, "it is all up with you."

Now little Master Reinecke was listening to all this, and he rustled
in the bushes with his tail, and cried:


        Man, Man!
        Wit in the head
        And a club in the hand!


For, in fact, the moujik had a mighty ox-goad in his hand, and he stood
there quaking with fear of the enraged She-bear, and trying to contrive
how he should get out of the scrape. Reinecke never stopped crying:


        Man, Man!
        Wit in the head
        And a club in the hand!


At this a bright thought struck the Man, and he resolved to try his
luck. So he poured the grain from his sack upon the ground and said
to Petz:

"I am a pious Christian and have not yet prepared for death, either
by confession or penance. So do you, Mrs. Petz, step into this sack,
and as penance for all my sins I will carry you around the field,
heavy as you are. When I have gone around the field two or three
times with you on my back, you may do with me what you like."

"Gracious Heaven," cried Mrs. Petz, "how high I shall hold my head
when people say that a man carried me around upon his shoulders!" But
scarcely had she crawled into the sack when the Man tied it up tight
and belabored her head with his ox-goad until she gave up the ghost.

Then Reinecke stepped up to the Man and asked, "And what am I to get,
Man, for the good counsel I gave you?"

"What shall I give you?" asked the Man. "Will you have geese?"

"No."

"Ducks?"

"No."

"Hens?"

"No."

"Then what the mischief do you want?"

"I want to bite off your nose."

At this the man thought to himself, "What the dickens! How should I
look going around without a nose?"

Cold sweat broke out all over him, and he cried aloud in
agony. Reinecke heard him, and said, "Oho, what does this mean?"

The Man gave a second and a third cry; it startled the Master, and
he asked, "Now what's all this about?"

"Oh, nothing," replied the Man; "only last evening I fed nine
hunting-dogs, and they are trying with all their might to get out!"

But Reinecke interrupted him: "The cuckoo take your nose and all the
rest of you, only don't let your hunting-dogs come out here until I
have put my hide in safety!" And away he went, across lots and out
of sight.

So the Man saved his nose, and full of joy he went home that night,
carrying Petz with him.



"Master Reinecke wasn't so clever that time," said the little boy.

"He is not always clever," said the grandmother. "But he was very
clever when he took revenge on Isegrim."

"Oh, tell me that, tell me that!" cried the little boy.

"Not now," said the grandmother. "Did I not tell you that I had not
done my stint of spinning? Come this evening after supper and I will
tell you. Now run away home."







CHAPTER VI

AFTER SUPPER


The little boy could hardly eat at supper-time, and as soon as possible
he ran to his grandmother's room. She was knitting in the dark, for the
stock of candles was getting low, and she could knit without looking.

"Have you come for the story?" she asked. "I was expecting you."

So the little boy climbed to his place on the stove, and the
grandmother began the story of




REINECKE'S REVENGE ON ISEGRIM

Once upon a time Reinecke kneaded mud-cakes, baked them, and spread
them with honey. When they were all ready he betook himself to the
turkey-tenders and begged them to give him a turkey in exchange for
his honey-cakes. The turkey-tenders were not to be so easily hoaxed,
and they sent him to the swine-herds, assuring him that the swine-herds
would give him a sucking pig for his honey-cakes.

He therefore sought the swine-herds and begged for a sucking pig in
exchange for his cakes. The swine-herds would give him none, but sent
him to the cow-herds, who might give him a calf in exchange for the
cakes. So he went to the cow-herds and begged them to give him a calf
and take his honey-cakes in exchange.

The cow-herds declined, and sent him to the stable-boys, who would
surely give him a colt in exchange for the honey-cakes. So he went
to the stable-boys and offered to exchange his honey-cakes for
a colt. They gave him a beautiful colt and took in exchange the
honey-cakes. So Reinecke went away, leading the colt, and leaving
with the stable-boys a strict injunction on no account to break one
of the cakes until he should have disappeared behind a certain hill.

The stable-boys obeyed the behest, but when they afterward tried the
cakes and broke their teeth upon them, they perceived that they were
made of clay, and they at once set off in pursuit of the Fox. But
Master Reinecke had so much the start of them that they were obliged
to turn back, weary and overheated, having had their trouble for
their pains.

Now when Reinecke reached home he made a stall of wicker-work for
the colt, and devoted himself entirely to the care of him. Day after
day he brought him green, juicy grass and cool, refreshing drink, and
whenever he brought them he always called to the colt in these words:


        O colt, tender little colt,
          Open the door for me!
        Juicy grass and cooling drink
          Bring I here for thee!


Then the colt would open the door. Reinecke gave the colt very
strict instructions on no account to open the door to any other voice
or words.

One day Isegrim came. He had often heard Reinecke call to the colt
to open the door, and now he began to call in his coarse voice:


        O colt, tender little colt,
          Open the door for me!
        Juicy grass and cooling drink
          Bring I here for thee!


But the colt at once perceived that this was not Reinecke's voice,
and it did not stir to open the door.

Then Isegrim hid himself cunningly behind the stable-wall to wait
for a better chance.

Pretty soon along came Reinecke with grass and water. As soon as he
reached the stable he cried in his soft treble voice:


        O colt, tender little colt,
          Open the door for me!
        Juicy grass and cooling drink
          Bring I here for thee!


The colt recognized the voice, opened the door at once, and began
to tell how some one had been there and asked him to open the door,
but he had not opened because the voice sounded rough. Upon this
Reinecke said, "On no account open the door to a rough voice, but
only to a soft one."

The next day, when Reinecke was gone, along came Isegrim, who had
overheard the whole conversation from behind the stable-wall. He
crouched down as low as possible, and cried, in a very soft voice:


        O colt, tender little colt,
          Open the door for me!
        Juicy grass and cooling drink
          Bring I here for thee!


The unhappy colt was deceived and opened the door. Alas! Isegrim fell
upon him, seized him by the throat, and ate him up--all but the head
and the tail, which he left lying there. Then he made off, having
closed the door behind him, that nothing might be seen from without.

When Reinecke came home he began to call, as usual:


        O colt, tender little colt,
          Open the door for me!
        Juicy grass and cooling drink
          Bring I here for thee!


But no one asked him in nor opened the door. So he peeped in between
the osiers, and when he saw nothing in the stall but the colt's head
and tail he knew all that had happened and had not the least doubt
as to who had brought this great misfortune upon him. He tore the
door open and set up a long, woe-begone howl. Then he went out quite
heart-broken and laid himself down in the road for dead.

After a while a man came by in a wagon, and finding Reinecke in
the road he picked him up and threw him into the wagon, intending
to strip off his skin as soon as he reached home. Now this man had
three cheeses in a knapsack in his wagon, and presently Reinecke
roused himself from his feigned death, arose softly, stole the three
cheeses out of the knapsack, and made off. As soon as he had reached
a safe distance he devoured two of the cheeses and went on his way,
holding the third under his chin.

In the course of his travels he met friend Isegrim, who had eaten his
beloved colt. Isegrim no sooner saw Reinecke with the cheese than his
mouth began to water, and he asked him how he had come by it. Then
Reinecke, truthful as usual, replied that he had sucked it up out of
a brook.

"And where may that brook be found?" asked Isegrim hastily.

"Follow me," answered Reinecke; "I will lead you to it."

Now it happened that this meeting took place at the full of the moon,
about midnight, and a beautiful, star-bestrewn sky shed a magical
half-darkness over everything. Reinecke led Isegrim to a brook and,
showing him the reflection of the moon mirrored in the flowing water,
said:

"Do you see that great cheese there in the water? Now suck up the water
in great gulps and you will suck up the cheese at last, just as I did."

So simple Isegrim sucked up the water in great gulps, until it began
to run out at his ears. Reinecke very kindly plugged up his ears and
cried to him:

"Keep on sucking, dear Isegrim; you'll soon have it!"

Simple Isegrim went at it again, and sucked until the water ran out
of his eyes. At once Reinecke stopped up his eyes, crying again:

"Keep on, dear Isegrim, you'll soon have it now!"

Poor Isegrim sucked on, until the water ran out at his nose. Then
Reinecke stopped up his nose and climbed upon his back, saying he
was sick and could not walk, and Isegrim must carry him.

The Wolf, in very woful plight, set out to carry the Fox, when Reinecke
tuned up and sang:


        The sick is carrying the well!
        The sick is carrying the well!


And he kept on repeating the same words until Isegrim asked:

"What's that you're singing, cousin?"

"Nothing, nothing, dear Isegrim; they are only the fantasies of
illness!" and he kept up his song:


        The sick is carrying the well!
        The sick is carrying the well!


So it went on till they came to a house where a wedding was being
celebrated. When the wedding-guests heard Reinecke's song they came
out of the house and praised his singing. Thereupon he said that he
could sing a better song than that if they would let him go into the
house and up into the loft. To this they agreed.

When Isegrim, with all the trouble in the world, had carried Reinecke
up into the loft, which was floored only with loose planks, then
Reinecke opened all the places he had plugged up, and the water ran out
of Isegrim's eyes and ears and nose and poured down through the cracks
upon the wedding-guests below. The guests ran nimbly up into the loft,
but Reinecke still more nimbly made his escape through the window,
while Isegrim was half-beaten to death by the enraged wedding-guests
and his body thrown out into the road.

Then Reinecke came creeping back and taunted Isegrim. "This long
time I have been wearing out shoe-leather to get the best of you,
because you ate up my colt!"

And with these words away he went, leaving Isegrim to his fate.



"That served Isegrim right," said the little boy. "He had no business
to eat up Reinecke's little colt."







CHAPTER VII

THE SNOWY DAY


The grandmother sat in her room spinning, and singing a sad little
song. Grandmother's songs were always sad, for that is the way with
the songs of the Russian peasant women, whose lives are very hard. But
the little boy had never heard any other kind, and he was very fond
of hearing his grandmother sing. He was lying on the stove, watching
her spin, for it was still snowing, and he was tired of playing alone
in the court. The snow was so deep now that none of the mothers would
let their little children go into the street. The big children were
all at work. Only little children play every day in Russia. The big
children work, except on holidays.

"Do you know any more stories about Master Reinecke, little
grandma?" the little boy finally asked.

"Perhaps I do," replied the grandmother. "Let me see; did I ever tell
you about




"THE BIRD, THE FOX, AND THE DOG?"

"No," said the little boy. "Do tell that, please!"

So the grandmother began:



Once upon a time there was a Bird which built her nest in a hedge,
laid her eggs there, and began to brood over them. Now a little Fox
got wind of the matter, and he thought to himself, "Aha! there's a
fine breakfast for me!" So he left the Bird to brood over her eggs,
waiting for the time when the young ones should hatch out.

When that time came he paid a visit to the Bird, which was singing
gayly in the hedge, and said to her:

"Good-morning, dear cousin. Oh, how beautiful you are and how sweet
is your song! But still more enticing are your young ones in the nest,
and I mean to eat them up!"

The little Bird answered, smiling, "Ah, ah, you are not as clever as
I thought you, if you are thinking of eating these tiny birds! They
would not make you a mouthful. Just wait awhile till they are grown;
then come, and you may eat both them and me."

So the Bird appointed a day, and Reinecke went off in high glee,
whistling merrily.

In the meantime the Bird went to a Dog and promised him a delicious
meal--nothing other than Reinecke, in fact--telling him that he had
nothing to do but hide in the bushes on the appointed day, and he
could easily master the Master. The Dog smiled blissfully at the
news, saying:

"This is what I call a stroke of luck! I'll tell you what, little Bird,
I'll hide in the bushes, and when Reinecke comes, do you beg him to
let you sing one last song. Then perch yourself on a twig and sing
out loud and clear. That shall be the signal for me, and I will spring
out of my ambush, and--snap!--all will be over with Master Reinecke."

When the appointed day arrived Reinecke came gleefully along, trolling
this lay:


        "Fat little birds are right good cheer,
        So here I am, my Gossip dear!


Well, Gossip, how goes it?"

"As well as possible," answered the little Bird. "What I have promised
I will perform; I have only one last boon to crave: let me sing my
favorite song just once more!"

"Sing away, for all I care," answered Reinecke; "only make it short."

So the little Bird perched herself upon a twig and began her song. In
a twinkling the Dog rushed out upon Reinecke, but the Master was on
the alert and took to flight, with the Dog close upon his heels. At
last Reinecke took refuge in a hole, while the Dog hid himself at
the entrance, keeping up a sharp lookout.

Then Reinecke began to talk to himself, and said to his feet:

"Well, my fine feet, how have you got on?"

"Finely," answered the feet; "we did our very best to outrun the Dog."

"Good, good! You deserve all praise! And you, my good ears, how did
you behave yourselves?"

"Very well; we listened most intently to know whether that dreadful
Dog was close behind us."

"Good! That was gallant! And how did you behave, my dear, sweet eyes?"

"Oh, we spied around in every direction to discover the first hole!"

"Bravo! That was good of you." Then Reinecke looked at his long tail
and asked:

"And how is it with you, my beautiful, long, bushy tail?"

And the tail answered, "Very badly; I am your steering rudder, and
you rushed along so unmercifully, dragging me through bush and brier,
that I am miserably scratched and torn. Really, I should not have
been worse off if the Dog had caught me."

"Aha!" cried Reinecke, in high displeasure, "so you are my open enemy,
are you? All the others are faithful; you alone would willingly have
betrayed me. Out with you, out, my declared foe! You shall no longer
stay under the same roof with me!"

So Reinecke thrust his tail out of the hole. Snap!--the Dog had it
between his teeth, dragged the Fox out of his retreat, tore him in
pieces, and was thus rewarded for all his trouble. And the little
birds were rid of their enemy.



"It was not nice of Reinecke to want to eat little birds," said the
little boy. "I think he deserved to be punished."

"He got off without punishment another time," observed the grandmother.

"How was that?" asked the little boy eagerly. "Won't you tell me that
story? Do! It is not supper-time."

"No, it is not supper-time, and the story is a short one," said the
grandmother. "So I will tell you about




"THE FOX AND THE DOVE"

Once upon a time there was a Dove which built her nest in a high
tree. Every year, about the time when her young ones were beginning
to get feathers, Reinecke would come along and say to the Dove:

"Give me your young ones to eat; throw them down to me of your own
accord, or I will gobble you up as well as them!"

The Dove, frightened at the threat, would throw down the young
birds. Thus it had happened year after year.

Now one day, as the Dove sat most melancholy upon her nest, a Great
Bird flew up and asked why she was so sad and down-cast. And the Dove
answered that it was because Reinecke would soon come and eat up her
young ones.

Upon this the Great Bird replied, "Oh, you goose! Why do you throw
them down to him? Just bid your good friend to please give himself
the trouble to come after them. Then you'll soon see him sneak away
with his tail between his legs, for Reinecke cannot climb a tree."

So when the time came round and Reinecke again presented himself,
the Dove said to him, "If you want meat for dinner, just be so kind
as to come up and help yourself."

When the Fox saw that he must go away empty he asked the Dove who
had counselled her to speak thus, and she answered:

"That Great Bird that has a nest yonder near the stream."

Reinecke at once betook himself to the stream and remonstrated with
that Great Bird for building his nest in so exposed a place, asking
what he did in case of a high wind.

The Great Bird answered, "When the wind blows from the right I turn
to the left; when it blows from the left I turn to the right."

"But what do you do when it blows from all sides?" asked the Fox.

"Then I stick my head under my wing," said the Great Bird, showing
how he did it. But quick as a wink, when the Great Bird stuck his
head under his wing, the Master sprang upon him and seized him, saying:

"You know how to give counsel to others, but not to advise yourself!"

So he ate him up.



The little boy pondered this story for a while. At last he said,
"Grandmother, why did that Great Bird say that Reinecke could not
climb a tree? He has climbed a tree a great many times."

"This one was not a story of this mir," replied the grandmother. "It
is a story from another mir, where my mother's mother was born. The
foxes there are different."







CHAPTER VIII

THE ELECTION MEETING


There were many men gathered in the little boy's house, for the time
of the zemstvo was drawing near, and the men of the village must
choose one of their number to go away to the large city which was
the capital of the district to help make laws for the district. That
is what the zemstvo is for. The noblemen go, of course, and every
village chooses one villager to go.

They met in the little boy's house to choose their delegate, partly
because the little boy's father was starosta, and partly because his
house was the largest. Though they were many, there was room for them
all on the bench of masonry that ran around the four walls of the room,
and was covered in the most honorable places with bright calico. It was
a very cold day, and the bench was as far as possible from the stove,
but they were not cold, for the chinks between the upright boards which
made the walls of the starosta's house were well stopped with tow,
and, besides, the men all had on their warm kaftans, or over-blouses,
and their fur-lined boots.

There was a great deal of talking, and the little boy's mother and
sisters were very busy with the samovar, making tea and handing it
round. They had to be very careful to keep the water in the samovar
boiling madly, for tea is not good unless it scalds your mouth. At
least so they think in the little boy's village.

The little boy had been told that he must keep very still; but it is
as hard to keep a little Russian boy still as a little American boy,
for both are very fond of play. The little boy did not find it amusing,
and presently he crept very quietly toward the door.

"Where are you going?" asked his mother.

"To see grandmamma," answered the little boy.

"Be careful not to disturb her; she is busy," said the mother.

The little boy ran quickly out of the room.

The grandmother was indeed busy. She had her short skirt turned back,
a short-handled broom of twigs in her hand, a great earthen jar of
water beside her, and she was hard at work scrubbing the floor.

"Wipe your feet very clean," she said, "and don't bring dirt upon my
nice floor."

The little boy wiped his feet very clean, and tiptoed across to the
stove. It was really quite amusing to watch his grandmother scrub,
especially when the water made little pools in the hollows, worn by
many years of walking over the clay floor, and she had to flirt it
out with little whisks of the broom. He watched her very quietly until
she had shaken out her broom and emptied the jar into a great tub in
the court. Then she came back and sank heavily into her chair, saying:

"Ouf! little grandmother is tired!"

"Too tired to spin, little grandma!" exclaimed the little boy eagerly.

The grandmother smiled. "But not too tired for a story--is that what
the little boy means?"

"Oh, you're not, you're not!" cried the little boy gleefully.

"Listen then, and I will tell you about




"THE FOX AND THE HEDGEHOG"

A Hedgehog met Master Reinecke in a field, and said to him, "Hello,
Master! Whither away?"

"Oh, I'm just loafing around!" answered the Fox.

"Tell me, now," said Reinecke after a while to the Hedgehog, "how
manifold is your understanding?"

"Threefold," answered the Hedgehog.

"Why, how is that?" asked the Fox.

"Why, you see, I have one sense above, one below, and the third
everywhere," replied the Hedgehog; and added, "And how manifold is
your understanding?"

"Oh, mine is seventy-sevenfold," answered the Fox.

"Well, well!" said the Hedgehog.

Thereupon they walked along through the fields, and so eagerly were
they talking that they gave no heed to the way, and presently stumbled
into a Wolf's den. Then was good counsel precious! How should they
ever get out of this scrape?

Said Reinecke to the Hedgehog, "Come now, search around in your
head-piece for a means of getting out of this pickle."

"I should have done that before," answered the Hedgehog, "but I
was afraid that by and by you would curse me. How shall I, a little
Hedgehog, with only a threefold understanding, devise anything better
than you, who have a seventy-sevenfold understanding?"

However, after talking back and forth a long time, the Hedgehog made
this suggestion, "Say, Reinecke, just seize me by the ear and throw
me up out of the den, because I am the smaller."

"Yes, but how shall I get out?"

"Oh, just stick up your tail and I will pull you out!"

So Reinecke seized the Hedgehog by the ear and tossed him up out
of the den. Then he called upon him to keep his word. "Hello there,
Gossip, now pull me out!"

"Do you know what," answered the Hedgehog, "I'll tell you something. I
have only a threefold understanding, and yet I found a way of
helping myself. Now do you help yourself with your seventy-sevenfold
understanding."

By this time a moujik came along, and finding the Fox in the den he
made short work with him. But the Hedgehog crept away through the
thicket with his threefold understanding, while Reinecke, with all
his seventy-sevenfold understanding, was carried off by the moujik.



"Reinecke was too proud of himself," said the little boy.

"It is a great sin to be proud," observed the grandmother. "The pop
said so on Sunday in church."

There was a pause. Then the little boy said coaxingly:

"You are tired yet, little grandmother!"

"It was a short story," replied the grandmother, patting the little
boy on the shoulder, "and grandmother is a little tired still. She
will tell you the story of




"MASTER REINECKE AND GOCKELING, THE COCK"

Once upon a time, Reinecke, the Fox, met Gockeling, the Cock, and
said to him, "Come, show me how your hens cackle!"

The Cock, quite willing, stretched out his neck and began to crow,
when in a trice Reinecke pounced upon him and seized him by the throat.

"O Reinecke!" cried the Cock, "first give thanks to God, who has sent
you so good a meal!"

And Reinecke fell into the Cock's trap, for he stood upon his hind
legs and began to give thanks. Quick as thought the Cock flew up into
the nearest tree, and cried to Reinecke:

"Well, cousin, how does my fresh meat taste?"



"That was very clever of the Cock," said the little boy. "But,
grandmother, I don't think that Fox belonged to our mir, for he was not
at all clever. He must have belonged to your mother's mother's mir."

"You are perfectly right," replied the grandmother. "That is a story
from her mir. And as it is a very short story, I shall tell you just
one more."

So the grandmother told the story of




THE DISAPPOINTED BEAR

Once upon a time a little old woman, who was walking in the forest,
climbed up into a wild-cherry tree to gather cherries. Now a Bear
espied her, and he came under the tree and cried, "Come down, old
woman, that I may eat you!"

"Go along with you!" answered the old woman. "Why should you eat a
scrawny old woman like me? Here, gnaw upon my shoe till I come down,
and I will take you to my house; I have two little children there,
named Janko and Mirko; they will make you a right savory dish. So
have patience till you get them."

So said the little old woman and threw down one of her shoes. Master
Petz gnawed and gnawed upon it, but the more he gnawed the hungrier
he grew. Greatly enraged, he screamed up to the old woman:

"Come down, you old wench, and let me eat you!"

"Just wait a little longer, till the old wench has gathered enough
cherries," she answered. "Here, gnaw this other shoe awhile; she'll
soon come down and show you the way to her house." So saying, she
threw down the other shoe.

When Petz found that the second shoe was no juicier than the first he
made no further effort, but contented himself with thinking of the
fat little children at the old woman's house. When she had gathered
cherries enough, down she came and went home, the Bear tramping along
behind her.

When they reached the house the old woman said, "I'll tell you what,
first let me give the children a good supper, that they may be all
the fatter; and meanwhile do you run about till evening to get up a
better appetite."

So Petz went away and ran about in the woods all the rest of the day,
and at evening he came back to the hut.

"Here I am, little mother!" he cried; "now bring out Janko and Mirko,
and see me polish them off. I am starving to death!"

"Oho!" answered the little old woman from within, "Janko has made the
door fast with bolts, and I have just put Mirko to sleep. I couldn't
think of waking him. And little mother is so old and weak that she
can't unbolt the door alone. Come some other day."

Then Master Petz perceived that he had been fooled, and he walked
reluctantly away, with drooping snout and an empty stomach.



"I'm glad he didn't get Janko and Mirko," said the little boy.







CHAPTER IX

CAT AND DOG


The little boy was playing in the court with the moujik's dog that
helped to guard the sheep. It was a clear, cold day, but the little
boy was not cold, for he had on his warm quilted kaftan, or blouse,
his cap, which he called his chapka, on his head, and on his feet
were sandals made of the tough bark of the linden-tree. He was not
going to risk frozen toes another time!

The sheep-dog was old and rather cross, but he was always kind to the
little boy. But when the house-cat followed the cow-herd woman out of
the house, where she had gone to carry some milk, the dog bristled up
and growled. The cat spat at him, and this was too much. He sprang
at her, but kitty was too quick for him. She flew across the court
and scrambled nimbly up to the shed roof by one of the supporting
poles. The dog was too old and heavy to follow her, and he sat on his
haunches in the court below, bristling and snarling, the cat spitting
back at him and evidently enjoying the fun. The cow-herd woman and
a moujik who was at work in the court were laughing heartily; the
little boy's brother, who was cutting wood in the shed, came out to
see what it was all about. The little boy was highly excited, and he
ran to call his grandmother to come and see.

But by the time the grandmother had risen slowly from her chair--for
her rheumatism was bad that day--and had gone to the door, leaning on
her stick, the fun was all over. The cat had gone around to another
side of the shed, and lay basking in the sun, out of the dog's sight;
the moujik, the cow-herd woman, and the little boy's brother had gone
back to their work. Only the dog remained, looking up at the deserted
roof and growling at nothing.

The little boy went with his grandmother into the house.

"Grandmamma," he asked, "why does the dog always quarrel with the cat?"

"My great-grandmother told me why," replied the grandmother. "I will
tell you that story now, if you like."

"Oh, do, do!" cried the little boy.

"It is the story," said the grandmother, "of




"WHY THE DOG CANNOT ENDURE THE CAT, NOR THE CAT THE MOUSE"

In olden times, as my great-grandmother told me, dogs enjoyed great
freedom, and among other privileges they had a right to all the meat
that fell from the table. To guard this right for all time they drew
up a manifesto, and copied it upon parchment. In this manifesto this
right was expressly made known. For a long time the King of the Dogs
had charge of this document, but finally he confided it to the care
of his private secretary, the Tomcat. And the Tomcat carried the
proclamation up into the garret and hid it behind a beam where no
one could possibly find it.

Now it happened that behind the beam dwelt a young Mouse, and on
one of his walks he stumbled upon the roll. He tried to drag it from
its hiding-place, but the stiff parchment stuck fast, and he could
not pull it out. But it was quite within reach of his little teeth,
and the Mouse was highly delighted with his lucky find, for now he had
something to nibble upon. Day by day he paid a visit to the parchment
and whetted his teeth upon it.

Now it presently happened that one day a Dog picked up a piece of
meat and was caught and his paw well rubbed with hot ashes. Weeping,
he appeared before the King and told him the whole story.

Then the King immediately summoned his private secretary, the Tomcat,
and commanded him to show the proclamation. The Tomcat hastened to
bring the parchment without delay; but, to his misfortune, what did
he find? Only a few fragments!

It was at once clear to him that this was the deed of some little
Mouse. He told the story to all the other Cats, who, to express
their grief and sorrow, began to mew most piteously. When they had
sufficiently expressed their feelings they declared war against
all Mice.

After this the Tomcat made his report to the King of the Dogs, and
the King immediately summoned the Dog-zemstvo. The Dogs came together
from all parts--sheep-dogs, wolf-dogs, boar-hounds, house-dogs; and
to them all the King gave command that from thenceforth and forever
they should treat the Cat as the common enemy. Thus all cats would
be made to rue that Tomcat's carelessness.

And that is the end of the story.



"Now I understand all about it," said the little boy.







CHAPTER X

A PLEASANT SURPRISE


A very delightful surprise awaited the little boy. A few days after
the meeting in his house his mother told him that the mir had elected
his father deputy to the zemstvo. In a few days he must go to the
capital of the district, and he had decided to take the little boy
and his mother with him. That was news indeed! The little boy ran to
tell his grandmother. Or, rather, he hopped on one foot all the way,
for he was so glad that he had to do something unusual.

The grandmother was delighted with the news. "You will go on the
railroad," she said. "That is a great thing. There were no railroads
when I was young, and I should not like to travel on one. A good sledge
with three horses is far safer, I think. But the railroad is faster,
your father tells me, and that is something in cold weather."

The little boy ran back to find out how soon they were to go. "Shall
we go to-day?" he asked his mother.

"Oh, no, not to-day!" she answered.

"To-morrow, then?"

"Not to-morrow, but perhaps the day after to-morrow."

"That is a long time!" sighed the little boy.

"You must have patience," said the mother. "There is no virtue so
necessary in this world as patience."

The little boy wandered back to his grandmother's room.

"Grandmamma," he said, "mother says I must have patience; but I don't
know how. We are not going to start on the journey for two whole days."

"Perhaps I can help you," said the grandmother. "If I were to tell
you a story now?"

"Oh, yes, that would help, little grandma!" cried the little boy. "I
can be very patient when you tell me stories."

"This one," said the grandmother, "is about




"THE FOX AND THE BADGER"

A Fox and a Badger met in the mountains and made an alliance, agreeing
that whichever of them found anything good to eat should share it
with the other, like a brother.

Now the Master knew where there was a trap set and baited with a
great piece of meat. He therefore led the Badger there and showed
him the meat.

"See, dear nephew," said he, "how your clever uncle has led you
to a place where we can both have a grand feast. But you are more
limber than I, so just slip gently in and pull out the meat, while
I keep watch that the moujik who put it here does not suddenly catch
us napping."

The Badger agreed without further words. He slipped into the trap, and
was about to pull the meat from the hook, when--snap!--his forefoot
was fast in the trap. The Badger broke out into a howl of distress,
"Help, uncle, help! I am lost!"

Reinecke ran quickly to the trap, but instead of freeing the Badger
he at once began to gnaw the meat.

"Just have a little patience," he said, "till I have eaten this morsel
before some one comes from the village. Then I will pull your leg
out of the trap."

Now Graybeard saw plainly that the Master had played a trick upon
him, and he quickly seized him by the nape of the neck. At this
moment the moujik came running up, crying from afar, "Hold on, my
falcon-badger! By my faith, I will not rumple a hair of your head!"

So the moujik killed the Fox and stripped off his skin, saying to the
Badger, "You may go free; his skin is worth five kopeks, but yours
only two. Go, in God's name!"



"It wasn't fair of Reinecke," observed the little boy.

"No, it wasn't fair, and so he got punished," said the grandmother.

The little boy was silent for a few minutes. Then he said:

"Little grandma, I am not patient yet."

"Oho!" said the grandmother, "if my stories don't help you to be
patient, there is no use in my telling them."

"But they do help, grandmamma," said the little boy. "I am a little
patient now, just a very little. If you told me another story I should
be more patient still."

The grandmother laughed. Then she told the story of




THE STAG AND THE HEDGEHOG

A Stag and a Hedgehog were once standing upon a steep hill, and the
Hedgehog invited the Stag to roll down with him into the ditch.

"Do you roll down first," replied the Stag.

Without further words the Hedgehog rolled himself into a round ball
and rolled down the slope. The Stag followed and broke his neck.

Then thought the Hedgehog, "What shall I do with you now?" At last
the thought occurred to him to call a butcher, and he immediately
set out to seek one. On the way he met a Fox.

"Whither away?" asked Reinecke; and the Hedgehog answered, "To seek
a butcher."

"Gossip," said the Fox, "I am a butcher."

"Then show me your teeth, Master," said the Hedgehog.

Reinecke showed his teeth, but the Hedgehog told him they were not
sharp enough, and went on his way.

After a while he met a Wolf, who asked him, "Whither away, Gossip?"

"To seek a butcher," said the Hedgehog.

"I am a butcher, sure enough," said the Wolf.

"Then show me your tools."

Isegrim showed his teeth, and the Hedgehog, well pleased, said to him,
"Follow me, then."

The Wolf followed him, and they came to the dead Stag. In a trice the
Wolf had torn him in pieces, and inviting all his kindred to the feast,
he gave each of them a fine morsel, and kept a whole leg for himself,
without the least consideration for the Hedgehog.

"Well, and what am I to get?" asked the Hedgehog, quite vexed; and
the Wolf replied, "The entrails."

This seemed to the Hedgehog very unfair, and he began to reason with
Isegrim. But the Wolf only answered, "If you aren't satisfied, go to
the judge and make a complaint."

So the Hedgehog went to seek a judge, and the Wolf followed after. Now
the Hedgehog knew where there was a trap, and he led Isegrim in that
direction. The Hedgehog tapped lightly upon the knocker, but this
quite disgusted Isegrim.

"Wait, let me knock!" said he, and he thumped with all the strength
of his paw. So he was caught, and the Hedgehog ran away laughing.

The story is done.



"It is done too quick, little grandmother," observed the little boy
after a moment's thought. "I am not patient yet."

"Then my medicine is not the right kind," said the grandmother. "Run
away home and hold some yarn for your sister. I heard her say that
she was going to knit some warm mittens for you to wear on the
journey. Holding yarn is an excellent school for patience."







CHAPTER XI

THE PATIENT LITTLE BOY


The door of the grandmother's room opened very slowly, and the little
boy peeped in.

"Grandmother, I did hold the yarn, and I am very patient now. Do you
think you could tell me another story?"

"It is such a good thing to be patient," said the grandmother,
"and so hard to learn, that I am sure you deserve a reward. So come
in and shut the door tight, and I will tell you about




"THE COCK AND THE HEN"

Once upon a time there was a man who had lived many years in peace and
quietness with his wife. At last, however, they fell into a violent
quarrel and decided to separate at bed and board and to divide their
goods between them.

Short hair is soon brushed, and the division was soon made, for their
whole possessions consisted of a Cock and a Hen. And the wife said,
"I'll take the Hen for my share, and you may have the Cock."

By and by the husband fell ill, and he went to beg his wife to give
him just one little egg, for he was very hungry. But she answered
him scornfully:

"Hum, hum, where is your Cock? Let him lay you a little egg; if he
won't do it, kill him!"

At this the man returned home quite crestfallen, and said to his Cock,
"Come, my fine fellow, this can't go on any longer! You do nothing
but eat and drink, and never bring me so much as a bright penny. Go
out into the world and seek your fortune!"

In deep dejection the Cock sighed, "Ah, where shall I find anything?"

However, he sallied forth sturdily, and in the forest he met
Isegrim. The Wolf said to him, "Whither away, my fine fellow?"

"Oh, I'm going out into the world to seek my fortune!"

"May I go with you?"

"Not another word; be my comrade."

So the two travelled up and down the world until Isegrim was too
tired to go another step, and the Cock said to him:

"Well, dear uncle, can't you walk farther than this?"

"Alas, no!" said the Wolf.

"Then slip yourself into me."

In a trice Isegrim was in the body of the Cock, who went on, quite
at his ease.

Shortly after he met Reinecke, and said to him, "Whither away, Master?"

"Whither away? Into the world to seek my fortune."

"Then join my company," said the Cock.

So they went up and down the world until Reinecke was quite exhausted
and could go no farther.

"What, Master!" said the Cock, "do you give out so soon? Well, just
slip yourself into me and I'll carry you."

Master Reinecke slipped quickly into the Cock, who bravely went on
his way.

After a time he came to a little Brook. "Little Brook, whither away?"

"Oh, through the world!"

"Come with me, then, and be my comrade."

So they went forward until the little Brook, for very weariness,
could go no farther.

"Does your strength give out so soon, my little Brook?" asked the Cock.

"Alas, yes!" replied the little Brook.

"Then slip into me; I'll carry you," and in a moment the Brook had
slipped into the Cock.

In the course of time the Cock met a swarm of Bees. "Whither away?" he
asked.

"Oh, into the wide world to seek a shelter!"

"Then come along; be my comrades."

They had not gone far before the swarm of Bees grew tired and could
go no farther, and the Cock invited them to crawl into his body.

So the Cock, carrying the swarm of Bees, the Brook, the Fox, and the
Wolf in his body, arrived at a great city. In this city reigned a
King and his wife, the Queen. The Cock flew straight to the roof of
the royal palace and spent the night there. At early dawn he began
to crow lustily:


        Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!
        One kick for the King, for the Queen two!


This enraged the King terribly, and he commanded his chamberlain to
catch this impudent crower and chain him in the royal stables, that
he might be trampled to death by the horses' hoofs. The chamberlain
caught the Cock, threw him into the stable, and shut the door well.

Then the Cock told the Wolf to slip out, and during the night Isegrim
strangled all the horses and ate up a whole colt. Then he broke a
hole through the wall, by which he and the Cock escaped. The Cock
perched himself again upon the roof and began his song of yesterday:


        Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo.
        One kick for the King, for the Queen two!


In a moment the King sprang out of bed, called his chamberlain, and
ordered him to send and see what had happened in the stable, that
the Cock was out of doors and crowing. The chamberlain hastened to
the stable, saw the strangled horses, and brought the news to the King.

At this the King flew into a still greater rage, and gave command to
catch the Cock and throw him among the geese. The chamberlain seized
the Cock and locked him in the goose-pen, where there were several
hundred geese. Then the Cock said to the Fox, "Come forth, Master,
and finish up with all these geese!"

Reinecke was soon at work, and by daybreak every goose was
strangled. Then the Fox groped a hole through the pen, and he and
the Cock slipped comfortably out. The Cock flew again to the roof
and sang as on the former day:


        Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!
        One kick for the King, for the Queen two!


The King was more enraged than ever, and sent to see what had happened
to the geese. The servant found them all dead, and brought the news
to the King. Then the King commanded that the great bake-oven should
be heated and the Cock thrown into it. The servant caught the Cock
and threw him into the very middle of the hot oven. Then the Cock sang:


        Little Brook, flow quickly out;
        Put the oven fire out!


And the little Brook flowed out into the oven and extinguished the
whole fire.

The next morning the people came to see if the Cock was dead, when,
lo! he was already perched upon the roof, singing:


        Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo!
        One kick for the King, for the Queen two!


Now the King was beside himself with rage. He rushed out to catch the
Cock himself, and not knowing, in his excitement, what to do with him,
he thrust him under his night-clothes. Then the Cock told the swarm
of Bees to come out and sting the King. "Buzz, buzz!" out they came,
and stung the King till he was all one wound.

At this the King commanded his servants to lock up the Cock in his
treasure-chamber, that he might miserably starve to death. The servants
seized the Cock and carried him to the treasure-chamber, but they
were so frightened that they ran away as fast as their heels could
carry them, forgetting to fasten the door. There were great heaps
of shining, brand-new ducats in the treasure-chamber, and the Cock
made the best of the opportunity by swallowing a number of them and
hiding one under each of his feathers. Then he flew away to his old
master's house. He perched upon a tree in the yard and began to crow:


          O, little father, little father!
        Spread some plates abroad for me,
        I'll give ducats bright to thee!


The old man, overjoyed, spread out three plates under the tree. Then
the Cock shook himself, and a shower of golden ducats fell and lay
upon the plates in three great heaps. The old man was perfectly happy
to have so much money, and from this time forward he let the Cock
want for nothing.

His former wife soon heard that he had become enormously rich, and
she came to see him.

"Ah, come," said she to him, "give me a few ducats!"

"Not if I know it! Why would not you give me one little egg, eh? Go
back and tell your old Hen to bring you ducats."

The old woman ran back to her home and commanded her Hen, "Go out
into the world and seek your fortune, and bring me home some ducats."

The Hen went sadly forth, betook herself to the refuse heap and began
to scratch in the litter. After long scratching she found a copper
heller and a needle. She picked them up, and also stuck a little stone
under each of her feathers. Then she flew back to the court-yard and
began to cackle:


          O, little mother, little mother!
        Spread some plates abroad for me,
        I'll give ducats bright to thee!


Filled with joy, the old woman hastened to spread out four plates
under the tree. Then the Hen shook herself, and let fall on one plate
the worn heller, but only little stones on all the others.

"Is that all?" exclaimed the old woman angrily.

"No, here is something more," clucked the Hen, and she slung the
needle into the old woman's eye.

Upon this the old woman beat the Hen soundly, and went back to
her husband's house, begged his pardon and made it all up with
him. Whenever he wanted an egg she gave him one, and he always gave
her a ducat in exchange.

Little boy, if you are good you shall get an egg for nothing!



"I am good, grandmother," said the little boy. "Will you give me
an egg?"

The grandmother laughed. "That is only the way the story ends," she
said. "But it is dinner-time, and if your mother will let you take
dinner with me I will give you an egg. Run away and ask her."







CHAPTER XII

THE SHEEP-PLAY


The dinner was over, the plates washed and put away, and grandmother
was busy with her spinning. The little boy was amusing himself with
some bits of wool that had fallen to the floor, for everything is
a plaything to a Russian child. The bits of wool were sheep, and a
wooden stool was a sheepfold, and a bit of fuel that had fallen when
grandmother covered up the fire was the sheep-dog. It was a very
nice play.

The room was very quiet, for, though the little boy talked all the
time to his sheep and his dog, he had been taught to talk softly in
his plays, as all children must do when a whole family lives in one
room. He talked very softly indeed when he saw that grandmother had
leaned her head against the straight back of her rush-bottomed chair
and was taking a little nap. Presently the distaff fell from her lap
to the floor and awakened her.

"Why, I must have been asleep!" she said, and went on with her
spinning.

At last the sheep, which had been wandering away upon the hills that
rose between the hollows in the clay floor, had all been discovered
by the sheep-dog and herded, one by one, in the fold. The little
boy was tired of playing, and he sat on the stool to listen to his
grandmother's singing. Grandmother was always singing when she was
not telling stories to the little boy.

"Why can't you tell stories while you spin, as well as when you
knit?" asked the little boy.

"Oh, that isn't the way!" said the grandmother. "When it is dark and
I take my knitting I can tell a story, but not now. You'd better go
home till it begins to grow dark; then come, and we'll see what story
little grandmother can tell."

The winter day was very short, and it was not long before the little
boy came back. Grandmother was still spinning, but she laid aside
her distaff and spindle, took her knitting down from the shelf,
and began the story of




THE BEG AND THE FOX

Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a Beg whose whole
property consisted of a horse, a greyhound, and a musket. He had no
other occupation than hunting, and by this he gained his living.

One fine day he mounted his horse, threw his musket over his
shoulder, called to his greyhound, and set off to hunt upon the high
mountains. After riding a long distance he reached an elevated plain,
where he tied his horse to a tree and went forward into the thick
woods, with his gun upon his shoulder and his dog by his side. While
he was hunting on the mountain a Fox drew near to the horse and lay
down in the grass beside him.

The Beg hunted about in the woods for a long time, but he only made
out to kill a single deer. When he went back to his horse and saw the
Fox lying there beside it he was astonished, and raised his musket to
make an end of the Master. But when the Fox saw what the Beg was about
to do he sprang up quickly and implored him, for the love of Heaven,
to spare his life, promising to be a faithful guard and protector to
his horse.

The Beg took pity on the Fox and gave him his life. Then mounting his
horse, he laid the deer before him, set the Fox behind him, and went
home. On arriving at home he put the deer upon the spit to roast for
supper, and threw the offal to the Fox, that he might have a good
meal too.

So the night passed. In the first dawn of morning the Beg again set
out, taking the Fox along. He went again to the same high plain,
tied his horse to the same tree, and went forward to hunt, leaving
the Fox to guard the horse. After his departure the Fox remained
alone for a time. But he soon had company, for a Bear came along,
intending to devour the horse. But the Fox stopped him and begged
him to spare the horse, advising him to stay till the Beg returned,
for he was a good master and would feed them both at his house. The
Bear joyfully accepted this proposal, and lay down beside the Fox to
await the worthy Beg's return.

When the Beg came back from hunting he was not a little surprised
to see the Bear lying peacefully with the Fox beside the horse,
and he quickly raised his musket to him. But the Fox sprang forward
and began to beseech the Beg to spare the Bear and take him home with
him. The Bear, he said, would keep him company in guarding the horse,
and would rush to the Beg's aid in every need and danger. At these
entreaties the Beg laid down his gun, threw across his horse the
two deer which he had killed, and returned home in high good-humor,
accompanied by the Fox and the Bear.

The following day the Beg went hunting again and left his horse on
the same high plain. This day a Wolf joined the company and was taken
home with the others. On the fourth day a Mouse and a Mole presented
themselves and were accepted in the family, and at last came the bird
Kumrikusha, [1] which was so large that it could easily have carried
away the horse and his rider through the air. All these animals were
fed by the Beg at his own house.

One day the Fox said to the Bear, "Up, Master Petz! Bring me here
a log! I will sit upon it and give orders, and you must all execute
them."

Upon this the Bear betook himself to the forest and dragged home the
trunk of a mighty tree. Then Reinecke climbed upon it and uttered
the following discourse:

"All right! Well, then! See here, now, worthy companions and
friends! We must marry our Beg."

"Good!" replied the others; "but how shall we begin? For we don't
know where to find a maiden for him."

"The Emperor has a daughter," replied Reinecke; "let us marry our Beg
to her. Kumrikusha, do you begin. Set off at once for the imperial
castle, lie in wait for the young lady when she takes her walk,
seize her and bring her here."

Kumrikusha, nothing loath, set out at once, alighted near the
imperial castle, and watched for the Emperor's little daughter. Just
at nightfall she came out of the castle to walk, accompanied by her
waiting-woman. In a trice Kumrikusha was upon the spot, seized the
Princess, set her upon his back, and flew homeward.

When the Emperor heard of the abduction of his daughter he was beside
himself with grief, and offered to reward with untold wealth the
person who should bring her home again. But all in vain, for no one
dared undertake the adventure, until at last, one day, a gypsy-wife
presented herself before the Emperor and said to him:

"Lord Emperor, what shall I get if I bring you back your daughter?"

The Emperor could hardly believe his own ears, and he cried out in
delight, "Ask what you will, it shall be granted; only bring her
back safe!"

The gypsy-wife went home, took some beans in her hand, and began to
practise enchantment with them, according to ancient custom. She soon
divined from the beans that the Princess was distant ten days' journey,
and she at once prepared to follow her. She took a piece of carpet and
her riding-whip, seated herself upon the carpet, cracked the whip,
and up rose the carpet into the air. It carried her straight to the
place where the Beg was living with his wife, the Emperor's daughter.

Arrived within a short distance of the Beg's stronghold, the gypsy-wife
let herself down to the ground, left her carpet and riding-whip lying
there, and found a hiding-place where she could see the Princess
when she came out before the door for her evening walk. She had not
long to wait. The Princess soon came out for a little walk, and in
a trice the gypsy-wife was at her side, entering into conversation
with her. As they talked she gradually led her farther and farther
away from the Beg's castle, and at last turned off into a by-path,
where the carpet lay.

No sooner did the Princess see the carpet spread upon the grass than
she exclaimed, "Why, here is a carpet! Let us sit down upon it."

Nothing could have pleased the gypsy better. They sat down
together. The gypsy took up her riding-whip, struck the carpet, and
away they both went through the air, straight to the imperial castle.

The Emperor's joy was boundless when he saw his daughter, and he
richly rewarded the gypsy. But he shut the Princess up in a room and
strictly forbade her to leave it, appointing two maids to watch and
wait upon her.

When Reinecke heard what had happened to his Beg's wife, he summoned
his companions to a council and addressed them in the following words:

"Friends and comrades! We have indeed married our Beg to the Emperor's
daughter, but, as you see, she has been forcibly taken away from us,
and here is our Beg a lonely bachelor again. Nothing remains for
us to do but to bring the Princess back to our Beg. But this is an
undertaking beset with difficulties. The Emperor keeps his daughter
under strict watch, and never permits her to leave her chamber. You
see, therefore, that only stratagem can avail us here."

"What, then, shall we do?" asked Petz.

"There is nothing better to do than for me to transform myself
into a beautiful striped kitten and play about under the Princess's
window. When she sees me she will send her maids down to catch me. But
I shall not allow myself to be caught until the Princess herself comes
down. At the very moment she appears, do you, Kumrikusha, arrive upon
the scene, seize her, and carry her to our Beg. Meanwhile I shall
look sharp to outrun the pursuers and get off with a whole skin."

Thus spoke the Master, and all the others agreed that the plan
was good.

The bird Kumrikusha immediately took the Fox under his wing, flew
with him into the kingdom where the Emperor's daughter languished,
and set him down near the imperial castle. The Master no sooner
felt solid ground under his feet than he transformed himself into a
beautiful striped kitten, crept under the balcony where the Princess
was sitting, and began to spring about in the most graceful and
fantastic manner. Thus he succeeded in attracting her attention,
and, as he had anticipated, the Princess at once sent her maids down
to bring the kitten to her. But Reinecke, though in a cat's form,
was still a fox at heart, and was not to be caught at any price.

When the Emperor's daughter saw this she herself went down to catch
Pussy. But hardly had she stepped out of the door when the bird
Kumrikusha swooped down, seized her, and bore her home to the Beg,
while Reinecke ran off in another direction and thus saved his skin.

As soon as the Emperor heard of this mishap he ordered out his hounds
to hunt the cat that had decoyed away his daughter. But the cat,
when he saw himself chased, took refuge in the cleft of a rock into
which the hounds could not follow him. So they returned home from a
bootless chase.

Then the cat crept out, transformed himself back into a fox, and
followed Kumrikusha, who by this time had brought the Princess home
to the Beg.

The Emperor, convinced that he should not recover his daughter by
peaceful means, levied an immense army and declared war against the
beasts. When Reinecke heard of this he summoned the other animals that
lived with the Beg, and which, as I have told you, were a Bear, a Wolf,
a Mouse, a Mole, and the bird Kumrikusha, and spoke to them thus:

"Listen! The Emperor, with his whole army, is marching against us
to exterminate us. Very well; let us also summon our forces, that we
may make a brave stand against him. Master Petz, how many bears can
you muster?"

"More than three hundred."

"And you, Isegrim?"

"I can bring five hundred wolves."

"And you, Mouse--speak up; how great is your command?"

"I can bring three thousand mice."

"And how many moles can you bring, Mole?"

"Eight thousand."

"And you, Kumrikusha, will you join us?"

"Yes, with two or three hundred birds like myself."

"Good! Now go and levy your forces as has been agreed. When they are
assembled, come here, that I may tell you what to do next."

As soon as Reinecke had given these orders the beasts all betook
themselves to the forest in order to summon their troops. Soon heaven
and earth resounded with the din of approaching multitudes. Here came
the army of the Bears, there came the Wolves, and close behind were
the Mice and the Moles. Woods and fields were filled with them, and
when they were all drawn up in martial array Reinecke held a review
and gave the following orders:

"You, Bears and Wolves, must lead the van, and when the Emperor has
encamped for the night do you fall upon the camp and kill all the
horses. On the second night, you, Mice, must gnaw all the saddles,
for they will have procured fresh horses in the meantime. On the
third night, you, Moles, must dig around the camp a subterranean
passage fifteen ells broad and twenty deep. And as soon as the army
is stirring in the morning, you, Kumrikushas, must rain down great
pieces of rock upon them."

The review ended, the several detachments of the army of the beasts
set forth. The first night, when the imperial host had encamped, the
Bears and the Wolves fell upon the imperial horses and tore them all
to pieces. Early in the morning the soldiers announced to the Emperor
that wild beasts had killed all the horses during the night. The
Emperor made diligent search into the cause of the sudden calamity,
and meanwhile he commanded that fresh horses should be procured
without delay. This was done and the army moved on.

During the second night's encampment the Mice came and gnawed all the
trappings of the horses. In the morning when the soldiers awoke and
saw that all the saddles were nibbled they told the Emperor, who at
once commanded that new ones should be made. This done, again the
army marched on.

The third night the Fox sent the Moles to surround the camp with a
subterranean passage fifteen ells broad and twenty deep. That the work
might be the sooner accomplished, he directed the Bears to carry away
the loosened earth. The Moles began the work about midnight, leaving
only one hole open at one side where the earth was to be carried
out. While the Moles were digging under the ground and throwing up
the clods, the Bears were busily carrying the earth to some distance
from the camp.

When the Emperor's troops awoke in the morning they mounted their
horses to ride away; but hardly had they gone a few steps when they
began to fall through the treacherous earth. At the same time the
Kumrikushas let fall a rain of rocks and stones upon them.

When the Emperor saw his great army thus miserably perishing he cried
aloud, "Let us beat a retreat! It is the judgment of God upon us for
undertaking to make war upon the beasts. Let them keep my kidnapped
daughter, in Heaven's name!"

Immediately the army wheeled about to retreat, but even on that side
the earth gave way beneath their feet.

"God is punishing us already," cried the Emperor in despair, "by
causing the earth to swallow us up! Oh, why, then, does He slay us
with stones and rocks from the sky?"

The confusion was universal; every one was pushing and crowding his
neighbor; and so the Emperor's whole army melted away.

After a time the Fox removed his residence to Stamboul and began to
rule there, and the Beg gave up hunting and went also to Stamboul
to be near his Fox. There, with his wife, whom no one again dared to
kidnap, he lived in joy and peace until his blessed end.



The little boy had left his stool and was standing near his
grandmother, his eyes shining in the darkness. When she stopped
speaking he drew a long breath.

"That was a good Fox, grandmother," he said. "I should like to know
that Fox."







CHAPTER XIII

GETTING READY


It was very interesting in the little boy's house the next day, for
the mother was getting ready for the journey and the sisters were
helping. There was food to be cooked and there were clothes to be
washed, and it all made a very pleasant bustle. The little boy was
in the thick of it all. He thought he was helping, though perhaps
the others thought differently. At any rate, he was in a state of
most delightful excitement.

When it grew dark the work was all done, and the little boy went to
the grandmother's room.

"We are all ready, grandmother," he said, "and I have been patient
all the time!"

"Well, well!" said the grandmother. "Surely you deserve a reward,
then. Shall I tell you a story?"

"Oh, dear little grandmother, yes!" cried the little boy. "Will it
be about Reinecke?"

"Not about Reinecke, nor any of the animals you know," said the
grandmother; "it will be about




"THE SEVEN STARS"

Once upon a time there was a King who had a wonderfully beautiful
daughter. But there came a Dragon and stole her away and vanished,
leaving not a trace behind.

So the King called his High Chamberlain and commanded him to go forth
into the world and seek the Princess, and on no account to come back
without her.

The High Chamberlain set out and searched throughout the whole
world, but nowhere could he find the slightest trace of the King's
daughter nor the least clew to her whereabouts. However, an old
woman advised him to go to such-and-such a country and inquire for
the Dragon-mother, for she alone was able to give him information
about the stolen Princess.

And, verily, the High Chamberlain followed this counsel. After most
toilsome wanderings he at last arrived safely at the Dragon-mother's
house and begged her to give him such information as she had as to
the abiding-place of the King's daughter.

The Dragon-mother answered, "My dear friend, stay here over this
night. What God has given us we will share with you--you shall not
suffer hunger in my house. As soon as my sons, the Dragons, return
home from afar I will ask them about the Princess. I have five sons,
each one wiser and cleverer than the other. The first has the power
of stealing anything that he takes a fancy to; he could steal the
calf from the cow or the foal from the mare, and they never observe
it. The second can follow up the trace of any lost object, though it
have been lost for years. The third draws a sure arrow upon anything
that he can see. The fourth can build an impregnable fortress in an
instant, and can hide anything he chooses within it, so that no one
can possibly find it. And the fifth is as bold as a falcon and as swift
as the lightning when there is anything to be overtaken and caught."

While she was speaking, her sons, the Dragons, came home, and the
mother inquired of them if they knew anything of the whereabouts of
the King's lost daughter.

"To be sure," they answered. "She is with a more powerful Dragon than
we. He stole her away from her father, the King, and now keeps her
in one of his castles."

"I adjure you," interrupted the High Chamberlain, "help me to find
her. I may on no account appear before the King and live unless I
bring his daughter with me. My master will not show himself ungrateful
to you."

The Dragons declared themselves quite willing to help him. The second
brother traced up the scent, and the first brother stole the lovely
maiden and brought her back with him. But the more powerful Dragon
pursued after them, took her away, and flew up into the air to carry
her to a place of safety.

Then the third brother fitted a bolt to his crossbow, drew it, sped
the arrow, and hit that Dragon in the very middle of his heart. With
a fearful outcry the Dragon fell from the clouds and was dashed to
little bits upon a rock. And thus it would inevitably have been
with the King's daughter, whom the Dragon held tightly clasped,
had not the fifth brother flown swiftly and caught up the maiden,
so that she was kept safe and sound.

But now ensued a sudden and unlooked-for danger, for the dead Dragon's
brother drew near, and several other monsters with him; and it would
soon have been all over with the brothers if the fourth had not
speedily erected a strong fortress, in which all the brothers, the
King's daughter, and the High Chamberlain safely concealed themselves.

For a long time those hideous Dragons lay in wait around the fortress;
but they finally went away, having accomplished nothing. Then the
five brothers, the gracious maiden, and the High Chamberlain came
out and went home to the Dragon-mother.

And the eldest son said, "Is it not true, little mother, that the
maiden belongs to me, who rescued her from that furious Dragon?" The
second brother said, "But you would never have found her nor rescued
her if I had not traced up the scent." The third brother interrupted,
"Of what good would it have been that you, eldest brother, rescued her,
and you, second brother, traced up the scent, if I had not destroyed
the monster at the right moment? Therefore, in all right and reason,
the maiden belongs to me."

Here the fifth brother struck in. "By right the maiden belongs to me;
for if I had not caught her up in the very nick of time she would
not now be in the land of the living." And the fourth brother said,
"If you will consider the whole matter impartially, you will see that
I have the most righteous claim upon the maiden; for all your trouble
would have gone for nothing if I had not made the castle at the right
moment and hidden her, and you, too, to come within it."

And now the Chamberlain put in his word. "All your pretensions are
idle. The maiden is mine; for if I had not told you that she was stolen
away, the first would not have rescued her, nor the second traced up
the scent, nor the third destroyed the monster, nor the fifth caught up
the maiden, and the fourth would have concealed no one in his castle."

Thus all the six strove for possession of the maiden, until the
Dragon-mother put in her word. "If this is so, then you are all in
the right; but the maiden can surely not belong to you all. But you
can all take her for your sister and love and protect her as long as
you and she live."

And so they did, and in remembrance thereof they and the maiden were
set in the sky, and can be seen there to this day, and men call them
"the Seven Stars." [2] At least, so goes the story.



"Dragons are different from Reinecke and Petz and Isegrim," observed
the little boy.

"Don't you like them as well?" asked the grandmother.

"I like them," answered the little boy, "but I don't know them as well
as I know Reinecke and Isegrim. I am not used to them, grandmother."

"You will get used to them while you are at your other grandmother's,
where you are going to-morrow," said the grandmother. "The stories
of her commune are not at all the same as the stories of this commune."

"Why not, grandmother?" asked the little boy.

"I don't know why not," answered the grandmother, "but it is always
so. Every commune has its own stories. There are many dragons in
those of your other grandmother's commune. Now you are going out into
the world, you will get very wise, for you will know the stories of
two communes."







CHAPTER XIV

MOTHER'S-MOTHER


The happy day had come. The little boy was all ready for the journey,
dressed in a colored shirt hanging over his full trousers--the white
shirt must be kept clean for Sunday, you know--his kaftan well belted
down and with a small fur collar at the neck, and on his head a high
kolpak, or fur hat, just like his father's. His legs were covered
by onontchi, well wrapped around and cross-gartered with colored
strings, and on his feet he had fur-lined shoes, for third-class cars
are very cold. The little boy's mother had on all her warm clothes,
with a long fur overcoat, just like that the father wore, over all
her other wraps; and the father, besides his great fur overcoat,
had on his fur kolpak and high fur-lined boots, into the wide tops
of which his full trousers were tucked. He had a great basket in his
hand, containing food for the journey and a pair of fowls and some
other things for the mother's-mother whom they were going to visit. In
his inside pocket the father had the papers of the mir which he must
carry to the zemstvo. So they were all ready.

All the men and children of the village accompanied them to the
station, which was in the midst of a wide plain a quarter of a league
beyond the last house. There was a good while to wait; the train
was not due for half an hour, but that did not matter. The grown
folk had a deal of talking to do--all the privileges that they hoped
the starosta would secure from the zemstvo for the commune. As for
the children! Well, this was the chance of their lives, for their
station had a playground, with swings, wooden horses, and giant's
strides, and it was not often they had such privileges, especially
the uniformed school-children. For when once a Russian child puts on
the school uniform, play is pretty nearly over for him for the rest
of his life. So they made the most of their opportunity. It was not
a cold day for January, and if it had been they would not have minded.

When the train came lumbering in, as it did after a while, half a
dozen more children jumped down from the second and third class cars
and ran to the playground. The other children made way for them,
for station playgrounds are for travelling children, and they had
the first right. Yet there was room for them all. But the little
boy was impatient to be on his travels, so he ran to his mother, and
was very glad when the men of the commune had said their last words
to their representative, and the starosta led his wife and little
boy to a good place in a compartment where there was room for the
samovar. Presently the first warning was given. The children came
running from the playground; there was a chorus of good-bys. The
second warning sounded, and the train jolted away. The little boy
was a travelling child at last!

At every stop where there was a playground--there was not one at every
station--he would run out and have a swing, his mother going with
him, for he was a little boy to be among strangers. After a while
he was hungry, and then his mother unpacked her basket and set the
samovar a-going, and gave a lump of bread and a big piece of sausage
to each, with unlimited cups of scalding tea that made them nice and
warm. After that the little boy leaned his head against his mother,
and then--most wonderful!--they were already at the capital, and the
stars were shining. Where had the afternoon gone?

He had not time to ask, for his father had swung him upon his shoulder
and was carrying him through the crowd, and there, outside the wicket,
was a little old woman, with such a nice face, who fell upon his
mother's neck and kissed her again and again.

"That is your other grandmother," said his father. "Your mother has
not seen her since she was married, and that is many years ago."

And then the other grandmother caught the little boy from his father's
arms and kissed him and cried over him, till the little boy did not
know whether he ought to cry or not.

He became very well acquainted with the other grandmother the next
day. She did not seem like his own dear little grandmother at home,
but she was very nice. He called her mother's-mother, because she
was not his real grandmother, he thought; and the other grandmother
laughed and said that would do very well.

In the afternoon, when his father had gone back to the zemstvo, and
his mother was clearing up after dinner, which she said her mother
was not to do while she was there, the little boy went and stood by
his other grandmother's chair.

"Mother's-mother," he said, "little grandmamma told me that you knew
some nice stories."

"Yes," said mother's-mother, "I suppose I do. They are not like
your little grandmamma's stories. The stories of this commune
are different. They are more about the Vilas than those of your
commune are. Yours are mostly about Reinecke and the other beasts,
are they not?"

"I like Reinecke and the beasts," said the little boy. "But I should
like the Vilas, too, mother's-mother."

"Then I will tell you about them," said the other grandmother. "Sit
down on that stool--it was your mother's when she was a little
girl. That is right. Now I will tell you about




"THE VILA OF MUHLENBERG"

Once upon a time there was an aged widow who had only one son, whom
she watched and cherished in her old age. Now there was a great war
at that time all over the world; every man who could bear arms was
forced to go into the army, and among others the widow's son. There
he so distinguished himself for bravery on every occasion that he
was promoted to be Captain.

Now it happened one time that they suffered a defeat. Among the
wounded was our Captain, and as he lay on the ground he prayed God
to spare his life, at least until he had seen his old mother. He was
in the greatest danger, for all around him the enemy was killing the
wounded. Suddenly an aged dame stood before him and asked him what
he was praying for, promising him that she would grant his wish.

Without taking time to think, he answered, "Give me a horse, that I
may escape before the enemy murder me."

Upon this she struck upon the earth with the staff that was in her
hand, and softly murmured a few words. Suddenly a noble steed stood
before him, all saddled and bridled; he had only to mount it. He
looked around to thank the old dame, but she had vanished.

The Captain sprang into the saddle, gave the horse the spur, and
flew from the spot like an arrow from the bow. He rode on for a long
time without noticing in what direction the horse was carrying him,
when suddenly it stopped.

He looked around and saw before him a great city with many
church-towers which shone so brightly that they fairly dazzled his
eyes. He rode into the city, and was overcome with astonishment, for
all around him was nothing but stone. Men, women, animals, everything
he set his eyes upon was turned to stone, for this was an enchanted
city. And the horse was a Vila, and had vanished from under him as
soon as he had entered the precincts of the city.

Perhaps he himself would have remained the whole day upon the spot,
as if turned to stone, had he not suddenly beheld before him a maiden
with golden hair. When she saw him she uttered a cry and hastened up
into the golden castle.

He followed close upon her footsteps, but before the castle-gate he met
the same old woman who had given him the horse. He greeted her prettily
and asked her what was all this about--the golden-haired maiden and
the enchanted city. Hereupon the old dame told him the following story:

"Many, many years ago this city was the greatest and the most
beautiful in the whole world. An Emperor lived here, who was so
benevolent and such a lover of justice that whenever he heard that
any one had done his neighbor a kindness he rewarded him so richly
and with such distinction that he could live to his dying day in
peace and happiness. On the other hand, he was unmercifully severe to
evil-doers and caused every one who was guilty of any sort of crime
to be put to death at once.

"For this reason some wicked men killed him and his only son. But as
they were murdering the son they heard an awful voice, which said:

"'Miserable wretches! you have killed him who was your benefactor and
father. Be accursed, therefore, for a thousand years, until a youth
shall come and loose you from this ban!'

"But the Emperor's daughter, whom the Lord God had given to me,
remained alive, for God said, 'She shall be the reward of him who frees
you.' Meantime, however, she was turned to stone until the moment
when you entered the city. Then she awoke, cried, 'The Liberator is
come!' and brought the news to me. You yourself have seen her."

So spoke the old dame, and, full of joy, the young man asked her what
he was to do in order to loose the city from the spell. She answered:

"I can give you no counsel, but you will soon find that out above. And
now, as you have no more need of me, farewell, in God's name! But
first I will tell you who I am. I am a Vila. If ever you should fall
into any trouble, you have only to call, 'Vila, stand by me!' and
you shall be helped." She spoke, and was already gone.

The young man and the maiden were now in doubt as to what they ought to
do. They would gladly have wedded each other, but where find a priest,
or even any one else? So they went into a church to pray to God; and
the maid said to the youth, "From this hour you are my husband and I
am your wife till death. But go at least and set the bells a-ringing,
that our nuptials may be celebrated in some way."

Hardly had the first note pealed forth from the bells when everything
breathed and lived--the men, the beasts, everything, in short, which
had been turned to stone. Then all the people broke out into the cry,
"God save our Liberator, now and evermore!"

The first thing was to celebrate a magnificent wedding, when the
pop united the pair forever in the presence of the whole assembled
people. Every one rejoiced, eating and drinking as if they never
meant to leave off.

The young couple lived for several years in joy and happiness, until
at last the King was overcome with an ardent longing to see his dear
mother. He confided this wish to his wife, whereupon she led him into
the royal stables and presented him with four horses, saying:

"Here, I give you these four horses. You must know that they are
Vilas, and they will take you to your home, for you have no idea how
far away it is. But if any one there asks you where you have been
and what you have been doing all this time, beware of telling them
the truth, for if you relate your adventures the Vilas will vanish,
and you will never be able to come back to me again."

He promised her everything that she asked and set out for home. When
he arrived he found his dear mother no longer living. His heart was
wrung with sorrow, for there he stood alone in the world, brotherless,
sisterless, without a single relative.

The people questioned him incessantly, until at last in a moment
of weakness he yielded to their importunities and told them his
story. But the words had hardly passed his lips when the horses
vanished. He was inconsolable for their loss, for he loved his wife
more than his own soul.

He therefore determined to seek her out, even if it cost him his
head. So he travelled on and on and on until he came to the Moon. There
was no one at home but the Moon-mother, for the Moon had just gone
out. When the Moon-mother saw the young man she was full of pity for
him, and said:

"Do you not know, unhappy one, that my son will tear you in pieces
as soon as he gets home? But come, I will hide you!" And she hid him
in a chest.

When at last the Moon came home, tired and cross, he called out in a
thundering voice, "Woman, there is a Christian soul staying here! Out
with him!"

His mother besought her son to spare the young man's life, and finally
she succeeded in mollifying him.

"Well, then, I won't do him any harm," said the Moon; "only let him
show himself."

Upon this the old mother opened the chest and brought the young man
before her son. The youth drew near to the Moon, bowed low before him,
and said:

"Mighty Moon! you shed your mild rays over the whole earth; tell me
if you know anything of a city called Muhlenberg."

The Moon replied, "I indeed shine over the whole round earth, but I
have never heard of any Muhlenberg. Therefore, I counsel you, seek
out my brother the Sun; perhaps he can tell you something about it."

The young man thanked the Moon, and went to the Moon's brother, the
Sun, and said, "Your brother the Moon sends greeting, and says, in
case you know anything about the city Muhlenberg, you are to tell me."

The Sun replied that he knew nothing of any such city, and sent him
to the North-wind, saying, "This wind blows everywhere and searches
out the most hidden corners; perhaps he knows the city."

But the North-wind sent him to the East-wind, and the East-wind sent
him to the West-wind, and the West-wind sent him to the South-wind,
the most fearful of all the winds. [3]

When the young man appeared before the South-wind, he bowed low and
said, "I bring you greetings from all your relatives, the Sun, the
Moon, the North-wind, the East-wind, and the West-wind, and you are
to give me some information about the city Muhlenberg."

Said the South-wind, "I have just come from Muhlenberg. There will soon
be grand doings in that city, for the Queen is going to be married."

Then the young man implored the South-wind to take him there. The
South-wind answered:

"It is pretty far from here, and you don't know the way; but take
this apple, and wherever it rolls do you follow it, and you will come
to Muhlenberg."

The young man bade the South-wind adieu and followed the apple, going
on for a long, long time. Suddenly he came upon some robbers. He went
up to them as if they were old acquaintances, exclaiming, "Good-day
to you, brothers! Are you right well? Here I am with you at last!"

They really believed that he was one of themselves, so they took him
with them, and showed him a coat which had the power of rendering
invisible the person who wore it. Next they showed him a pair of boots
that would enable one to put a mile behind him at every step. He put
on both the coat and the boots, as if to test the truth of the story,
and immediately made off. The robbers could not even think of trying
to follow him, since they could not see him.

So he rolled the apple again along the ground before him, and at last
he arrived at Muhlenberg. He heard music in every part of the city,
cannons were thundering, and above all swept the South-wind.

When the South-wind saw him he went down and greeted him, saying,
"So here we are, at last, in Muhlenberg!"

The young man now went into the city, and, being still invisible,
he helped himself to all the food and drink he wanted, and refreshed
himself with his gossip, the South-wind. Then, taking leave of him, he
made his way into the royal palace which had once been his own. There
he saw the Queen beside the newly chosen spouse whom she was about
to marry, and heard her sigh:

"Just seven years ago to-day my beloved husband deserted me!"

Upon this he began to sing a song which he used to be always singing
when he was king. She recognized it at once, and, full of joy, cried
out, "That is my husband, my first good fortune! My wedding-guests,
drink the foaming wine and take your leave. I have no need to marry,
for my husband has come home again, my only joy and bliss!"

And from this time they lived long and happily together. And the Queen
bore to her husband a son with a mole like a golden sword upon his arm,
and a beautiful golden-haired daughter.

So ends the story.



"I should like to go to the Moon," observed the little boy.

"They don't go nowadays," said the other grandmother. "That was long
ago, before my great-grandmother was born."







CHAPTER XV

THE LITTLE BOY HOMESICK


The little boy did not know what to do with himself, for they were
very busy getting dinner ready against his father's return from the
zemstvo. He did not know how to play in this house as he did in his
own; he felt a little homesick, and presently he began to cry.

"What does that mean?" asked his mother, who was making the onion-soup.

The little boy only cried the more. "I want my little grandmamma!" he
said. "She would tell me a story."

"I'll tell you a story," said the other grandmother, who was making
noodles. "Come and stand by me. But there must be no more crying,
and it must be a very short story, for I am busy. Is that a bargain?"

The little boy dried his eyes and stood by the other grandmother
to hear




A SHORT STORY

Once upon a time a Hungarian was crossing a brook. He had on a woollen
coat with short sleeves. As long as were the sleeves, so long will
be this story. If the sleeves had been longer, the story would have
been longer too.



"That is a very short story," said the little boy.

"So I promised you," said the other grandmother. "I have kept my part
of the bargain, have I not? Now do you keep yours, and after dinner
I will tell you a longer one. Only remember, no more tears!"

The little boy kept his part of the bargain, and after dinner the
other grandmother told him about




THE GOLDEN APPLE-TREE AND THE NINE PEAHENS

Once upon a time there was an Emperor who had three sons. Before his
palace stood a golden apple-tree which bloomed and bore ripe fruit
in one and the self-same night; but it was always plundered by some
one who left not the slightest trace behind.

At last the father said to his sons, "Who can have made away with
the fruit of our apple-tree?"

Upon this the eldest son said, "I will watch the tree to-night,
and will teach the rogue to know better!"

So when twilight began to fall he went and laid himself down beneath
the apple-tree to guard it. But he fell asleep just as the apples
began to ripen, and when at dawn he awoke, the tree had been already
stripped. He therefore went to his father and truthfully told him
the whole story.

Then the second son pledged himself to guard the tree; but it
happened with him precisely as with the other. He fell asleep under
the apple-tree, and when the dawning light awoke him not an apple
remained upon the tree.

It was now the turn of the youngest son to watch the tree. He made
himself ready, went out to the tree, prepared his bed immediately
under it, and laid himself down to sleep. Just at midnight he suddenly
awoke. He cast a glance upward into the tree, the fruit of which
was just beginning to ripen. The whole castle glittered with its
golden sheen.

At that very moment nine golden Peahens came flying by; eight of them
settled upon the apple-tree, but the ninth flew down upon the young
man's bed and transformed herself into a beautiful maiden--a more
beautiful was not to be found in the whole empire.

So the two kissed and caressed each other until after midnight, when
the maiden stood up, thanked him for the apples, and would have gone,
but he entreated her earnestly to leave him at least one. She gave
him two--one he was to keep for himself, the other he might give to
his father. Then she transformed herself into a Peahen and flew away
with the others.

At daybreak the imperial Prince arose and carried the apples to
his father, who was overjoyed at the sight, and heaped praises upon
his son.

When evening came again the imperial Prince made ready his
resting-place, as on the former evening, in order to watch the
apple-tree. Having had the same experiences as on the preceding night,
he again brought two golden apples to his father.

When this had gone on for several nights the brothers became envious,
because they had not succeeded in guarding the apples. So they went
to an old hag, who promised to spy upon the Prince and discover how
he managed to guard the apple-tree so successfully. When evening
came on, the old woman stole out to the tree, crept under the bed,
and there hid herself.

Presently the youngest imperial Prince came out and betook himself,
as usual, to rest. About midnight the nine Peahens came, and eight
settled down upon the tree while the ninth flew down to the bed and
transformed herself into a maiden. The old hag slyly seized the long
braid of the maiden's hair, which hung down below the edge of the bed,
and cut it off. But the maiden sprang up quickly, transformed herself
again into a Peahen and flew away, with all her companions following
her, and so vanished.

The imperial Prince sprang up and cried out, "What is this?" He
searched around and perceived the old hag under the bed, seized her,
dragged her out, and the next day commanded that she should be put
to death.

But the Peahens never returned to the apple-tree, and the imperial
Prince mourned and bewailed himself without ceasing. At last he
resolved to search for his little Peahen throughout the whole world,
and never return home until he had found her. He told his resolution
to his father, who tried to turn him from it, advising him to put
the idea out of his head, and promising to find him another maiden,
though he should have to search through his whole empire. But he spoke
to deaf ears; the prince was firm, and set out with his servant to
seek for his Peahen.

For a long time he wandered up and down the world, and one day he
came to a lake, beside which he saw a magnificent great castle. In
the castle he found an ancient dame, the Empress, and a little girl,
her daughter. He asked the dame, "In Heaven's name, little mother,
can you give me any news about nine golden Peahens?"

And the dame answered, "To be sure I can, my son! They come every
midnight to bathe in this lake. But leave those Peahens in peace. You
shall have my little daughter, a splendid girl, and all my treasures
shall be yours as well."

But he had no ear for the old dame's offer and no eye for the daughter,
being filled with longing to see the Peahens. He arose early in
the morning and went out to watch for the Peahens on the border of
the lake.

But the old dame had bribed the Prince's servant and given him a pair
of bellows such as one blows the fire with, adding these directions:

"Do you see these bellows? When your master goes down to the lake,
blow slyly upon his neck with them. He will then fall into a deep
sleep and will not be able to speak with the Peahens."

And to this the wretch of a servant consented.

When they were upon the lake-shore he seized a favorable opportunity
and blew upon his master's neck with the bellows, whereupon the poor
Prince fell into a deathlike slumber. He had barely fallen asleep
when the nine Peahens arrived; eight alighted in the lake, but the
ninth flew to the Prince upon his steed, and began to embrace and try
to waken him. "Awake, my life! Awake, my heart! Awake, my soul!" But
he moved no more than the dead.

When the Peahens had bathed they all flew away, and he immediately
awoke and asked the servant, "What is the matter? Have they been here?"

The servant answered that nine Peahens had flown down to the lake;
eight had gone into the water, but the ninth had come to him, the
Prince, upon his horse, had caressed and tried to awaken him. At
these words the poor imperial Prince had nearly laid violent hands
upon himself.

The next day he again mounted his steed and rode slowly along the
lake-shore, his servant behind him. The servant again found an
opportunity to blow upon his neck with the bellows, whereupon the
Prince fell into a deathlike slumber. Scarcely was he asleep when the
nine Peahens arrived; eight went down into the lake, but the ninth flew
to him upon his steed, and began to embrace him and try to awaken him,
saying, "Awake, my life! Awake, my heart! Awake, my soul!"

But all in vain; he slept sounder than the dead.

Then she said to the servant, "Tell your master to wait for me here
again to-morrow, for he will never see us here again after that,"
and she again flew away.

She was scarcely gone when the imperial Prince awoke and asked the
servant, "Have they been here?" The servant replied, "To be sure,
and they left word for you to expect them here again to-morrow;
but after that they will never again come to this place."

When the unhappy Prince heard this he was beside himself, and tore
his hair for grief and pain.

At dawn of the third day he again went down to the lake and rode
along the shore, but at the fleetest pace possible, in order not
to be overtaken by sleep. But even this time the servant found an
opportunity to blow upon his neck with the bellows, whereupon the
Prince immediately stretched himself out upon the horse's back and
fell asleep.

He was hardly asleep when the nine Peahens came flying to the
spot. Eight of them went down into the lake, but the ninth flew to
him upon the horse and began to embrace him and to call, "Awake,
my life! Awake, my heart! Awake, my soul!" But all in vain, for he
slept like the dead.

Then the Peahen said to the servant, "When your master awakes, say
to him, he must drive the upper wedge after the lower before he will
be able to find me." With these words the Peahens flew away.

When they were gone the imperial Prince awoke and said to the servant,
"Have they been here?" The servant answered, "To be sure, and the one
which seated herself upon your horse gave me orders to tell you that
you must drive the upper wedge after the lower, and then you would
find her."

When he heard this the Prince drew his sword and struck off the
servant's head. Then he went on alone through the world.

After long, long wanderings he reached a high mountain, where he
spent the night with a hermit. From him he asked tidings of the nine
Peahens. The hermit answered:

"My son, you are surely fortune's own child! God himself has led
you in the right way. It is hardly more than half a day's journey
from here to there. You have only to ride straight forward and you
will come to a great gate. Then turn to the right and you will come
straight to the city where their castle is."

By morning dawn the Prince awoke, dressed himself, pressed his warmest
thanks upon the hermit, and set out in the direction indicated. He
went straight forward, reached the great gate, passed through it,
and about noon he perceived a dazzling city, at sight of which his
heart cried out for joy.

In the city he inquired for the castle of the golden Peahens. At the
castle-gate a guard stopped him, asked after his country and station,
and when he had given the required information the guard went in to
announce him to the Empress.

When she heard of his arrival she ran to meet him like one beside
herself--being, of course, in human form; and giving him her arm she
led him into the castle. Great joy reigned through all the place, and
after a few days the pair were married, and he remained thenceforth
beside his beloved wife.

After a time the Empress went on an excursion, leaving the Prince at
home in the castle. Before going she gave him the keys of the twelve
rooms on the ground floor, with the words, "You may go into all of
them except the twelfth. Open that one on no account, for you stake
your head in that game." With this warning she went away.

The imperial Prince remained alone in the castle, and began to wonder,
"What can be in that twelfth room?" Upon this he opened one room after
the other, and when he came to the twelfth he hesitated awhile about
opening it. But the thought, "What can be in there?" gave him no rest.

He therefore resolved to open the room; and lo! in the middle of it
stood a great open cask encircled with iron hoops, and a voice from
within cried, "In Heaven's name, brother, I adjure thee, give me a
glass of water! I am perishing with thirst!"

The imperial Prince took a glass of water and poured it into the cask,
whereupon one hoop of the cask fell off. Then again the voice cried
out of the cask, "For Heaven's sake, brother, I am perishing with
thirst! Give me another glass of water!"

The imperial Prince poured in another glass of water, and the second
hoop fell from the cask. A third time the voice cried from the cask,
"In Heaven's name, brother, I am perishing with thirst! Give me one
more glass of water!"

The imperial Prince poured in a third glass, whereupon the third
hoop dropped off, the cask fell asunder, and a Dragon flew out, and
meeting the Empress upon the way, he carried her off as a prize. Soon
her attendants came in with the news, and the unhappy imperial Prince
knew not what to do for grief.

He finally decided to set out once more in search of his wife,
and so he wandered a long time up and down the world until he came
to a sheet of water upon the border of which he saw a little Fish
floundering about in a puddle. When the Fish saw the Prince he begged
him earnestly:

"For Heaven's sake, be a brother to me and throw me back into the
water! Some day I may be of the greatest use to you. Only pull off
one of my scales, and if you need my help rub it a little."

The imperial Prince took up the Fish and pulled out one of its
scales. He threw the Fish into the water, but the scale he wrapped
up in his handkerchief.

After a time, while he was still wandering about in the wide world,
he came upon a Fox which was caught in a trap. When the Fox saw him
he cried, "For Heaven's sake, be a brother to me and set me free from
this trap! I shall soon have occasion to do you service; only take
one of my hairs, and when you need my service rub it a little." So
the imperial Prince took the hair and set the Fox at liberty.

Later, as he was going over a high mountain, he found a Wolf in a
trap. The Wolf also said to him when he saw him, "For Heaven's sake, be
a brother to me and set me free. I will be your helper in time of need;
only take out one of my hairs, and if you need my aid rub it a little."

So the imperial Prince took the hair and set the Wolf free, and then
went on his journey.

After a long time he met a man, to whom he said, "In the name of
Heaven, brother, have you ever heard where the Dragon-emperor's
castle is?"

The man cheerfully told him, even to the very moment when he would
best present himself there. The imperial Prince expressed his thanks,
went straight on, and at last, nearly dead with fatigue, he arrived
at the Dragon's castle. He found his beloved one there, and both were
overjoyed at the meeting.

Then they took counsel as to the best way to attempt a flight. They
finally came to a decision, and, making ready with all despatch,
they mounted their horses to flee. But they had hardly left the
castle when the Dragon came riding home. He entered the castle,
but the Empress was gone!

So he said to his horse, "What shall we do now? Shall we eat and
drink comfortably, or shall we hasten after the fugitives?"

The horse replied, "Eat and drink; we shall soon overtake them. That
is the least of your troubles."

After dinner, therefore, the Dragon mounted his horse, and in a trice
had overtaken the fugitives. When he came up to them he snatched the
Empress from the Prince, with the words, "Go, in God's name! I forgive
you this time, because you gave me water; but never come back again,
as you value your life."

The unhappy Prince went on a little farther, but the longing of his
heart was too strong, and he turned about. The next day he reappeared
in the Dragon's castle. He found the Empress alone and drowned in
tears. They again took counsel how they might escape, and the imperial
Prince thus spoke his mind:

"When the Dragon comes home, ask him where he obtained that horse. Then
do you tell me, that I may try to get one of the same kind, to outrun
him if possible." With these words he went away.

When the Dragon came home the Empress coaxed and cajoled him, talking
of all sorts of things, until at last she said, "Well, upon my word,
you have a fleet horse! Tell me, in Heaven's name, where did you
get him?"

He replied, "Where I got him it would not be easy to get another. In
such-and-such a high mountain lives an old woman who has twelve horses,
each one finer than the other, all standing before their mangers. But
in the corner stands a wretched, mangy horse; at least he looks so at a
first glance, but in fact he is the best one of all. He is the brother
of my horse. Heaven itself would not be too far off for the owner of
that steed. But whoever would get him from that old hag must serve
her for three days. She has a mare and a foal, and she will require
that they be watched for three nights. Whoever succeeds in doing so
may choose among her horses. But if any one enters her service and
fails to keep watch of the mare and colt, off goes his head!"

The next day when the Dragon was from home the imperial Prince came
to learn what the Empress had discovered. Then he went to that high
mountain where the old woman was, and greeted her with, "God bless
you, little mother!" and she answered with the pious greeting,
"God help you, my little son! What good luck brings you here?"

He: "I have a mind to enter your service."

She: "Very well, my little son. If you will keep watch of the mare
and foal for three whole days, then you may take your choice among
my horses; but if you fail, off goes your head!"

Upon this she led him into the courtyard. It was surrounded by a
close paling, and on every pale was stuck a human head. Only one
was unoccupied, and this one cried incessantly, "Old woman, put a
head here!"

The old woman showed all this to the Prince, with the words, "You see,
all these were in my service without being able to guard the mare."

The imperial Prince was not to be frightened by such an exhibition,
but remained to serve the old woman. When it grew dark he mounted
the mare and rode out into the field, the foal running along beside
the mother. He sat constantly upon her back, but toward midnight he
fell asleep, and when toward dawn he awoke he found himself astride
a block of wood, holding fast to the halter.

When he saw this he was filled with horror, and sprang up to search
for the mare. In the course of his search he came upon a piece of
water. It reminded him of the little Fish which he had rescued from
the puddle and thrown into the lake. He therefore took the scale out
of his handkerchief and rubbed it a little between his fingers. The
Fish immediately spoke from the water, saying to him, "What is your
desire, brother soul?"

He answered, "That old hag's mare has given me the slip. I know not
where to find her."

The Fish returned, "She is here with us; she has transformed herself
into a fish and the foal into a little fish. Just strike upon the
water with the halter and say, 'The old hag's mare still lives!'"

So he struck upon the water, saying, "The old hag's mare still
lives!" and the mare became what she had been before and swam to the
shore with her foal. He therefore put the halter upon her neck again,
mounted her, and returned to the house, the foal running along by
her side.

When they reached the house the old woman gave him food; but she led
the mare into the stable and beat her with the oven-fork, saying,
"Go among the fishes, you wretch!"

The mare answered, "Indeed, I did go among the fishes, but they are
in league with him and they betrayed me."

Upon this the old hag rejoined, "Then go among the foxes!"

Before dark the Prince again mounted the mare and went out into the
field, the foal running alongside. He sat continually upon the mare,
but toward midnight he fell asleep upon her back, and when he awoke
he found himself astride a block of wood, holding fast to the halter.

When he saw this he was overcome with terror and sprang upon his feet
to seek the mare. Suddenly he remembered what the old woman had said
to the mare, and he drew the Fox's hair out of his kerchief, rubbed
it between his fingers the least bit, and behold! the Fox stood before
him, saying, "What is the matter, brother soul?"

The Prince answered, "The old hag's mare has escaped me, and I do
not know where to find her."

The Fox: "She is among us; she has changed herself into a fox and the
foal into a fox-cub. Just strike upon the ground with the halter and
say, 'The old hag's mare still lives!'"

So the Prince struck upon the earth with the halter, saying, "The old
hag's mare still lives!" and the mare again returned to her former
shape and stood before him with her colt, as if she had just arisen
from the earth. So he put the halter upon her, mounted, and rode back
to the house, the foal running quietly at her side.

Arrived at home, the old woman placed food before him; but she led
the mare into the stable and fell upon her with the oven-fork, saying,
"Go among the foxes, you wretch!"

The mare answered, "Indeed, I did go among the foxes, but they are
in league with him and betrayed me." She answered, "Then go among
the wolves!"

When evening came the imperial Prince mounted the mare and rode out to
the field, with the foal running alongside. He sat continually upon
her back, but about midnight he fell asleep, and when he awoke he
perceived that he was astride a block of wood, with the halter in his
hand. When he saw this he sprang to his feet and began to search for
the mare; but in a moment he remembered what the old woman had said,
and without delay he drew forth the Wolf's hair from his kerchief
and rubbed it between his fingers.

There was the Wolf upon the spot. "What is the matter, brother soul?"

The Prince answered, "The old hag's mare has escaped, and I do not
know where she is."

The Wolf: "She is here among us; she has changed herself into a wolf
and her foal into a wolf-cub. But strike upon the earth with the
halter and say, 'The old hag's mare still lives!'"

So he struck upon the earth with the halter, saying, "The old hag's
mare still lives!" and, as before, she suddenly appeared, with the
foal at her side. Then the imperial Prince put the halter upon her,
mounted, and rode home, the foal running quietly by her side.

Arrived at home, the old woman gave him food; but she led the mare into
the stable and trounced her well with the oven-fork, crying to her,
"Why did you not go among the wolves?"

The mare answered, "Indeed, I was among the wolves, but they are in
league with him and betrayed me."

So the old woman came out, and the imperial Prince said to her,
"See here, old woman, I have served you true and faithful; give me
the wages you promised to give me."

The old woman: "What has been promised must be performed, my son;
take your choice among the twelve horses in my stable."

But he answered, "Ah, how should I choose? Give me the one in the
corner--that mangy one there; these fine steeds don't suit me."

The old woman tried to talk him out of it. "What whim is this,
choosing that mangy beast when there are so many splendid horses here?"

But he stood by his choice, and said, "Give me the one I want; that
was the agreement."

The old woman saw no help for it, and gave him the mangy horse,
whereupon he took leave of her and went away, leading the horse
by the bridle. As soon as he found himself in the forest he rubbed
and curried his horse until his coat shone like pure gold. Then he
mounted him and set out at full speed. The horse flew like the wind,
and in a twinkling had borne him to the Dragon's castle.

As soon as the imperial Prince had entered he said to the Empress,
"Get ready for the journey as quickly as possible!"

In a moment both were ready. They mounted the horse and set forth in
the name of God.

Somewhat later the Dragon came home and found the Empress gone. He
therefore asked his horse, "What now? Shall we eat and drink at our
ease, or shall we pursue after them?"

And the horse replied, "Eat or not, drink or not, pursue or not,
you will never overtake them."

When the Dragon heard this he sprang upon his horse and rushed
after them.

When the pair saw the Dragon coming on behind them they were overcome
with affright and spurred the horse to greater speed. Now the horse
was a Vila, and he said to them, "Have no fear; you have no need
to hasten."

Now and again, as the Dragon gained upon them, the Dragon's horse
cried to the Prince's horse, "For Heaven's sake, brother, wait a
little. I shall burst if I have to chase you any longer."

But the other answered, "What a fool you are to carry that demon
upon your back! Rear up smartly and dash him upon the rocks, and come
with me!"

When the Dragon's horse heard this he ducked his head with all his
might, and, throwing out his hind legs, he flung the Dragon upon the
rocks, where he was dashed to fragments. Then the Dragon's horse joined
the fugitives, the Empress mounted him, and so they went safely home
to their own empire, and reigned there until their dying day.



"I like Vilas very much, mother's-mother," said the little boy. "Can
you tell any more Vila stories?"

"Father says we are going home to-morrow," said the little boy's
mother, who had long ago finished the housework and was sitting there
with her knitting.

"But it isn't night yet," said the little boy eagerly. "You could
tell me another story before night."

"Tell him the wonderful story you used to tell me when I teased you
for another," said the mother, laughing.

"Well," said the other grandmother; and she told




THE WONDERFUL STORY

"Ah, little mother, little mother, come, tell me a pretty fairy tale!"

"Well, would you like to hear the story of the Black Bear and the
Ram? It is a very sad story."

"Oh, yes, yes!"

"I didn't say 'Oh, yes, yes,' but 'Would you like to hear the tale
of the Black Bear and the Ram?'"

"Yes, indeed, only tell it quick!"

"I didn't say 'Yes, indeed, only tell it quick,' but 'Would you like
to hear the tale of the Black Bear and the Ram?'"

"O dear mother, if you don't tell it soon I shall begin to cry!"

"Did I not tell you it was a sad story? However, I did not say 'O
dear mother, if you don't tell it soon I shall begin to cry,' but
'Would you like to hear the tale of the Black Bear and the Ram?'"

"Would you like to hear the tale of the Black Bear and the Ram?"

"There, you see, you know most of it already, and there is only
the end:


        "The Black Bear and the Ram,
          The Ram and the Black Bear,
        They couldn't endure each other,
          And so my story ends there."


Done already?



The little boy listened with a very sober face. Finally he said:

"Why did you use to tell mother that story?"

"Because that is the way to silence teasing children," replied the
other grandmother. "They used to do just the way it tells in the
story in my great-grandmother's time."

Again there was a pause. The knitting-needles clicked fast.

"Am I a teasing child?" asked the little boy at last.

"No, you are not, bless your little heart!" said the other
grandmother. "Mother's-mother likes to tell you stories. Only you
should not sit quiet too long. You ought to play now."

The little boy went close to the other grandmother's side, and looking
up into her face, he said very coaxingly:

"But I am going away to-morrow, little mother's-mother. Won't you
tell me one more story?"

"Run out and see if the sun is setting," said the other
grandmother. "If it has not yet gone down I will tell you another
story."

The little boy ran out in the greatest hurry. The other grandmother's
house was upstairs and it had no court--that was why she kept neither
cow nor fowl. So he had to run down the dark stone stairway, and he
was in such haste that he fell down the last two steps. But he picked
himself up and ran out. There at the far end of the long street was
the sun, still quite above the clouds that would wrap him up in bed
by and by.

The little boy ran upstairs, breathless. "He is up, mother's-mother! He
hasn't gone to bed yet! The story, please!"

And the other grandmother told about




THE YOUTH AND THE VILA

Once upon a time there was a father who had three sons. Two of them
passed for clever, but the third and youngest was stupid, as every
one agreed. When people wanted anything done they only called upon
the two clever ones, while they would not let the stupid one have
anything to do with them.

In their father's garden was a silver pear-tree which every night bore
flowers and fruit; but the pears were regularly plucked and carried
away by the Vilas. "What the mischief!" said the eldest and the second
brother, "how long is this thing going to last?" and they determined
to mount guard over the tree. But to their youngest brother they said,
"You are too stupid for this work."

So they carried feather-beds and pillows out under the tree, lay down,
and went to sleep. While they were sleeping the Vilas came, plucked
the pears, and went away. As soon as they were gone the brothers awoke,
went back to the house, and told what had happened.

Then the stupid brother declared that he would watch the tree. That
he might not be overcome with sleep he made himself a bed of thorns;
but in spite of all he fell asleep. Yet he awaked when the Vilas came,
and saw one of them standing at his side. He pulled out one of her
hairs, whereupon the Vila vanished.

When morning came he saw that the hair was of gold. Going home, he
told what had happened to him, and declared his intention to go through
the world to seek out that Vila. But the two clever brothers answered,
"What would you be able to find? It is better for us two clever ones
to go and seek her. Something may come of it then."

So the two set out upon their way. The eldest found a shovel and took
it with him, and it did him good service. For when they got to the
Moon they found the door locked. Then they dug under the door and
went in. They found only the Moon-mother at home, and of her they
inquired if such-and-such a Vila lived there.

The Moon-mother answered, "She lives in the Sun. How will you get
there? But see, here is a spider; she shall spin you a chain that
will reach from here to there."

The spider went to work, spun a chain, and fastened it to the lock
of the Sun-door. So the brothers set out upon this bridge; but while
they were on the way the Sun came home, opened the door, and snapped
the chain in two. So the brothers fell off, and very luckily they
tumbled into their god-father's cabbage-garden. So they felt no harm,
but went home and told their adventures.

Then the stupid brother set out. He found an ancient crone and begged
her to show him the way to the Moon. The old crone told him it was
not very hard to go there, and gave him a bucketful of down. So he
seated himself in the bucket and flew up to the Moon.

He entered the house and asked if a certain Vila lived there who
looked so-and-so. The Moon-mother answered, No, she lived in the
Sun. So he flew up to the Sun, arrived there safely, and carefully
hid his bucket in the cellar in the coolest place he could find,
that it might not be melted by the heat.

Meantime the Sun came home and asked, "What is your wish?"

"I seek such-and-such a Vila."

The Sun brought her out and gave her to him, and he seated himself
beside her in the bucket and set out.

When they were half-way home the Sun came out to see how the travellers
were getting on; and he shone on them so scorchingly that all the down
was melted, the bucket lost its balance, and the youth and the Vila
fell down to earth and were caught in a tree. They cannot go down,
for under the tree sits an old wizard sorting out a capful of human
hairs. But the Vila slipped softly down the tree and put the wizard
to sleep. Then the youth clambered down and took the Vila home.

They reached his father's house, where he told all his adventures;
but the Vila was invisible to every one but her rescuer, so that no
one believed his story. Then the Vila began to weep, and the brothers
said, "Good! now we believe that she is here, but just where she is
we do not know."

Meantime the old wizard under the tree awoke, started out,
and came into the room where they were. He greeted the Vila with
"Good-day!" whereupon she became visible to every one as a beautiful
maiden.

Soon after the youth married her. I was present at the wedding,
ate and drank with the old man and conversed much with him; and we
moistened our throats so often with sweet wine from Zagorje that my
grandfather and I can taste it yet.



"Can you really, mother's-mother?" exclaimed the little boy.

The other grandmother laughed. "That is only the way it ends," she
said. "Some stories end that way."







CHAPTER XVI

THE LITTLE BOY SLEEPLESS


The little boy could not sleep. The room was full of people very
excitedly talking about the action of the zemstvo on some subject of
importance, and although he did not understand a word that they were
saying, the talking and the thought of to-morrow's journey kept him
awake. He was lying on a pallet laid upon the bench against the wall
in a far corner of the room, and he turned over so often that at last
he fell upon the floor. He tried hard not to cry, but he could not
quite help it.

The other grandmother picked him up and cuddled him in her arms. "Go
to sleep," she said, patting him gently.

The little boy shut his eyes, but in a minute they were open again.

"Mother's-mother, I can't sleep. Couldn't you tell me one more story,
very softly, so that the others can't hear?"

The other grandmother laid the little boy back upon his pallet,
covered him up warm, and told him about




THE VILA IN THE GOLDEN CASTLE

Once upon a time there was a father who had three sons. One day he
bade the eldest go into the garden and keep watch that the swans did
not eat the flowers. The son kept watch a long time, but at last sleep
overcame him, and immediately the swans came and ate up the flowers.

Now these were not really swans, but Vilas.

Upon this the second brother betook himself to the garden, and with
the same result.

Then it was the youngest brother's turn; but this one put thorns
under his head, so that he could not go to sleep. He lay there in a
doze until the swans arrived; then, springing nimbly upon his feet,
he caught one of them, which changed herself into a Vila. Upon this
the other swans flew away, and the Vila and the youth both lay down
and fell asleep.

Shortly after a girl came along that way and cut off the Vila's
hair. When the Vila awoke she fell into the deepest dejection over the
loss. The youth asked her, "My beloved, wherefore so sorrowful?" and
she answered, "Some one has robbed me of my hair."

She remained with him for a whole week. Then, as it chanced, he was
obliged to go away somewhere, and she improved the opportunity to quit
the house--not, however, without leaving word that he would find her
in the golden castle.

When he returned home and asked after her, he learned that she had
gone to the golden castle. He therefore set out to find it. After much
walking he came to a great forest, where he met an old man, whom he
asked if he could give him any information about the golden castle.

The old man said he knew nothing about it, but perhaps a still older
man, who lived a long way off in the forest, might know where it
was. After long wandering the youth found this man, but neither
could he give him any information, but sent him to a still older
man. So he sought out the third old man, and from him he received
the desired information.

The young man set out in the direction indicated, arrived at the
castle, and perceived his beloved one, who smiled kindly upon him. In
the castle he found an old Vila, who told him that he should not have
her daughter to wife until he had executed the order which she was
about to give. Then she handed him a wooden hoe, with the words:

"If you wish to be my son-in-law you must root up all this forest,
plant vines in its place, and bring me wine from their fruit; and
all must be done to-day."

This command he certainly could not obey; but his beloved one drew
near and asked him, "Why are you so sorrowful?"

He answered, "Why should I not be sorrowful? I can surely never obey
that command."

Then she cut down a tree, and the whole forest was uprooted; she
planted a vine, and the whole vineyard was planted; she pressed one
grape, and the work was already done.

When he brought the wine into the castle the old Vila said:

"You must perform another task. In a single day you must sow wheat,
reap and thresh it, and store it away in the granary."

He would not have been equal to this task either had not his beloved
one done it for him.

When he showed the old Vila the threshed wheat she was still not
satisfied, but said:

"If you wish to be my son-in-law you must gild the whole castle." To
this end she gave him a golden nut.

He succeeded in gilding a hand's breadth, but more he could not
do. Then his beloved came to his help; she only made a cross, and in
a twinkling the whole was done.

Still the old Vila said, "If you are positively determined upon being
my son-in-law you must to-morrow guess which Vila is yours. I may tell
you beforehand that they all look precisely alike, even to a hair."

Then his beloved one told him to notice well. When all the Vilas were
standing in a row, a little dog would come and nose around her alone,
and he must say, "That one is she." She also gave him a comb, and
a brush into the bargain, saying that they would be of the greatest
use to them in their flight.

The next day, when the Vilas stood in a row before him, the little dog
came and nosed around one of them. He at once said that this was she,
and immediately they took to flight, the old Vila after them.

She had almost overtaken the fugitives, but the youth threw the
brush behind them, and a thick forest grew up at their back, so that
they gained a considerable start. But the old Vila soon overcame this
hinderance, and had nearly caught up to them when, at the very moment,
he threw the comb behind him. Instantly a great river flowed between
them which the old woman could not cross.

Thus the two got away at last, arrived safely at home, married,
and lived in happiness till their dying day.



The little boy made no remark. He was sound asleep.







CHAPTER XVII

HOME AGAIN


It was already dark when they reached home, though it was not late, for
January days are very short. There had been no children at the station,
only men, and the walk home had seemed very long to the little boy. The
men were talking very loudly, sometimes even angrily--they did not
seem to be pleased with what the little boy's father told them about
the zemstvo. It had not done what the people of the village wanted.

"Well, God and the mir for us all!" said the little boy's father as
they reached the house.

All the family were gathered to meet them--the grandmother, the
oldest brother and his wife, and the brother and sisters who lived at
home. They were glad to see the little boy, but they all seemed more
interested in what the father had to say about the zemstvo, and the
little boy could not understand that at all. Though his grandmother
held him by the hand and occasionally patted him on the head, she
hardly spoke to him. Presently, however, she went to her own room,
taking the little boy with her, and then it was his turn! His little
tongue ran fast as he told her all about the journey and the other
grandmother and the stories she had told him.

"You never told me about the Vilas, little grandma," he said.

"Did I not tell you that the stories of her mir are not the same
as the stories of our mir?" replied the grandmother. "I do not know
those Vila stories."

"But you know other stories, very nice stories, little grandmamma,"
said the little boy. Then, after a pause, "Please tell me one now!"

Then the grandmother told the story of




PRINCE HEDGEHOG

Once upon a time there was an Emperor and an Empress who for many
years had been childless. One day the Empress wished for a son, were
he no bigger than a hedgehog. The proverb says, "What one wishes for,
that one gets," and so it was with her, for she shortly gave birth
to a son who looked exactly like a hedgehog and was covered all over
with sharp spines.

Far and wide the news was spread abroad through the world, and the
parents were much ashamed of such a son. Nevertheless, they had him
educated in all useful knowledge, and he had so clever a head that
by the time he was fourteen he knew all knowledge through and through.

By this time his parents could no longer endure him near them, and
they assigned to him a great forest as a place of abode, feeling
certain that he would then fall a prey to a wolf or a fox or some
sort of a beast. They strictly commanded him not to return before
the expiration of seven years. They gave him permission, however,
to take with him anything that he especially cared for; but he would
take nothing with him except a Sow and a great Cock upon which he
was wont to ride. With these he went away into the forest.

Year out, year in, Prince Hedgehog remained in the forest, and he
raised so many swine that at last they were too many for even him
to count. Finally he thought to himself, "My seven years are up;
I will go back home." So he quickly gathered his swine together and
drove them to the city of his parents.

When they perceived afar off the immense drove of swine, they thought,
"Here comes a wealthy swine-drover." But soon they recognized their
son, who was riding upon his Cock behind the swine and making straight
for the imperial castle. So they received him into the castle and
showed him the best of hospitality, dividing his swine among different
pens, for they filled every swine-pen in the city.

While they were at table they asked their son how he enjoyed himself
in the forest, and said that if he wished to go back there they would
give him a goat this time. But he declared that he was not going back,
for he had made up his mind to marry.

The astonished parents replied, "Why, what maiden would love you
and take you for a husband?" The poor youth knew no answer to this
question, so he mounted his Cock and rode away.

Now the parents thought he would never come back again. But he was a
clever fellow, and he went as a suitor to the King of of a neighboring
country who had three unmarried daughters.

When he found himself near the city the Cock flew up with him to
the window of the room in which the company were assembled enjoying
themselves. The Cock crowed with all his might, until the chamberlain
went to the window and asked what he wanted. The Hedgehog answered,
"I come a-wooing."

Then the King permitted him to come into the room, and offered him
the welcome-cup, according to ancient manner and custom. Then the King
again asked him what business brought him, and Hedgehog, the imperial
Prince, answered him shortly and to the point, "I come a-wooing."

The King immediately assured him that he had only to choose one of
the three unmarried daughters. The Hedgehog chose the youngest, but
she would not have him for a husband until her father threatened to
have her shot unless she gave a cheerful consent.

She saw no help for it, and thought to herself, "I can never get
out of this scrape; come what may, I'll take him. We have gold and
treasure in abundance, and we shall easily get along through life."

When the Hedgehog had received her consent he went back to his parents
and told them what had happened to him. His parents would not believe
him, and sent the chamberlain to inquire if it was true that the
Emperor's son, the Hedgehog, was to marry the King's daughter. When
the chamberlain returned and told the Emperor that his son had
spoken the truth, the Emperor ordered his horses to be harnessed,
and went with his wife to visit the King, riding in their carriage,
while their son rode behind on his Cock.

When they arrived they found everything ready for the wedding. But,
according to custom, the bridal party were obliged to go to the church
a few days before the marriage to pray and confess to the pop. When
the young lady came to confession she asked the pop how she might
manage to get rid of the Prince and not be obliged to marry him.

The pop gave her a sound scolding, and said in conclusion, "Just
keep quiet and all will end well. Mark what I say, and remember it
well. When you are come into the church and are taking your place in
the sacristy, do you follow close behind the others. When you get to
the high altar sprinkle your bridegroom thrice with holy-water, and
be careful to prick yourself each time with one of his spines. Then
three drops of blood will trickle out of your hand, and you must let
these also fall upon him."

After confession the bridal pair went home to breakfast. The next
day--it was a Sunday--the bridal party went at half-past eleven
into the church, and the bride did in every respect as the pop had
counselled.

And, behold, the Hedgehog was transformed into a beautiful youth
whose like was not to be found in all the world. Then the bridal
party sat down upon the benches and heard Mass, and the pop united
them and preached them a sermon how they should cleave to each other
all their lives long.

After that they went back to the house, and the wedding-feast lasted
until late in the night. The wine was very good. I sat at the head
of the last table, drank yellow wine out of a painted cup and ate
half a swine all by myself.



"Some stories end that way, don't they, grandmother?" asked the
little boy.

"Yes," said the grandmother, "some of them do."







CHAPTER XVIII

THE BETROTHAL


Easter Day had come, and everybody in the house was giving
and returning the Easter greeting. The little boy ran into his
grandmother's room.

"Christ is risen, little grandmamma!" he said.

"He is risen indeed," the grandmother answered.

The older brother and sisters came to salute their grandmother.

"Christ is risen!" each one said to her, and to each she answered:

"He is risen indeed."

Then they all went to the parents' room for the morning prayer. They
did this every morning, for Russian peasants are very devout; but
Easter was a special morning, and they sang many hymns and said many
prayers. When they had finished, the married son and his wife came in.

"Christ is risen, father and mother!" they said.

"He is risen indeed," the parents answered.

After church, which seemed very long to the little boy, they all came
home to dinner. With them came a strange young man whom the little
boy did not know. When they sat down at table he sat at the head and
the little boy's elder sister beside him. She had beautiful flowers
in her hair.

"Why does sister wear flowers in her hair?" the little boy asked his
grandmother softly.

"Because she is a bride," whispered the grandmother. "She is betrothed
to that young man. He will be your brother when they are married
next autumn."

All the afternoon there were games and merriment, and many people came
to congratulate the young people and to drink tea. As the merriment
grew louder the little boy grew tired of it, and he went to ask his
grandmother for a story. She, too, was tired of the lively doings in
the other room, and she very willingly told him about




THE DESERTER

Once upon a time there was a deserter who was three times faithless
to his colors. Twice had he undergone the punishment due to desertion;
the third time, he knew, he was face to face with death. So he resolved
to flee by night and hide himself by day in some ditch or thicket, for
he was afraid that in the daylight he might be recognized and arrested.

One night, as he was hastening onward, he saw a glimmer of light in
the distance, and thought to himself, "I will go toward that light;
perhaps it will somehow help me out of my trouble."

When, however, he came up to that light all he saw was an opening just
wide enough for him to creep into. The moment he was inside thick
darkness fell upon him. He could find his way neither in nor out;
but on groping around he at last came upon a staircase, up which he
climbed and found himself in a passageway. Through this passageway he
went for a long, long time, until at last he stumbled upon a door. He
opened the door and stepped into a room, but it was pitch dark there
too; so he groped all about until at last he stumbled upon another
door and entered another room.

So on he went through eleven rooms, and finally reached the twelfth,
where at last he found a lighted candle upon a table. The room was
beautifully fitted up, and he thought within himself, "Come what come
may, I shall make myself at home in this room."

So he stretched himself upon a couch. He lay there for a while lost
in thought, when, lo and behold! the table began to lay itself. When
the cloth was spread, all sorts of good cheer began to appear upon it.

"Come what come may," he thought to himself again, "I am hungry." So
he fell to and ate to his heart's content. When he had eaten all
that he could swallow he threw himself upon the couch again and began
to consider.

Suddenly three women entered, clothed entirely in black. One seated
herself at the piano, while the two others danced. Tired as he was,
when he saw this he arose and skipped about with them. After this
entertainment they began to talk with him, speaking of one thing and
another, and finally came round to the question how he might break
the spell that bound them.

They told him the very way and manner of doing it, saying that he had
nothing more nor less to do than to pass the night in a certain room
which they would show him. A ghost would come there and pester him
with all sorts of questions--who he was, how he had come there, and
other things. But he must not say a mortal word to all these questions,
not though the ghost tormented him in all sorts of ways; if he could
only hold out in silence the ghost would vanish, and then he would
feel not the least pain from all the torments he had been enduring.

Our deserter fell in with the proposition without further words, and
the ladies escorted him to the fateful room with the sound of music
and left him there alone. When they were gone he undressed himself,
bolted the door securely, and lay down in bed. But he could not sleep,
for his head throbbed with expectation of what was about to happen.

At eleven o'clock a sudden knock was heard at the door. He dared not
make a sound, for he was firmly resolved to ransom himself, the ladies,
and the enchanted castle; so he kept as still as a mouse. Again the
knocking came, but he made no answer. At the third knock the door
flew open, and in walked a gigantic form all clothed in flames.

The giant placed himself at the bedside and began to ask the man
whence he was and why he had come; but the deserter never uttered a
word. Then the giant seized him, threw him upon the floor, and began
to torment him; but no sound passed the sufferer's lips. At the stroke
of twelve the ghost departed, with the words:

"Though you wouldn't tell to-day, you will to-morrow, when we all
three come."

He spoke, the door flew open, closed again, and he was gone. The
young man arose from the floor, lay down upon his bed, and fell
sweetly asleep, without feeling the least harm.

Next morning came the three ladies, all in white up to their knees,
and led him, with the sound of music, back to the room where he
had been on the previous day. They placed a chair for him and set a
delicious breakfast before him. When he had plentifully breakfasted
he fell asleep and snored till evening.

When he awoke he asked how late it was. The ladies replied that it
was nine o'clock; and they gave him a good supper and led him again
to the same room to sleep.

At the stroke of eleven some one knocked at the door. He made no sound,
but at the third knock the door flew open and three ghosts entered. The
one who had been there the night before asked him the same questions
as before, but received no better answer. Then one of them seized him
and flung him into one corner, and another into another, and so they
tossed him about until the poor fellow lay helpless against the wall,
all covered with blood.

When the clock struck twelve the spokesman said to him, "Though you
won't answer to-night, you will to-morrow, when we all four come." With
these words they disappeared.

He again lifted himself up, lay down upon his bed, and felt no harm. In
the morning the three ladies came, all in white up to their girdles,
and escorted him, to the sound of music, into the other room, where,
after breakfast, he again fell asleep.

At night they again escorted him to his chamber to sleep. When they
were gone he did not go to bed as usual, but began to consider how
he might avoid the fearful torment in store for him. First he looked
out at a window, but his gaze fell upon a frightful abyss enclosed
by rocky precipices. He went to the second window, but there it was
no better, but seemed to be even more fearful.

So nothing was left him but to heap all the furniture of the room
before the door, in hope thus to escape his tormentors. But he soon
gave up this hope, for about midnight the knocking began. He made
no answer, but at the third knock the door flew open and all the
furniture returned to its own place.

The ghost who had before questioned him now began to repeat his
questions, commanding him to tell who he was and how he came there;
but the young man was not to be made to speak. Then the spokesman
ordered one of his comrades to go below and bring up an anvil and four
hammers, and when these had been brought, one of the ghosts blew up
a fire and threw the young man upon it. When he was heated to a glow
they laid him upon the anvil and beat him with hammers until he was
as flat as paper. But with all this he was not to be forced to speak.

The time was up and the ghosts must go. Before they went they told
him that he and all around him were blessed; and then the door flew
open and they vanished. He again arose, laid himself upon the bed,
and sank at once into slumber.

Next morning the three ladies, all in white from head to foot, came,
with the sound of music, to thank him for ransoming them, and they gave
him leave to choose among them for a wife. Now the youngest of them
had grown nearest his heart, and he declared himself ready to marry
her, not at once, but later, for first he wished to see something of
the world.

This being the case, they gave him a ham, a wooden flask of wine,
a loaf of bread, three dogs, and a pipe which hung by a golden chain,
and they told him that these dogs would come to his aid in every time
of need; he had only to call them by means of his pipe. And should
he be tired, he had only to seat himself upon one of them. So he took
all these things and went forth to see the world.

One day when he was travelling through a forest he arrived at a castle
and turned aside to enter. But the steps which led up were of such
a kind that he could not climb them; so he seated himself upon one
of his dogs and the animal carried him up. As he passed through the
entrance he peeped through a window and saw a Tiger and his wife,
who was combing his hair.

He went in to where they were, and the Tiger at once arose, led him
from room to room, and showed him many wonderful things. Everything
pleased the young man, except that the Tiger's wife kept the dogs
shut up in a room apart.

When he entered the fourth room he went around it, gazing upon the
many statues and paintings; and while thus doing he stepped upon
a board which gave way and let him fall into a cellar where it was
as dark as pitch. He groped around for a way of escape, but a damp,
heavy wind seemed to sweep all around him, and first he would wound
his hand and then his foot. So he thought to himself, "You won't come
safely out of this!"

After a while the Tiger let himself down by a rope, butcher-knife in
hand, intending to kill him. The young man begged for a half-hour's
respite, that he might do penance for his sins. This was granted,
but the time soon flew by, and the Tiger was already whetting his
knife to stab him, when the young man sprang aside, and his hand met
the chain upon which the pipe was hanging. He blew upon it, and quick
as thought the dogs were on the spot. He set them upon the Tiger,
but as they fell upon him the Tiger begged humbly for life, promising
that his wife would draw him and his dogs up out of the cellar.

So it came to pass; but they were no sooner out than he again set the
dogs upon the Tiger, who again began to beg, promising to give him a
salve which had the power of fastening against the wall any one upon
whose back it was rubbed, and keeping him there fast and firm until
he chose to let him go.

The youth took the salve and went on farther, till he reached a city
which was all shrouded in mourning. He entered and asked why every
one was in mourning, and received answer that a fearful Dragon was
to come that day and carry off the Emperor's daughter.

At this he laughed heartily, and said, "That may easily be helped;
just go and announce to the Emperor that I am ready to ransom the
Princess, if it is agreeable to him." This was announced, and the
Emperor received him into the castle with great joy.

As the appointed time for the Dragon's coming had arrived, the young
man placed himself in readiness. At the stroke of twelve the Dragon
suddenly appeared, driving four horses. The young man was waiting for
him, and as soon as the Dragon had taken the Princess by the hand to
carry her off he spread the salve upon his back, pressed him against
the wall, and set his dogs upon him. At the same time he belabored him
with the butt-end of his musket, till the Dragon was quite exhausted
and began to beg off, promising to give a written agreement never
again to molest the Princess. When he had written the paper in his
own blood and signed it he vanished through the window.

Then the Emperor knew not what to do for joy. He offered his daughter
to the soldier to wife, or, if he liked it better, the half of
his kingdom. But the young man declined both offers and returned
to his own ladies, where he married the youngest with the greatest
festivities. As they came out of church to go to their house a new
city sprang up all along the roadside. The hilarity was great. I
myself was among the guests, and after I had made merry to my heart's
content I set out upon the way home to Varazdin.



"Did you ever live in Varazdin, grandmother?" asked the little boy.

"No, surely not," said the grandmother. "That is just the way the
story ends."

"Oh!" said the little boy.







CHAPTER XIX

IN THE FIELDS


Spring was coming on finely, and everybody was at work in the
fields--everybody, that is, who was not in the army. From every one
of the wooden houses that stood on either side of the highway, with
their gable ends to the street, had gone a son, a husband, a laborer
to the war that was waging so fiercely, no one quite knew where. The
little boy's married brother had gone to the nearest garrison town. He
had barely had time to make the acquaintance of his little new-born
daughter when he was summoned. He went very willingly--all of them
did. There was not a man in the village who did not adore the Emperor,
who was not ready to die for him, though not one of them had ever
seen him.

So there were few men to work in the fields, and all the women and
girls must go. This they were used to; it was so every year. The
little boy's mother was there, and his sisters, the eldest one wearing
in her hair the flowers that showed that she was betrothed. As far
as one could see over the wide, treeless plain there were women and
girls working, with only here and there a man who, like the starosta,
was needed for the affairs of the village, or who, like the moujiks
who looked after the sheep, were too old to go.

The little boy was very proud when his father let him go to the
field and help drop the seed into the furrows. He was thus at work
when an old moujik came along and stood watching them. He was a very
ragged old moujik, for he was very poor; but he was a polite old man,
as all Russian peasants are, and when the little boy's mother came
along with her hoe, covering up the seed, he lifted his greasy old
shapka to her with great courtesy.

"It's a good thing that the little boy is at work," said the old
moujik. "They can't begin too early. There is much to do in God's
blessed world."

"It is only for a little while," said the mother. "I shall send him
to school soon."

"Ah, school, school!" said the old moujik, shaking his head. "It only
takes the children's time when they ought to be at work; it costs
money, and what good does it do? There were no schools in my time."

The little boy was tired when dinner-time came, and his mother left
him at home with the grandmother.

"I have been working hard, little grandma," he said. "Don't I deserve
a story?"

"Let me see," said the grandmother, and there was a twinkle in her
eyes. "Did I ever tell you about




"THE HUNTER?"

"No," said the little boy; "tell me that!"



Once upon a time there was a Hunter who had three dogs. The first
he called "Run-fast," the second "Catch-the-hare," and the third
"I-know-it-better." One day the Hunter went out to hunt, and he called
his first dog, Run-fast, and his second dog, Catch-the-hare, and the
third dog--what under the sun did I say was the third dog's name?

"I-know-it-better!" cried the little boy eagerly.

"Very well, then," said the grandmother, laughing a little. "If you
know it better, tell the story yourself!"



"O grandmother," said the little boy after a moment of surprise,
"that's not a story!"

"Isn't it?" asked the grandmother. "My great-grandmother said it
was. Well, perhaps you will like better the story of




"THE WATCH-TOWER BETWEEN EARTH AND HEAVEN"

Once upon a time there was a King who had three sons and one
daughter. He kept the daughter in a cage and guarded her as the eyes
in his head.

When the maiden was grown up she begged her father one evening to let
her go out and take a walk before the castle with her brothers. The
father consented, but hardly was she out of the door when suddenly a
Dragon came swooping down from the sky, seized the maiden from among
her brothers, and carried her away with him high into the clouds.

The brothers rushed headlong back to their father, told him of
their misfortune, and begged permission to go and seek their stolen
sister. The father consented, gave them each a horse and everything
needful for a journey, and they set out.

After many wanderings they came across a watch-tower which stood
neither on earth nor in heaven. When they reached the place it occurred
to them that their sister might be within, and they at once began to
take counsel among themselves as to how they should reach it.

After long consultation they decided to kill one of their horses,
cut his skin into a long strap, fasten the end to an arrow, and
shoot it up into some place in the watch-tower where it would hold
securely. Then they could easily climb up. The two younger brothers
asked the eldest to sacrifice his horse, but he would not; nor would
the second brother. So the youngest brother slew his horse, cut the
hide into a long strap, bound one end to his arrow, and with his bow
shot it up into the tower.

But now, when it came to climbing up by the strap, the eldest and
second brothers declined, whereupon the youngest undertook the
adventure. Arriving at the tower, he went from room to room, until
at last he came to one where he saw his sister sitting, with the
Dragon's head in her lap, the Dragon being fast asleep.

When the sister perceived her brother she was greatly terrified,
and softly entreated him to flee before the Dragon should awake. This
he would not do, but seized his cudgel, struck out boldly, and dealt
the Dragon a heavy blow upon the head. The Dragon, without awaking,
put his hand up to the spot, murmuring, "Something hit me right here."

As he said this the Prince fetched him a second blow upon the head,
and again the Dragon murmured, "Something hit me here." But now,
as the brother made ready to strike a third time, the sister made a
sign showing the Dragon's vulnerable spot, and the brother, giving
a powerful blow, killed him as dead as a mouse.

Then the Princess pushed him from her, flew into her brother's arms,
and smothered him with kisses. After this she took him by the hand
and began to lead him through all the rooms. First she led him
into a room in which a black fox, with a harness of pure silver,
was standing before a manger. Then she led him into another room,
where a white horse, with a harness of pure gold, stood before another
manger. Finally she led him into a third room, where a brown horse
stood before a manger, his harness all studded with diamonds.

When they had gone through these rooms, the sister led her brother into
a chamber where a maiden sat before a golden embroidery-frame, working
with golden threads. From this room she led him into another, where a
second maiden was spinning gold thread, and at last into a room where
a third maiden was stringing pearls, while at her feet a golden hen,
with a brood of chickens, was picking up pearls from a golden basin.

When they had gone through all these rooms and seen all they wanted to
see, they went back into the room where the dead Dragon lay, dragged
him out, and threw him head-foremost down to the earth. When the other
brothers saw him they were almost convulsed with terror. But now the
youngest brother let down to them first their sister and then the three
maidens, one after another, each with her work. As he let them down he
allotted one to each of his brothers, and when he let down the third,
that is, the one with the hen and chickens, he reserved her to himself.

But his brothers, filled with envy because he was the hero who
had discovered all these things and rescued their sister, cut the
strap to make it impossible for him to return. Then they rode away,
and coming upon a shepherd-boy with his sheep, they dressed him like
their brother and brought him home to their father, forbidding their
sister and the maidens, with fearful threats, under any circumstances
to reveal the secret.

After a time word came to the youngest brother in the tower that his
brothers and the shepherd were about to marry those three maidens. On
the day appointed for the eldest brother's wedding he mounted the
white horse and flew down into the midst of the wedding-guests just
as they were leaving the church, and struck his brother lightly upon
the back with his club. The brother fell from his horse, and the
other flew back to his watch-tower.

When the second brother's wedding-day came he again flew down upon his
steed, gave the second brother a blow upon the back, so that he fell
from his horse, and again flew away. But when he at last heard that
the shepherd was about to marry the third maiden he again mounted his
steed, flew among the wedding-guests just as they were coming out of
the church, and dealt the bridegroom such a blow upon the head with
his club that the fellow lay dead upon the spot.

In a trice the Prince was surrounded by the wedding-guests, who were
determined that he should not escape this time. He made no attempt
to do so, however, but remained where he was, made himself known as
the King's youngest son, revealed the trick his brothers had played
upon him by means of the shepherd, and told how they had left him in
the watch-tower where he had found his sister and killed the Dragon.

His sister and the maidens bore witness to the truth of his story,
and when the King heard all this he banished the two elder brothers
from his presence, married the youngest to the maiden of his choice,
and decreed that he should be heir to the throne after his own decease.



"That is a real story, grandmother," said the little boy. "But it
was not so very long. Couldn't you tell me just one more?"

"If you will promise not to ask for another," said the grandmother,
"I will tell you a short one. But you must not ask for another."

"I promise," said the little boy.

Then she told him about




THE BRIDGE

Once upon a time there was a man who had a grown-up son. One day the
old man said to his son, "My dear son, you are now big and strong
enough to earn your own living; so go out into the world and seek a
place of service."

So the youth went out into the world and came to a large village,
where he hired himself out as shepherd to a rich moujik. It was his
duty to drive the sheep to pasture early every morning. The flock was
enormously large and filled the whole valley. The pasture, however,
was on the other side of a stream, and unluckily a storm had carried
away the bridge the night before. Only a narrow plank remained, and
this was so frail that but one sheep could cross at a time. There
was nothing else for the shepherd to do, therefore, than to drive
the sheep slowly, one by one, to the other side.



Here the grandmother got up and went to the stove as if she had
finished.

"But, grandmother," said the little boy, "what happened next? Tell
the rest!"

The grandmother laughed. "Wait until the shepherd has driven all the
sheep over the bridge."

"Yes, but when will that be?" asked the little boy.

"When there are no more left on this side," said the grandmother.



"Was that one of your great-grandmother's stories?" asked the
little boy.

"Yes," said the grandmother. "Don't you like it?"

"I like it a little--the first part of it," said the little
boy. "But----"

"Remember your promise!" said the grandmother.







CHAPTER XX

TRINITY-MONDAY


You would hardly know the village. As you looked down the street
it would seem as if a forest of tall masts and poles had suddenly
sprung up. Before every house they stood, two tall uprights--very,
very tall--with a beam across the top, and from the beam two very long
poles hanging, with a board connecting the lower ends. Yes, they were
swings, but not swings like yours, for they were made of these long,
long poles instead of ropes.

The sun was hardly up when the little boy came out of the court and
made a dash for the swing. There were boys and girls on every swing
as far as you could see down the street, and in some of them were
fathers and mothers, too, for Trinity-Monday is a great holiday,
and no one works who is not obliged to.

It was still very early. The hot mid-summer sun had hardly peeped above
the distant hills. The little boy had a long, long day for swinging.

In the swing next door were three children standing up, and their
father with them, swinging very high and shouting joyously. The father,
in a very loud, deep voice, would shout a long "Boo-oo-oo-m!" and then
the children would cry, in their shrill treble, "Hurra-a-a-r!" with
a long roll of the "r." All down the street they were "boom"-ing and
"hurra-a-a-r"-ing; it was a beautiful noise.

The sisters came running out, and after them the brother and the
father. And what swing went so high as the little boy's swing? And
from before which house was there so deep a "Boo-oo-oo-m!" or so
shrill and joyous a "Hurra-a-a-r!"? The fun went on all day, the
children visiting from swing to swing, and the fathers and mothers
taking a turn now and again. What a joyful Trinity-Monday!

The grandmothers did not swing. They sat in the house-doors with
the babies of the young mothers or took their knitting and exchanged
calls with one another. The long day seemed very short even to them.

By the time sunset came the little boy was thoroughly tired out
with delight. He came and lay down on the bench in the court where
the grandmother was sitting. For once her hands were idle. She was
thinking of her own swinging days, a long, long time ago.

"There is time for a story," said the little boy, "and you are doing
nothing, little grandmamma."

The grandmother smiled indulgently and told him the story of




SO BORN, SO DIE

In olden times, when all the world believed in Christianity, there
lived in India a pious Christian. This man resolved to lead a hermit's
life; and, as he was wandering up and down through India, he found
a great cave, where he took up his abode, that he might lead a life
wholly pleasing to God. Thus passed away many years while he dwelt
in the solitude of the wilderness, far from any living soul.

One evening, when he had said his evening prayer and lain down upon
his bed of moss, he thought in his heart, "O Thou my God! I have
already tarried many years in this solitude, and it has never been
vouchsafed to me to convert a single soul to Thy holy faith. For in
the many years which I have spent here I have seen no human being
nor any living creature."

While thinking thus the Hermit stretched himself upon his bed and
sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids. He awoke at daybreak, said his
morning prayer, and then became aware of a little Mouse, which looked
confidingly at him and glided toward him into the cave.

Then said the Hermit, "Praise and glory to Thee, O God, that I again
look upon one of Thy creatures!"

Little by little there grew up between the Mouse and the Hermit
such a warm friendship that the two were perfectly inseparable. The
hoary Hermit derived the greatest joy from this friendship, and he
constantly besought God to transform the little Mouse into a young
girl, to be a daughter to him.

His prayer was answered; the little Mouse became a fair young girl,
and the old man felt at last that his life would not have been spent
in vain, since it was vouchsafed to him to instruct this creature of
God in the good and right way.

So passed away the Hermit's life in peace and piety until the young
girl had attained the full bloom of maidenhood. Then thought the
Hermit:

"I am already full of days; I have lived always to the glory of God,
and the end of my life draws near. It would be a sin if this beautiful
creature of God, who knows nothing of the world, should be left to
grow old and wither away in this solitary vale. It would be better
that she should marry."

Impelled by this thought, he called the maiden to him and said,
"My little daughter, you are now grown up and old enough to be
married. You ought also to see the world, for this place where we
live is not the whole world. The world is large, and there are in it
many beautiful creatures of God whom you have never seen."

The maiden answered, "I thank you, my father; may your will be done
in each and every thing. Only let me make one request, that you will
find me a husband to my liking, and, before all things, let him be
that creature of God which is stronger than any other in the world."

The Hermit consented and set off upon his quest. In the course of
his journey he met the Moon, and greeted him with, "God be with thee,
thou holy Moon, strongest of all God's creatures! I have a daughter;
take her for thy wife!"

The Moon answered, "What foolish talk is this? I the strongest of God's
creatures! I shine in the night, but as soon as the Sun overtakes me
he robs me of my light. Address yourself to the Sun; he is stronger
than I."

The Hermit now betook himself to the Sun, and said, "God be with
thee, O strong and shining Sun! Thou art the strongest of all God's
creatures. I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!"

And the Sun replied, "Thou errest in taking me for the strongest. The
clouds are stronger and mightier than I, for when I shed abroad my
rays then the clouds unroll themselves and veil my splendor. So they
are stronger than I."

Then the Hermit sought a Cloud, and greeted him with, "God be with
thee!" and said, "Thou Cloud-man, strongest and mightiest of all
God's creatures, I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!"

And the Cloud-man answered, "That cannot be, for the Wind is stronger
than I. When I spread myself over the bright expanse of heaven, then
comes the Wind and tears me into countless fragments. Go to the Wind;
he is stronger than I."

The Hermit betook himself to the Wind, hailed him with, "God be with
thee!" and said, "Thou mightiest of all God's creatures, strongest
of all in the world, take my daughter for thy wife!"

The Wind answered, "Oh, old man, how should I be the strongest? When
I begin to blow, the Mountain stands in my way, so that the people
on its farther side know nothing about me. Go to the Mountain; he is
stronger than I."

The old man went to the Mountain and said, "God be with thee, thou
rocky Mountain, strongest thing in the world! I have a daughter;
take her for thy wife!"

"Oho, old man!" answered the Mountain, "do you imagine that I am the
strongest in the world? Don't you see me riddled all over by mice,
who burrow in me night and day? Search for a Mouse, for he is stronger
than I."

So the old man went to a Mouse, and said, "Thou strongest of all
God's creatures, I have a daughter; take her for thy wife!"

"I am not unwilling," answered the Mouse, "but I have not yet seen the
maiden. Bring her here first, that I may see her; then will I wed her."

The old Hermit returned home and said, "Well, my little daughter,
I have found a husband for you; follow me!"

They presented themselves before the Mouse, and the old Hermit said,
"Here is thy wife."

"Oho, what shall I do with her?" asked the Mouse. "She cannot even
get into my little palace!"

But the maiden said to the old man, "This shall be my husband;
only pray to God to transform me again into a Mouse, that I may go
with him."

The old Hermit, who saw no help for it, fell upon his knees and
begged God to restore his daughter to her former state. That very
moment the maiden was changed into a Mouse and went with her husband.

As for the old Hermit, he still lived on piously till the end of his
days, convinced that every one must die with the same nature with
which he was born.



"I should like to go to the sun, grandmother," said the little boy.

"You would find it very hot," said the grandmother.

"Did you ever go, little grandma?" asked the little boy.

"No one goes nowadays," said the grandmother.

"They went in your great-grandmother's time?" ventured the little boy.

"Before her time, even," said the grandmother. "Things are greatly
changed since then."

The younger sisters had come in from swinging and were sitting on
the other end of the bench. The eldest sister was walking with her
betrothed in the lovely summer twilight.

"No one ever went to the sun," said one of the sisters. "It is much
too far off. I have learned it in school. And this world goes around
it every day."

"There were no schools in your great-grandmother's time," replied the
grandmother, "and things were different then. The world did not move
in those days; it rested on three great whales which were swimming
in the ocean. My grandmother told me all about it."

The little boy pondered this fact for a while. Presently he said:

"One more story, little grandmother?"

It was still light, for twilight is very long in Russia. The
grandmother told the story of




THE ENCHANTED LAMBS

An Emperor once had an only daughter of surpassing beauty. In his pride
he caused it to be sounded abroad through all the world that the youth
who should guess the position of a certain mole on the maiden's person
should have her for his wife, and the half of his empire besides. But
those who did not guess right should be transformed into lambs.

This wonderful news spread over the whole world, so that wooers by
thousands came from all lands to sue for the Princess's hand. But
all in vain. A countless number of them were changed into lambs.

The news came also to the ears of a youth who was as poor as a church
mouse, but who was as sharp as a needle for all that. His desire to
possess the beautiful maiden and half the empire grew so strong that
he decided to try his fortune; not, however, by suing at once for
the maiden's hand, but by seeing her first and asking her something.

Arrived at the Emperor's court, what wonders does he see! Lambs of
all kinds pressed around him--God only knows how many there were.

They swarmed about him, a pitiful sight and a warning example that
might well turn him from his project. He would have gone back, but
at the gate was a monster of a man, wrapped in a blood-red mantle,
with wings, and an eye in the middle of his forehead, who cried out
in a commanding voice, "Halt! Where are you going? Go back, or you
are lost!"

So he went back and caused himself to be announced to the Emperor's
daughter, who was already waiting for him. She said to him, "Did you
come to get me for your wife?"

He answered, "No, Imperial Highness; but as I understood that you
were thinking of marrying at the first favorable opportunity, I come
to ask you if you need more bridal-clothes."

"What kind of clothes have you to offer?" she asked.

He answered, "I have a skirt of marble, a bodice of dew, a head-dress
of threads made from the sun's rays, with a clasp of the moon and
stars; then I have shoes of pure gold which were neither sewed
nor made by a smith. So, tell me, do you wish to buy these things
or not? You have but to command, and I will bring them to you, but
only on one condition. When you try these things on, piece by piece,
there shall be no one present but only us two. If they fit we shall
soon come to terms; if not, I will never offer them to another soul,
but will lay them aside and keep them for my own bride."

The Princess agreed to this condition and gave him the order to bring
the garments. And, really, he brought them to her. God only knows
where he found them and how he came to possess them; it is enough
for us to know that he kept his word.

They shut themselves up in a room, and first she tried on the skirt,
while he watched narrowly to see if by chance he could discover the
mole. To his joy he saw it under her right knee--a little golden star;
but not the slightest change in his face betrayed his discovery. He
only thought in his heart, "It is well for me to-day and for all time!"

Then the Princess tried on the bodice and all the other things, and
they fitted her as if she had been poured into them. They agreed as to
the price; she paid it on the spot; he packed up his gold and departed.

After a few days, having dressed himself in the finest suit that could
be bought for money, he came back to sue for the hand of the Emperor's
daughter. When he appeared before the Emperor he said, "Worthy Emperor,
I come to woo your daughter. Make no objections; give her to me!"

"Good!" answered the Emperor; "but do you know how my daughter's hand
is won? Take good care, for if you do not guess the mole you are lost;
but if you do guess it she will be yours, and the half of my empire
into the bargain."

The youth bowed to the Emperor and said, "My greetings, O Emperor and
father-in-law! If that is the case she is mine. She has a little star
under the right knee."

The Emperor was not a little surprised that he could know this, but
there was nothing for it but to yield, and so the youth was married
to the Princess.

When the Emperor proceeded to give him the half of his empire the
new-made son-in-law said to him, "I willingly leave this half of your
empire to you if you are ready to restore these poor souls to their
former condition."

The Emperor answered that this was no longer in his power, but lay
in the hands of his daughter, "who now," he added, "is your wife."

So he turned to his wife with this request, and she answered:

"Cut the vein under the famous mole. Let every lamb touch the end of
its tongue to the blood and moisten its underlip with it, and they
will all be changed to men and live as before."

He did as she directed, and when the lambs had all assumed the forms
of men again they were invited as wedding-guests.

Thus the youth took the maiden home amid song and chime of bells,
and there he treated everybody royally to meat and drink, until
finally they took their homeward way. But he stayed there with his
young wife, and God knows what fortunes they met with in life that
are all forgotten now.



"I am sorry you have forgotten anything, grandmother," said the little
boy. "It is not dark yet, and I wanted a longer story."

"It is not I who forgot," answered the grandmother. "I remember every
word as it was told to me."

"It must have been your great-grandmother," observed the little
boy. "I wish she had had a better memory."

"I will tell you a short story to make up," said the grandmother. "It
explains why there is so much knot-grass."

"I should like to know that," said one of the sisters. "My fingers
are tired rooting it out."

So the grandmother told about




THE KNOT-GRASS

Once upon a time an old hag got up early and went out among the
mountains to gather all sorts of green herbs and practise her
sorceries.

About midday she set out upon her return, and met some Knot-grass
hastening to the mountains.

"Hi! whither away?" asked the witch. "What bad luck sends you on this
rough road?"

"Upon my word, little mother, I can't stand it down there any
longer! Wherever the moujik digs or ploughs he does his best to root
me out, tearing and clawing me with all his might. There is nothing
left for me but to flee away and seek some quiet place where I can
grow and spread in peace."

"Go back to your home, little grass," replied the old hag. "Mark my
words, the more they dig and hoe about a plant the better it thrives
and the more it spreads. What does the proverb say? 'Woe to the thing
that never is harvested!'"

The Knot-grass turned about, and ever since that day it has been
found in meadow and field, in vineyard and garden--everywhere, indeed,
where it is not wanted; and it is a hard matter to root it out.







CHAPTER XXI

THRESHING-TIME


It was the joyous threshing-time. The summer's work was over. The
harvest had been good, and from all the fields the high-piled carts
were bringing the sheaves to the threshing-floors. On these high levels
busy flails were flying, making a quick music that chimed well with
the sweet, melancholy threshing-song of the girls who were gathering
the wind-swept grain into bags. When the threshing was all done the
little boy's eldest sister would be married, for autumn is the time
for marriages, when vegetables and pork are plenty and there is money
to buy brandy from the Jew.

The grandmother had gone out with the little boy to see the threshing
and to hear the threshing-song. She had sung that same song in her
young days, and so had her great-grandmother before her. On the way
back to the house a cow-herd woman met them--not their own, but that
of a neighbor--and told them that her old master, the bolshak, or
head of the family, was dead. The grandmother looked terror-stricken,
and hastily exclaimed:

"May the Saviour's cross be with thee!"

The cow-herd woman went on her way to spread the news.

"Why did you say that, grandmother?" asked the little boy.

"To scare away the death angel," replied the grandmother. "Never
forget to say that when any one tells you of a death; otherwise it
may come to your own house next."

The grandmother seemed sad when she reached home. She had known the
old man when she was a girl. He had been a stern and severe bolshak
in his family, keeping all his married sons at home and making them
work hard for him, not at all like her son, the starosta, who was
so kind to his children. Nevertheless, it made her sad that he was
dead. She sat quiet, distaff and spindle lying idly in her lap.

"Grandmother," said the little boy, "would it comfort you to tell me
a story?"

"Indeed it would," said the grandmother. "Come now, sit on that stool
and hold this yarn for me, and I will tell you about




"THE THREE EELS."

Once upon a time there was a fisherman who on three successive days
made out to catch only an eel a day. When he found only one eel in
his net on the third day he cried out angrily:

"What's the use of fishing when one gets nothing more than one eel
day after day?"

Immediately the tongue of one of the eels was loosed, and he said,
"Wretched man, you little know what a precious catch you have
had! You have fished up great good luck for yourself. Only now do as
I advise you: Kill one of us three and divide him into four parts;
give one piece to your wife to eat, the second to the mother-dog,
the third to the mare, and bury the fourth in the ground just above
your house. Soon your wife will bring twins into the world, the dog
two pups, the mare two full-blooded stallions, and above your house
will spring up two golden swords."

The fisherman followed the Eel's advice, and indeed in the course of
time everything happened as the Eel had predicted--his wife bore twins,
the dog two pups, the mare two full-blooded stallions, and above his
house two golden swords sprang up.

When the sons grew large and had passed a certain number of years,
one of them said to his father, "Father, I perceive that you are a poor
man and cannot keep us any longer; so let me take a horse, a dog, and
a sword, and go forth into the world. I am young and need experience;
and where my head may rest, there also will my food be found."

When he had thus spoken he turned to his brother with the words,
"Brother, God keep you! I go to seek my fortune. Do you stay at home,
work, make, and save, and honor our father. Take this vial of water
and give good heed to it, for if the water in it becomes dark it will
be a sure sign that I have perished."

Thus he spoke and went to seek his fortune.

In the course of his wanderings he came to a great city, where the
King's daughter saw him as he was taking a walk about the town. She
at once fell desperately in love with him, and begged her father to
invite him to the house. This he did. When the youth entered the
King's apartments, and the maiden saw the sword, the dog, and the
horse near by, she found everything on and about him so fine that
it seemed to her nothing in the whole world could be finer. She
fell more madly in love with him than ever, and said to her father,
"Father, I want to marry that youth!"

The King was very well pleased, the young man had nothing against it,
so the bargain was concluded and the marriage celebrated according
to form and custom.

One evening, as the youth stood at the window with his wife, he noticed
in the distance a large mountain which was all a light blaze. He asked
his wife what was the cause of this, and she answered, "Oh, sir, do not
ask me! That is a magic mountain that spits lightnings by day and at
night stands wreathed in flames, and whoever goes there to see what is
the matter is instantly struck dumb and remains enchanted on the spot."

He paid no heed to her words, but mounted his horse, girded on his
sword, called his dog, and rode to the mountain. When he reached it
he met an old woman perched on a rock, holding in one hand a staff
and in the other a little weed. As soon as he saw her he asked her
why the mountain had these peculiarities, and she told him to ride
along and he would soon find out.

He did so, and the old woman conducted him to a court hedged in
with the bones of heroes, and around in the court were countless men
standing stark and stiff, all enchanted. He had hardly stepped into
this court when he, too, as also his horse and his dog, grew rigid
and changed to stone on the spot where they stood.

At the same moment the water in the brother's bottle at home grew dark,
and the brother announced to the father and mother that his brother,
their son, was dead and that he must go abroad and seek him.

So he travelled from place to place and from city to city, until luck
took him to that very town and to the King's palace. At sight of him
the King rushed to his daughter with the good news, "Your husband
has returned!"

She ran down to meet him, and thought he was her husband, for the two
brothers were as much alike as the two halves of a cut apple. She
thought it was the same horse, the same dog, and the same sword;
and father and daughter rushed joyfully to meet him. They kissed
and caressed him, the King thinking that it was his son-in-law,
the daughter thinking that it was her husband.

The youth was at first quite bewildered by these signs of affection,
but it occurred to him that they were for his brother, and so he
feigned to be her husband and the King's son-in-law.

When night came they retired, but he laid his drawn sword in the
bed between them. The woman wondered at this, but he said he could
not sleep, and arose and went to the window. At sight of the magic
mountain he said, "Tell me, my dear little wife, why is that mountain
in flames?"

"For Heaven's sake," answered she, "did I not tell you that other
evening of the peculiarities of that mountain?"

"What do you mean?" he asked her again, and she answered, "Every one
who goes there is enchanted and turned to stone. I was in great fear
during your absence that you had gone there."

When he heard this he guessed the trouble, and in his anxiety he could
hardly wait for daybreak. As soon as it was light he mounted his horse,
girded on his sword, called to his dog, and rode to the mountain. When
he saw the old woman he drew his sword from the scabbard, spurred
on his horse, and set the dog upon her without saying a word. The
old woman fell back in a fury and called out to him not to cut her
down. He answered, "Then give me back my brother!" Hereupon the old
woman led his brother out and restored to him speech and soul.

When the brothers had greeted each other, and asked after each other's
health, they turned back homeward. But on the way the one who had
been enchanted said, "O brother, come! Let us turn back and deliver
those men from perdition--those who are enchanted as I was."

No sooner said than done. They turn around, seize the old woman,
snatch from her the little weed, and begin to strike the enchanted men
with it, until by degrees all of them begin to speak and move. When
all those enchanted ones had been called back into life they killed
the old witch. The twin brothers went back to the King's palace and
all the others to their houses.

I have heard a lie, I have told a lie, and God give you joy!



"Why do you say that, grandmother?" asked the little boy.

"That is the way it ends," said the grandmother.







CHAPTER XXII

THE KOROWAI


There were great doings in the little boy's house. Grandmother was
standing at the long table beating up the dough of the korowai for the
eldest sister's wedding, for grandmother was greatly skilled in the
making of wedding-cakes. No part of the wedding-feast is so important
as the korowai, and the little boy watched with great interest as
she mixed together the flour and eggs and lard, the molasses and
fruit, the saffron and the savory seeds that go to make korowai. He
was surprised and somewhat disappointed when, instead of putting it
into the oven to bake, she spread a cloth over the great bowl and
set it on a chair by the stove. He was impatient to have it baked,
it smelled so nice already!

"Aren't you going to bake it, grandmother?" he asked.

"Not just yet," she answered. "It must rise first."

She went away to her room, giving strict injunctions to be called as
soon as the dough was risen enough.

The little boy did not follow her. Other things were being done in his
mother's room: vegetables and apples were being pared, pork roasted,
sausages stuffed--it was very exciting. Some of the neighbor-women had
come to help, and the little boy was under everybody's feet at once.

"Run away, little boy," said the mother; "go ask grandmother to tell
you a story."

Grandmother was quite ready. She was not spinning, she was only
resting, for she had long been on her feet over the korowai. So
everything was favorable for the story of




MORNING-DEW

Once there were three brothers whose father gave each of them a loaf
of bread and sent them to seek their fortune. When they were a good
way from home, and began to feel hungry, the two elder brothers
said to the youngest, whom they had always taken for a simpleton,
"Let us first eat your bread, and then we will give you some of ours."

The youngest willingly shared his bread with them; but on the next day,
when it was time to eat, the two brothers ate their bread comfortably
without offering the other a single bit.

"Well, why don't you give me a piece of bread, when you have eaten
mine all up?" he asked, and received the answer:

"If you want to get anything from us you must let us put out your eyes,
that we may go around with you begging and so earn our bread."

What could the poor wretch do? He was tortured with hunger, so he
allowed them to put out his eyes. But the brothers led him out among
the high mountains, left him there in the lurch, and went on to seek
their fortune.

Now was the poor fellow neither to help nor to counsel. At last night
closed in, and the Vilas came to dance in a ring, and one of them
said, "If that man should anoint his eyes with morning-dew he would
see again that very moment."

He had hardly heard the words when he began to grope about in the
grass for dew, and he rubbed it on his eyes and saw again. Then he
filled a glass with this dew and went on to seek his fortune.

On the way he stumbled across a Mouse which was staggering around,
for the poor thing was blind. So he wet her eyes with morning-dew and
she at once received her sight. The little Mouse thanked him, saying,
"God reward you until I have an opportunity to show my gratitude!"

A little farther on his way he came upon a Bee which was tumbling
around and weeping bitterly, for it was blind. So he anointed the
Bee's eyes, too, and it immediately regained its sight and thanked
him, saying, "God reward you until I have an opportunity to prove
my gratitude!"

A little farther he found a Dove rolling around in the sand. He asked
her, "What is the matter that you tumble around so in the sand?" And
the Dove replied, "Why do you tease me with questions when you
cannot help me?" But the youth answered, "Keep quiet a moment,"
and he anointed her eyes. Immediately she saw again, and said,
"God reward you until I have an opportunity to repay you!"

He now resumed his journey, and at last arrived in a city where,
as it happened, his two brothers were in service. Here he also was
lucky enough to hire himself out as shepherd.

The brothers recognized him, and one day, when he was out in the
fields, they lied to their master, telling him that the shepherd had
boasted that he was able to reap all the cuckoo-corn [4] in a single
night. This pleased the master much, and he commanded the youth to
do this thing or it would cost him his head.

Weeping, he went out and threw himself down upon the grass. Then came
the little Mouse and comforted him, telling him to go to sleep and
the work should all be done. And there came a great number of mice
and gnawed down the whole crop of cuckoo-corn, so that when the youth
awoke in the morning he found all done. And he showed it to the master,
who was greatly pleased.

Then the brothers came to his master and accused him of having said
that he could build a church in a single night. In the morning when
he came home he was told that he must accomplish this work or it
would cost him his head. So he threw himself down again, weeping,
in the grass.

Then the Bee flew by and bade him go peacefully to sleep and she and
her friends would do all the work without troubling him. And there
came thousands of swarms of bees and built a church out of wax. It
was still night when the master woke and saw a bright light over
everything. He was frightened and called his body-servant to go with
him into the church, which was already finished, even to the altars
and everything else.

Then the brothers told their master another lie--how the shepherd
had said that he would give a string of pearls to the daughter of
the house, and that next morning the master's little son should play
with a golden apple. When he came home he was told that he must do
what he had boasted that he could do, on pain of death.

Weeping, he threw himself down in the grass, when the Dove came
flying to him and said, "Dry your tears and go to rest; all shall be
done." In the morning the youth found a beautiful string of pearls
and a golden apple by his side, and he gave them to his master's
daughter and little son.

Then the master called the youth into his room and asked him how he
had managed to do all these things. So the youth told him how his
brothers had taken away his bread, put out his eyes, abandoned him in
the mountains, and everything else that had happened. Then the master
had the two brothers called into his presence and caused them to be
beheaded. But the youth he rewarded and gave him his daughter to wife.

Whoever believes this will be blessed.



"The dough is rising, grandmother," said the youngest sister,
opening the door.

Every one gathered around the grandmother, for this was a ceremony
of great importance. The future happiness of the young couple might
depend upon it.

First the grandmother took the dough out of the bowl, kneaded it a
little, shaped it properly, and laid it in the baking-pan. The mother
was standing by with five candles in her hand; the grandmother took
them one by one, planted them in the centre and the four corners of
the korowai, and lighted them. Then all the women stood around and
began to sing. It was a somewhat sad tune, yet very sweet. The song
had many verses; the first was to the young couple, who would be
"princess" and "prince" for the next three days; the next was to
the Virgin; then followed verses to the sun, the moon, the stars,
and to a white stone beyond the seas. It was a long song, and by the
time it was finished the candles were burned down. Then the pan was
carefully lifted into the oven.

After that all was hurry and bustle. The room had to be swept, and
long pieces of brightly striped cloth brought from the chest to cover
the bench that ran around the whole room. The cloths were of the same
colors as the brightly painted shelves above and they made the house
very beautiful. There were wreaths to be made for the "princess"
and the "prince," and the bride's wedding-dress must be laid out
carefully in the grandmother's room, where nothing could harm it.







CHAPTER XXIII

THE WEDDING


Next morning was the wedding-day, and the bustle began bright and
early, for the table must be spread with all the good things, and the
korowai in the centre. Then every one put on his best clothes. The
"prince," with as long a train of young men as the village could
afford, came to the door to claim his bride. The "princess" came out
of the grandmother's room in her bridal-dress, a wreath of flowers
on her head.

Some one put a wreath on the head of the "prince," the procession
was formed, and they went to church. There the pop preached a long
sermon all about the duties of husband and wife, and said Mass,
and finally married the princess to her prince. In reality it was
the little boy's eldest sister who was married to her betrothed,
but for the three days of the wedding they were as much prince and
princess as if they had been born in an imperial palace.

Then followed the feast. I can never tell you of the eating and the
drinking, the songs that were sung and the jokes that went around the
table. Late in the afternoon the little boy went into the grandmother's
room. She had left the table an hour before.

"Grandmother," he said, "I have eaten too much. Please tell me
a story."

"It will be very appropriate," said the grandmother, "if I tell
you about




"YOUNG NEVERFULL."

A certain housewife had a young servant-lad who devoured everything
eatable that came in his way. He would rummage in the storeroom until
he smelled out something good, and would give himself no rest until
he had devoured it all.

Now the woman had a jar of preserved fruit, and, as she feared that
the youngster would eat it and leave her nothing to put into her pies,
she said to him:

"My good boy, you have now eaten everything that I have except
this jam, and you have left this just as if you knew that it was
poisoned. See how good God is to have preserved you from it. One
single spoonful is enough to kill one instantly; so I warn you not
to touch it unless you want to die."

"Very well," answered the boy.

On the next Sunday, as the woman was getting ready to go to Mass,
she said to the boy, "Cook the soup and boil the meat and roast this
duck; we will have a good dinner to-day. See that you have all done
and ready when I come home."

"Very well; it shall all be done," answered the boy.

When the woman was gone he cooked the soup and boiled the meat,
and then he put the duck upon the spit to roast. When he saw what
a delicious brown crisp was forming all over the duck, he thought,
"It can roast itself another one," and ate the crisp all off. He
turned the spit and turned it, but the second brown crisp never came.

When he saw this, he thought, "When the mistress comes home she
will pepper me well," and he began to consider how he could escape a
beating. In his desperation he remembered the jar of poison against
which his mistress had warned him the day before. With a sudden
resolution he went into the storeroom and devoured the whole jarful of
preserved fruit and then crouched down in a corner to wait for death.

Presently his mistress came home and cried out angrily, "What have you
done to this duck?" She was about to belabor him well, when he cried,
"Ah, leave me in peace, dear mistress! I shall die in a minute anyway,
for I have eaten up all the poison!"

At this the woman broke out into a laugh and could not refuse to
forgive him. The duck and the preserves, however, were gone all
the same.



"That was a greedy boy, grandmother," said the little boy. "Am I
greedy because I ate too much at sister's wedding-feast?"

"That was only grandmother's little joke. It is not greedy to eat
too much at a feast. Every one does," said the grandmother.



A wedding-feast lasts three days, as every one in Russia knows,
and during all that time there was eating and drinking going on in
the little boy's house, with much singing and many games, some of
them pretty loud and boisterous. The second evening, when the fun
had become pretty noisy, the little boy went to his grandmother for
a story. She told him about




THE BASIL-PLANT

Once upon a time there was a woman to whom it was revealed in a dream
that she must fast one day in every week, for if she neglected to
do so she would give birth to something other than human. The woman
obeyed the behest, but one day she forgot to fast, and not long after
she gave birth to a wonderfully beautiful and fragrant bush which in
this world is called basil.

The woman watched and tended the bush, and the fame of it spread
through the whole world, even to a distant country, where the son of
an emperor heard of it and at once set out to see it.

When he beheld the basil-plant he felt an extraordinary love for it,
and he begged the mother either to present it to him or else to sell
it at a high price. But she would not hear a word of it, but sent
him away, saying, "It is not to be bought, even for one-half of your
father's kingdom."

Now the Prince's servant, who overheard this, whispered to his master
to say no more, and he would steal the plant for him. So said and so
done. The servant managed somehow to steal the plant, and brought it to
the Prince. The Prince, delighted to find his dearest wish gratified,
richly rewarded the servant and locked the bush safely in a room.

Some days after the Prince invited a great company to a feast,
intending to take this opportunity to exhibit the basil-plant. The
feast was ready, and the servants hastened to announce it to the
company; but when they went back there lay all the meats and pastries
scattered in the dirt of the kitchen floor!

When they saw this they hastened to tell the Prince, and as he saw no
way of getting over the difficulty, nothing was left for him but to
excuse himself to the guests for that day and invite them to return
upon the morrow.

The next day, when all was ready and the servants went to announce
it, some one came again and threw all the food about the kitchen and
broke all the dishes. The servants wondered at this no less than the
Emperor's son himself, and the Prince ordered that a feast should
again be prepared upon the third day and that some one should keep
watch through the keyhole to discover the mischief-maker.

When the meal was ready every one left the room and peeped through
the keyhole to catch the culprit. Behold, what did they see? A
golden-haired maiden!

The attendants flew back into the kitchen, held the little culprit
fast, and called to the Emperor's son. As soon as he beheld the maiden
he was beside himself with surprise and joy, and he asked her how
she had come into the kitchen.

At first she was terrified, but at last she confessed to him secretly
that she was the basil-plant which he watched and tended so carefully,
and which shed such sweet perfume in his room; that she thought the
feast was in honor of his wedding, and this had made her unhappy,
for she had hoped that he would marry her and not another maiden.

When the Prince heard these words and saw that the maiden was beautiful
beyond all comparison, he was most happy, and assured the maiden
that he would marry her as soon as she had embraced the Christian
faith. She declared herself ready to do this without delay.

In the meantime, however, the Prince's time of service in the army
arrived, and he was so much needed that he could by no means be
permitted to absent himself. He therefore called his beloved to him
before his departure and said to her:

"I must go to the army. With a bleeding heart I part from you; but,
I pray you, change yourself again into a basil-plant and remain so
until my return. Show yourself to no one, whoever it may be, who
enters this room. And on my return, if God wills, I will ring this
little bell, and then do you again take on your present form."

When he had once again kissed her she changed herself into a
basil-plant, and he rode away. But two maidens who loved the Prince,
and who of late had found themselves neglected and forgotten, soon
learned the cause of their sorrow--namely, that the Prince had chosen
another maiden. Therefore they agreed to force their way into the
Prince's room and search for some token of her.

When they were there they found nothing except his clothes and the
basil-plant, and in it they saw nothing remarkable. They rummaged all
around the room, trying to find some clew to the whereabouts of the
maiden, and one of them in her restlessness took the little bell in
her hand and rang it. The sorrowing golden-haired maiden, believing
that it was the Prince who rang the bell, immediately changed herself
back into human shape and suddenly appeared between the two.

At first they were all alike embarrassed, but the two trespassers
soon perceived that they had found what they sought, and they seized
the poor little creature, killed her, and carried her body into the
mountains. In the evening the servant who had charge of bringing
the maiden her supper found no basil-plant there, but in its place
a horrible pool of blood. In a moment he saw the great danger of his
position, and fearing the wrath of the Emperor's son when he should
return home, he fled away with all speed.

But to return to the maiden. An old woman who was going along among
the mountains found the headless body and the head lying near, and,
feeling compassion for the young creature, she gathered certain herbs
with which she called the maiden back to life. When the poor child
again awoke to life and found herself in the depths of the mountains,
she fell upon the old woman's neck and promised that she would never
abandon her.

But the old woman answered, "My dear little daughter, go, in God's
name, wherever you like! I, a poor old worn-out woman, can hardly
support myself, to say nothing of you. But you are young and strong,
and, with God's help, will get on nicely."

But the maiden answered her, "Neither now nor ever, so long as God
lives in heaven! You have called me back to life, and it is my debt
and duty to love you till death. We shall surely make our way in the
world. I will sell my golden hair, and will buy food for you; and when
my hair is all sold I will gather herbs in the mountains and feed you."

At last the old woman consented, and a few days later the maiden cut
off a lock of her golden hair and sent the old woman with it to market,
bidding her not to sell it for less than a hundred ducats. The old
woman went straight to the very city where the Prince lived, for
he had returned from camp and had ordered the whole city to go into
mourning because of his lost love.

Fortunately the old woman met the Prince and asked him if he would
like to buy a lock of golden hair. The moment the Prince saw the lock
he was beside himself with surprise, for he perceived at once that it
was his beloved's hair. So he seized hold of the old woman and asked
her how she came by it The old woman, terrified, confessed the whole.

Upon this he quickly mounted his horse, placed the old woman upon
another, and they rode to the village where the old woman lived. When
they arrived they found the maiden bathed in tears, bewailing her lost
lover. He rushed to her, they kissed and embraced, and then went home,
taking the old woman with them.

When the Emperor's son had heard the details of the whole story he
commanded the two maidens to be put to death. Then he married his
own love. The old woman he honored as his own mother, and when she
died he gave her an imperial funeral.



"That is a beautiful story, grandmother," said the little boy,
"although there is not a Dragon nor a Fox nor a Mouse in it. There is
a plant, though. I wish one of the plants in our field would turn into
a golden-haired maiden--a very little one, big enough to play with me."

"Wait till the little baby in your brother's house grows bigger,"
said the grandmother. "It will not be long."







CHAPTER XXIV

AFTER THE WEDDING


The third evening of the wedding-feast had come, and with music
and singing the whole village escorted the young couple to their
house. They were to have a house of their own, and not live with
the bridegroom's father, for so had the starosta insisted. Now they
were there at last, and though some of the young men remained in the
streets singing noisily, the bride's family went quietly home.

"It seems lonely without our princess," said the starosta as they
gathered around the stove. "Grandmother, I know the little boy is
hoping for a story. Let us all hear it. Tell one of your very best
ones, that we may forget for a time that our family circle is smaller."

The grandmother, with great willingness, told the story of




STEELPACHA

Once upon a time there was an Emperor who had three sons and three
daughters. As he was very old, his last hour drew nigh. He therefore
called his children to his bedside and laid earnest command upon his
sons to give their sisters, without hesitation, to the first suitors
who asked for them in marriage. "Marry them off," he said to the sons,
"or my curse will be upon you!" These were his last words.

After his death, day passed quietly after day for a while. Then one
evening there came a loud knocking at the door. The whole palace
began to rock amid a wild roaring, howling, crashing, flashing;
the castle was bathed in a sea of flame. Every heart was terrified,
and trembling took possession of every soul.

Suddenly a voice cried, "Open the door, ye princes!"

Up spoke the Emperor's eldest son, "Do not open!" And the second said,
"On no account open!" But the youngest said, "Then I will open the
door myself!"

He sprang up and drew the bolts. Hardly was the door opened when
a fearful Being rushed in, the outline of whose form was hidden in
encircling flames.

"I am come," he exclaimed, "to take your eldest sister for my wife,
and that at once. So give a short answer--yes or no; I insist upon it!"

Said the eldest brother, "I will not give her to you. Why should I,
when I know neither who nor whence you are? You come here by night,
demand my sister's hand upon the instant, and I do not even hear
which way I am to turn when I wish to visit her."

Said the second brother, "Nor do I permit you to take away my sister
thus in the dead of night."

But the youngest interposed, "Then I will give her away if you
two refuse. Have you already forgotten our father's command?" And
taking his sister by the hand he gave her to the stranger, saying,
"May she live happily with you and be ever faithful!"

As the sister crossed the threshold every one in the building fell to
the ground in fear and horror. It lightened, it thundered, it crashed,
it quaked, the whole fortress swayed heavily, as if heaven and earth
were falling together. Gradually the uproar died away, and the rosy
eastern light announced the coming morning.

As soon as day had broken the brothers searched for the traces which
they supposed would have been left by their tremendous nocturnal
visitor; but not a trace, not a footprint had he left behind. All
was swept away.

On the following night, at the self-same hour, the self-same flashing,
crashing din was heard around the imperial fortress, and a voice
without cried loudly, "Open the door, you princes!"

Paralyzed with terror, they threw open the door and a fearful Form
rushed in, crying in a loud voice, "Give me here the maiden, your
second sister! We have come to marry her!"

Said the eldest brother, "I will not give you my sister!"

Said the second, "I will not let my sister----"

But the youngest broke in with, "Then I will! Will you never remember
what our father commanded?"

He took his sister by the hand and led her to the wooer. "Take her;
she will be happy with you and always good."

At this the powerful apparition vanished, and the maiden with him.

As soon as morning dawned the brothers sought around the castle for
traces of the direction which the apparition had taken; but they found
nothing under the blessed sun, nor was there the slightest clew from
which they could make any sort of guess any more than if no one had
been there!

On the third night, at the same hour, the whole castle was again
shaken to the foundation by a horrible uproar and earthquake, and a
voice called out, "Open the door, ye princes!"

The Emperor's sons sprang nimbly to their feet and drew the bolts,
upon which a monstrous Form entered, exclaiming, "We are come to
demand the hand of your youngest sister!"

"Never!" shrieked the eldest and second brothers with one voice. "We
will not let this one go away thus by night. Surely we must at least
know of this our youngest sister whom she marries and where she goes,
that we may be able to visit her!"

But up spoke the youngest brother, "Then I will give her away if you
refuse. Have you quite forgotten what our father charged us on his
dying bed? It is not so long ago."

He took the sister by the hand and said, "Here she is; take her home
and live happily and joyfully with her!"

In a twinkling the terrible Being disappeared in the midst of a
fearful uproar.

When the morning dawned the brothers felt oppressed by anxiety,
being all uncertain as to the fate of their sisters. After a long
interval, during which no light had been thrown upon this matter,
the three brothers took counsel together:

"Good heavens, did ever one know of anything so mysterious! What
has become of our sisters? For we have not the least idea of their
abiding-place, nor any clew which can lead to their discovery."

At length one said to the others, "Let us go forth to seek our
sisters."

So the three brothers made ready without losing a moment. They took
money enough for a long journey and went out into the wide world to
seek their sisters.

In the course of their wanderings they lost their way among the
mountains, where they wandered for a whole day. When night fell they
decided, on account of their horses, to encamp for the night near a
piece of water.

And so they did. They reached the shore of a lake, pitched their tents,
and sat down to supper. When they lay down to sleep the eldest brother
said, "You may sleep, but I will stand guard."

So the two younger brothers went peacefully to sleep, while the
eldest brother kept watch. At a certain hour of the night the lake
became agitated with a swaying motion which startled the watcher not
a little. He soon observed a shapeless form arising out of the midst
of the water and rushing straight toward him. It was a frightful
monster of a Dragon, with two great flapping ears, which was rushing
so fiercely upon him. The Prince bravely drew his sword and, seizing
the Dragon, cut off his head. Then he sliced off the ears and put them
into his wallet, and threw the head and the body back into the lake.

Meantime the day had dawned, and the brothers still lay in profound
slumber, little dreaming of their eldest brother's heroic exploit. He
now awaked them, but said not a syllable about his nocturnal
adventure. They left that place and continued their journey,
and when twilight began to fall they once more agreed to seek a
halting-place near some piece of water. But they were much terrified
to find themselves quite lost in a lonely wilderness. At last,
however, they came upon a tiny lake, where they decided to spend
the night. They kindled a fire, unpacked cooking utensils and food,
and took their evening meal. After that they disposed themselves to
sleep. Then said the second brother, "Do you two go to rest; I will
mount guard to-night."

The two brothers therefore lay down to sleep, but the third cheerfully
sat up and kept watch. Suddenly a rustling sound from the lake met
his ears, and he saw a sight which curdled the blood in his veins. A
two-headed Dragon rushed tumultuously upon the brothers as if to
annihilate them all three.

Quick as thought the watcher sprang up, drew his glittering sword,
avoided the Dragon's attack, and cut off his two heads. Then he sliced
off the ears and put them into his wallet, throwing the other parts
of the monster back into the lake. His brothers knew nothing of the
affair, for both slept soundly until dawn.

When day broke the second brother called to them, "Wake up, brothers,
the morning dawns!"

Immediately they sprang up, packed their goods, and set forth upon
their way; but they had not the least idea where they were nor in
what country.

A great fear overwhelmed them that they might perish of hunger in
this wilderness, and they besought God to guide them, at least, to
some inhabited village or city, or to permit them to meet some human
being, for they had already wandered three days in this inhospitable
wilderness without coming to the end or finding any way out.

It was rather early in the day when they came to a pretty large
lake and decided to go no farther, but to make their camp on this
lake-side. For they said, "If we go farther we shall very probably
not find any more water near which to make our camp."

They remained, therefore, in this place, built a great fire, supped,
and made ready to sleep. Then said the youngest brother:

"Do you two go to rest. I will take the watch to-night."

So the two lay down and soon fell asleep, but the youngest brother
kept a sharp lookout, and often threw a glance over the shining
surface of the lake.

Thus passed away a portion of the night, when suddenly the lake boiled
up, surged, foaming, upon the fire and half-extinguished it. But
the watcher whipped out his sword and took his position close to the
fire. Suddenly a three-headed Dragon rushed forth and made as if to
kill the brothers.

Now was the hero-spirit of the youth tested. He waked not his brothers,
but went forth alone to meet the Dragon. Three times he raised his
sword, and each time he smote off one of the monster's heads. Then
he sliced off the ears, and threw the shapeless remains into the water.

While this tremendous conflict was going on the fire died out, having
been flooded by the water. The Prince would not awake his brothers,
although he had no tinder-box of his own to rekindle it with, but
resolved to search around a little in the wilderness in hope of
stumbling upon some one who could help him.

But nowhere was there a mortal soul! At last he climbed into a high
tree and looked around in all directions to see what he might see.

As he was thus gazing far and wide his eyes were suddenly attracted
by a flash of light which seemed to be very near him. He descended
the tree and went in the direction of the light, hoping to get some
fire wherewith to rekindle the fire for his brothers.

He went on for a long stretch, the light seeming always to be just
before him, when suddenly he found himself standing before a cave
in a rock in which nine Giants, gathered around an immense fire,
were roasting two men upon a spit, one on one side of the fire, the
other on the other. An enormous copper caldron, full to the brim with
human flesh, was bubbling over the fire.

The imperial Prince was horrified at this sight. He would have turned
back, but whither should he go? Where was there a way of escape for
him? He quickly recovered his self-possession, however, and cried out,
"Good-morning, valiant comrades! I have long been seeking you!"

They received him most cordially, answering, "God be with thee,
if thou art a true comrade."

He replied, "Indeed I am, and shall be all my life long. I would risk
my head for you."

"All right," they answered. "If you wish to be one of us, are you
ready to eat human flesh and take a share in our adventures?"

"Yes, that I will," said the Prince. "What you do, that will I
do also."

"Faith, then all is well!" they said. "Sit down among us."

They settled themselves around the fire. The caldron was taken off,
its contents served, and the meal began. The Prince received his share,
but he knew how to manage, and, instead of eating, he slyly threw the
meat, bit by bit, behind him. He did the same with the roast. Then
the Giants said:

"Come, now, we must go a-hunting, for we must eat to-morrow as well
as to-day."

So the nine Giants set out, with the Prince for a tenth.

"Come," they said to him, "not far from here is a town in which reigns
an Emperor. His city has fed us for several years."

As they drew near to the city they pulled up two fir-trees by the
roots and carried them along. When they reached the town they set
one of the trees against the wall and called to the Prince, "Come on,
climb up the wall here, and we will hand you the second tree. Seize
it by the point and let it down on the other side, but keep hold of
the top so that we may climb down by the trunk."

The Prince accordingly scrambled up, but on receiving the second tree
he called out, "I don't know where to stand it; I am not familiar
with the place and dare not shove it over. Do one of you come up and
show me, and then I will make it all right."

One of the Giants climbed up to him, seized the fir-tree by the point,
and let it down on the other side of the wall. As he stood thus bent
over, the Prince drew his sword and struck off his head, and the dead
Giant tumbled off the wall into the city.

Then the Prince cried to the others, "All right! Come on now, one at
a time, that I may help you along in the same way."

One after another unsuspiciously climbed up, only to meet death at
the hands of the Prince. When he had made an end of all the nine he
let himself down by the fir-tree into the city, which he explored
in every direction. No sound of human voice reached his ear. All was
a drear, horrible desolation. "Has the whole population been robbed
and murdered by the Giants?" he thought to himself.

For a long time he wandered about the desolate city, until he came
to a very high tower, from one window of which shone out the light
of a taper. He threw open the door, rushed up the tower stair, and
hastened straight to that room.

On the threshold he stood still in amazement. The room was richly
hung and decorated with gold, silk, and velvet, and not a soul within
except a maiden who lay upon a couch, outstretched in deep slumber. The
Prince was rooted to the spot at the sight of the maiden, for she
was wonderfully beautiful. But at that moment he became aware of a
great serpent which, gliding along the wall, stretched out its head
directly over the head of the maiden, coiling itself up in readiness
to spring and strike her upon the brow, between the eyes.

Then the Prince sprang quickly with his pocket-knife, which in a
trice he had drawn from his pocket, and pinned the serpent's head
to the wall. Then saying these words, "God grant that no hand but
mine may draw this knife out from the wall," he went quickly away. He
climbed up by one fir-tree and down by the other, and so got over the
wall. Arrived at the Giants' cave, he took some fire and ran back to
his brothers, who were still buried in profound slumber. As he kindled
the fire day began to dawn in the east. He awakened his brothers,
and they set forth upon their journey.

That same day they came to the highway leading to the before-mentioned
city. A mighty Emperor reigned there who used to go about the
city every morning shedding bitter tears because his people were
exterminated and eaten by the giants, and because of his constant fear
that his only daughter would fall a sacrifice to their gluttony. On
this morning he was going about the city as usual. It lay empty and
deserted; the inhabitants had dwindled away to a mere remnant; most
of them had found a grave in the giants' maws.

As I have said, the Emperor was thus reviewing his city when suddenly
his eyes fell upon the uprooted fir-tree which still leaned against the
wall, and as he drew nearer he beheld a wonderful sight: there lay the
nine Giants, the very pests of the city, with their heads all cut off!

This sight gave the King unspeakable joy. The people also gathered
together to pray God that blessing and happiness might descend
upon the giant-slayer. At that very moment a servant came from the
imperial citadel to say that a serpent had nearly been the death of the
Emperor's daughter. Upon this the Emperor betook himself straightway to
the citadel, and to the very chamber of his daughter. Arrived there,
he saw upon the wall the impaled serpent, and tried with his own hand
to draw out the knife, but in vain.

Then the Emperor sent a proclamation through his whole empire:
"Whoever has slain the giants and impaled the serpent, let him make
himself known, that the Emperor may richly reward him and bestow upon
him the hand of his daughter."

This proclamation was issued in every province of the empire. The
Emperor also gave command that great inns should be erected upon the
principal highways, where all travellers should be stopped and asked
whether they knew who had overcome the giants; and whoever should
discover the man, let him hasten with utmost speed to the Emperor to
receive a rich reward.

According to the imperial proclamation, great inns were erected upon
the principal highways, and every traveller stopped, examined, and
the whole affair explained to him.

After a while the three Princes who were seeking their sisters came
to pass the night at one of these inns. After supper the landlord
joined the company and began to boast of his wonderful exploits. At
last he turned to the three brothers with the question, "And what
doughty deeds have you done up to this time?"

Then the eldest brother began, "As I and my brothers were upon our
travels it came to pass one night that we made our halt on the border
of a lake in a great wilderness. While my brothers were asleep and
I keeping watch, a Dragon came up out of the lake to destroy me. I
drew my sword out of the scabbard and struck off his head. If you
don't believe me, here are his ears." And he drew the ears out of
his wallet and threw them upon the table.

When the second brother heard this, he began, "I had the watch on
the second night, and I killed a two-headed Dragon. If you don't
believe me, here are the ears which I cut from his two heads for a
witness." He said it and showed the two pairs of ears.

The youngest brother heard the whole in silence. The landlord now
turned to him.

"By Heaven, youngster, your brothers are valiant heroes! Come, let
us hear if you can also boast of any doughty deeds!"

Hesitatingly the youngest began his story: "Well, I also did a
trifle. It was on the very third night, beside the lake in the
wilderness. You, my brothers, were asleep. I kept watch. At a certain
hour of the night the lake surged up and a three-headed Dragon arose
from it, who would have annihilated us. Then I drew a sword and cut
off all three of his heads. If you don't believe it, here are the
three pairs of ears!"

Upon this the two brothers were dumb with astonishment. But the
youngest went on with his story: "In the meantime the fire had gone
out, and I went forth to seek a light. While straying around among
the hills I stumbled upon nine giants in a cave;" and so he went on
and told all his adventures in order, and every one was struck with
amazement at the wonderful tale.

No sooner had the landlord heard the story than he ran secretly to
the Emperor and told him the whole affair. The Emperor gave him a
great sum of money, and sent his people at once to bring the three
princes before him.

When they came into the emperor's presence he put the following
question to the youngest: "Is it you who performed the wonders in our
city, killing the giants and saving my only daughter from destruction?"

"Yes, it was I, mighty Emperor," replied the Prince. Hereupon the
Emperor married his daughter to the young Prince and raised him to
the highest office in the kingdom.

Then the Emperor said to the two elder brothers, "If it please you
to remain in my empire, I will give you each a wife and will permit
you to build strongholds for yourselves."

But they told him they were already married, and explained that they
had undertaken this journey merely to seek out their sisters. When
the Emperor heard this he detained only the youngest brother, his
son-in-law, and to the two other brothers he gave two mules laden
with gold. So the two brothers returned home to their own kingdom.

Still the youngest brother thought continually of his sisters, and
kept always in mind the hope of yet seeking them out. But on the other
hand he was pained at the thought of parting from his young wife, and
besides he knew that the Emperor would never consent to his leaving
him. So he was continually racked with anxiety about his sisters.

One day the Emperor went hunting, and before setting out he said to
his son-in-law, "Do you remain in the castle during my absence. I
give to you nine keys which you must keep carefully by you. I give you
free leave to open three or four rooms. You will find in them silver
and gold in abundance; there is also no lack of weapons, or of any
kind of treasure. You may even, if you feel inclined, open eight of
the rooms. But beware of unlocking the ninth. Leave that one alone;
for," he added, "if you do not it will be the worse for you." Upon
this the Emperor departed, leaving his son-in-law at home alone.

Hardly was the Emperor gone when the Prince began to open one door
after another, until he had examined eight rooms in succession. His
eyes beheld in them treasures of all kinds. When at last he came to
the door of the ninth room he said to himself, "I have seen and done
so many wonderful things, and shall it be forbidden me to enter a
certain room?"

So he unlocked the door and went in. What a sight! There was a man
whose legs up to his knees and whose arms up to the elbows were encased
in iron; from his neck hung heavy iron chains, the ends of which were
fastened to stakes driven into the floor on all sides, holding him so
securely that he could not stir. Before him a stream of water gushed
from a golden vessel and flowed into a golden basin which stood near;
beside it was a golden jug, beautifully adorned with jewels. The man
longed to drink the water, but he could not reach the jug.

When the imperial Prince saw this he started backward; but the
fettered man cried, "Oh, come to me, I beseech you, in the name of
the living God!"

The Prince drew nearer, and the man continued, "Oh, do a pious act;
let me drain a jug of water! Be assured I will reward you for it with
an additional life."

The Prince considered the proposition. "Can there be anything better
for me than to secure for myself an additional life?" He took the
jug, filled it, and raised it to the man's lips, who emptied it at
a single draught. Upon this the Prince asked him, "In the name of
Heaven, who are you?"

The man answered, "My name is Steelpacha."

The Prince now turned toward the door, but the man implored him,
"Give me another jug of water, and I will give you a second life."

The Prince thought, "He will give me a second life; I have one into
the bargain. This will be a prodigy indeed!" and he filled the jug
again and put it to the man's lips.

He then turned away, and already held the door-latch in his hand when
Steelpacha called to him, "O sir, come back to me! You have twice
acted nobly by me; prove yourself a man a third time and I will give
you a third life. Take this jug, fill it to the brim, and pour it
over my head; and for this labor of love I will give you a third life."

When the Prince heard this he turned back, took the jug, filled it with
water, and poured it over the man's head. The moment the water touched
him the chains about his neck fell asunder and all the bonds which held
him were unloosed. Quick as lightning Steelpacha sprang up, spread
a pair of wings, flew out of the window, snatched up the Princess,
the wife of his deliverer, took flight with her under his wing,
and in a moment had disappeared from view. That was a prodigy indeed!

The Prince now looked forward with deepest dread to the Emperor's
return. However, when the Emperor came home, the Prince told the
whole story exactly as it had happened. The Emperor was beside himself
with grief. "Why did you do thus?" said he reproachfully. "Did I not
expressly forbid you to enter the ninth room?"

The Prince answered soothingly, "Don't be angry with me. I will go
at once to seek Steelpacha and rescue my wife from him."

The Emperor tried to dissuade him from this plan. "Don't do that,"
said he; "you shall on no account move a step from this place. You have
no idea who Steelpacha is. Many an army and much treasure did I waste
before I got him in my power. So remain quietly with me. I will provide
another wife for you. And don't be unhappy; I love you as my own son."

But the Prince was deaf to all these persuasions, and adhered to his
first resolution. He provided himself with the necessary money, mounted
his horse, and went forth into the world to seek Steelpacha. For a
long time he wandered about, and at last he arrived at a city. He was
gazing around with some curiosity, when suddenly a woman called to
him from a balcony, "You Prince, get down from your horse and come
into the court!"

As the Prince entered the court the woman came to meet him. He looked
narrowly at her and recognized his eldest sister. They flew into each
other's arms and lavished sweet kisses upon each other.

The sister was the first to speak. "Come out upon the balcony with
me, brother."

When they were upon the balcony the Prince asked his sister whom she
had married, and she answered, "I am married to the Emperor of the
Dragons. My husband is himself a Dragon. So, brother, it would be
worth your while to hide, for my husband often says he would cut his
brothers-in-law in small bits if he ever laid eyes upon them. Let me
first question him; if he promises to do you no harm I will tell him
of your arrival."

So said and so done. The sister concealed her brother and his
horse. The evening drew on. The Dragon's supper was ready; they were
awaiting his arrival, when at last he came. When he flew in the whole
earth was bathed in blinding light; but he had hardly entered when
he called to his wife:

"Wife, I smell men's bones. Who is here? Tell me quick!"

"No one is here," she answered.

"That is not possible," said he.

Upon this the wife said, "I want to ask you a question, and do you
answer me truly and honestly. Would you do any harm to my brothers
if they happened to come here?"

The Dragon-emperor answered, "I would have the eldest and the second
killed and roasted, but I would do nothing to the youngest."

Upon this she said, "My youngest brother, your brother-in-law,
is arrived."

When the Dragon-emperor heard this he cried, "Out with him, then!" And
when the sister brought her brother from his hiding-place the Emperor
ran to meet him and showered kisses upon him.

"Welcome here, brother-in-law!"

"God be with you, sister's husband!"

"Where were you hiding?"

"Here I am!" And he told him the object of his journey, from beginning
to end.

The Dragon-emperor said to him, "You are running the greatest risk,
God help you! The day before yesterday Steelpacha flew past with your
wife. I was awaiting him with seven thousand dragons, but we could
not overcome him. I adjure you, let that fiend alone. I will give
you money to your heart's desire; just go quietly home."

But the Prince would not hear a word of this advice, and emphatically
declared that he would continue his journey on the morrow. When the
Emperor saw that he could not prevent him, nor induce him to turn back,
he drew a feather out of his wing and gave it to his brother-in-law,
with these words:

"Give good heed to what I now tell you. Take this feather of mine,
and if you come across Steelpacha and find yourself in great danger,
then burn my feather; that very moment I will come to your aid with
the whole strength of my army."

The Prince concealed the feather in a safe place and went his way. He
travelled on and on until he reached a second great city. Here again,
as he was going through the city, a woman called to him from a balcony:

"Ho, there, you Prince, dismount from your horse and come into
the court!"

The Prince rode into the court. Behold, who comes to meet him? It
is his second sister! They rush into each other's arms and kiss each
other heartily. Then the sister led her brother into the castle.

When she had put the horse into the stable she asked the object
of his journey, and he told her the whole story of his adventures,
finally asking her, "And whom have you married, dear sister?"

She answered, "I am married to the Emperor of the Falcons. He will
come home to-night. But I must carefully conceal you, for he is
furious against my brothers." So saying, she concealed the Prince.

In a little while the Falcon-emperor came home, and the whole city
quaked with the tumult of his approach. Supper was served at once,
but not before he had cried to his wife, "I smell men's flesh!"

The wife answered, "What are you thinking of, husband?"

At last, after talking for some time of this thing and that, she asked
him, "Would you do any harm to my brothers if they were to come here?"

The Emperor said, "It would surely go hard with the eldest and the
second, but I would do nothing to the youngest." Then she told him
of her youngest brother's arrival.

The Falcon-emperor commanded his wife to bring her brother before
him, and as soon as he beheld him he fell upon his neck and kissed
him. "Welcome, dear brother-in-law!"

"A lucky and joyful meeting, dear sister's husband!" answered the
Prince; upon which they sat down to supper.

After supper the Emperor asked his brother-in-law concerning the object
of his journey, and the Prince replied that he was seeking Steelpacha,
and told him all his adventures. But the Emperor began to counsel him.

"Give up your journey," said he. "Just let me tell you something
about Steelpacha. That very day on which he stole your wife I was
awaiting him with five thousand falcons, and waged a fearful battle
with him. Blood flowed knee-deep around us, yet we could not prevail
against him. And how shall you, a single man, overmaster him? So I
give you this well-meant advice: Go back home. So much of my treasure
as your heart desires is yours; take it and go."

But the Prince answered, "Hearty thanks for your offer, but go back
with my task unperformed I will not. No, never! I must yet find
Steelpacha." For he thought to himself, "Why should I not? Have I
not three lives?"

When the Falcon-emperor became convinced that he could not move him
from his purpose he drew a feather out of his wing and gave it to him,
with these words, "Here, take this feather of mine, and if you come
into great danger strike a fire and burn it. I will come at once to
your aid with all my forces."

So the Prince took the feather and set forth to seek Steelpacha.

For a long time he went up and down through the wide world, until at
last he reached a third city. He had hardly entered it when a woman
called to him from a balcony, "Dismount and come into the court!"

The Prince turned his horse and rode into the court. Behold, here is
his youngest sister! They fall into each other's arms and lavish kisses
upon each other. She led the horse into the stable, the brother into
the castle. Then the Prince asked, "Sister, whom have you married?"

And she answered, "My consort is the Emperor of the Eagles; it is he
whom I have married."

When the Eagle-emperor came home that night his wife met him
affectionately; but he paid no attention to her greeting, but asked
her, "What man has come into my castle? Tell me at once!"

She answered, "There is no one here," and they sat down to
supper. During supper she asked him, as if by chance, "Would you do
any harm to my brothers if they should suddenly arrive?"

The Emperor answered, "The eldest and the second I should kill without
hesitation, but not the youngest. On the contrary, I would hasten to
his aid at any time, as far as it was in my power."

Then she said to the Emperor, "My youngest brother is come to pay us
a visit."

The Emperor commanded that he should be presented at once, went to
meet him, and greeted him with, "Welcome, dear brother-in-law!"

The other answered, "A lucky and joyful meeting, dear sister's
husband!"

So they sat down to the table.

After supper they talked of one thing and another, and at last
the Prince told them that he was seeking for Steelpacha. When the
Eagle-emperor heard this he said everything he could think of to
dissuade him from this idea.

"Dear brother-in-law," said he, "leave that fiend alone and give up
your journey. Stay, rather, here with me; you shall be made happy in
every respect."

But the Prince paid no heed to his words, and as soon as morning
dawned he made ready and set off to seek Steelpacha. But before he
went away the Eagle-emperor, who saw that he could not turn him from
his purpose, drew forth a feather from his wing and said:

"Take this feather, brother-in-law, and if ever you are in need or
danger, strike a fire and burn it. I will come at once with my eagles
to help you."

The Prince put the feather in his pocket and set forth.

Thus he roved around the world from city to city, going ever
farther and farther, till at last one day he discovered his wife in
a cavern. She was not a little surprised to see him, and cried out
to him, "In the name of Heaven, husband, how came you here?"

He hastily told her his adventures, and added, "Wife, my wife! Quick,
let us flee!"

But she hesitated. "Where shall we go, since Steelpacha can overtake
us in a moment? He will kill you on the spot, and bring me back
here again."

But the Prince, being mindful of the three lives which Steelpacha had
given him, still coaxed his wife to flee, and they set out. Hardly
had they started when Steelpacha heard of it, gave rapid chase,
and overtook them.

"Oho, little Prince!" he cried out, "you would steal my wife,
would you?"

He tore her away from the Prince, and continued, "This time I give you
your life, for I have not forgotten that I promised you three lives;
but go now, and never come back again after her, for if you do your
life is at stake."

With these words Steelpacha took the woman away, while the Prince
remained alone, in doubt what to do next. At last he resolved to go
after his wife again.

When he arrived near the cavern he waited for his opportunity till
Steelpacha should be gone away; and once more he fled, taking his
wife with him.

Steelpacha soon heard of it, pursued after them, overtook them,
fitted an arrow to his bow, and cried out, "Would you rather that I
kill you with this arrow, or shall I cut you down with my sword?"

The Prince began to beg with all his might, and Steelpacha said to him,
"This second time I give you your life, but let me tell you one thing:
don't you try again to carry away this woman, for I will not again
give you your life, but will kill you on the spot as dead as a mouse."

With these words he seized the woman and carried her away, while
the Prince again remained alone, always planning how to rescue
his wife. Finally he said to himself, "After all, why should I be
afraid? I still have two lives--that one which he gave me and the
one I had before."

So he resolved to go back to his wife the next day when Steelpacha
was absent.

"Come," he said to her, "let us flee!" She objected that it was useless
to flee, since they would be at once overtaken; but he constrained
her to go with him.

But very soon Steelpacha overtook them, and cried out to the Prince,
"Wait, just wait! I will never forgive you this!" The Prince was
terrified and began to beg for mercy, but Steelpacha silenced him.

"You remember that I gave you three lives? All right; now I give you
the third, and you have nothing more to expect from me. So go home
in peace, and beware of hazarding the life which God lent you."

When the Prince saw that he was powerless against the might of
Steelpacha he turned back homeward with a heavy heart. Suddenly he
remembered what his brothers-in-law had said to him when they gave
him the feathers, and he said to himself, "Come what come may, I will
go once more to rescue my wife, and in case of need I will burn the
feathers and call my brothers-in-law to my assistance."

So said and so done.

He went back to the cavern and saw his wife in Steelpacha's arms. He
waited around till the latter had gone away, and then showed himself
to his wife. She was not a little frightened, and cried out in terror,
"In the name of Heaven! Is life so hateful that you come back again
for me?"

He calmed her and told her that his brothers-in-law had promised to
help him in utmost need. "And therefore," said he, "I am come for
you once more; make ready to flee."

She did so, and they hastened away; but Steelpacha soon got news of
their flight, and cried to them from afar, "Just wait, little Prince;
you haven't escaped me yet!"

But as soon as the Prince saw Steelpacha he drew the three feathers
and his tinder-box out of his pocket, struck a light, and kindled the
feathers one by one. But while they were kindling Steelpacha overtook
him, drew his sword, and cleft the Prince in half.

That very moment what a prodigy occurred! There came flying the
Dragon-emperor with his dragons, the Falcon-emperor with his falcons,
and the Eagle-emperor with all his eagles, and waged battle with
Steelpacha. Blood flowed in streams, but fortune favored Steelpacha,
and he made off safely, carrying his prize, the Princess, with him.

The three emperors now took counsel over their brother-in-law's
body, and decided to recall him to life. So they summoned three of
the swiftest dragons and asked which one of them could most speedily
bring some water from the river Jordan. The first one said, "I can do
it within half an hour"; the second said, "I can do it in a quarter of
an hour"; the third said, "I will have it here in nine minutes." The
emperors said to this one, "Then set out, Dragon, as fast as possible."

The Dragon put forth all his impetuous strength, and truly within
nine minutes he brought back the water from the Jordan. The emperors
took the water, poured it over the two portions of the Prince's body,
and scarcely had the water touched them when the young man sprang
upon his feet, safe and sound, as if nothing had happened to him.

The emperors then counselled him, "Now go back home, since you have
been restored to life!"

But the Prince answered that he must once more try his luck, and,
by one means or another, free his wife from the clutches of that
fiend. His imperial brothers-in-law remonstrated:

"Do give it up! You will surely perish this time, for you have no
life at command except the one God lent you!"

But for all answer the Prince remained dumb.

Then the emperors said, "All right; if you are bent upon trying again,
come what come may, at least don't attempt to get your wife away by
flight, but beg her to wheedle Steelpacha into telling her wherein
his strength lies. Then bring us word, that we may help you to get
the best of him."

So the Prince stole secretly to his wife and told her how she should
coax Steelpacha to tell her the secret of his strength. Then he betook
himself to some place of safety.

When Steelpacha came home the Princess beset him with questions. "In
Heaven's name, do tell me wherein your strength lies!"

Steelpacha answered, "My pretty wife, my strength lies in my sword."

Then the Princess prayed to the sword as if to God. At sight of
this Steelpacha burst into a mocking laugh and said to her, "Oh,
you simple woman! my strength lies not in my sword but in my arrow."

Therefore she fell upon her knees before the arrow and began to pray
to it. Then Steelpacha said, "My wife, some one must have well taught
you how to coax from me the secret of my strength. If your husband
were alive I should say it was he who had taught you."

But she swore by body and soul that no one had taught her, no one
had been there.

After several days her husband came again, and she told him that
thus far it had been impossible to learn from Steelpacha wherein his
strength lay. But the Prince answered, "Try again," and went away.

When Steelpacha came home she asked him anew wherein his strength
lay. Upon which he answered her, "Since I see that you have a high
respect for my strength, I will confess the truth about it."

Then he told her: "Far from here is a mountain-peak. On this
mountain-peak lives a Fox. The Fox has a heart in which a bird is
concealed; this bird holds my strength. But that Fox is very hard to
catch, for he has many transformations."

The next day, when Steelpacha was away from home, the Prince came again
to his wife to learn what he had told her. She repeated everything
carefully, and the Prince went straight away to his brothers-in-law
with the much-longed-for news. They received it with joy, and at once
set out with the Prince to go to that mountain-peak.

Arrived there, they set the eagles upon the Fox, which immediately
took refuge in a lake and there changed himself into a gull with six
wings. But the falcons gave battle to the gull and drove him thence. He
flew high amid the clouds, the falcons ever following. In a trice the
gull changed himself into a fox again and tried to escape into the
earth; but, falling into the power of the eagles and all the rest of
the mighty host, he was surrounded and taken prisoner.

Then the emperors commanded that the Fox should be cut open and his
heart taken out. A fire was kindled, the heart cut open, the bird
taken out and cast into the flames. As soon as the bird was burned
Steelpacha vanished forever.

So the Prince took his wife and went happily home.



"That is one of your very best stories," said the starosta. "How
it does bring back old times! While I was listening I could hardly
believe that this big man here by the stove is I. It seemed rather
as if I must be the little boy yonder."

"Did grandmother tell these same stories to you when you were little,
father?" asked the little boy.

"Many and many a time. And I'll warrant she has as many more to
tell you as those you have heard already. But it is late, and we
have not had much sleep these last few nights. So every one to bed,
and don't forget to thank God for a happy wedding and a good son
and brother-in-law."







NOTES


[1] Kumrikusha is from a Slavonic root signifying "the bird of the
desert."

[2] The Pleiades.

[3] This is evidence that the story originated in lands where the
sirocco is dreaded.

[4] Maize; Indian corn.